Sherlock spent the whole next day trying to figure out the Molly Mystery. He had never thought of Molly in any sort of sexual way. Sherlock hadn't thought of anyone in a sexual way in a very long time. For Sherlock, all of his sexual experiences had been things he found shameful.

As a young teen at an all-boys boarding school, there had been fumbling in the dark in the dormitories, as there has probably been for generations. Handjobs, oral sex. Sherlock had always been pretty, and he often found himself the object of the other boys' affection. There had never been any penetration. This was the mid to late 80's, after all, and that was too far towards homosexuality for any of them. Not that Sherlock looked at it that way, but he wasn't interested enough to push for anything more than what was offered. He felt shameful afterwards, the same way he felt shameful for masturbating.

When they got a little older, most of the other boys moved on to girls, and Sherlock moved on to science and what would eventually become his life's work, leaving pleasures of the flesh as a youthful folly. Over the years he had occasionally masturbated, but it had always carried with it the same shame, something he should hide, something he should know better than to do. Something he shouldn't need.

He finally asked John to come over. He told John what Molly had done, and then he began to tell John about going to Molly's flat. "So then I mas…"

John held up a hand. "Yeah, I got it. I don't need details about THAT."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. If John couldn't even talk about it, how would he ever figure things out. "Okay, but, it was different. Usually I just … do it. Get it over with, so I can clear my head and get back to work. It isn't so much pleasurable as a chore that occasionally needs to be performed. But this time I…I thought of Molly. I could see her. All my memories of her from my mind palace. It was over in record time and I.." he paused, swallowing. "I don't feel guilty about what I did."

John sighed. "Well, you should feel guilty about breaking into Molly's flat."

Sherlock stood, pacing. "She started it. But I meant I don't feel guilty about...touching myself. I think I might have enjoyed it."

John rubbed his face, gathering his words. "Sherlock, it's not uncommon to think about people you know while doing...that. The question is, what will you do now? Do you fancy Molly?"

Sherlock stopped pacing and stared out the window. "As in, would I want to do…things WITH Molly? I mean, I like Molly. I like doing science with her, and working in the lab together, and she's surprisingly good at deducing things. But I've never really thought about doing...that...with anyone."

"Not even Irene Adler?"

"The Woman fascinated me. She caught my attention like no one had before. But I turned down her offers of 'dinner' because I wasn't interested in what she had to offer."

"The dominatrix stuff? Or sex in general?"

"I was not interested in having sex with The Woman. I've never been interested in having sex with anyone."

"Well, you obviously are conflicted about Molly. I think you need to decide if you just like thinking about her while you do that, or if it means something more. And this conversation has just gotten way too weird for me. I can't help you figure out your sexuality, Sherlock. That's all you."

They changed the subject, and soon John left. Sherlock found his way into his bedroom. He knew how sex worked with women. He'd seen some porn, he'd read some stuff that seemed more realistic than most porn. He'd just never thought about it in regards to himself.

Well, there was only one way to find out. He undressed and slid himself into bed, bringing forth a perfect image of Molly in his mind.