Part 7: The show and tell
Molly walked along the corridor to the morgue, or her demesne, as she liked to call it. Very few people bothered her and when they did, they deferred to her knowledge and experience. She carried a heavy patient case file so when an arm appeared from an open door and pulled her inside, she almost lost balance and dropped the pages all over the floor. The hand that had grabbed her reached out to steady her and then pulled her in close. Molly took one look upwards and felt all her irritation melt away. Being in Sherlock's arms was just not getting old.
"Hello," said Sherlock.
"What are you doing in here?"
"I wanted to surprise you."
"Surprise achieved. Now help me pick all this up."
Sherlock clearly had other plans. He leaned down and brushed her lips, tightening his grip so she could not escape.
What a dilemma, thought Molly, so unprofessional to be behaving like this at work. But, on the other hand, this is incredibly hot. Just go with it!
Suddenly Molly was turned in his arms and pushed up against the wall. He kissed along the back of her neck, while his hands came up to cradle her breasts.
"Oh Sherlock, what are you doing? This cannot happen at work…oh, just do that again first though."
She could feel his trademark smirk against her shoulder blade.
"You want me to stop touching you?"
"Not really, but I'm at work…anyone could walk in!"
"I think that rather heightens the experience, don't you?"
Sherlock dipped his hands into her trouser band and pulled out her shirt. What had happened to her labcoat was anyone's guess. His hands were cold and Molly gasped as they skimmed her stomach and reached back up to her breasts.
"Please stop…I can't believe I'm begging you to stop…"
"Neither can I…you've been begging me to do that with your eyes for years!"
Molly summoned heretofore unknown willpower and pushed away from Sherlock.
"Right…thanks for that reminder. Now, back to work."
He reluctantly bent down to help her collect the paperwork and headed out the door in front of her. Molly couldn't resist grabbing his arse as he did. Sherlock jumped in response and it was rather unfortunate that John chose that exact moment to come upon them. His eyes took in the shock on his flatmate's face, Molly's untucked shirt, and rose to meet her reddening cheeks. He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh John, hi, Sherlock was just helping me, er, with this…."
Sherlock was unabashed.
"Ah John, I wondered where you had gone. Let's look at the new victim…"
Molly was left behind to rearrange her clothes and scurry to catch up.
"Sherlock, were you really just snogging Molly in a cupboard?"
"Problem?"
"No, I just wouldn't have expected it of you."
"Well, I've seen people doing it on television for years, wondered if there was something to it."
"And?"
John was treated to a broad grin and silence.
"Just 5 days left…if you wanted to ask anything."
"I don't."
"Ok…"
Later that same evening, Sherlock found himself outside Molly's flat again. He increasingly just turned up here…he'd be walking along, deep in thought, and as if on auto-pilot, would arrive at her building.
When Molly opened the door, her whole face smiled at the sight of Sherlock.
"Hi! I'm glad you're here."
She practically jumped on him in her enthusiasm to hug.
"I've been thinking about our interlude in the supply room all day…"
"And what conclusions have you drawn?" asked Sherlock as he shed his coat and flopped down on the couch.
"That we need to spend far more time alone…" Molly sat down on his lap and stroked his cheek.
"Yes, I actually wanted to talk to you about that."
"Why? What's wrong?" Molly sat up straight, prepared for bad news.
"Nothing's wrong," he said quickly, "but I am getting a lot of slagging from various corners."
"Gosh, you'd think our friends had nothing better to talk about than our sex life. Everyone's about 15 internally when you come down to it. Are they being mean?" she said in a mock-sympathetic voice.
"Not mean, but irritating. How would you feel about shutting them up permanently?"
Molly's eyes widened as she considered it.
"Sherlock, I don't think hurting them is the answer!"
"You bad girl, I don't mean hurt them, I mean show them."
"Show them what exactly?"
"How would you feel about them catching us in the act?"
Molly leaped off Sherlock's knee and stood facing them, arms akimbo.
"You Are Joking? Right?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"Did you see how embarrassed I was today when John saw me dishevelled? How do you think I would react to being caught in actual flagrante delicto?"
"Nice use of Latin, Dr Hooper, come back over here," said Sherlock cheekily.
"Now wait just a minute. This is not a plan. Are we quite clear? There will be no video cameras, or setups. In fact, it doesn't matter."
"It doesn't?" he said hopefully.
"No, because I've a better idea. We just won't have sex."
"That is a deeply flawed plan, Molly. I can't agree to it. I know we agreed to take it slowly but going at a glacial pace wasn't on the table. What about a single photo?"
"No way!"
"What about just audio?"
"Again, no! I know there is a celebrity penchant for it but most people do not want any kind of recording of them having sex. And you, Mr Virgin, especially do not want a recording of the first time. Trust me."
Sherlock had not considered this point.
"It doesn't have to be the first time. We could wait until we had perfected it."
"Hmhph!" snorted Molly.
"What does that mean?"
"It means that it could take months of regular practice before we are having "perfect sex".
"Oh challenge accepted," said Sherlock.
"Well, why don't you stay tonight, see how you feel…"
Sherlock didn't need to be asked twice. He stood up and grabbed her hand, making for the bedroom.
"It's not time to go to bed yet…" she protested, mildly.
"I think it is."
In her bedroom, they stood facing each other, suddenly very awkward.
"This is what I meant, Sherlock. We're both standing here now: nervous. We need to work up to this."
He took her in his arms. Plucking at his purple shirt, she said quietly "I love this shirt on you."
Sherlock smiled at Irene's astute observations.
"Now take it off," order Molly, back in charge.
"I'm going to go change into my pyjamas and lock up. Get undressed and into bed and wait for me."
Sherlock was a little stunned at this sudden assertiveness, though he had to admit it was very appealing. Molly disappeared into the bathroom, when she re-emerged, Sherlock had done as she asked. She was wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Looking down at them, she said:
"I wasn't prepared for sharing a bed with you yet…I might have had my nicer bedclothes ready."
"Doesn't matter, I'm going to have them off you in no time," said Sherlock matter-of-factly.
She stood at the side of the bed.
"Do I need to check for cameras?"
"Of course not! You've convinced me."
"Give me your phone anyway."
"Don't you trust me?"
She just held out her hand. Sherlock reluctantly passed over his precious phone and Molly turned it off. He felt a little bereft. It had never been off before. But looking at the lovely woman now getting into a bed with him, it was probably worth it.
"I think we should just cuddle and then go asleep. You can't just announce "sex" and turn it on like a tap. We need more time to get used to each other."
"Isn't that the point of this whole exercise?"
Molly snapped off the light and curled into him, suddenly aware that he was entirely naked under the covers. She turned the light back on.
"Problem?"
"You took off all your clothes."
"Of course I did…that's how I sleep, and you did ask me to."
"I did, didn't I? I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to reciprocate."
Sherlock's eyes gleamed as Molly shimmed the shorts off underneath the covers and tossed them on the floor. Then she grabbed hold of her top and, like she was ripping off a plaster, took it off really quickly. She tried to reach for the light but Sherlock stopped her hand.
"Now who's embarrassed? I'm supposed the nervous one. You've nothing to worry about. Whatever happens, it'll be the best sexual experience of my life."
"Considering your lack of experience, that is not reassuring, but thank you for trying. I'm just feel self-conscious: all women do."
"What do you have to be worried about? I think you're lovely," said Sherlock, unexpectedly saying the right thing.
Molly reached over and kissed him. Sherlock rolled on top of her. The touch of all her skin was overwhelming…
Ten minutes later they lay side by side.
"You can say it."
"What?" she replied
"I told you so."
"I won't though."
"Give me my phone."
"Really, now?" Molly might have been right, but it didn't mean she couldn't also be offended.
"Yes, I just need to send one text and then I'm all yours."
"You're already all mine. You just took a long time to figure it out." She handed his phone. He turned it on.
Fine. You win.
SH
John's face lit up to match his phone as he read the incoming text.
We'll talk tomorrow.
It'll be ok.
J.
"What's the text about?"
"Never mind that now. How shall I begin?" deflected Sherlock.
"First, go and get a bottle of wine…and two glasses…"
The End
Author's note: rather than write awkward sex, I thought I'd let everyone imagine one of their own experience, for we surely all have at least one! Thanks for reading. Thanks to Thinkswithpen for beta work & Happy Christmas.