The next day after work, Molly went to Sherlock's flat first as he had made it very clear he was going with her to pick up her things. Sherlock had offered to call a moving company to rent a van to put her stuff in, but she insisted she wasn't taking much; she mainly needed her clothes and books. When they arrived, Molly was slightly surprised that he wasn't even there.
Sherlock was disappointed…how he had hoped he would try to start something with him again…
He assisted her in loading her clothes up in a suitcase, she was right, she didn't have much to pack. He went to close the suitcase but something black and lacy caught his eye. He made sure she wasn't looking and pulled them from the suitcase. It was a pair of panties; nearly see through with lace trimmings. His expert eyes could tell at once these were not Mollys'. He quickly shoved them into his coat pocket. He suddenly felt incredibly angry. Not only had that prick called Molly, of all people a slut, but he had been cheating on her…now that he took a good look around, letting his mind finally pay attention to something other than Molly, the evidence had been right in front of his face. He could have saved her a lot of heartache if he had only payed attention to his surroundings. He fought with himself for a moment on whether he should tell her or not…but finally decided not to. It would only hurt her more at this point. No he would have to keep this secret.
He zipped up the suitcase and went to the living room where Molly was filing another box with a random assortment of personal things. He came up behind her and dragged his fingertips up her arms. She turned her head and grinned at him, then turned back to what she was doing.
"What's wrong?" He asked, immediately picking up on her body language.
"It's just a little sad you know?" She said quietly.
"I don't understand." He said simply. Why would this be sad? She was coming to stay with him…
"Tom was my rock while you were gone those two long years. He treated me better than anyone in my life had. And now…just like that…it's over."
Sherlock never really understood emotion well. He didn't see any point on dwelling on the past if it did not benefit the future.
"But…you're going to be with me…does that make you sad?" He said carefully still not understanding.
She turned around and looked at him a moment.
"Sometimes I wish I could be as uncaring as you are about some things," She muttered, "Of course I'm happy to be with you. But I don't like change. And this is a big change for me," She said trying to make him understand.
Although he may not fully understand why she felt this way, he did his best to be empathetic. When they got the final box packed, they grabbed everything and rode back to Sherlock's flat. Molly unpacked most of her stuff in his room, trying to keep things neat as this seemed to be the only organized room in the apartment.
"We'll have to get you a dresser this week." Sherlock said drying his mess of curly hair as she picked some clothes from her suitcase to change into. He had just gotten out of the shower and his clean musky scent made Molly light headed with euphoria. That along with the fact all he had on was a towel on his waist, she was getting rather weak in the knees. She held her clothes tightly and walked past him, breathing in deeply as she walked by.
Sherlock grinned. He knew the effect he had on her. He went and changed into his comfortable sleeping pants and a t-shirt
Molly washed quickly and got out, drying off but not putting her clothes on. Instead she took a deep breath in and out, and walked out completely naked into Sherlock's room where he was lying in bed reading a book. He didn't notice her at first until she climbed onto his lap. The book fell out of his hands onto the floor.
Sherlock was definitely taken by surprise. He sat up further in bed and his hands went to her waist. Molly leaned down and met him in a soft, slow kiss. Sherlock wrapped his long arms around her back, touching every inch of skin he could find. When she pulled back, he ran his fingers down her stomach, wanting to explore every inch of her body. Molly reached down to pull Sherlock's pants down just enough to free him. He lifted his hips to help her, obviously excited.
She then grabbed his hands again and laced her fingers between his.
"What are you doing?" He asked quietly. He had never in his life dreamed Molly was capable of doing something like this. Actually taking control of this kind of situation and making him enjoy it.
"Returning all the favors you've given to me," She grinned. She lifted her hips above his own and slowly slid him in, Sherlock letting out a low moan of pleasure. She sat still a moment, but then very slowly grinded her hips against his, wanting nothing more than to feel him as deep as he could go. When she had enough grinding, she then began to raise and lower herself on him repeatedly. She continued to hold Sherlock's hands to help her keep her balance, and he seemed to not be able to stop staring at her, his intense eyes turning her on even more. She continued her movements on him, angling her hips so he was hitting all the right places. She threw her head back, her damp hair hanging down her back, moving a bit with each movement.
This was so unlike anything they had done, Sherlock wasn't sure how to react. He felt as though he should be taking over at some point, but she seemed to be enjoying herself and he didn't want to ruin this for her. So he simply let himself get spoiled and relaxed. He found once he relaxed a bit more, he began to enjoy it more. He watched as she bounced on him, her small frame just perfectly shaped, her skin so soft and smooth, her face just as beautiful as ever…why had he waited so long to acknowledge her? God she was perfect…for him at least. She had begun panting after bouncing for a while, so he let go of her hands and grabbed her hips, helping to lift her and guide her. She began going faster, her breathing growing ragged, her hands gripping his arms tightly.
He knew she was getting close. And it excited him. He made one very swift movement and suddenly he was on top of her, her legs wrapping around his lean sides, her fingernails digging into flesh as he thrusted mercilessly into her. Now this was more his style…
Molly moaned louder than ever, unable to keep her voice contained, uncaring if anyone heard her, only knowing the ecstasy he was bringing her right now. She welcomed the familiar high he always brought her and as her body tightened, Sherlock leaned down and caught her mouth in a hard kiss. A few more thrusts and he allowed his own excitement to take over. He groaned as he finished, his arms on either side of her head, watching her recover from her own orgasm.
He tried to even his breath and leaned down to let his lips rest on Molly's forehead in a long kiss. Her hands moved up to drape over his neck sleepily. She was exhausted.
"Molly?" Sherlock said quietly.
"Hmm?" She opened her heavy eyes. Sherlock froze...he felt strange. There was some weird foreign feeling taking over him and he couldn't put it into words. She looked at him curiously.
"Everything okay?" She said.
"Yes…umm…bathroom then straight to bed okay?" He said. She grinned and nodded as he got up and pulled his pants back up.
And that's exactly what she did. She was soon curled up comfortably fast asleep in his bed.
Sherlock stayed up pacing the flat for a while. He couldn't shake this strange feeling. He didn't know what to do. He glanced at his phone. Nearly nine o'clock. He grabbed his phone off the table and called the only person who might know what was wrong with him.
There were a few rings then a voice at the other end saying hello.
"John, I need your help." Sherlock said quickly.
"What? What's wrong?" John asked worriedly.
"I…I don't know. I feel strange. I need you to come asses me at once," Sherlock said worridly.
"Okay, just stay calm, give me twenty minutes and I'll be there. Is there anyone to stay with you until I get there? Mrs. Hudson or-?"
"Yes, Molly is here," He cut him off.
"Ok good. Just stay calm I'll be right over." And with that John hung up the phone.
Sherlock paced the floor tirelessly, trying to remain quiet so he wouldn't wake Molly. He finally heard the slamming of a door outside and knew John would be here any second. Just like he thought, John came through the door with his bag.
"You said twenty minutes, it's been nearly twenty five," Sherlock said quickly, continuing to pace.
"Yes, I know Sherlock, there was an accident and traffic was backed up. Now sit down and let me have a look at you."
Sherlock went and sat in his arm chair, John following, pulling a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff out of his bag.
"Now what's hurting?" He said pumping up the cuff around Sherlock's arm.
"Nothing." He said.
"Ok…what seems to be the problem then?" John asked.
"I don't know that's why I called you," Sherlock said.
"Well what are your symptoms?" John said trying to pry any information from him he could.
"I can't concentrate, I haven't been able to solve a case for over a week, I feel like my stomach is in my throat, I can't sleep…" John gave him a funny look.
"Your blood pressure and pulse are slightly elevated but not bad." John said then pulled out a thermometer.
"Hold this under your tongue."
He did but that also came back normal. John looked him over. There wasn't anything physically wrong with him. Not that he could see…and he wasn't in pain. It must be something more in his mind then.
"How long have you been feeling this anxious feeling?" He asked.
"I don't know maybe a week ago it started. But it's been growing increasingly worse and it's finally hit its peak today."
"Okay, well this could be stress related or maybe you have an underlying anxiety issue, but there's nothing physically wrong with you Sherlock…"
Sherlock sat there looking confused as ever. If there was nothing physically wrong with him then why did his stomach feel like it was tied in a knot?
"I thought you said Molly was here," John said looking around.
"She is."
"Where?"
"In the bedroom. Now are you sure you don't need to run any blood tests or anything? Maybe I'm getting some kind of bug," Sherlock spoke quickly. John got up and walked towards Sherlock's bedroom.
"Where are you going?"
"To speak to Molly," John replied.
"You can't," Sherlock said standing.
"Why?" John asked, amused. But as Sherlock walked toward him, he already opened the door and walked in. He stopped when he saw Molly's small form wrapped up under the blankets. It was obvious she didn't have at least a shirt on. John walked back out and pulled the door closed.
"Easy! Don't wake her up!" Sherlock whispered, "She had an exhausting day. Well an exhausting week I should say."
"Why's that?" John asked, still trying to wrap his head around the image of Molly Hooper lying in Sherlock's bed.
"We had to get all of her stuff from her old place and move it here and she was apparently very emotional about it, although I still haven't really figured out why…"
"Wait, why is she staying here?...In your bed?" John asked incredulously.
"Were together," Sherlock said as if it were obvious.
"Wait…you're…like…together, together?"
"Yes."
John still couldn't seem to grasp what Sherlock had just said.
"Like…dating?"
"Yes," Sherlock said impatiently.
John was quiet a moment, the wheels in his mind turning.
"Is this for a case or something? Because Molly isn't strong, Sherlock, this would break her heart…"
"No it's not for a case, John, I genuinely like her company."
"What do you like about her?" John asked, now starting to realize what was going on.
"I can't exactly narrow it down to a select few things…obviously she's very smart, she's pretty, does funny things, she's just…everything you know? And even the days she's in a bad mood and wants to smack me in the face…I still can't stop thinking about her…" Sherlock laughed. "Doesn't make much sense does it?"
"Oh no it makes perfect sense, Sherlock." John said smiling.
"Do you think she has something to do with my illness?" Sherlock said. John laughed at how thick he could be.
"Sherlock she is your illness. You're in love, not dying." He laughed.
Sherlock stared at him in a funny way as if he didn't believe what he just heard.
"Love?" He questioned him.
"Yes, Sherlock. You love her. That's why you feel this way. Oh God wait until I tell Mary about this," John laughed even harder.
"I'm going home, Sherlock. Go get some rest and don't worry, love will not kill you, I promise."
"Easy for you to say," Sherlock said as John grabbed his stuff and walked out the door.
Sherlock went back in his room and sat on his bed, watching Molly's slow deep breathing. So this is what love felt like? It didn't feel anything like he had imagined. He felt terribly sick and absolutely wonderful at the same time. He supposed he could live with this feeling. He laid down facing Molly and continued to think.
Love…so he was capable of it. He had often wondered. And with Molly Hooper of all people…he supposed there were somethings he even he would never figure out.