Admittedly, this was not Sherlock's preferred choice to stave off boredom. However, he'd always had a bit of a soft spot for Molly Hooper, finding her obvious crush on him oddly flattering and undeniable useful but this was different somehow. His lips were inches from hers and he didn't want to pull away. He decided to indulge himself for once.

"Really? What about me in particular?" he purred, voice dropping at least an octave. Molly had been staring into his eyes but was caught off guard again. While she was trying to pick her chin up off the proverbial floor, Sherlock continued.

"I'm only curious because, regrettably, I haven't been able to figure it all out myself. It is obvious that you find me physically attractive and my intelligence is probably a plus as you are a smart woman yourself. I just have this sense that there's more to it," he teased, lips close to her ear again. This time, however, he allowed his lips to graze her ear. She grasped the table behind her in an effort to stay upright as her legs began to go a bit wobbly.

"So, Molly, what is it about me keeps you up at night?" he drawled with a perfectly enunciated "t" at the end. He gently bit down on her ear lobe and she audibly gasped.

"Y-your voice…" she whimpered, turning an even brighter shade of pink than she thought physically possible. Sherlock chuckled darkly in response and moved his lips to plant a kiss against the sensitive flesh behind her ear.

"Hmm, well, that is rather fascinating. How about I try a little experiment?"

He moved back to look her in the eye and she nodded her head.

"I've got a deduction for you, Miss Hooper. You not only like the sound of my voice, you like when I tell you what to do, don't you?"

Molly nodded, closing her eyes trying to catch her breath. She would have found his spot-on observations infuriating if it they weren't so goddamn arousing. However, this was nearly a fantasy come true for her and she was going to take full advantage of it, if only she could remember how to phonate.

"Now, now, use your words, Molly," he taunted.

"Yes," she managed despite feeling near hyperventilation.

"Good girl," he literally growled, pale eyes turned dark. He was enjoying this as much as she was and the realization was thrilling.

The fingers he had gently weaved into her hair tightened minutely, effectively pulling her head back to make her meet his gaze.

"Now, I'm going to tell you what I want you to do. Are you still interested in this little experiment?" Sherlock inquired calmly.

"Sherlock, please," she pleaded. He smirked but loosened his grip on her hair to remove the hair tie holding up her ponytail.

"Then by all means, let us proceed. What I would like for you to do, Molly, is tell me what you were imagining me doing to you before I so rudely interrupted your daydream," his eyes glinted mischievously.

"How could you possibly know I thinking about…" Molly gasped before Sherlock interjected.

"Do remember who you're talking to, dear. How could I not know? Now, answer me."

She swallowed hard and began to heed his request, "I was imagining myself bent over my desk."

"Yes, and?" he asked impatiently.

"You had pushed my skirt up to my waist and my knickers down to my knees," she looked up to meet his gaze, beginning to enjoy his reactions to her fantasy. Emboldened, she continued.

"And you were gently caressing my spread inner thighs with the tip of your riding crop."

With that, Sherlock inhaled sharply. There was more to sweet little Molly Hooper than met the eye, even for him. He decided he was rather fond of this little hidden part of her personality. He took a moment to compose himself before he spoke.

"Thank you, Miss Hooper, that's enough for now. I regrettably did not bring in my crop today so we'll have to wait to indulge in that particular fantasy of yours but I do have something else in mind."

Molly leaned in closer to him, fully relinquishing the bit of control she'd had when she related her fantasy to him. She held her breath in anticipation.

"Now, I know how fond you are of hearing my voice," Sherlock observed. As he spoke, he unbuttoned her lab coat.

"However, I must tell you that I know of a better use for my mouth."

He pushed her lab coat halfway down her arms, effectively binding them to her side, and pushed her skirt up to her waist exposing her knickers.

"I only have one more question for you, Molly," he paused coming down to his knees before her, face inches away from her sensible cotton knickers.

"Exactly how wet are you for me?" he purred.

God, his voice is sinful. Two can play that game, Mr. Holmes.

"Soaked," she moaned.

"I thought as much," he murmured, pulling off her knickers to see for himself.