A/N: Okay well I had planned to make this a nice little lemony one, instead it's more of a filler because well it felt like it was rushed otherwise but the third chapter is currently being penned.


When Molly got home and dumped her case files onto the table she suddenly realised what she was actually doing this evening and nearly screamed.

"HOLY SHIT!" She yelled to herself and sat at the table. She'd actually done it hadn't she; she'd arranged a date with a Sherlock. Only it wasn't a date. A date had the implications of something more… this arrangement didn't. She already knew for Sherlock this was a competition and that Molly wasn't the prize, she was the instrument for winning. Groaning at how small she made herself feel she suddenly grinned.

She was also the judge of the contest. With that wicked thought and the idea of the leverage it would give her Molly all but skipped to her bathroom eager to rid herself of the smell of work.

Sherlock on the other hand was planning furiously. His sex life was a sore spot and one many people liked to dance over, the jibes and questions over his virginity and even his sexuality…well even he had a breaking point. With two nicotine patches per arm he strolled towards John's laptop and hacked his way in, the new password barely bothered him –StopItSherlock– and he googled the best sex positions. Surfing past a number of porn sites he hit a very female looking website and started to remember them all. While he wasn't a virgin, contrary to common belief, he wasn't experienced and he could imagine James Moriarty would be the slimiest man with a boundless knowledge of the female form and not just anatomically.

When Sherlock heard the front door slam shut and the inane chatter that meant Mary Morstan, John's latest, was already here and it was only half six. Refusing to be early Sherlock had already disturbed the young teacher and John had hoped Sherlock would've already disappeared.

"Ahh Miss Morstan again, so lovely you look tonight." Sherlock could do the niceties when he wanted or rather when John was glaring at him with such force he looked like he was going to have an aneurysm.

"I asked you to tidy Sherlock." John held a hand to his forehead to prevent him from punching his flatmate.

"Don't be silly John, I'm a primary school teacher I can deal with a little bit of mess!" Mary laughed softly as she looked around the cluttered flat.

"I'm sorry sweetheart." John, regardless of his faintly nauseated friend, pulled Mary towards him in a soft kiss.

"Well then." Sherlock cleared his throat pulling the couple apart.

"Typical…" He heard John mutter before the good doctor headed off to the kitchen, followed closely by Sherlock. "Tell me you cleared the fridge." He opened the door a crack to check for a severed head.

"I finished my experiment if that's what you mean?" Sherlock shrugged and looked back to where Mary was rifling through a collection of newspaper cuttings. Counting to ten in his head Sherlock calmed his breathing. His time hidden at one of Molly's friends had taught him to be patient, something before the Reichenbach Fall he had little of.


Regardless of her little pep talk, Molly had been a nervous wreck for the past two hours. She picked up her phone countless times. Wrote out the cancellation text a numerous number and deleted it on every occasion. She cleared away the clutter that came from living on your own and put the case files out of the way so he wouldn't be tempted by cadavers over her and pulled out a bottle of red wine.

While every nerve in her body screamed that it wanted Sherlock Holmes, her brain countered that she'd get hurt. Her heart refused to talk. In the end she sided with her hormones and took a long shower to calm her nerves down. She also didn't keep an eye on the time.

Seven arrived and she only just pulled herself from her bathroom when he knocked.

Shit. She hastily wrapped a towel around her and flew to the door, checking the peephole first of course.

"Molly Hooper." He turned as he heard the door open, intending to be suave for once but was stonewalled by the sight of a blushing doctor in a towel.

"Sherlock. Oh god, this isn't how I planned it. I lost track of time." Molly let him in. "I'll just change."

"Why bother? You'll need to be naked eventually." He said in his usual frank way, enjoying the shade of red her face turned.

"You are a crude man Mr Holmes." She turned to her bedroom. He followed.

"Do you mind?!" She pushed him out of her doorway and returned ten minutes later to find him reading her files. "Sherlock, really?"

"You were busy putting clothes on that I will eventually have to take off." He sighed not looking up. When he did he saw his faithful morgue attendant in a dark blue dress that made even his mouth water.

"So then Sherlock, small talk first or shall we skip straight to the sex?"

In her bedroom while quickly drying her hair and getting dressed she'd given herself yet another pep talk, at this rate she was going to run out of pep.

'Well then Molly this is it. Sex with Sherlock. Oh dear god is he a virgin, everyone always presumed… even you Molls. Which mean it may be quick but at least it'll be that major goal of yours done.' Taking a calming deep breath she stepped back into the lounge to his cadaver centric mind.