Help!

Molly's eyes darted to the clock, noting the time, before her gaze returned to the space in front of her. She was pacing, her mind threatening to tear in two pieces. Her family had gone to a football game of her brother's and the only person she had in town was working. It was nearly half-eleven, Sherlock was usually finished work by noon.

"Screw it," she muttered to herself.

She was out the door in seconds and walked briskly to the strawberry field. She was forced to put her frantic thoughts behind her as she walked, being hit by a car would not help matters.

The sky was a light grey, the sun trying unsuccessfully to poke through the thick clouds. Molly was grateful for the lack of sun, 'It would be a waste,' she thought miserably, 'Of perfect weather to spend it so worried.'

By the time Molly entered the field she had worked herself into another panic. Moving quickly, she sat down, back against a low stone wall, arms wrapped around her knees. She scanned the rows of plants, spotting Sherlock's lanky form in the distance as he walked carefully back and forth along the row. He made the trip six times and finally bent to pick up this tray, carrying it to the end of the section for the owners to collect. He spotted Molly immediately, spoke, then made his way to her.

An odd sense of guilt washed over Molly as his grin turned to an expression of concern. He knew she was upset. Did not, perhaps, know why she was upset, but knew her expression and body language.

"Molly?" he called, hurrying his steps, "What's wrong?"

Molly stood as he came into her space and leaned into his chest as his arms wrapped around her shoulders. She let out a shaky breath before letting the words tumbled out, "My cat is missing and he's been gone for days and he's been gone before but not for this long and I'm really worried for him and I know there's nothing you can do but I'm just so scared for him!"

When Molly fell quiet she felt Sherlock's lips press to her hair. His hands were rubbing her back tenderly, "Okay, Molly, let's go to yours and we can figure out a plan, does that sound acceptable?" His voice was light, soothing, she could only nod in response.


Molly accepted the mug of tea Sherlock had pressed into her hands and wrapped both hands around it. Sherlock sat down beside her, is own tea on Molly's bedside table.

"When was the last time you saw Toby?"

"Before camp on Thursday."

"And where have you looked?"

"Around the garden, in the trees behind the house and around the neighbours'."

Molly sipped at her tea as Sherlock hummed in thought, "Well, it's only been a few days," he began, "He's likely not far. And even your house cat has basic hunting skills. He still has his claws, yes?"

Molly nodded, head turned to Sherlock.

"Well, I think we ought to go out and search the town. Ask people, took in trees… Bring a packet of his treats; he likely knows the sound they make in the packet."

Her eyes were set on Sherlock as he spoke. She hadn't expected him to be so helpful. Kind. Without thinking she moved closer and brought her knee up under her body, giving her a bit more height so she could press a soft kiss to his lips. When she pulled away they sat, eyes trained on one another, "Thank you," Molly murmured.

She watched his eyebrows rise before he moved in to kiss her. Their lips moved together delicately, mirroring their bodies' movements – Molly was still holding her mug of tea. When the kiss eventually ended Sherlock spoke, "If we don't leave now we won't get as much time to search." Molly nodded and stood, sighing as she did.

"Molly."

"Yes?"

"If we even have sex in your bed, I feel I have to request you hide your plush toys in the wardrobe."

At his speech, spoken so seriously, Molly could do nothing but burst into laughter.

"They're very disturbing!" he defended, making Molly laugh harder. She could hardly see his face from her closing, watery yes, but she knew he was smirking.


It had taken hours, it was nearly seven o'clock, but Sherlock and Molly trotted to Molly's house, cat tucked safely in her arms. She ticked the feline's head affectionately earning a purr.

"I can't believe you found him!" she tittered, grinning from Toby to Sherlock.

"I'm glad you're happy."

Sherlock clearly had some sort of network through the small town. They had talked to several people, looked through likely places shaking the packet of treats, and finally found him based on a tip of a café owner.

"Sherlock Holmes," Molly mused, "Pet Detective."

She stumbled as Sherlock pushed her gently to the side and giggled. As they entered her house, it was clear her family had not yet returned. Molly fed Toby and refilled his water bowl, smiling happily as she did. She only sat down with Sherlock when Toby was sleepily grooming himself in the sitting room.

"Thank you, Sherlock."

She'd already said it, said it a dozen times, but she needed to keep saying it.

"You've been stressed," he commented at length, "What do you say to visiting our spot? I can help you relax."

Molly eyed him suspiciously.

"Toby will be grooming for hours, he'll only become cross if you interrupt him. Come with me."

His smile was too sweet. Molly's eyes narrowed.

"Really Molly, I just want to get you off and I don't want to risk your parents coming home to see you building up to an orgasm.

Molly giggled and stood, "Well, when you put it like that…"

She pulled him up by the hand and led him out the door. They hurried the short, familiar-but-backwards walk and nearly ran from the field's entrance to the trees.

Molly felt the bark of the trees against her back as Sherlock trapped her there.

"Stay." Sherlock's voice was low, full of command. His tone sent a shiver down Molly's spine. Her eyes followed his face as he lowered himself to the ground to kneel in front of her. His hands wrapped around each of her thighs, massaging her flesh. They moved higher, pushing under the legs of her shorts, until his fingers could just touch the edge of Molly's knickers. Molly moaned as the fingers of one hand pushed under her knickers and stroked lightly along her folds. She didn't even notice the absence of his other hands until it was as the button of her shorts, loosening the garment and then pushing down the zipper.


Molly was panting, whimpering from the sensations shooting through her body, squealing as Sherlock's teeth nibbled on her earlobe. He was standing in front of her; very little space between them, their chests pressed together, Sherlock's fingers pressed deeply inside her. Molly could do nothing but widen her stance as Sherlock's fingers fucked her mercilessly. He was studiously avoiding contact with her clit, drawing their session out expertly. I'll probably pass out first, Molly thought warily.

Sherlock was murmuring observations in her ear. Observations about her body. She could only vaguely understand the words, her attention pulled in other directions. Dimly she heard his voice, growling out a question. She looked at him blankly, trying to listen more closely. Sherlock smirked down at her smugly, "So you don't want to come?"

Molly gawked at him, trembling as his fingers ceased their movement.

"No!" she gasped, "I do, I do want to come!"

Sherlock chuckled, "I asked you three times, Molly, with no answer."

His fingers thrust into her body slowly, his thumb softly stroking her clit. His laughter was still clear in his eyes.

"Please!" Molly moaned desperately, "Please, please!"

Her lips were soon occupied as Sherlock captured them with his own. His hand was rough and Molly was spiraling toward her orgasm. As Sherlock bit her bottom lip, she came, shuddering. Her moan was muffled by Sherlock's mouth, her body prevented from collapsing by Sherlock's arm around her waist.

"Since you said 'please'," Sherlock murmured.

Molly gasped a laugh as he held her safely against him. As she regained her breath she smiled up at him, taking in the warmth of his face.

"What?" he questioned.

Molly's smile widened to a grin. Moving quickly she escaped his grasp and pushed him against the tree. Sherlock groaned as her hand moved down his chest, over his stomach, to stroke him through his trousers, "I think you deserve a reward," she murmured.

She watched Sherlock's head fall back against the tree and rose to her tiptoes to press a kiss to his Adam's apple while her hands worked to open his trousers.

"Sherlock," she whispered, seeking his full attention.

His head moved forward, and when their eyes locked, Molly sank to her knees, dragging Sherlock's trousers and pants with her.


Notes

I was originally worked this after Please Please Me but it just wasn't working. Help!, however, works extremely well, I think!

I haven't been saying, but seriously thank you all for reading and follow-/favourite-ing and commenting and such! Seriously it means the world!