So I'm editing this sitting in my summer house enjoying the sunshine and I do believe it's actually Spring which means I ought to be gardening and not writing but what the heck I prefer the writing any day of the week. I hope you guys are enjoying good weather wherever you are and that you also enjoy this chapter.
Be warned though, we have a change of rating. I wonder why that would be...
Chapter 7
They carried their plates into the front room and sat, as they usually did, on the settee. It was the first time they'd had some time alone together since their argument on Sunday and Molly pondered whether to bring it up before deciding against it. Sherlock had been so uncharacteristically kind and she'd been so emotionally wrung out that she just couldn't face it.
Sherlock meanwhile was trying not to notice how his dressing gown had gaped open at Molly's chest as she had sat down. Not that he could see anything, not really but it was what he could almost not see that was starting to bother him. He'd never really found himself so caught up by what a woman was wearing before.
As he ate he considered it and he initially put it down to the fact that she was wearing his dressing gown. He recalled how it had similarly bothered him a few nights before. But then he remembered that Janine had worn his shirts and that had just irritated him more than anything else. So it was Molly then, more than the clothes. But he'd known Molly for years now and had never really found himself interested in what she was wearing before.
He started thinking back over her previous clothing choices but found himself brought back to the present by her asking him about the current case.
'You wanted to ask me something...you know earlier, about your case? How's it going?'
'Not great. We have three victims and so far we have yet to find a link. All three were females and exsanguinated and all three were found with the same bite marks on their neck. We've established that the killer drugs them and hides them until the drug has more or less left their system and then drains their blood using the site of the fake bite mark. We don't know where they are killed, how they were chosen or why he does it, though there is obviously some sexual addiction of some kind to vampirism. He gets off on this, I know he does.'
He fell silent as, from the corner of his eye, he saw Molly shift in her seat causing the dressing gown to slide off her thigh. Her leg was slim and toned and he found himself wondering what her skin would feel like under his touch. He found the food in his mouth suddenly difficult to swallow and he put down his plate and stood up. 'Drink Molly?'
'Oh...err, yes please. Do we have any wine?'
'Since you arrived at the flat we always seem to have wine in, even if there's no food.' He turned and smirked to show he was joking a little before going to pour her a glass whilst getting himself some water, he needed to keep his head clear and in the game. He was close to solving this puzzle and he knew it, he just needed that last piece of the puzzle.'
As he walked back in Molly was half turned in her seat looking up at the wall where he'd pinned the pieces of the case, the photos, the autopsy results. Her neck was long and slender and he suddenly wanted to run his tongue up the length of it. God, he needed to get a grip. Maybe she had been right; maybe sharing with her was different to sharing with John. He'd never had these kinds of thoughts about him.
As she turned back to him reaching for her wine he caught a glimpse of the curve of her breast before she pulled the dressing gown straight again; still oblivious, thank God, to his reactions. He felt confused and exasperated with his reactions to her.
'So, if he just wanted to kill them, why bother waiting for the drug to leave their system? What blood type were they?'
'All different. AB negative, O negative and B negative.'
'Hmm.' Molly took a sip of her drink as she gave it some thought.
'They're all quite rare types. I know B positive isn't that rare but there has been a shortage recently. We get emails at work...you know, asking staff of certain blood types if they can donate when the hospital is running short and local supplies are struggling.'
'Show me!'
'Oh well, I delete them normally but...they're probably still in my deleted folder.'
She went over to her laptop and turned it on, signing into the staff portal with Sherlock sighing impatiently behind her.
'Here we are. There have been a few recently. First one was for AB negative. No surprise there, it's the rarest and they're always asking for that. Right the next one was for O negative. That's me, but I was run off my feet that day so couldn't make it up. And last...oh!'
Sherlock read it over her shoulder, 'B negative. Molly, you're brilliant. I think we just found our link and the reason why he wants clean blood.' He turned his head and kissed her cheek before grabbing his phone.
'It's me; I think we've found the link. Meet me at Barts in half an hour. I still don't know who's doing it but now we have a steer on the why it won't take long.'
He hung up and went to his bedroom to find his jacket. Molly watched as he put it on and moved to collect his coat and phone. He was buzzing with energy and she loved seeing him like this, on the cusp of a victory.
'Not sure I'll be back tonight Molly so I'll probably see you at Barts tomorrow. Until then...' And he was out the door and racing down the steps.
She couldn't resist moving to the window and watching as he spilled out onto the street, his hand already raised to flag down a taxi, only having to wait a few moments until one appeared. As he climbed in he seemed to sense her gaze and he glanced up before lifting his hand to her and closing the door behind him.
Looked like she had the flat to herself again.
MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH
He was right when he said he'd see her the next day. He was still running various tests and looking through files and records as she arrived for work. John was with him and looking suitably tired as was Greg but Sherlock looked as though he'd slept like a baby, not a sign of weariness on him.
She helped out where she could, in between the jobs already booked in for her, and was unsurprised to see that they had gone by mid-morning.
The rest of the day was fairly uneventful but by the time she got home it seemed Sherlock was finally free of the case and in full on celebration mode.
'Ah Molly you're back finally. Come and have some champagne, John's piking and saying he has to go home.'
John waved a greeting to Molly from the settee and rolled his eyes at Sherlock, 'I've already had two glasses and Mary's expecting me. Plus I was out all last night and I'm knackered, the alcohol is going straight to my head. That's what happens when you've had no food.'
'Pah, food. Who needs food? Anyway, I ate with Molly last night, didn't I Molly?' He pushed a glass into her hand and picked up his own which he'd also refilled.
'Right, well I'll be off. Don't forget, Lestrade needs us at the station tomorrow to help him finalise the paperwork and the interviews so don't get too drunk.' He gave Molly a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, 'good luck, he can get quite exuberant when a case is finished, especially when it's gone on a few days.'
Molly smiled, 'I'm sure I'll be fine. Tell Mary I said hi and I'll pop in to see her soon.'
'Alright, I will do.'
She hung up her coat and kicked off her shoes as John left and then joined Sherlock on the settee, Toby settling on her knee and curling up contentedly. It seemed to be 'their place' in the same way that the chairs by the fire had been 'his and John's'.
'Go on then tell me how you solved it. I know you're dying too.'
He gave one if his rare genuine smiles and Molly loved how it lit up his face. She took another sip of the champagne and wrinkled up her nose at all the bubbles. She loved drinking it but it was a rare occurrence and she forgot how quickly it could make her tipsy.
Sherlock launched into his tale of how her clue had sent him back to the hospital. They'd gone through the records of each victim and whether they had ever given blood as well as where and when.
The killer had been clever. Their blood donor records were each over six months old and in one case over twelve months but the link was clear, his name was shown as one of the team that had attended the donor session in each case. It had been painstaking going through each record, where they had donated, when and tracking down the nurses and who overlapped each session but they'd found him in the end.
His house had been filled with vampire lore and paraphernalia. He liked dressing up as a vampire during sex and Sherlock was sure that when they interviewed ex-girlfriends they would confirm a history of biting and/or him getting off on images of vampirism and bloodletting.
MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH
Molly wasn't quite sure how they ended up sitting on the floor and leaning against the settee rather than on the settee itself but it had seemed like a good idea at the time; Toby having long since slunk off to Sherlock's room for some peace and quiet. Sherlock poured them both yet another glass and he tipped his glass towards hers, as they picked them up, so that they could clink them together. Somehow they had got through the champagne as well as the remains of the previous night's bottle of wine and now they were well into a second bottle.
'Here's to serial killers everywhere. Long may they flourish keeping me with something to do.'
Molly's forehead wrinkled as she tried to work out whether that was something she should be toasting or not.
'Maybe you should get yourself a new hobby. Something that doesn't involve other people dying.'
Sherlock turned towards her and rested his head on his hand on the edge of the settee, 'what like Molly?'
'Oh, I don't know. Learn to paint, take up bee-keeping, get yourself a boyfriend.'
His raised his eyebrows, 'a boyfriend? That would imply that I were gay.'
Molly giggled wondering where that suggestion had come from. 'Well...you know.'
'No...know what Molly?'
'All that gossip...about you and John...that you were..'
'That we were what?'
'Having sex.' She snorted with laughter again taking another sip of her drink and wondering where her bravado came from.
'Not my area Molly.'
'What? John or the sex. Have you ever had sex?'
She glanced round at him only to find his face seemed closer. She was caught by his gaze and her breath hitched in her throat at the look he was giving her.
'Yes, Molly, I have had sex but only ever with women...well apart from that one time.' He frowned and looked off into the room as if he were recalling something.
'So why don't you anymore? Don't you miss it.'
'Occasionally I do but mostly I sublimate my feelings into my work.'
'But why did you stop?'
He looked back at her. 'Do you know how easy it is to get someone to sleep with you when you can use deductions about their life? Plus it was all part of the drug scene I was into in my youth. It was all meaningless and faceless and just made me feel empty over time. It seemed easier to give it up when I kicked the drug habit. Let's just say one was easier to give up than the other.'
He smirked, 'but enough of me what about you? I'd ask if you miss it but given you're recent forays into dating we both know that you do?'
'Hey,' she frowned, 'it hasn't been that long.'
He raised an eyebrow again.
'Well maybe it's been a few months.' She closed her eyes and let her head fall back onto the chair. 'Yes...yes, I miss it: the feeling of skin on skin. The weight of a man lying on top of me, feeling him fill me.' She lifted her hand and let it trail down between her breasts; completely unaware of the affect she was now having on a drunken and far less inhibited Sherlock.
Suddenly he moved forward and pressed his lips to hers. Molly was equally too drunk to be that shocked and instead just opened her mouth to him as she hooked her hand around the back of his neck. The kiss deepened and Molly moaned at the feeling of his hands pulling her over and onto him until she was sitting astride his legs.
A part of his brain was screaming at him that this was a mistake and that he would regret it but he'd been thinking about this for too long now and with the addition of the alcohol he was too far gone. The feeling of her body on his, her weight sitting on his crotch brought back too many memories that he had suppressed for far, far too long.
Her hands felt like they were everywhere, in his hair, on his chest, sliding along his back. Before he knew it his shirt was undone and she was starting on his trousers.
He lifted her shirt and she broke off from kissing him just long enough for him to pull it off over her head and throw it into some distant point in the room. His mind stuttered as he realised she had been naked underneath, how had he not realised she had had no bra on today.
He put one hand behind her lower back and the other under the back of her head as he bent her backwards forcing her already hard nipples to jut up and into his eager mouth. She clung to his hair, tugging on his curls causing all sorts of physical sensations to wash through his body, all ending in his groin. Her hips were rocking against him as she tried to satisfy herself using his still-clothed erection for stimulation.
Moments later he pushed her skirt up her thighs feeling the skin he'd seen the night before; please to find it felt as soft and smooth as he had imagined. He reached her knickers and hooked his finger through them before pulling down sharply and ripping the material in half. Molly groaned loudly as his fingers invaded her and his mouth covered hers once more, kissing her deeply as she rocked against his hand feeling him inside her, his palm against her clit.
It took only moments for her to want more from him and he helped her to move his pants down just enough to allow her to remove his painfully hard erection. She stroked him twice before lifting herself onto her knees and sliding down onto him. She felt so warm and tight and he couldn't remember sex ever feeling this good.
He let Molly set the pace as his hands alternated between her breasts and her backside pulling her against him harder and harder. He felt her tighten around him as she came and he loved the way she called out his name. As soon as she stopped he found he wanted to hear it again.
He still needed more though and so he turned them over until Molly was lying on the carpet underneath him. He lifted her knees higher and started to thrust into her. It felt so good, he had missed it more than he had ever realised. He could hear her urging him on, telling him how good he felt and that she was close to coming again.
He was so hard it was painful but gradually he felt his balls tighten deliciously and as he came he felt Molly orgasm for a second time. White light blanked his mind as he felt himself pumping inside her over and over. The feeling of relief and satisfaction overwhelmed him and he let himself fall onto her knowing she could take his weight, feeling her hands move lazily over his back.
But even as they started to separate and sit back up Sherlock started to feel the enormity of what he had done. He needed to get away, he needed to think, his mind felt slow and as though he were wading through treacle. How much had they had to drink? The answer came fast too much, far, far too much.
Oh oh...seems as though Sherlock may be wobbling over what they've just done. What do you guys think and how will Molly react if he flakes on her? I'll be back soon, I promise.
