Chapter Four - The Date

Gary Morris opened the door to his office. He gazed around the meager space. His lip curled, it was a step down to what he was used to. The small and cramped room was about the size of Dr. Hooper's office. He sat down in the slightly battered office chair and idly opened the drawers of the desk as he hit the speed dial on his mobile phone.

" Yes?" The voice that answered was crisp and business-like.

"I made contact as planned," Morris reported.

"How did it go?" the voice inquired.

"It went well. They accepted me and don't appear to be suspicious," Morris answered.

"Good," the voice said, "I can't talk now. Meet me, seven o'clock tonight, at the usual place. We need to go over what happens next."

"Right," Gary answered and replaced the phone in his pocket. He thought about Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper. "Piece of cake." he grinned as he closed his office door and headed toward the exit.

ɸ

Molly was in a dither. She couldn't stop thinking about what Sherlock had said about kicking their relationship up a notch and wondering just what he meant. Well, she had a pretty good idea, and that was the reason for her nerves. She rushed around her flat plumping the pillows on the sofa. Lighting a few candles. Putting soft background music on and generally doing things that didn't need doing. Every five minutes or so she rushed to the bathroom and checked her makeup, or ran to her bedroom to check her outfit in the full length mirror to make sure she looked okay. She worried that the softly pleated blouse in a deep turquoise blue was too plain or that the skinny jeans were too tight. In the end she just gave up and hoped for the best. She glanced at the clock for the hundredth time, six forty-five. Molly groaned, sat on the sofa and forced herself to take deep breaths. "Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. Calm down Molly," she told herself. "Inhale, hold, exhale. Inhale, hold, exhale. . . "

Ten minutes later when the door bell rang. Molly opened her eyes and exhaled slowly. "You can do this Molly," she told herself as she stood up. "It's just Sherlock, he'll probably look at you and tell your mascara is messy, and it will be okay. It will be okay because it's Sherlock and that's his way of telling you that he has noticed you."

She smiled as she realized that it really was okay. She wasn't fifteen or even twenty-five anymore. She was mature enough to not sweat the small stuff. The door bell rang again causing her to jump and hurry to answer.

Molly swung the door open and smiled as Sherlock pushed past her. His arms were full of packages and take out. Molly followed him into the kitchen area and watched as he dumped the contents in his arms onto the small table.

"That's a lot of take out," Molly commented and looked up at Sherlock as he hung his coat over the back of a chair.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "It's your day off tomorrow. I thought maybe we might not want to go out. so I ordered extra."

Molly swallowed as she stared into his intense eyes and processed what he had said. "Oh," she managed to say at last. She stared at him. He made her feel helpless.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

Molly shifted on her feet and forced herself to not wring her hands. "It's just not fair," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper. "You look at me, and my whole life is an open book. I look at you and who knows what you are thinking? It's just so difficult," her voice trailed off.

"You're an excellent pathologist, you are already trained to look for details; can't you deduce me Molly? You have before. Remember how you learned to anticipate me when we were practice fighting while were looking for Moriarty?"

Molly nodded.

"Do the same now."

Molly nodded again, noticing a slight quirk to the right side of his mouth. Did he realize he did that? Molly wondered. She had first noticed it two months ago when they had spend the day together. They had gone to a Maritime and Pirate museum. Sherlock had been relaxed and enjoying himself. They had just come upon a display of cutlasses when Molly had noticed the slight change in the way he held his mouth. Since then she had noted that same motion whenever he was looking at something he liked or enjoyed very much. She decided not to mention it in her deductions. If he knew about it, he would probably not do it again. It was her secret and she planned to keep it that way. She smiled slightly as she realized he had been looking at her when he had moved his mouth that way just now.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Nothing," Molly said. "I just need to clear my thoughts if you actually want me to deduce you." She paused and when she didn't get a response from him she continued, "Let's see, I'll start with the easiest first." She slowly circled him as he stood in the middle of the open area of the kitchen. As she returned to face him she began.

"You set this date up and dictated the parameters. Therefore you must want to be here." She said in her most clinical voice. She circled around him again. "You have changed your clothes. You are wearing a shirt you know I particularly like, so you obviously want to please me." He was openly smirking now. He knew what effect that damn purple shirt had on her. Molly ignored him with great difficulty and continued her slow circle. Pausing behind him she reached up and lightly touched his hair and the skin on the back of his neck. She could see his slight shiver. "You washed your hair, it is much softer looking and feels silky to the touch." He had dyed his hair back to it's natural black. It was still shorter than he was used to, but longer than it was when it was ginger. She missed the beard and mustache but was glad to see his dark curls again. As she came around to face him she noticed a glint shining in his left ear. "Your wearing the earring I gave you." She held her head to the right and considered it. "It looks even better on you now that your hair is dark." She reached up an placed a hand against his neck under the earring, then removed it. "You didn't jump or draw back like you sometimes do when I touched you just now," She observed. "Your eyes are dilated and your pulse is elevated." Molly cleared her throat. "You obviously want to be here and to be around me. How's that for a deduction?"

Sherlock looked at her and Molly gasped silently at the emotion in his eyes. She had always been fascinated by his cool grey eyes that analyzed and saw everything. Now Molly could see an intensity and heat that was compelling. It was as if his eyes were deep pools of blazing fire. She found she couldn't look away.

With a heartbreaking groan, Sherlock gathered Molly in his arms and held her close. She could hear his heart pounding, she could feel his arms trembling.

"Molly," her name was dragged in a ragged groan.

"I know," she said.

"I . . ." he tried again.

"I know, Sherlock," Molly whispered and held him closer.

Sherlock ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He turned to the table and grabbed a CD from one of the packages he had brought with him.

"Come," he said and pulled her by the hand into the living room. He crossed to the compact disk player and opened the case in his hands. Handing the case to Molly he inserted the disk into the player. Molly looked down at the case in her hand. London Symphony Orchestra Rock Classics. Sherlock shoved the coffee table aside. He turned out the lights so only the glow of the candles and the light from the kitchen lighted the room.

"Dance with me," he said as he took the case from Molly and tossed it onto the sofa. Molly nodded and moved to stand in front of him. He looked down at her feet and smiled. "I like your shoes, they're very practical as well as sexy."

Molly knew he was referring to the one inch sole that ended in a six inch spike. It made her tall enough to bring her head up to eye level with him. "You won't think that if I step on your toes in these."

He smiled, "I'll risk it." He started the player and the full rich sounds of the orchestra's rendition of Take My Breath Away began to play. Sherlock gathered Molly into his arms and they began to sway to the music. The song faded away and How Am I Supposed to Live Without You. began. They continued to move and turn. Molly suddenly realized that not only the words but also the music was Sherlock's way of telling her how he felt.

Molly looked up into his eyes and whispered. "It's so beautiful, you're so beautiful"

The song ended and Unchained Melody began. "This is one of my favorites," he said. As the beautiful saxophone solo played the melody, violins filled the background. The music continued to swell. The chorus began again and this time Molly heard his deep voice begin to sing with the music. His voice wasn't perfect, but without a doubt it was the most beautiful thing Molly had ever heard in her life.

Oh my love, my darling

I've hungered for your touch

A long lonely time.

And time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much,

Are you still mine?

I need your love. I . . .

I need your love

God speed your love to me.

As the song faded Sherlock stood very still and looked at Molly. He didn't say anything.

Molly looked up into his eyes and softly said one word. "Yes".

"You're sure?"

"Oh god, yes." she answered.

Sherlock blew out the candles and lead Molly to the bedroom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he motioned for her to put her feet in his lap. He slowly unbuckled the strappy shoes and dropped them to the floor. Molly watched as he massaged the soles of her feet briefly before sliding up to join her. They lay side by side and stared at each other.

"This is a bit awkward," Sherlock murmured. "Molly, I . . ."

Molly scrunched up her face, interrupting whatever Sherlock was about to say. She needed to tell him this before they went any further.

"I'm a virgin," she blurted out baldly.

Sherlock stopped mid-sentence. "You're a what?"

"A virgin," Molly repeated in a very small voice.

Sherlock stared at her and rolled over on his back and began to laugh. Molly sat up and glared in his direction.

"You're being mean," she blurted angrily, "I was too busy studying in university to develop a relationship, and since then I never dated anyone whom I wanted to have sex with until you." She crossed her arms over her chest in a protective gesture.

Sherlock continued laughing. "No, no he gasped you don't understand. I'm not laughing at you. I'm laughing at me."

Molly frowned, "At yourself? What do you mean?"

"I was trying to tell you when you interrupted me."

Molly leaned over Sherlock. "Are you a virgin too?" Molly asked incredulously.

Sherlock nodded. "Well, sort of," he thought for a moment, "I'm a semi-virgin." He clarified.

"And what exactly is a semi-virgin? Molly asked.

"I tried sex twice." he explained. "Once with each gender." He saw Molly wince slightly. "It was an experiment," he went on. "I found it extremely boring, so I decided sex was just not my area and haven't tried again, until now."

"Oh." Molly swallowed and stared at Sherlock. "Do you think you'll find sex boring this time?"

"Oh no." He assured her.

"How can you be so sure?" Molly's voice wavered uncertainly.

Sherlock pursed his lips in thought. "Well, I'm older now. I've read a few books on the subject, and John has some excellent pornography on his laptop. No I don't think boredom will be an issue. Besides that, I'm having sex with you and that makes a considerable difference."

"It does?" Molly still sounded a little uncertain.

"Of course it does; I care about you."

Molly knew that was the closest she would ever get to hearing Sherlock tell her that he loved her. It didn't matter, she knew he did.

"Do you want to be on top or shall I?" he asked. "Of course there are several other equally appropriate positions if you would rather?"

"What? Oh, um, could we be traditional the first time? You on top please?" Molly couldn't believe she was having this conversation.

"That's probably wise since you're a virgin and all" Sherlock agreed.

"Sherlock, You're not going to treat this as an experiment are you?

Sherlock looked at her quizzically. "Not good?" he asked.

"Extremely not good." Molly said firmly.

"Okay." Sherlock said with a sigh. "It's not an experiment.

ɸ

It was the early hours of the morning. Sherlock lay on his back. Molly snuggled close with her head on his chest. This whole sex thing was quite interesting he reflected. Molly seemed to be pleased and as for himself, he felt rather exhilarated. Definitely a new solution for boredom he decided. Molly moved slightly in her sleep and snuggled closer. Sherlock was usually a person who didn't want to be touched or smothered. He was pleasantly surprised to note that he actually enjoyed Molly's closeness even when they weren't engaged in sex. He felt the need to protect her even more strongly than the same feeling to protect John. When had that happened?

Sherlock allowed his brain to shift to his mind palace. Walking to the door marked Molly he pushed it open and entered. He had a lot of new information to catalog and to add to what was already collected there. For instance, take pleasure sensitive spots on the body, apart from the obvious places there were so many areas that seemed to trigger strong emotions in Molly. The back of the left knee for example. Not the right knee, just the left. And the inside of the elbows. He wondered if the sensitive places were consistent or if they changed over time or circumstances. He should be able to quite satisfactorily collect data if he was careful and made sure Molly didn't notice. She seemed to have a dislike for being the subject of his experiments. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

He found it intriguing that Molly was so vocal in her responses to pleasure. It was interesting that it had seemed to have a positive effect on his own pleasure, and the way . . .

Vaguely, he heard a ringing sound, but was so deep in his thoughts the sound did not register as important.

"Sherlock," Molly nudged his shoulder. "Sherlock, your mobile is ringing." She poked his shoulder.

Sherlock's eyes shot open and focused as Molly moved away and gave him space to sit up on the edge of the bed. He picked up his phone and looked at the caller identification.

"Scotland Yard," he said as he looked at Molly. She nodded her head, smiled. "Yes," he answered the phone. "Sherlock Holmes"

The gruff voice on the other end of the phone belonged to Detective Inspector Dimmock.

"Mr. Holmes, Are you aware of the recent murders the press is referring to as the rose petal murders?"

"Yes."

"Well, there's been another one, we think, it's a little different and I would like to rule out a copy cat murder if that's the case. Do you think you could help us out?"

"Just a moment," Sherlock turned and looked at Molly.

"It's a case?" she asked.

Sherlock nodded. Molly could see the struggle of indecision on his face.

"Go on," she said with a smile, "it's okay. Just remember when it's over we'll be here." she grinned as she patted the bed.

Sherlock gave her a dazzling smile and spoke into the phone. "Inspector Dimmock, you'll need to send a car for me. I won't be able to get a cab this time at night from my present location. No, I'm not at Baker Street at the present." He rattled off Molly's address rapidly and assured Dimmock he would be ready. "I'll need you to pick up John Watson as well." he informed Dimmock and gave the appropriate address." He ended the call and speed punched John's number. A sleepy voice answered. "Do you know what time it is Sherlock?"

"Shut up and listen John," Sherlock snapped. "We've got a case! It's the rose petal murders! Now get dressed, Dimmock is sending a car." Sherlock snapped the phone shut and began to dress.

He hadn't realized Molly had left the room until she appeared in

the doorway.

"I put a fresh disposable razor and some shaving cream on the counter in the loo." she said. "Sorry, the razor happens to be pink."

While Sherlock was shaving, Molly dressed and combed her tangled hair. She usually braided it loosely for sleep, but of course last night it had been down. Now she struggled with several stubborn snarls in the brown locks.

Sherlock stood in the doorway watching Molly finish brushing her hair. "I'm going." he told her.

"Do you have time for coffee and toast?" she asked.

"I'll get something later," he told her. Molly knew he meant when the case was finished, but didn't say anything. They walked together into the kitchen.

"Toby! You little pig!" Molly exclaimed. Toby, Molly's grey and black striped cat lay stretched out in the middle of the table. His bulging stomach twice the size as normal. All four take-away cartons lay opened on their sides with food spilling out.

"He appears to have preferred the Mu Shu Pork," Sherlock observed with a grin.

Molly gave a disgusted snort and glared at the greedy tabby.

Sherlock picked up his coat from the back of the kitchen chair and slipped it on. Molly handed him the blue scarf. They stared at each other for a few seconds and then Molly went up on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. "See you around, Sherlock," she said softly.

He nodded and was gone.

Sherlock waited only a few moments outside when a police car silently pulled to the curb. John slid over the opposite side of the seat so that Sherlock could get in. The cruiser pulled out and headed for the crime scene.

As Sherlock settled in his seat, John grinned and asked. "How was your date?"

Sherlock scowled. "Do I ask you details about your dates John?"

"No," John admitted still grinning, "but this is Molly we're talking about."

John looked at Sherlock. He noticed his rather rumpled clothing. An unheard of condition for Sherlock. He also saw a rather large love bite gracing Sherlock's neck below his left ear. And was that an earring? "I'd wager it was at least a seven." John commented.

Sherlock's scowl deepened. "Shut up, John."

A minute passed slowly.

"Ten," Sherlock said. "It was definitely a ten."

The two friends looked at each other, grinned and both turned their eyes forward. Nothing more was said as the car moved steadily toward the crime scene.