Days passed, and Molly, on both Sherlock and John's insistence, remained in 221B. The murders have stopped, and Lestrade was worried that this was because Irene Adler had not yet had the opportunity to take Molly from under their noses. Mycroft had maintained her security detail, and it was to everyone's surprise when Sherlock insisted that surveillance should be added to Baker Street and the areas between there and St. Bart's, as well as Molly's work place. Life was far from the usual for the pathologist, but she understood the danger she was in, so took it all in stride, only wondering when the crisis would finally, inevitably, occur.
After their talk about Irene Adler that night on the couch, Molly and Sherlock had become closer. The danger she posed to Molly's life was still something of a presence, hovering in the air, seeming to bide its time. For Molly, who had never actually met her, the insecurities remained vague and dormant, but overshadowed with the certainty of Sherlock's feelings towards her. Sherlock was aware of this, and tried to reassure her of his sincerity as often as possible.
"Good morning!" John, who had been sipping on a cup of tea in the kitchen, called out when he saw Molly emerge from the bedroom she now shared with Sherlock. He pushed a tray of biscuits Mrs. Hudson had brought up in her direction, and pointed to the kettle. "Want a cuppa?"
"Good morning." Molly smiled at him sleepily, walked over to take a biscuit and gratefully took the cup of tea John handed her. "Thank you." She sat on the kitchen stool and sipped, "I hear you've got big plans today?" She and Mary were friends, and now that she was around John so much, they had gotten a lot closer too. Sherlock had informed her last night that he had deduced John's intent to ask Mary to be his wife, something that she knew, from experience, the detective was probably right about.
John blushed and rubbed his nape with his free hand. "I should've known Sherlock would find out, and that he'd tell you."
Molly nodded, grinning. "Don't worry, I made our resident five-year-old" she flicked a thumb in the direction of the bedroom "promise not to say anything. And I won't even hint at it if she texts."
The doctor nodded gratefully, his face still flushed.
Sherlock walked into the kitchen then, wrapped in his dressing gown. "I am not a five-year-old. Obviously." He proceeded to steal Molly's tea, ignoring her protests. "You both have today off." He continued, gripping Molly's hand and lifted it to take a bite out of the biscuit she was holding. "Get out and get started on your proposal plans, I know there are a lot. The receipts for the flowers and candles are all over my desk. I expect you'll need plenty of time to panic and fuss over the arrangements for your proposal venue. A car on the London Eye, wasn't it?"
John sighed and nodded. He might have changed a lot, but he also somehow managed to remain the same. Only Sherlock. He thought, and realized he was grateful. "Actually, everything's just going to be waiting for our date tonight. Mycroft very generously helped out. Said it was his way of thanking me for…well, everything. It's not just a car. He went a bit overboard and had the whole thing reserved for us."
Molly squealed. "Oh my! Really? How nice! Mary's going to be so thrilled!" Her excitement was evident in her bright smile. "You're going to sweep her off her feet!"
The doctor self-consciously ran a hand through his hair and grinned back. "I hope so. And, Moll," he cleared his throat, "I know this isn't exactly perfect timing, with the threats against you and all - - "
"Don't be silly, John. My issues shouldn't factor in to your relationship at all. And frankly, I like good news for a change." She reassured him, then turned to frown up at Sherlock, who was munching on the biscuit she still held in the hand he was clutching."Let go, stop stealing my food." She pouted, trying to pull her hand free.
He ignored her, still firmly gripping her hand with the biscuit in it, while the other brought up his stolen cup of tea to his lips. She waited until he put the cup back down on the kitchen table; then swiftly grabbed his hand which was still holding hers with her free one, clutching it tight. Her hand dropped the biscuit and straightened so that her palm was facing the side, and she then pulled free. She stepped back with an amused grin and was about to turn away to walk towards the kettle when Sherlock, quick as ever, managed to snake an arm around her waist and pulled her close so that she was pressed tightly against his chest.
"And that's my cue to leave." John quickly stepped out of the kitchen, shaking his head in amusement. He grabbed his coat and proceeded down the stairs, shouting a goodbye to Mrs. Hudson on his way out to the street below.
Sherlock smirked. "Good morning." He placed a kiss on her forehead, relaxing his hold on her.
"You git." She replied, placing both hands on his nape to pull him down for a proper kiss. You're my git. She thought, and she could tell he knew exactly what she was thinking, since his smirk widened into a grin, before meeting her lips. It was sweet and chaste, gentle pecks for a time; until each kiss lingered just a bit longer than the one before it. Molly suddenly found herself seated on the kitchen table, Sherlock's hands kneading her hips, her own busily caressing his scalp and his nape, making him whimper.
Although it was true that they have been sleeping in the same bed for almost a week now, they had not had the chance to make love. Molly was often worn out from work, and Sherlock was usually busy trying to track down where Irene Adler had disappeared to, having refused to take another case until this one had been solved. The consulting detective had made it clear that nothing would distract him from his work, and it was only on Molly's insistence that he ate or took time to nap at all. For this reason, the pathologist was surprised that Sherlock was initiating intimacy this morning.
"Sherl-Sherlock?" Molly managed to get out when they broke apart for some air.
"Hmmm?" he asked, capturing her mouth once again, a hand trailing upwards to her shoulder blades, pulling her impossibly closer. "Can't- - " he gulped some air, his breathing ragged, and Molly thrilled at the sight. "I can't hold back, this case is taking too long. I won't wait any more." He abruptly lifted her off the kitchen table, causing her to squeak. She tightened her grip on him as he carried her across the kitchen and in the direction of the bedroom, all the while kissing her deeply and a bit desperately.
She laughed when he nearly lost his balance, in avertedly ramming her back on the bedroom door. "I'm fine." She whispered when he pulled back in worry, thinking she'd been hurt. And she was. She was entirely too enamoured with what they had been doing to even notice. Molly felt beside her, trying to locate the doorknob while resuming their passionate kissing. When she succeeded, she turned it and pushed the door open. Sherlock groaned in approval and stepped forward, heading towards the bed. When Molly sensed the bed behind her, she lowered her legs from around his hip and stood on the mattress, so that she was now taller than the detective.
He tried to make her lie down, but Molly insisted on standing. She pulled back from him and grinned when he pouted in disapproval. He tried to pull her back down to him but she had other plans. Molly took hold of his dressing gown, untying the knot that held it closed, and quickly pulling it off his shoulders. Sherlock smirked at that and proceeded to lift the oversized t-shirt she was wearing up and over her head, leaving her in her knickers and the pyjama bottom she'd pulled on before she had made her way to the kitchen earlier. He buried his face in her neck, teasing her with tiny nibbles and gently puffs of breath on her skin, his hands slowly rubbing up and down sides, from her waist to the back of her thighs.
Molly retaliated by taking off his shirt in turn, and then running her hand across his clavicle and down the expanse of his chest. She let her hand travel around his torso and leaned forward to reach his lower back and trace circles there, lingering just above the elastic of his pyjama bottoms. Sherlock groaned, impatient, and once again embraced and then guided her so that her upper body was lying on the mattress while her legs dangled over the edge as he leaned over her. He smiled down at her, and she smiled right back, lifting both hands to his face, one hand cupping his cheek, the other brushing the curl that obscured her view of his eyes.
"Sherlock? Molly?" Mrs. Hudson's voice sounded from the sitting room, "You have visitors!" her steps were heard approaching the door neither remembered closing, and knocked, calling out. "Wake up! Hoo-hooo!"
Sherlock's smile disappeared and Molly could not help but laugh when he flopped down on the bed in frustration, partially trapping her underneath him. She shoved him off her and grabbed her shirt, pulling it on.
"And people berate me for poor timing!" he growled, scowling up at Molly as she stood up, straightening her clothes. "Ignore her." He added, reaching out a hand to try and pull her back down.
She nimbly stepped out of his reach and called out "We'll be right out Mrs. H, sorry! Sherlock's still asleep!"
"I am not." Sherlock grumbled, still refusing to move from his spot on the bed while Molly hurriedly changed from her pyjamas into a pair of jeans and a cleaner shirt. She put her messy hair into a loose bun and pulled and prodded Sherlock so that he was finally standing up. She saw his pout and giggled once more, giving him a peck on the cheek and backing up so that he didn't get a chance to pull her into an embrace again.
"Hurry up and change, it could be important."
"But!"
"Come on, the sooner we get this over with the sooner we can…you know!" She whispered, blushing furiously.
He gave her a wicked grin and walked towards the closet, pulling out one of his button-down shirts and a pair of trousers.
Still chuckling, Molly opened the bedroom door and got out. She turned around to carefully close the door. "Sorry about that Mrs. Hudson," she began, "He was being stubborn." She gave the landlady a hug and caught sight of Mycroft just inside the door to the sitting room. "Oh, good morning, Mycro-"
She had walked over to give him a hug of his own when a smaller figure emerged from behind Mycroft. Her smile froze and somehow, she recognized this to be the Woman.
Molly didn't notice Sherlock coming out of the bedroom shortly after, his greeting heavy with sarcasm. "To what do I owe this pleasure, brother?" if he was taken aback by the scene that met him he didn't show it. He stood so that Molly was half hidden behind him, glaring at both Mycroft and Irene.
Author's Note: Here you go! I'm still whittling away at chapter 8, BUT I am hoping to be able to publish that and the ninth either by tomorrow or on Monday to try and make up for the month-long delay.
Reviews and constructive criticism are always welcome!
Ta!
~Liberi Ad Somnia
