Molly Has a Revelation (among other things)

Once more, it felt to Molly like a series of events were happening too quickly for her to register. John led her through the corridors, talking soothingly to her, though she heard not a word of it. Then, all of a sudden, they were out in the cool evening air and there were paramedics swarming around them. She didn't even realise that John had left her side until she was sitting in the back of a parked ambulance, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, watching police officers rush back and forth outside the open doors.

That nice silver-haired inspector that Sherlock was friends with had taken her statement and reassured her that she was safe. They were going to take her to hospital, a different hospital that was, but there were plenty of people in a worse state than her – there had been some more shooting somewhere in the hospital – so she was left to sit and gather her thoughts until triage had been done and the first wave of ambulances were on their way.

She felt distinctly uncomfortable, but she couldn't quite define how. It wasn't really regret or sorrow, though she felt a bit of both – two people, at least, were dead after all – it wasn't really anger or fear either. She supposed it was shock, but she hadn't experienced that before, so it was hard to say for certain. There was some sort of harsh, fizzing energy in her limbs that she didn't know what to do with.

"How are you feeling?" said a voice from nearby, and she looked up with a jerk to see that John was back.

"Shaky, but I'm okay. I-I'll be okay." God, she sounded like such an idiot! "I...are you in trouble? I mean, for...um-"

"For shooting him? I think it'll come out okay in the wash. Better him than you, eh?"

She felt unaccountably flattered by that, felt a bit of a blush creeping up her cheeks and tucked her chin into the folds of the blanket.

He looked her up and down. "Feeling a bit restless?"

"A bit."

He turned and called out to the inspector, who was talking to two uniformed officers a few yards away from the ambulance. "Greg, is it okay if Molly and I stroll around a bit? It might help her to walk off the nerves. I'll stay with her."

The inspector agreed and John glanced around, then gestured Molly towards a path that led between two of the buildings. She nodded and climbed down from the ambulance, and they walked away at a leisurely pace. She still had the blanket wrapped around her, as well as her labcoat and cardigan and blouse, so the autumn chill didn't bother her too badly. John wore a green jacket, unbuttoned over his jumper and shirt. She'd never seen that jacket before, it suited him.

It occurred to her that that might be an odd thing to think about a man who had just killed somebody to save her life. Shouldn't she be thinking he was mysterious and intimidating, something like that? She glanced across at John, who was trying to orient himself as they walked, sticking out his chin and pursing his lips as he concentrated. He wasn't very intimidating at all. Or particularly mysterious.

The path led them down a small passageway between two of the hospital complex's oldest buildings, lit brightly by Victorian-style streetlamps. It was quiet and still there, and Molly began to feel rather better. It still felt like there were ants crawling along her nerves, but they were settling down a bit. John chatted quietly away next to her; after his initial reassurances that all the thieves had been caught, he started just telling her little anecdotes about his time here as a student, which was oddly comforting. It seemed he didn't need much input from her, so the conversation just slid pleasantly by her and let her own thoughts smooth out.

A fork in the path appeared at the corner with another building, and she wasn't sure which of them made the decision to turn right, but they did, and found themselves in a courtyard; a little square of lawn towered over on all sides by the old buildings but for a tiny gap where the path passed through. The windows above them were dark and there were more old-fashioned lampposts, and a little bench. Molly wasn't quite sure if she wanted to sit down, but it felt silly to just stand there, so she perched on the arm rest and watched as John wandered placidly around the patch of grass, peering up at the dark windows.

He turned to her and smiled.

"How are you feeling, Molly?" he asked again, subtle insistence in his words this time.

She thought carefully before she answered. "Twitchy," she told him. "Or...I'm not sure, I suppose I'm in shock, but I don't feel nauseous or anything, just...unsettled. It's odd." She looked down and saw that her hands, resting in her lap, were trembling, and she thought of John's hand, those little exercises she'd seen him do with his fingers, the injury.

"God, you must think I'm such a coward!" she blurted. "You must have been through so much worse before, and you...you never-"

He stepped up in front of her and put his own warm hands around hers. "Now don't think like that," he told her calmly. "There's no bravery competition. Everyone deals with fear differently, that's all. I just don't show it as much. There's no shame in being scared, not after something like that's happened."

She nodded weakly and looked down at their joined hands. He was so kind and understanding, so cool headed. His hands were so warm and steady in her grip, and they felt...

They felt really nice, actually. She slid her own hands in his so that she could touch more of his skin, so she could settle her hands on his wrists while his hands rested on her forearms, and she could feel his pulse. Novel, almost, how that felt. Too much time spent amongst corpses.

He seemed to pick up on her train of thought and moved back a bit, drawing her to her feet. "C'mere," he murmured gruffly, and she stepped up to him, put her arms around him, felt his arms wrap around her.

That helped a hell of a lot. He felt so cosy and sturdy and really truly warm, even through all the layers of his clothes. He wasn't really a natural hugger and she could tell he felt awkward, but he was trying his best, and all of a sudden she felt a huge rush of affection for him.

Before she even realised that she was going to do it, she turned her head and kissed him.

She just put her lips against his at first, surprising a little murmur out of him. He didn't pull away though, just let her, so she kissed him properly. After a few seconds, he kissed back, and it turned out that he was, really was, a natural kisser. His lips were smooth and firm, his arms tight around her, and all of a sudden, Molly knew exactly what her jitters were telling her she needed.

She wasn't sure exactly who instigated what after that point, and would later feel cringing embarrassment at the notion that it may well have been mostly her, but John was with her all the way. Their kisses became heated and sloppy, and without any awareness of having moved, she found her shoulders pressing into a wall, the blanket still draped around her keeping the cold of the bricks at bay. One of her ankles was hooked around the back of John's knee, and he skimmed his hand up her thigh, scooping her skirt up, and god she was glad she'd worn a skirt that day! And she should have felt shy then, or embarrassed even, but she couldn't, not with his hot fingers exploring her skin so intimately, his compact, strong body pressed against hers.

God, it had been much too long.

It all moved pretty quickly then; she grabbed at the fly of his jeans with a shaking hand until he tore his own hand away from her waist and undid it for her. Both his hands up her skirt, then, tugging her knickers down just far enough, not so far that they'd stop her from spreading her legs. Then she hitched her leg higher up around his waist, held on tightly to his shoulders and kissed him as he pushed inside her.

He was gentle, at first, holding her hips and trying to be slow, until she tore her mouth away from his to pant desperately for air, and that must have been some kind of turn on for John, because he murmured curses under his breath and pressed her harder into the wall. He was so hot and solid and thick inside her, moving with such sure ease, and she had to put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming the place down. Already she was close, deep shudders rumbling through her, and she pressed herself more tightly against him, let out a shriek when he grabbed up her other leg and pulled that one around his waist too.

This, exactly this, had been the stuff of fantasies for a significant part of her adult life. She'd never thought it would happen, but here she was; picked up off the ground and ravished against a wall.

He felt so deep inside her now, still moving so smoothly, so well, and she was a breath away from coming, a thrust away, and instant away, and then-

Her vision shattered and she wailed into her damp palm as orgasm hit her, John's cock still pumping inside her, drawing it out into long, trailing strands of pleasure.

He groaned and began to lose his rhythm, and just as she was coming down from her high, he sobbed out a breath, and she squeezed her arms and legs around him as he came.

It took a minute or two for them both to calm down enough that they were sure they could move without toppling over. When the time came though, John gently helped Molly to get her feet situated on solid ground, held onto her shoulders while she found her balance.

"Okay?" he asked, breathlessly. Molly nodded, then had to put her hand against the wall as her head reeled.

"Sorry," John murmured. "I...that was too...sorry."

Molly shook her head and, after a couple of false starts, managed to speak. "Please don't apologise, that was just..." she trailed off and felt herself grinning, even though a hot blush was starting to creep up her face again.

John raised his eyebrows. "You're sure you're okay? I wasn't too rough?"

Molly made the effort to push away from the wall and stand on her own two feet, before taking stock. She was sore, but in a good way. "I'm fine," she told him. "In fact, I feel brilliant!" A little giggle escaped her at that, and John gave her an abashed smile.

"That'll be a mixture of endorphins from sex and the come-down from the shock and adrenaline," he told her. And possibly also the fact that she hadn't had sex in nearly four years, she thought, but she didn't say that of course.

John took off his jacket, then his jumper and shirt, before pulling off the cotton t-shirt he had on underneath and handing it to her. She stared dumbly at it for some moments, while he got dressed again, before realising what he'd intended it for. He kept his back turned to give her a bit of privacy while she...well, mopped up a bit. She pulled her knickers back up and smoothed her skirt down, and by the time she was done John had tidied himself up and looked once again like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

He came over to gather up the blanket and resettle it around her shoulders before drawing a deep breath and giving her an awkward look. "I'm sorry Molly, but are you on birth control?"

That jolted her back to sobriety a bit. "I - yes. The pill."

He let out a little sigh of relief. "Good, that's...I'm clean, so...I have regular check ups, I mean. So you've nothing to worry about."

"Yes. Me too, clean I mean."

He nodded again, fussed a bit with the edge of the blanket where it kept sliding off her shoulder. "This..." she felt awkward, not quite sure what she wanted to ask. "Is this, I mean..."

"This can be just a one off, Molly. That's fine with me. I realise that you probably aren't much of a one for casual sex."

She nodded. "Thanks," she said quietly. "Um..."

"I won't mention it to Sherlock, if that's what you're about to ask," John said with a small grin. "Things will just go on as normal. It was...let's call it a pleasant aberration. How's that?"

Molly smiled, feeling a little touch of tension she hadn't realise was in her dissipate. "That's...yes, that sounds perfect. Thanks, John."

"Righto," John replied cheerily. He took the t-shirt from her and pitched it into a bin they passed on their way back to the front building.

::

The havoc had died down a bit now; as they approached the traffic pull-in where the ambulance had been, Molly could see that most people had gone. The police must have finished questioning the staff, and the criminal transport vans and most of the ambulances had left, leaving only a couple of police cars and the ambulance that Molly had been sitting in earlier. There were still a few police officers milling about, and Molly spotted Sherlock and John's inspector in a small crowd of people by the doors, moments before she heard a familiar voice.

"You will tell me where the hell he is!" Sherlock was demanding, and the inspector moved out of the way enough that Molly could see Sherlock's face. "You let him do your blasted job for you and now you don't even know where – John!"

John had waved his arm to get Sherlock's attention, and now Sherlock was shoving police officers out of his way and striding over to them. John stood calmly at Molly's side, watching him approach with a look of rueful affection in his eyes.

Molly suddenly felt a jolt of anxiety; they'd agreed not to say anything to Sherlock, but that didn't mean he wouldn't work it out. Oh god, he was going to take one look at them and know that they'd had sex and then she'd never hear the end of it!

Sherlock arrived and elbowed his way past Molly to John's side, barely even noticing her.

"John, they said you shot somebody!" His eyes roved up and down John's body, then he reached up both hands to pat over John's chest and forearms and, just as John was opening his mouth to reply, Sherlock interrupted. "It was in one of the morgues. You killed him with one shot, then walked around the grounds to calm down from the adrenaline. You aren't hurt."

There was a tinge of relief in his voice at that last statement, but aside from that, his deductions had been rattled off with his usual brisk callousness. John sighed and nodded, before gesturing to Molly.

"The same man who killed one of the security guards had grabbed Molly as a hostage. She was very-"

"Don't need those details at this point," Sherlock cut in with a dismissive waft of his hand in Molly's direction.

"Sherlock!" John snapped, and it seemed to Molly like everyone in earshot suddenly froze. John glared fiercely at Sherlock, then sighed and turned to Molly, expression softening a little. "You'd best let them take you to get checked out, Molly," he told her calmly. "They'll set you up with counselling and things at the hospital, if you want."

He gestured at something behind her, and she looked over her shoulder to see one of the paramedics standing a few feet away, offering her a tentative smile. She nodded at him, then turned back to John.

"Thanks for everything," she told him, and turned away quickly before she started blushing again. God, she couldn't believe she'd said it like that!

As she walked towards the ambulance, she could hear Sherlock talking in rapid, low tones, wowing John with deductions, probably. He was amazing, she supposed. Maybe he'd earned the right to be a bit nasty every now and then, but that didn't mean-

"Sherlock," she heard John interrupt. "I'm cross with you, you realise. That was really rude just now."

"Rude to whom?" Sherlock responded, confused. Molly glanced back over her shoulder as she climbed up into the back of the ambulance, and she saw John's thunderous expression aimed squarely at Sherlock.

In that moment, she had a revelation.

The paramedic closed the ambulance doors, and even through that barrier Molly could hear Sherlock getting a damn good telling off. She sat down heavily on one of the gurneys, and the paramedic peered worriedly at her face.

"You alright, Miss?" he asked.

Yes. Um...it just occurred to me..." She snapped back to awareness and looked up at the paramedic's curious face.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I think I may have hitched my horse to the wrong wagon," she said thoughtfully.

The paramedic frowned. "Wagon to the wrong horse, d'you mean?"

"Whichever," Molly replied. "I only just noticed..."

The paramedic shrugged and went about getting the ambulance ready to go, and by the time they set off, Molly had her thoughts back in some kind of order.

She'd had the wrong man all along.

And John had said that their little encounter could be a one off, but he'd never said it had to be.

Nobody had said that she couldn't ask him out.

::

AN – Ooh, the plot gets going properly here. I love Molly and I wanted to write something with her in it. And yes this will ultimately be Johnlock, but don't worry, I'm not going to be too mean to her. I love her as a character because she's so tough. She's shy and awkward and is very aware of it, but damn it, she tries anyway. Bless her for a little trooper.

And look! The story behind that weird title! I know the phrase is the wrong way around, that's on purpose. Because they're the wrong way round...or something. It seemed clever when it was in my brain. Oh well, I like it :)