Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Sherlock and Molly said very little on the short journey back to the house. Truthfully, Sherlock was still reeling at just how close he had come to losing her. This situation with Sebastian Moran had been an ordeal for both of them since it's onset, particularly for Molly, but the knowledge that she had come within a split second of being shot dead had hit him hard though, and a plethora of emotions swamped him. He knew he would have to allow them to settle before he could review the whole case more objectively, to see why it had gone so badly wrong.

Moran had been more cunning then they'd estimated. He'd also got into the compound far too easily, and an innocent agent had died, but that was for Quantico to address. Quite simply, Mycroft and himself had overestimated the security, and that part was for them both to review and analyse; but it was not for today. Today, or what was left of it, was for Molly. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders in the back of the car. McBride's driver was discreet and blessedly silent.

When they arrived on Molly's street, the military police and FBI were still processing the scene of the crime a little up the road, and Sherlock reckoned they had a couple of hours before the others were cleared to leave the scene in the woods too. Molly could give her statement in the morning, or never, as far as he was concerned. She saw the activity though, and the car boot open, and she looked up at him in horror. "Oh God no Sherlock! It was him, wasn't it?" He nodded grimly at her.

"FBI Agent. He got him outside, assumed his identity, and drove right in. He made a big mistake though. He left him in the boot. If it wasn't for a cadaver dog, well, we could have had a very different outcome this evening." Molly looked stricken.

"This is all my fault!"

"No Molly," he asserted firmly, "it isn't. It's like you've just said to me, that Moran nearly killing you isn't my fault either. The agent was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he paid the price." Molly sighed sadly and nodded in acceptance. She took his hand and walked into the house. He closed the door behind them and swooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the living room and plonking down on the couch with her on his lap. Molly wriggled in his grasp.

"Don't Sherlock, I'm all sweaty." He pulled her closer against him.

"Don't be ridiculous Molly," he huffed, and she giggled and snuggled into him.

"Oh well, don't say you weren't warned!" He just shook his head dismissively and dropped a kiss on her forehead. Molly's phone's text alert beeped and she pulled it out of her jacket.

"Oh, it's Sheila. She wants to know will she come over with provisions for everyone? Is it ok with you Sherlock, to have people around this evening?" He answered her immediately.

"Of course it is Molly," he murmured into her hair. "It's becoming something of a ritual," he mused wryly, "the gathering of family and friends after the culmination of a case. I'll text Michael to pick up some things too, en route. He wont mind. I don't want to go out again. I'd like to stay home with you."

"Sounds lovely to me. It's a pity John and Aoife aren't here though." Sherlock smiled to himself. She stroked his chest tenderly. "It's beginning to sink in; that the danger is over."

"However shall we cope Molly? Alone together for a week in Ireland without a psychopathic killer in tow?" She spluttered out a laugh.

"Oh, I can think of a few things to distract us..." She grinned up at him, eyes sparkling. "I'd love us to go out to dinner somewhere ridiculously posh, maybe in Dublin? I want to wear my Herve Leger dress again, without the 'Cinderella' factor, thank you very much!" She frowned then, "Oh, is it in London?" He smiled broadly at her, loving her enthusiasm.

"It's lying on our bed in Aoife's house, exactly where I left it, awaiting your return Molly." She looked up knowingly at him.

"That night I had to leave wasn't exactly a barrel of laughs for you either, my love, was it?" She asked him softly. He laughed ruefully.

"That could be the understatement of the year Molly." She giggled.

"Well it's only March!" She climbed out of his lap, laughing at his pretence at restraining her.

"Right, that's enough, I have to have a shower." He watched her as she left the room and listened to the sounds of her preparing to wash. He sat back in the chair and stretched his arms, entwining his fingers at the back of his head. He let out a deep and relieved sigh, and just as he was considering how much he hated her being out of his sight, she arrived back to stand in the door frame, stark naked, with her hand cocked cheekily on her hip.

"Well?" She raised an eyebrow, "aren't you coming?" She turned around and walked back towards the bedroom, offering him a delectable view of her arse. Sherlock grinned, leapt out of his chair, and was onto her in seconds. He swept her up in his arms, laughing deeply, and kicking off his shoes, he carried her straight into the shower as she squealed with laughter. "You're getting soaked Sherlock!"

"Don't care," he growled as he pulled her face towards him and kissed her deeply on the mouth. "Christ Molly, you're incredible..." She laughed as she tugged his soaking jumper over his head.

"Look who's talking! She pulled the t-shirt over his head and ran her hands greedily along his chest. He grabbed her to him and stroked his way down her back, before gripping her ass firmly. She moaned and tugged his jeans open. "Lets get these out of the way.." He shook his head and palmed her breast.

"No time Molly, we'll have bloody guests arriving in about fifteen minutes."

"What! I thought they'd be ages yet!" He chuckled, and he couldn't resist kissing her mouth again.

"That kind of depends on who you were expecting..." She looked up at him confused; indecision racing across her face, and then she smirked boldly at him, freed him from his trousers and gripped his shoulders.

"We'll have to be quick so." Sherlock grinned boldly at her and seized her by her buttocks.

"Get up here then, Molly," and as he lifted her she wrapped her legs around his hips, and reaching down between them, she sheathed herself on him, sighing contentedly as she felt him deep inside her. He turned her and pressed her against the tiles, warm water pouring down his back, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Shifting her hips and rocking very slightly, she rested her forehead against his and murmured to him,

"I love this, Sherlock, I love how it feels to have you inside me. Don't you?" Sherlock spluttered with laughter.

"Well, I'd love to stop and chat Molly, but we're kind of on a deadline here.." and he began to trust up into her, rendering her temporarily speechless.

He was so deceptively strong, she thought, how he could raise and lower her so steadily and effortlessly, and she moved with him, and he locked his eyes on hers as he drove her to climax, knowing he would never ever tire of hearing her crying out his name as she came. He followed her soon after and she kissed his mouth as he shuddered his release inside her. As he quickly washed her hair, an action which was fast becoming a ritual for them both, he swallowed back a large lump in his throat, knowing that he loved this woman beyond all reason. He'd be sure to tell her later, he thought, as he wrapped her up in a fluffy towel and sneaked another kiss before turning her and propelling her out of the bathroom.

"Quickly Molly, they'll be here in five minutes!" She flew out of the bathroom as he peeled off his sopping jeans and socks. He scooped his other wet clothes off the floor and ran a fresh towel over the wet tiles quickly, dumping them all into the laundry basket. He grinned to himself, hearing her muttered expletives as she dragged a dress out of the wardrobe,

"Who is 'they' Sherlock?" She exclaimed, but he'd stepped back into the shower to wash his own hair, either that or, she thought suspiciously, Mr Supersonic Ears was ignoring her. She towel dried her hair and pulled on her underwear, and just as she pulled her tight black dress down to her knees, there was a knock on the front door. She rapidly dragged a hairbrush through her hair and ran to answer it, checking through the spy hole first, and squealed in delight at the smiling woman behind it. She flung the door open and threw her arms wide. "Aoife! Oh my God!" Aoife Quinn rushed to her and hugged her tightly.

"Hello Molly. I've come to fly you home," she laughed, and then said, "I've brought someone with me, he's looking for his wife.." and a grinning John Watson stepped in behind her with his arms open for her and she flew into them, laughing with joy. Sherlock smiled in the bathroom as he heard her. John kissed her cheek and then, ever the doctor, he checked out her jaw.

"That's a bad knock Molly, are you hurt anywhere else?" She shook him off.

"No, no John, I'm absolutely fine. Where's baby Fionnuala?" He smiled apologetically at her.

"In London, sorry Molly. Mrs Hudson is minding her in Mycroft's house. Where's Lover Boy?" She giggled.

"He's just dressing."

"He's right here, and I'll have less of that 'Lover Boy' nonsense, John Watson." Sherlock's grin belied his words and he held out a hand to John and shook it, then kissed Aoife fondly on the cheek. Molly looked him up and down and spluttered out an exasperated laugh, crossing her arms and shaking her head in indignation. He was pristine, dressed head to toe in a 'Sherlock' suit, bloody tight purple shirt and all. He gave her his best innocent look. "What?" Aoife laughed out loud and kissed his cheek.

"Come on you, brat, help me unload the car. We're having a party!" He let her drag him out the door towards her car but not before quipping,

"Careful Aoife, your Irish is showing!" She laughed gaily as she led him to the car. "Watch it you, anyway, you'll be spending a lot of time there, I'm thinking, if Molly has her way." Sherlock smiled,

"That's not an entirely unappealing thought Aoife," he said more seriously, and she stopped at the car and turned to look at him.

"You can stay in my house in Wicklow as long as you like, Sherlock. I'm busy with yours, and very happy staying with Mycroft, especially now that we have Molly back." He smiled at her and loped an arm across her shoulders, giving her an affectionate squeeze.

"Happy with Mycroft, is that even possible?" and he mock shuddered, making her roll her eyes and laugh. She punched him gently on the arm.

"You two are fooling nobody, just so you know...!" He smirked as he turned to lift bags of groceries out of the car, glancing up sharply as a car swept up the driveway, and then relaxed as he recognised Sheila. Dropping the bags in the hallway he turned to greet her. The tall athletic brunette gave him a big toothy grin.

"You must be Lover Boy!" and he clenched his jaw and grimaced, hearing John snorting behind him. Then Molly, his Molly, appeared from behind him and slipped her hand into his. Smiling widely at Sheila she said, "this is Sherlock Holmes, Sheila," and Sherlock relaxed and shook Sheila's hand, and thanked her for taking care of Molly for him, "when he could not." She smiled at him and said it was a pleasure then grinning at Molly, she winked and said,

"he's a keeper, Molly!"

They gathered in the kitchen, setting out the food, chatting and catching up and soon the others joined them, Michael arriving with two violin cases tucked under his arm, and Sherlock's eyes lit up. He turned to grin excitedly at Molly and caught her looking at him from across the room. He raised a bold brow and winked at her and she blushed, much to his delight. He rolled his eyes towards the bedroom and she laughed and excusing herself, she went in. Sherlock eased himself across the room and followed her and John snorted.

"Are you two still at that?" Mary, though, shushed him.

"Let them be John." She said gently and he turned to her and pulled her to him, whispering in her ear, "are you done now Mary? Can you please go back into retirement?" and she looked at her kind and anxious husband and answered him with one word.

"Happily."

Molly turned towards Sherlock as he closed the door behind him. She smiled at him and tilted her head curiously.

"What is it Sherlock? Are you OK?" He gazed at her and nodded, and couldn't find the words he sought, so he opened his arms wide and she walked straight into them and tilted her head up to look at him, reaching up to hold his face in her hands as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

"I know," she whispered and kissed him softly. "I know."