12/20/2012
I was going to put a little naughty M scene here, but then I thought, is it a good idea to risk it? So I thought and thought and thought and decided, as a little Christmas treat- the last chapter will bump the rating of this fic to an M- promise, promise, promise on the life of Benedict Cumberbatch, I promise.
The next morning, Molly strolled into the lab, a dreamy smile glued on her dreamy face. After an entire night in bed, uh, not sleeping (in the direct meaning of the word) with Sherlock, you'd expect the pathologist to be worn, tired and probably aching. Instead, she was quite the opposite- the woman had taken to humming an unorthodox tune under her breath as she began her incisions on her first cadaver.
It was unfortunate to say, however, that a certain Detective Inspector didn't feel the same way. At all. Molly raised her eyebrows- smile still on her, as the said man dragged himself in with the help of his partner.
"Rough morning, huh?" she said cheerily at the man, who in reply groaned as he sank himself on Molly's stool. The pathologist chuckled to herself and resumed her humming. Sally Donovan, who was catching her breath- Greg Lestrade was not the lightest man, looked over curiously.
"Someone's happy this morning." She stated. Molly hummed in reply, smiling at Donovan.
"Yupe," she replied, popping the 'p'.
"Really. Nice night in bed I'm guessing." It was more a statement than a question as Donovan picked up the cadaver's clipboard and began skimming the notes.
"Yupe," Molly said in the same way as before, maybe even a tinge more dreamily. Donovan laughed to herself and shook her head at her friend, when the doors to the morgue flew open with as much grandeur as it could in a cold, dank, white morgue.
"And his Royal Highness the Stubborn Adult Toddler has arrived." Donovan muttered under her breath, eliciting a chuckle from the pathologist across her.
Sherlock strolled in gracefully, hands knotted behind his Belstaff covered back. They released themselves to unknot the blue scarf from his neck, before shedding said black coat and draping both over a random chair.
A while later, a less grand entrance was made by the man's blogger.
"Okay, let's get this over with." Greg said, standing up and hobbling over to the body. "Cause of death, Molly?"
"Well from the bruising on his neck, he was obviously strangled. It was his cause of death, not the bullet wound to his chest. Back to the bruises, hands, not by a rope or device of any sort, made it. The two large bruises on the front of the neck are made by the thumbs, and the four at the back on either side, by the fingers. Judging by the size of the bruises, and by the fact that this man was killed with bare hands, I'd say our killer is a male. Vitals show no signs of poisonings." She concluded.
"Okay- Sherlock, what do you think?" Greg asked. As Sherlock jumped into a rant, Molly immersed herself in the paperwork. By the time everyone had said their goodbyes and left, Molly was almost done.
She screamed when arms laced themselves around her from behind.
"Sherlock! Don't scare me like that!" she yelled. Sherlock smirked.
"I'm sorry." He said, his tone anything but apologetic. Molly snorted.
"Yeah. Sure. Now let me go- I've got work to do." Her words only served to tighten his grip on her.
"Sherlock"
"Come on, Molly, I'm bored."
"I promise, as soon as I'm done." Sherlock huffed slightly before loosening his grip and allowing her to slip away. The two sat in silence for some time- Molly working; Sherlock, well, Sherlock was being Sherlock.
"Ah, Return of the Obsessive Admirer." Sherlock called out as he returned to Molly's table, holding out a large, wrapped cube.
"Where'd you find that?" Molly asked, more confused than ever
"On your work table. Honestly, Molly, I'd have thought that being with me would've made you more observant." Molly shot him a glare.
"Do you want me or not?" she asked the badly concealed innuendo clear in her raised eyebrows.
"You look absolutely brilliant today." Sherlock grinned, before pecking Molly on the cheek.
"Arse-kisser." Molly muttered "Lemme see it." She said holding her hand out. Taking the gift from Sherlock, she unwrapped it, revealing a deep blue box. Molly groaned when she saw the brand.
"Swarovski? Seriously? Doesn't this guy know that these gifts are for a lost cause?" she glanced at Sherlock, who was merely staring casually at her "it is for a lost cause Sherlock- I'm just reminding you that I'm still staying with you. Material possessions are not going to change my mind." Sherlock chuckled.
"I know, I know." He said, "Now open it, I want to see how this fool outdid himself this time."
Inside the box sat two small, sparkling sapphires. Lifting them out carefully, Molly saw that they were little earring studs.
"Wow." She exclaimed softly, letting out a rush of air "This is, this is getting out of control." She said, turning to Sherlock "I-I can't accept these anymore- Sherlock, you have to find out who this man is. I have to tell him that nothing is going to work. I don't want him wasting his money on me."
"Of course, anything for you." Molly could swear he was about to say something else, but dismissed the thought when he turned away to collect his things.
"John's out for dinner with Mary- he'll be staying the night. You'll do the same?" he asked, as he was about to leave.
"Of course" Molly smiled.
0o0o0o0o0o0o00o
The coffee shop was a quiet one. It was full and thriving with business, but it's customers mostly consisted of studious college and high school students; civil servants trying to find peace, behind white mugs of hot coffee and the paper, during their lunch breaks away from work; senior citizens coming in for lunch; and, as every coffee shop needs to be complete, multiple young adults, working studiously on their laptops with the next New York's Bestselling novel.
There was a slight anomaly today, cashier/ drink maker noticed. Huddled in a secluded corner were three people- two women and a man, in deep conversation. He was to far away to eavesdrop, of course, but couldn't help but look on at this alien action in his workplace.
His coworker, the dishwasher/ waiter overheard everything, of course. He mentally recorded as much of the dialogue he could to later tell his friend- even boring gossip was good gossip when you worked in a place like this.
Woman 1: So the first one down. Three more of these to go.
Man: You mean six down, six to go.
Woman 1: Don't try to be smart- you know exactly what I mean. The first six were merely things to set it all going. These next four are the build-up, the next one the climax and the last just to add some 'umph' to the blissful after effects.
Woman 2: You're very dramatic. Who knew?
Woman 1: Speak for yourself.
Man: Can we please get back to the topic at hand?
Woman 2: Okay, okay. Look- you need to make these next three have to be meaningful. When is she supposed to know who the culprit is?
Man: The last of these four.
Woman 2: But didn't you say that the second last was the one where only the culprit and her are privy?
Man: Yes- and that is why you *indicates to Woman 2* have to get her to tell.
Woman 2: Me? How?
Man: You'll find a way.
Woman 1: Can I ask- why are you even helping us. I can't believe our culprit told you of all people. He didn't even tell-
Man: Yes, well, despite everything, we still are close, and well his friend is a horrible secret-keeper. Also, I will be supplying one of the gifts. Here it is *brandishes gift*
*Woman 1 and 2 gasp*
Woman 1: It's beautiful! When are you giving it?
Man: Now- here he is to collect.
The worker looked up to see a second man stroll in casually. He was less intimidating than the one seated, but still cast a fairly dangerous aura.
Man 2: I believe he has informed you to the latest?
Woman 1: Yeah, he has. Crap! Break's over- I gotta get back. See you soon, guys.
Woman 2: Yeah, just gotten a call. See you guys. Good luck you (to Man 2) don't muck it up- she's dear to both of us.
Man 2: Obviously. She is to me too.
The two women left the store as the second man took a seat across the other.
Man 1: Here it is- I hope it is too you satisfaction.
Man 2: Of course it is, seeing where it is from. I just hope she'll be impressed.
Man 1: Is that fear and nervousness I hear?
Man 2: Shut up you annoying man.
Man 1: You know I won't listen. I have to take my leave. Work calls.
Man 2: Of course it does.
Man 1: You are welcome. And I hope all goes well with you and your plan. And thank you for allowing me to participate. It's good for both of us that I am allowed in your life, willingly, for once.
Man 2: *nods*
The first man made his move to leave, but was stopped by the second with a hand on the others arm.
Man 2: Thank you
The first man gave a curt nod and what looked like a smile from where the worker was, before turning around. The eavesdropper and the man were face to face.
"You are very lucky that you didn't just hear an assassination or government based plot just then, I would've had to kill you. Eavesdropping gets you nowhere, child, trust me." he said to him before leaving. The man seated at the table chuckled.
"He's right, I have to admit." He told the boy. The latter gulped before grabbing his mop and jogging to the other side of the café.
0o0o0o0o0o0o
"I found a note in the box." Molly said casually.
"You did, did you?" Sherlock asked absentmindedly, plucking his guitar.
"Yeah, it said 'Something Blue' on a piece of blue card. Wonder what that's supposed to mean." Molly looked over to Sherlock, who shrugged in return.
"I'm going to make coffee- want any?" she said, heading to the kitchen.
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, black with two-"
"Honestly, Sherlock. I know your mother has taught you manners, because she has impeccable ones herself- but don't think that deleting them isn't going to make me teach them to you again."
"Yes, please." Sherlock said "mother" he muttered in an undertone.
"I'm you mother now, am I? Okay, fine- but remember, mother's don't have sex with their sons. It's incest and probably illegal, so, I'll just make your coffee, tuck you in and be on my way."
Molly stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil. She heard him come in, so turned around smirking.
"Anything you need, dear?" she asked in a false mother-y voice. Sherlock smirked before walking up to her and placing his hands behind her, his fingers brushing against the top of her bum.
"You." He whispered softly, the smirk set in stone.
"Well Sherlock, I believe you should find your girlfriend, then, because the only people in here are you and your mother." She said peeling her hands away.
"Are you sure?" he asked, backing her against the counter. He placed both hands on either side of her, trapping her between him and the stone countertop
"Yes, very sure, dear." Molly said, surprisingly still in control of the situation.
"Well, I don't remember my mother as a brunette, or this short." He said.
"Well, heels and hair dye does the trick." She said, playing along.
"I don't remember my mother ever letting her hair down from a bun, anywhere." He said, holding a mat of hair in his fingers, before letting them slide off. He then traced the fingers across her face, and down her neck. He smirked as her breath hitched when it travelled over the mound of her breast and across her stomach.
"It's a cold day, dear." She said, doing everything in her power not to kiss him when his hand splayed over her hip, his thumb rubbing circles on the flesh just on the inside of her hipbone.
The whistle from the kettle saved the day.
"Come now, let's go make your coffee." Molly paced herself, taking her time with making the coffee. Sherlock stayed way, not interfering in case there was an accident with the scalding water. She took the time to control her breathing and heart rate. When she was done, she turned around holding the cup to be treated with the sight of Sherlock, arms crossed, leaning against the doorjamb to separating the kitchen from the living room, one leg coiled around the other. A stray curl was left on his forehead; the light reflected the Greek God sculpture that was his face; and his eyes were little rings of deep blue surrounding a two very blown up pupils (she had to smirk at this- who knew Sherlock had a coffee kink? Or a role-play link- she'd have to do more research later on). All in all, Sherlock, in all his casualness, was the current epitome of sexy. Taking a breath Molly calmed herself down.
"Coffee's ready."
"I don't think I want coffee anymore. I have something more delectable in mind." Molly suppressed a shiver at his words.
"Do you now? Well that will have to wait, darling. I can't have my little boy getting dehydrated." Molly watched Sherlock scowl at Molly and knew she wouldn't be able to hold of any longer. But, if she was going to go down, he was going down with her- and this time, she was the pilot.
"You know what?" she said, strolling towards him "If you drink it now- you get to play with you toys right after." With that, Molly sauntered out the kitchen to the direction of Sherlock's bedroom.
Sherlock almost burned his throat drinking that coffee.
Molly was sitting on the armchair in Sherlock's room. Well, lounging was the better term to use. She draped a leg over an arm and the other was left to fall normally over the seat. Her body was diagonal, so her head leaned against the right side of the cushioned back, her elbow resting on the right chair arm giving it support. Her other hand was holding the book she kept at his flat- she was trying to read it, but everytime she was here, she was otherwise distracted.
"Awww, I was hoping to get in a few pages rather than paragraphs this time." She whined when Sherlock jogged into the room. He growled lowly.
"Read later." He said before picking up the book and flinging it away. He crashed his lips against her, surprising Molly, simultaneously unbuttoning his shirt. Molly hands immediately wound themselves into his hair and brought him even closer. Their mouths opened and their tongues began a battle for dominance, one Molly lost when Sherlock, who had chucked his shirt away, placed his hands against the underside of Molly's breast. She moaned louder than she'd care to admit and broke away as Sherlock's hands wandered higher.
He came in closer and brought up a knee onto the chair. Molly wrapped her legs around his waist and allowed him to pick her up. She captured his lips when his hands held her back for support and drove her own fingers into his hair. He groaned when she tugged slightly against his scalp, causing her to smirk against his lips. Sherlock reached the foot of his bed and threw Molly onto it. She laughed.
"Someone's eager. Do you ever get tired?" she asked as she backed up onto the pillows. She raised her head to look at him.
"Of you? Never." He said, crawling up to her "You?" he asked as he trailed his hand over her shin.
"Never." She replied. "Way to gorgeous," she added as his hands went past her thighs "and brilliant" they trailed past the hem of her shirt, toying with it before moving onwards "an absolutely amazing lover." The fingers were now at her lips. She nipped them slightly "but you're such a tease." Sherlock laughed, before moving upwards to peck her on the lips.
"I know." He replied. Molly chuckled at his comment- chuckles that were quickly turned to moans that would've caused John to wince if he was actually even in the apartment.
Thanks everyone for the reviews! Hope you enjoyed this chapter!
Please review- they make my day!
-Ash
