Sorry all for the big gap. Holidays and laptop dramas have put me behind but I'll be updating as quickly as I can. Thank you to everyone who favourited and reviewed, especially Minerva who gave me lots of advice :) This is my first story but I've been part of the Sherlolly fandom a very long time so I hope I can do it justice.

My laptop had to get a new harddrive so I lost my chapters I had written which is a huge pest! So sorry this is so short.

As usual I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters.

Also I'm sorry about the slightly confusing setting. It's an arranged marriage, and they don't seem to work but its set in modern times. Oh well. I hope you enjoy.

Oh and one more thing, this is my first attempt at writing anything somewhat M rated without it being in a roleplay, so I apologize if it's not very could. Note the rating has gone up to M.

Molly woke alone that morning, which wasn't an unusual occurrence; Sherlock had always been an early riser. She sat up and arched her back in a stretch, wondering about the night before.
Sherlock, in there time of knowing each other, had never cuddled her in any way, shape or form, so she was very surprised about the nights events. She wasn't complaining though, not at all. She couldn't stop smiling as she climbed out of bed, padding across the soft carpet to choose her outfit for the day.

Sherlock was irritated. More than that actually, he was annoyed and confused about this woman who had managed to draw a reaction from him. She hadn't noticed, that much was clear. She hadn't taken account of the way he was looking at her or the way his heart rate increased whenever she was near. Of course she hadn't realised, she wasn't as apt with her deductions as he was which meant he'd have to do something awful like verbally express his emotions. Sherlock had well and truly taken note of the way his body reacted to her without his permission, and it bothered him. What was so special about her? Molly Hooper. The quiet, tiny woman who his mother had chosen for him to marry. There was obviously something.

He'd woken that morning, still pressed against her body, his nose filled with the soft scent of woman and very uncomfortable erection pressing against her. He'd extracted himself from her as quickly as he could without waking her before hurrying out of the room and into the shower to deal with said problem.

He'd wrapped his hand around his cock, trying to relieve the aching want coiling in his lower half. He thought of Molly, he didn't have a choice, imaging her small hand instead of his own as he stroked his length, his eyes closed tightly as he remembered how she'd felt pressed against him and soon he was ejaculating in the shower, her name just held behind his lips.

And that was how he found himself in his study, contemplating how to make that woman realise how he felt.

Combing a hand through his shaggy hair he thought about traditional ways to tell a woman he liked her, since Molly clearly wasn't going to pick it up on her own, which wasn't exactly her fault. Sherlock wasn't the most obvious person, expecting people to deduce things as he did.

"Flowers!" He said out loud. From the few romance books he'd read, for the purpose of research of course, it seemed that the men always seemed to give women flowers. He could do that easily enough; he just needed to go down to the garden.

Molly would be up by now so he went through the kitchen, it wasn't that he didn't want to see her; it was more the fact that he wouldn't be able to look her in the eyes without thinking about what he'd done that morning and he didn't need to deal with that right now.

So he headed out the back, considering what flowers he should pick. He knew Molly regularly picked flowers for the table, particularly roses so he decided to avoid them. He wanted something unique for Molly. Despite his vast knowledge, Sherlock didn't really have much of a clue about flowers but he decided he'd just pick the prettiest. The prettiest? Even in his thoughts he was sounding more…. Mushy. That woman had made him soft, but strangely he didn't mind.

He searched through the gardens, they didn't have a gardener, Molly requested she have charge of the gardens. Which of course he'd granted.
There was a small patch near the edge of their section where Molly hadn't tended to yet. It had white flowers, gardenias he recalled, though they were surrounded by a leaf filled looking plant. He picked a few flowers, enough for a small bunch before heading back inside.

I'm sorry for such a short chapter. The next one will be longer, and I won't take as long to upload it, promise. Anywho, I hope you enjoyed. The next chapter should be up in a week or so. Reviews are welcome.

Erika