Hello and welcome back. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting...if you're hoping this horrible waiting will end I'm sorry to disappoint you. I hope you like it nevertheless. :) Thank you for reading and here's 2/3 xx
"What's so funny?"
Mary shook her head, clutching at her chest as she tried to regain her breath. John raised his eyebrows, oblivious to Mary's amusement and folding his arms as she finally turned to him.
"Oh, come on…" John shrugged and Mary rolled her eyes, "…well, you know how close Sherlock and Molly have become lately," John nodded and Mary gestured wildly, "…well, what if they've grown closer than we think? I mean, didn't you see how horny they looked?"
It was John's turn to laugh. "Don't be-"
"If they're not shagging already, they will be after this trip." John bit his lip; he highly doubted his girlfriend's ridiculous theory but once she got an idea into her head it was very difficult to remove…
The purple shirt was bunched on the floor along with the crumpled cherry dress; Molly tilted her head in approval whilst Sherlock bit his lip, flexing his fingers behind his back. After a moment, Molly released a deep breath and clasped her own fidgeting hands behind her back.
"It looks to me like chasing criminals all over London might just be the best workout." Sherlock would have laughed if he wasn't so focused on the wondrous sight in front of him. He, too, released a deep breath whilst watching her underwear ensemble intently.
"So, what's your excuse?" Molly's eyes widened slightly and she swallowed thickly. Sherlock didn't remove his eyes from hers as he continued, "when you said…'sleep with me' was that your way of giving up?"
"Oh no, Mr. Holmes, I was just giving you something to think about." Well, you've certainly done that, Miss Hooper.
Sherlock didn't know how long they were stood watching each other's chests rise and fall with their heavy breathing but it was now dark and certainly time for bed. He pushed aside delightful images of licking and nipping at the skin around Molly's neck as they wordlessly moved either side of the bed. Molly shook away of Sherlock's hands all over her body, laying his dirty claim to her as they peeled back the sheets and climbed in, still locked in that fierce eye contact. They simply sat for a long time just hugging their knees to their chests, trying to think of some way of getting the other to give up – at least it would rid the sexual tension and they could sleep…afterwards, of course. After what seemed like hours, Molly experienced a brainwave and yawned widely, earning her a curious glance from the detective.
"It's really warm in here…isn't it?" Sherlock appeared to have caught on to her idea for he hugged his knees tighter, shaking his head, "…I might just have to sleep na-"
"Stop it. That's. Not. Fair." Sherlock's voice was a deep growl but Molly simply smiled devilishly.
"'Fair'? You're a lot sexier than I am; it's harder for me to…resist." Sherlock scoffed, turning to meet her gaze again, his breath catching when he saw her eyes clouded over from lust.
"I don't think so. I nearly had you in the bathroom at Baker Street…and on the ferry. You play the game very well, indeed, Miss Hooper."
They fell silent after this, ignoring each other for fear of falling into another dream. In the darkness of the room, they settled into an uncomfortable sleep. Unfortunately, their dreams wouldn't do as much to keep them apart…
John folded his arms, glaring at the pair fast asleep in the large double bed; their clothes were bundled in a pile in front of the bed and they were a mess of tangled limbs and sheets. He cleared his throat but neither of them stirred; instead, Molly rolled herself tighter against Sherlock and he loosely draped his arm around her. Maybe Mary has a point. He didn't want to wake them but as Sherlock murmured something that sounded distinctly like 'Molly', he decided he had to.
"Um…breakfast's soon…if you want it, that is…"
It was at this precise moment John was sure he had never felt more uncomfortable in his entire life; in sync with each other, Sherlock and Molly snapped their eyes open, swallowed and turned to face John. He tapped his foot with the air of a parent telling off horny teenagers. They didn't move away as Sherlock frowned.
"It isn't how it looks…haven't you ever been cold?" John couldn't help but laugh.
"Oh, come on, you expect me to believe that?"
Molly blushed before muttering an excuse; she climbed from the bed and dashed into the bathroom. John's ears reddened with embarrassment at the sight of Molly's underwear, even more so when he saw Sherlock hadn't averted his own eyes. He sighed deeply, sitting up in bed.
"We didn't have sex, John. You'd know if we had."
John shook his head; this wasn't something he had anticipated when Mary had sent him to 'check on them'. John opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by the distinctive sound of running water from the bathroom. It was when Sherlock started to drum his fingers impatiently on the bed that John made his excuses and left them to it, muttering something about meeting them for breakfast. Molly emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, her hair dripping; Sherlock sucked on his bottom lip as she bent over her suitcase, tilting his head to get a better view. Molly tutted and shook her head.
"Do you think I'm getting dressed with you in here?" Sherlock sighed deeply and threw the covers back, gracefully extracting himself from the bed.
"No…I was hoping."
He picked up his discarded shirt and winked before waiting in the opposite room; Molly smirked softly and released a tiny giggle. Unfortunately for Sherlock, there was no door separating the bedroom…he was left pacing the living area, battling the inner thoughts telling him to march in there and take her. He didn't know how long he had been arguing with himself but Molly was now dried and dressed, tapping his arm irritably.
"Did you hear? Breakfast…" He tilted his head, a sly smirk creeping onto his face.
"I'm not hungry."
"Yes…you keep telling yourself that…" she gave a final wink and left their hotel room, flicking her hair and sashaying her hips more than necessary. Sherlock hastily followed, after ensuring he had closed his mouth…
John and Mary were waiting for them, quite impatiently; apparently, John just couldn't keep things to himself and just had to tell his girlfriend. They were staring at their friends with raised eyebrows, expecting them to explain themselves. Mary finally plucked up the courage with a wide smile.
"So…John tells me, you slept together…" Molly, who had been drinking orange juice at the time, proceeded to spit it everywhere; she hadn't expected such a blunt question. After cleaning herself up and a glance at a carefree looking Sherlock, decided to explain herself; Sherlock sure wasn't going to.
"Technically yes…we did but-"
"Physically, no we didn't."
John and Mary nodded in unison, still not fully convinced. Sherlock was hardly surprised due to the nature of the discovery. The next few moments were silent, nervous glances and awkward smiles were exchanged around the cosy table in the hotel restaurant. Sherlock released a very bored sigh, eyeing the posh seating area; there was hardly anyone around and the staff were very quiet workers. He stopped abruptly when he felt Molly's firm grip on his upper thigh, her light strokes causing his hand to jerk and knock the cutlery to the floor.
"Sorry."
John and Mary frowned when he didn't bother bending down to retrieve them, favouring Molly's touch more. She hastily removed her hand when a waiter approached them; Sherlock shot him an irritated look, even though he had done nothing wrong.
"Bonne matinée, mesdames et messieurs. Parlez vous francais?"
As expected, John, Mary and Molly shook their heads awkwardly at the rather handsome waiter whilst Sherlock sighed and muttered and very quiet 'oui'. The waiter seemed relieved and chuckled wildly, flicking his shoulder length blond hair around pathetically.
"Oh, thank goodness…I'm English myself, really. It's nice to have a break from French all the time. What can I get you?"
The waiter winked cheekily in Molly's direction and she giggled childishly when she caught Mary's eye; John raised his eyebrows and Sherlock scowled, turning to the waiter fiercely.
"Coffee. Black, two sugars, if you can manage it."
The waiter blinked in confusion before scowling and turning to the others; Sherlock wasn't about to order himself anything to eat. Soon, the waiter had flashed his cheesiest smile and winked so many times at the ladies it looked as though he had a nervous twitch. He had returned to the kitchen; Molly and Mary were nodding in approval, causing Sherlock and John to simultaneously fold their arms sulkily.
"He sort of looked like Thor, didn't he?"
Molly choked on her orange juice, nodding eagerly at her friend who was struggling to keep her snorts at bay. John prepared for the inevitable question Sherlock would eventually ask. Sure enough, he glanced towards his confused flatmate and noticed him mouth 'Thor?' John rolled his eyes before muttering 'not a threat. Fictional'. Mary and Molly were still giggling childishly when the waiter returned with their food. He winked yet again and dragged a chair to the edge of the table, effectively sitting between Mary and Molly. Seriously, the nerve. Sherlock clenched his fists beneath the table and John wriggled uncomfortably.
"So, what brings two lovely girls like you to a place like this?" The light French accent he had picked up only seemed to make Molly and Mary giggle even more. Sherlock sipped his coffee angrily as the others ate in between conversation.
"Well…we come every year, actually. We've always loved it here." Mary nodded in agreement, trying not to stare at the muscles clearly visible through his thin shirt. The waiter gave another large grin and adjusted his tie.
"Ah, if you need me to show you around," another wink, "I'm Chris."
"Oh my god. You're last name's not Hemsworth, is it?" Mary looked as though she wanted to slap herself but Chris just laughed, running a hand through his hair. John had finished eating now and was staring at the man along with Sherlock. She cleared her throat, face flushed red, "I'm Mary…that's Molly," she gestured opposite and Molly smiled politely, "this is my boyfriend, John," John gave a smug wave and Chris nodded reluctantly, "…and that's Molly's…uh, friend, Sherlock." Chris' eyes seemed to light up immediately and he turned to Molly; Sherlock hadn't even acknowledged his name.
"Ah, so you're not involved?" Molly gave a subtle shrug, which had gone unnoticed by everyone but Sherlock. Chris smiled again and leaned forwards, "well, my friend's just opened this club. He asked me to promote the club, you know, blah blah blah. Seriously though, it looks like good fun…you guys can come, you'll more than fit in."
Molly and Mary beamed whilst John and Sherlock exchanged hesitant glances. Chris opened his mouth but was silenced by a shout from the kitchen.
"Oi, tu paresseux petite merde! Retourner au travail ou dois-je déduire de votre salaires?"
He winced before one final wide smile and getting to his feet. "Ill see you there tonight. It's just up the road, the little club called Le Chambre de Diamant. I must dash, emergency…apparently they can't handle things without me."
"Interesting. That's not what your boss said. Unless 'lazy little shit' means emergency. He'll deduct your wages, too? Sounds like they really need your help?"
Chris scowled at Sherlock before hurrying away from the chuckling detective. Mary began fanning herself leaning back in her chair.
"Well, it looks like we've got our night planned, eh?" John and Sherlock sighed grumpily whilst the other two giggled childishly; Sherlock knew nothing good could come from something named 'The Diamond House'…
Sherlock was very bored; he had agreed to go into the town with the others mostly to keep close to Molly, even though her outfit was entirely distracting. It was a warm day indeed and both women had selected long dresses to pair with oversized hats and sunglasses, easily slipping on sandals. Mary and John walked in front, arm-in-arm, leaving Sherlock and Molly behind to shoot each other longing glances every few minutes. She bit her lip and lowered her voice.
"It's really too warm for you to be wearing a shirt…" he smirked, placing his fidgeting hands into his pockets.
"Yes. It's also too hot for a dress. That will be fixed soon."
Mary and John had conveniently stopped outside a market and were too engrossed in their shopping to notice Sherlock pulling Molly into an alleyway and pressing her against the wall. Molly's delight was obvious as she gripped tightly to his hair, biting hard into her lip to keep from giving up right there; her hat had been knocked to the floor in the process and her sunglasses had slipped down her nose. Sherlock tilted his head, allowing the hands pressing her shoulders to the wall to slide down her exposed arms appreciatively. He gripped her hips, attempting to slide her dress up her body. Before either could say or do anything, they felt their legs being prodded by a broom and turned to an annoyed elderly lady.
"Non, je ne veux pas de votre genre ici! J'ai pensé que vous exploité seulement la nuit."
Sherlock chuckled before reluctantly extracting himself from Molly's grip, bending to retrieve her hat. The lady shooed them away and Molly swallowed, tapping Sherlock's arm.
"What did she say?" Sherlock met her gaze and smirked devilishly, passing her hat back over.
"Ah, she said 'no, I do not want your kind here! I thought you only operated at night.' Needless to say, she thought you were a prostitute. A rather impatient one."
Molly's mouth had dropped open and glanced behind her; the woman was cleaning the path, mumbling to herself and shooting the two disgusted glances. Molly frowned and turned back to Sherlock as they moved towards the still distracted John and Mary.
"As if…you were the one who pulled me-"
He shushed her as they neared their friends; Mary had found the perfect pair of shoes to wear to the new club that evening and John had even found himself a fridge magnet for his mother. After getting all hot and bothered in the alleyway neither appeared interested in the many stalls on the market. They found a quiet café in the middle of the town and John complained about the many different 'revolting' items on the menu, promptly insulting everyone in the café. Sherlock spent his time getting revenge on Molly for breakfast, choosing to place his hand to her knee when she was precariously holding her fork. She proceeded to drop the item and conceal her soft moan with a believable cough. Sherlock managed to keep a straight face as his hand gently and teasingly slowly travelled over the cloth covering her skin. He removed it quickly much like she had done to him but there was no mistaking her irritated huff. She barely pulled off a sneeze but it seemed to satisfy John and Mary.
They soon departed for the hotel to prepare for their night out; it sounded to Sherlock like John and Mary weren't doing a very good job at getting dressed but he tried not to think about it. He and Molly avoided each other as they got ready; Sherlock didn't see the point in changing from his white shirt and trousers, although Molly had hinted at him by placing his purple shirt across the bed. He promptly showered and returned to the bedroom to find Molly in her underwear, debating what outfit to wear, her back facing the bathroom door.
"What do you think? This or-"
She had turned around and groaned at the sight before her, silently cursing the detective; he had wrapped a towel around his lower half and there was something about the water still clinging to his fine muscles that made Molly's mouth water. She may have seen it all the previous night but this felt different. I can't wait to run my hands all over you, Sherlock Holmes. He quirked an eyebrow and approached her, never breaking their intense eye contact as he pointed at the red dress from the night they had watched the movie; this of course led to their encounter in 221B's bathroom.
"This one," his growl was determined but Molly flicked her tongue across her lips. She placed her hands on her hips and held up an equally appealing blue dress, "hmm, you'll attract too much attention in both. I suggest you stay here with me and we have a thorough de-clothing session…"
She reached forwards, itching to trace the lines on his chest and over his toned stomach. Molly swallowed but managed to resist and breathe deeply.
"Tempting. But, I'm not giving up, Mr. Holmes."
"Well, neither am I. It looks like we'll be playing this game forever, Miss Hooper."
Molly sighed as he stepped slowly away from her and moved over to his side of the bed. They dressed in tortured silence, each releasing needless noises and groans now and again in an effort to bring the other around. It was beginning to wear them down and both were certain it wasn't going to last much longer…
They arrived outside the club recommended by Chris and immediately noticed him waiting enthusiastically outside for them; Mary had selected a modest emerald green dress with matching strappy heels and John a simple shirt and jeans combo. After much inner struggle (and failed 'purple shirt persuasion'), Molly had gone for the purple dress and sandals; she hated wearing heels, especially when drinking. Chris kissed both Molly and Mary on both cheeks, shaking John's hand and avoiding Sherlock too.
"I'm glad you could make it…do you want to meet my friend? The owner…he said drinks are on the house for my friends…"
Mary and Molly nodded gratefully and John rubbed his hands together, not being the one to refuse an offer like that. Sherlock pondered if friendships could be formed in a day before remembering the day he and John had met. They were shown inside and the nose immediately deafened them; many people were already tipsy and dancing around making fools of themselves. The group were then moved to a private booth with the owner, who turned out to be none other than Freddie, the charismatic barman from the ship. He had dramatically waved them over and licked his lips at his luck. Sherlock groaned as he was forced to sit next to the hot-pink-half-open-shirt wearing man who had taken a something of a shine to him. He stiffened as Freddie's arm draped around his shoulders; he didn't want to throw him off and get thrown out, the flashing lights illuminated Molly perfectly and she looked heavenly. This wasn't exactly the most comfortable situation either. Freddie cleared his throat and leaned forwards, raising his voice over the music.
"What do you think, darlings?"
Everyone nodded their praises, all except Sherlock who was keeping a tally of every time Molly drank something; she appeared to be only having alcohol in moderation. They apparently had the same idea…tonight was going to be the night. Sherlock's discomfort grew when Freddie began stroking over his back and arms; he was used to keeping control and calm but he found himself on his feet, pulling Molly to the dancefloor. Freddie sighed in disappointment, his shoulders slumping until a group of young men seated themselves on the opposite table. He winked at Mary and John before departing, glaring at the giggling couple behind him. Mary turned her eyes to the dancefloor and the passionate explosion she was certain she was going to witness.
"I thought you didn't dance?"
Sherlock's eyes drifted closed when she pressed her head to his, speaking directly into his ear. The music blared and the lights flashed as Sherlock pulled Molly tight against him; they could feel each other's breathing and the beats of the music ran through them. He smirked and seized her hands forcefully.
"I have never said that," he moved them quickly around the dancefloor, ignoring the weird looks from the other clubbers, "I don't like to boast."
Molly audibly scoffed, her hair jumping on her shoulders as they moved together. Their hips seemed to be joined together, their vigorous movements caused Sherlock's hands to 'slip' to her waist, guiding her ever so slightly. Mary raised her eyebrows in amusement and nudged a drowsy John.
"It's like watching Dirty Dancing or something…you never told me Sherlock could dance…" John shrugged and lazily ran his hand through his hair, tilting his head.
"It looks more…x-rated dancing to me…everyone's stopped to watch!"
Indeed, several dancers had stopped to watch Molly laid her hands on Sherlock's chest, apparently forgetting they were in public. I didn't know he was that desperate to get away from Freddie. Where is he, anyway? John glanced behind him and sure enough, the handsome club owner had 'gotten off' with one of the men at the table. No, make that two. Yep, two of the four men got up from their seats and followed Freddie through to the office. He shot them a triumphant glance which was returned with a wink from Mary. John groaned and dropped his head in his hands.
"We should stop them…" Mary's eyes widened and she shook her head, watching as Sherlock's hands continued travelling south while Molly's moved to his hair.
"Yeah…you're probably- oh, it doesn't matter, Freddie's having a word…"
John looked up to see Freddie winking at Sherlock before hurrying back to his office; his shirt was now completely undone. John would hazard a guess that Freddie had just given Sherlock an exclusive offer to join him. Sherlock and Molly, apparently realising what they had just done, smiled awkwardly before returning to their friends to rapturous applause. The collapsed into chairs and fanned their flushed faces, Sherlock hastily doing his buttons. John shook his head.
"That was a nice…show…"
Sherlock glared at his friend who buried himself in his drink so as not to laugh. The tamer pair were further astonished when Molly climbed into Sherlock's lap and rested her forehead against his, slowly rubbing herself against him. John and Mary's mouths fell open as Sherlock fumbled at the back of her dress, no doubt searching for her zip; their breathing was quick and hot on each other's faces. They both fantasised about getting the other sweaty in a much cosier environment. John and Mary exchanged glances before she snorted.
"For god's sake, get a room."
Sherlock stopped dead upon hearing this, Molly's hands also stilling on his hips. Wordlessly, she clambered down and grabbed his hand; Sherlock didn't need pulling to his feet as they almost ran towards the exit of the club. Mary sighed, drinking the last of her drink.
"They're going to…" she made a whistling sound and John nodded, grimacing.
"Yeah, it looks like it…"
Hmmm, looks like I can't escape it now lol ;) I hope you liked that chapter...xx stay tuned, it's getting hot in France now ;p xx
