Thank you all for reading and thanks to MizJoely for betaing. This chapter contains sexy times, you've been warned. There will be an epilogue and then we'll put this one to bed.

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

Chapter 10 - Repairs -

Oh fuck! Sherlock thought as he slowly woke up. Molly Hooper was a morning person and in the last several weeks she had proven to him just how wondrous mornings could be.

Her mouth was on his chest, her wet little tongue licking his nipple, her right hand was wrapped around his erection, slowly working him.

"Good…ahhh, morning," he groaned, his voice rough from disuse.

She looked up and smiled. "Isn't it?"

He was a little surprised that she was in the mood today considering what they had to do later. That didn't mean he was going to stop the beautiful woman who was currently grinding her centre against his thigh.

"Want you," she whispered against his skin.

"Yes, I got that feeling." Looking down he found that she was gloriously naked and all his. "Are you wet?" he asked as he bucked into her hand.

"I woke up that way."

"Your hand's getting stronger."

"Think of this as extra physiotherapy," she said with a wicked grin.

"Anything I can do to help."

"You are a shining example of self-sacrifice."

"I want to touch you," he growled. "Lay down."

Molly finally relinquished her hold on his cock and rolled onto her back. "What time are we meeting them?" she asked as he kissed her neck and she threaded her finger through his hair.

"Ah, 12.30," Sherlock answered, then moved his lips to her breast.

"Oh, God! Do that again!"

Releasing her nipple he said, "What, this?" then lightly bit the tender bud.

"Mmmm… I'm ready! Don't tease!"

He slid his hand down her torso until he reached his favourite place in the entire world. Slowly parting her, he dipped a finger between her folds. "What were you dreaming about to work you into such a state?" he asked when he found the river of fluid waiting for him.

She didn't speak, just arched her hips, looking for more contact.

"Molly, what has you so worked up?" He refused to touch her where she desperately wanted him.

"Fuck! It was weird, okay!"

Pulling his hand away, he looked into her eyes. "What do you mean?"

She shook her head. "Fine. We were in the park. That Park. And you were shagging me from behind on the picnic table."

"Were you…" He was almost afraid to ask because of the look of embarrassment on her face. "...grown?"

"Yes, of course. But…"

"That's not weird. Public sex is a little kinky, yes, but…" Tears welled up in her eyes and Sherlock reached out to cup her face. "Molly..?"

"Well, then the dream changed and we were… my parents were there."

"I'm assuming we weren't shagging at this point," he said with a smile, trying to cheer her up.

"No! Thank God! We were having dinner at my old house. The one in Reigate. My mum, she looked so young and beautiful, she turned to you and said, 'Thank you for taking care of our girl'."

Sherlock wiped away some of her tears. "Then what happened?"

"You and my dad went out to the garage and worked on an old Triumph."

"Sounds like fun," he lied.

"You have no interest in working on old cars. Don't give me that!" she said with a laugh.

"We're going to be fine today, Molly. Nothing changes because we're having lunch with my family." He kissed her sweetly.

"I wish it were mine," she said when he pulled back. "No offence, but I wish we were going to meet my mum and dad today."

"Frankly, I do too." He kissed her again. "Are you okay? Want some tea?"

She studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I still want you."

"Are you sure? You seem too upset..."

"Well then, shag me until I'm cheerful again," she demanded.

"Hmm… this calls for a special skill set."

"Really? Is it one you happen to have?"

"You're in luck, Miss Hooper." Sherlock straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. "I know exactly how to cheer you up." Pinning her wrists beside her head, he leaned down. "Where do I start..?"

"Be nice, Sherlock!"

"I'm always nice, Molly!" He kissed the side of her neck gently, teasingly, then moved down to her clavicle, softly nipping at her skin. Oh, she has no idea what's coming… Quickly, he switched the position of her hands, pinning them to her sides rather than near her head and moved his face lower.

"Sherlock…"

He then started 'nomming' her ribs with his mouth. She instantly tried to kick him off, but he was too strong. He used his whole face to tickle her ribs ruthlessly while she squealed and squirmed.

"Please!" Giggle. "No!" Cackle. "Okay! I'm… cheerful!" Shriek of laughter. "I'm… happy!" Then hysterical incomprehensible noises, followed by, "God, Sherlock! I'm gonna wee myself!"

He pulled back, studying her as she panted. "I'm not sure… one more thing," he said as he let go of her hands and moved to between her thighs. "I like to be thorough in everything I do."

She tried to jerk her legs together. "No more tickling!"

"Not that kind, at least," he said as he pushed her thighs further apart.

"You know I prefer to have a shower before you do this."

He parted her, taking in her beautiful sex. No matter how many times he saw it, it still made his dick twitch. "And you know that I like it when your pussy tastes like pussy."

"You have such a filthy mouth!"

"That's why I need to clean it on this perfect cunt of yours. Besides, you love it!"

"Maybe a little."

He started at her clit, circling it with his tongue and listening to her moan. Sing for me, Molly. Working lower he sucked her inner lips into his mouth, lapping up all those juices she had been making for him all morning. His tongue found her opening while his nose nudged her clit.

"Oh fuck! That feels fucking fantastic!" Molly whispered as she tugged on his hair.

Now who has a filthy mouth?

"I'm close! Don't stop! Oh, God!"

Why would I stop before you soaked my face? He moved his tongue back to her clit. Keeping the pressure light, he teased her for almost a full minute. He was waiting for a certain sound…

A low grunt followed by a whine came from above him and he knew it was time. He sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth and listened for the inevitable explosion.

"Uuunnnggghhh!"

There is it. He kissed her one more time, bidding her pussy a farewell (for now) then crawled up to lay next to her.

She panted and hummed in satisfaction as he cleaned his face with the back of his hand. "You're mouth is… FUCK!"

"Is it really?" he asked, a far too proud smile on his face.

"Yes… is it." She turned toward him, pulling him close and sealing her lips against his. "Now will you shag me?"

"Get on your hands and knees. Your dream gave me ideas."

She hopped up and presented him with her beautiful bottom. "Like this?"

"Yes. Will your hand be okay?" he asked, giving himself a few tugs as got into position.

"It's fine. It doesn't hurt."

"You'll tell me if it does?"

"Of course." She peered over her shoulder. "Now are you going to fuck me or just look at my arse and wank?"

"Just making sure you were ready. We've never done it like this before."

"Only because of my injury. Come on! Make with the lovin'!"

She wiggled her bum at him until he grabbed her hips to still her. He then lined himself up and entered her slowly. Every single time, he thought as her wet heat engulfed him. She always feels magnificent!

"Ahh, that feels… Mmmm…" Molly said when he pulled out and slid back in, this time quicker, harder.

I couldn't agree more. Again and again, he drove into her, gripping her hips as his balls slapped against wet flesh. Molly, always so vocal during their lovemaking, moaned and groaned, hissed and hummed as he continued, but could already feel that tingle at the base of his spine, that tightness that started in his stomach and reached all the way to his bollocks.

"Are you close?!" he asked in a desperate growl. The new position, evidently, had his libido thinking that he was a teenager again. Not gonna be my best performance!

"So fucking close!" She pushed back against him, giving him more resistance and moving perfectly with him. "Right there. Keep doing that!"

Whatever the fuck that is! Because he had no idea. He wasn't even sure what planet he was on at the moment. He was just need and desire and testosterone and… fuck! he wanted to drive a hole right through her!

Just when he thought it was a lost cause, that he'd have to make it up to her in the shower or something, he felt it. Molly's walls started to tremble, constrict and then do this sort of lovely fluttery thing that really defied description. Then they were like a tight fist trying to squeeze the very essence from him.

Her body went rigid, almost perfectly still as she shouted his name and he finally let go. His balls rose up and unleashed themselves into Molly's still rippling sheath. He gripped her hips even tighter - enough to bruise, he found out later - as he called out to her over and over again, praising her, her pussy and several deities of which he had only a passing acquaintance.

Seconds later he withdrew and gracelessly flopped down on the bed.

Molly was lying next to him, a blissed out smile on her face. "Hmm… that was lovely."

He could only nod.

"It will definitely make today more bearable. If I think I'm going to slap your mum or deck your brother, I'll just remember that orgasm and, hopefully, it will still my hand."

Sherlock didn't think that it would have the same effect on him in the future.

The five of them sat in awkward silence in the private room of the modestly priced restaurant Sherlock had selected. It needed to be somewhere neutral. Neither Baker Street or The Estate would have been acceptable and he wasn't about to let his brother choose the location.

He hadn't seen his mother or brother in nearly four months. His father, however, had visited he and Molly on three occasions. As it turned out, Dad had known very little about Mummy and Mycroft's scheme. Sherlock wasn't surprised; his father didn't have the same devious mind as the rest of them.

His beautiful girl seemed to adore his father (that is after a frank conversation one afternoon in which Molly told Mr. Holmes what she thought of how young Sherlock had been handled), and he couldn't blame her. Father was so like Molly. His dad had always been the antithesis of the Mummy and Mycroft, emotionally speaking; Sherlock falling somewhere in the middle. The verdict was out on his sister, if one could ever be reached.

Sherlock had gone to Sherrinford twice since Molly's accident. Eurus was still nonverbal, but they played their violins and Sherlock spoke to her generalities. He couldn't risk giving her too much information, not knowing when she might snap back into another psychotic episode.

"Well, this is nice," his father said over starters. "All of us together."

"It is," Mummy said with a nervous smile. It looked out of place; his mother didn't get nervous. She was always calm, always in control. "How are you feeling, Molly?" she asked.

"Much better, Mrs. Holmes. I haven't had any side effects from the head injury other than mild headaches and my physio is coming along nicely." She held up her right hand, flexing it, showing off her newly regained strength.

"Oh, that's wonderful," Mummy replied. "And when will you be able to return to work?"

"I've been back at Barts for a month and a half now. Part-time, of course."

"I… I didn't know."

"That's because your son finally pulled my surveillance and detail, at his brother's insistence," Molly explained with a little bite.

"Of course," Mummy said, then took a sip of tea.

After a few more minutes of silence, only interrupted by the clank of silverware and china, Molly spoke again, "I have some things I'd like to say." She looked at the Holmes across from her.

Sherlock put a hand on her thigh and squeezed. This was her show, he was simply there for support.

"I understand why you did what you did; I don't excuse it, but I do understand it." She turned her gaze to his mother. "You were still grieving the loss of your daughter, Mrs. Holmes, I can't even imagine how hard that must have been. So you jumped at the chance to exert some control over Sherlock's life, to keep him in line. God knows how hard it must have been to parent him…" She glanced at him and smiled sweetly. "But it all went too far. Especially when you started changing the course of my life to tempt him away from his habits."

"Have you seen him when he's high, Molly?" Mummy asked and Sherlock wondered where she was going with the query. She was well aware of their history, Mycroft would have seen to it.

"I have. Multiple times."

"We were trying to save him…"

"For a family of geniuses you can all be pretty thick sometimes, you know that!?" Molly snapped.

Mummy recoiled as if she'd been slapped.

"You can't force someone to get clean, Mrs. Holmes. You can't manipulate them into saving themselves. It has to be their decision. Sherlock scares me to death when he using. I absolutely hate it. But I love him and nothing will change that."

"Do you not think that we tried other methods?" his mother asked tersely.

"I assume you tried many things but your go-to move is to deceive, to plot and plan. When he needed your support and your love you were paying for my summer camps. When he needed someone to talk to, to actually pay attention to him and his illness, you were influencing my instructors." She leaned ever so slightly closer to his mother, anger etching her lovely features. "And while we're on the topic, you are very lucky that I'm secure in my academic abilities. I know I earned every grade I ever got because I studied my arse off, not because the Great Holmes Family wanted me to succeed."

Sherlock moved his hand to her back and gently rubbed.

"We made mistakes," Mummy said, inclining her head. "I'm not denying that, but we tried to make your life better, Molly. We tried…"

"Please don't insult me, Mrs. Holmes."

"I do care about you. I'm sure you don't believe that right now, but I do. How could I not?" She looked at Sherlock then back to Molly. "You saved him so many times."

"Plasters," Molly whispered.

"Excuse me?"

At that moment two waiters entered the room, carrying their entries. After the meals were placed and the waiters had left, Molly looked at his mother.

"All you did was put plasters on a gaping wound." She looked at Mycroft. "And you, you poor man," she said causing his brother's face to fall. "They put so much pressure on you. Hide your little sister, Mycroft! Control your little brother, Mycroft! Were you ever a child?"

He didn't answer, just averted his eyes. My God, she's brilliant. His brother could handle recrimination, reprisal but Molly's pity? Sherlock could see how deeply it affected him. She handles them better than I ever did.

Molly turned her attention back to the Holmes matriarch. "If Sherlock stays clean it will not be because I am in his life. It will be because of himself. His strength. His determination. If he uses again, well, then I'll be there for him and he knows that. I won't make bargains with him or give him ultimatums. He and I have talked, at length, about what I will and will not tolerate. He's flawed, of that I am aware, but he comes by it honestly." She picked up her teacup and took a drink. "You got your way, Mrs. Holmes. I'm in your son's life and I'm not going anywhere, but I won't be used or manipulated anymore and I won't allow you to hurt the man I love either. Even if you think it's for his own good."

Oh, his Molly was a fierce warrior. She was all kittens and cocoa one minute and claws and venom the next. Her strength was carefully hidden beneath a layer of sunny smiles and cozy jumpers, but once unleashed… well, you better be holding onto something.

"I've said my piece and I don't plan on rehashing it every time we see each other. I haven't gotten over what you did. I have forgiven you, though. Trust, however, is another thing entirely. It must be earned." She picked up her utensils. "Now, I'm hungry and this salad looks delicious." Then she started to eat.

Just like that, she put it to bed.

The rest of the party followed her lead, except for Sherlock; he stared at her in awe for several minutes. She seemed lighter, somehow. He had been quite concerned that this confrontation would rattle her nerves, but it seemed that the opposite had happened. Molly had indeed said her piece and was ready to move on.

"Are you going to eat your fish?" she asked him.

"Yes," he answered. "You want to try it, don't you?"

Molly nodded, so he cut off a bite and fed it to her. "Mmm…" she hummed. "It's good. Have some."

"I'll just wait a moment to see if you survive," he said with a grin.

"So I'm your official food tester now?"

"Careful, Molly," his father chided. "That's a full-time job."

"I haven't had a death threat in months, I'll have you know," Sherlock said before finally starting to eat.

Lunch continued, slightly less uncomfortable than before Molly's speech. Sherlock's father made a few horrible jokes. Molly laughed riotously. Mummy finally relaxed while they had pudding and coffee. Mycroft never did (though he did enjoy a large slice of cake).

Whilst Father took care of the bill, Mummy asked Molly to walk her to the car. She nodded and kissed Sherlock on the cheek. The men loitered in the entryway, watching the two women speak.

"What's that all about?" Mycroft asked.

"She's begging for forgiveness," Father said as he watched his wife.

"Impossible!" both Mycroft and Sherlock said at the same time.

Mr. Holmes laughed. "Not at all. She's apologised to me on many occasions." The younger men just gaped at their father. "If you mention it to her she'll deny it, of course."

The three of them turned their attention back to the women on the pavement. As if he hadn't been shocked enough for one afternoon, Sherlock watched a tear fall down his mother's cheek. He studied her closely to make sure she wasn't acting. If she tried to feign tears to garner sympathy from Molly, he'd… Oh my God. She's actually crying. Molly hugged the other woman, tightly. Mummy stiffened, then wrapped her arms around Molly's back.

"I can't believe it..." Mycroft whispered.

"If I hadn't seen it…" Sherlock started.

"She's not a monster, boys," their father said. "She loves us all fiercely. But she protects herself. I think you two know all about the building of walls." He smiled. "They can be torn down, though. There are always weak spots." He turned back and they all watched as Molly held Mummy's hand, talking to her, smiling and nodding. "You're looking at one of them," he added.

"Molly?" Sherlock questioned.

"Oh yes. Vi is enamored with your girl, Sherlock, always has been."

"But…"

"You know what they say about who we hurt the most," he said before opening the door and walking out to join his wife.

Mycroft and Sherlock continued to watch their parents and Molly chat.

"How often?" Sherlock asked after a few minutes.

"You haven't asked her yet?"

"No, and she never offered. I think she actually feels guilty."

The older man turned and faced his brother. "It started while you were away, happened maybe five or six times. Mummy asked me to arrange a meeting. So I did."

Sherlock listened, never taking his eyes off of the scene in front of the restaurant.

"I didn't think it would hurt anything, they both missed you so much. I was surprised when she asked me to keep it going after you returned. They meet, I'd say, twice a year or so, sometimes more."

"Molly is one hell of a secret keeper," Sherlock said. "I had no idea."

Mycroft laughed. "You don't know the half of it. Mummy constantly tried to pry information out of her. It never worked, evidently."

Sherlock smirked. Of course it didn't.

"The day of the accident was to be their first meeting since Sherrinford. Mummy's been… hiding."

"I know."

"Though irrational, I think she blames herself for Molly's injuries," Mycroft said.

Mummy irrational? That's an oxymoron.

His brother sighed. "She hasn't forgiven me."

"She will."

"How do you know?"

After several minutes of silence, Sherlock said, "She tried to replace our sister with my lover. She encouraged a teenage boy's obsession with a motherless girl because she was sad and missed her own child. She forced you to use your position within the government to help manipulate me and Molly, thus changing the course of our lives."

"That she did, brother mine."

"Our family's fucked up."

"Indeed."

"That's how I know she'll forgive you, Myc. She's actually done worse than you." When Sherlock looked at his brother, Mycroft was smiling. It was a good look on him. "Come on, my Molly needs rescuing."

They walked out the door together.

Okay, so we finally know where Molly was going. Sorry to make you wait so long. I'll post the epilogue in a day or so. Please let me know how you feel about Molly's handling of the Holmes'. Thanks so much for reading. ~Lil~