OHMYGOSHOHMYGOSHOHMYGOSH…
Molly's head was swirling with about a thousand thoughts at once, at the forefront being SHERLOCK HOLMES IS SNOGGING ME. WELL! She had replayed this scenario hundreds of times in hundreds of different ways, but none of her fantasies could have ever done it justice. Even with his lack of experience, he was a fabulous kisser-exploring her mouth gently with his tongue and holding her tightly by her hips until his hands subconsciously moved around to her lower back, pulling her closer to him. Strangely enough, her next thought was how John would have a complete coronary episode if he saw them right now, and she let a small giggle escape her lips.
Sherlock pulled back, a dazed look in his eyes but a smile on his face. "What?" he questioned, not sure whether or not to be insulted.
"Nothing. I just-can't believe this is happening," said Molly, an involuntary chill running through her body having absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.
"You're cold," said Sherlock, taking his arms and rubbing them quickly up and down hers, trying to warm her. "Let's get home and warm you up."
Molly smirked and laughed inwardly at his choice of words and began to walk alongside him toward her flat. Their hands brushed together and she took it upon herself to grab hold of his.
"Molly-I'm not your boyfriend," he said. Molly's smile faltered a little as she let go of his hand, but refused to let this slight setback take away from a few moments before.
"I'm not your boyfriend," he said again.
"Yes, Sherlock I-" This time he grabbed her hand, entwining his fingers with hers and giving it a soft squeeze.
"-heard you." Molly couldn't stop smiling the entire way back to her flat.
XXX
"Do you want some tea before you go to bed?" she asked as she walked out of her bedroom, dressed in her favorite pajama bottoms and t-shirt. Sherlock was sitting on the couch with his eyes closed again, his familiar thinking position assumed. His hair was still damp from a shower and he wore a pair of her brother's old sweatpants and t-shirts she happened to have in a drawer. Lucky for him his brother was tall, but nowhere near as muscular as Sherlock, so the shirt was a bit too small. Molly wasn't complaining.
"What does he want?"
Molly stopped making tea, taken aback by Sherlock's question. In the span of an hour, she had nearly forgotten their encounter with the lunatic Moriarty and everything he had said. How the hell did I forget about that? Guess you had something else on your mind. She grinned to herself and turned back to Sherlock, noting the anguish his face seemed to be tied in.
"Sherlock, this is what he wants."
Sherlock opened his eyes, slightly puffy now from lack of sleep. He looked at her questioningly.
"He wants you to pour yourself into this. Think about it every waking second-he wants you to go mad."
He sighed but didn't relax. "I have to figure it out."
She put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, causing him to shut his eyes and sigh again. She felt a huge knot of muscle near his neck and decided to forgo any more Confident Molly tonight. "You will figure it out. But not without rest. Come here."
She made to turn him away from her and reached for the bottom hem of his too-small t-shirt.
"Molly, what are you doing?" he asked, obeying her and turning around, lifting his arms up to guide the shirt off.
"Just trust me," she grinned, rolling her eyes and cracking her knuckles. He tried to face her but she turned him back around, marveling in his muscular back before setting to work on his shoulders.
"Molly, what are you-OH. Oh, god-" The rest of his sentence became incoherent as Molly began her massage.
She dug her thumbs hard into one of the knots near his neck and worked it out, moving to another and another. Sherlock continued to moan soft sounds of pleasure, and Molly couldn't help but chuckle softly at what the neighbors must think hearing him make these noises.
"That is-the most amazing thing-I've ever felt in my life," he said between each knot, slowly sinking down to lie on his stomach on the couch. Molly laughed heartily this time, repositioning herself to sit on his backside, giving her full access to the planes of his back. When she had finished working out all the knots in his neck and shoulders, she moved lower down his back, exploring every facet of his smooth skin. His moans got softer and his breathing more regular. As she lifted herself off of him as gently as she could, she checked his face and sure enough, he was sound asleep-his face appearing more peaceful than she had ever seen it. Smiling beside herself, she picked up the blanket from the night before and covered him up once again before proceeding to her own bedroom.
Just as she was drifting off to sleep in her own bed, she heard movement from the other room. Looking up sleepily, she saw the dark outline of Sherlock standing in the doorway.
She sat up quickly and turned on the lamp by her bedside. "What is it? Is everything ok?"
He walked over to her bedside table and turned the lamp out again.
"I'm not your boyfriend."
She looked up at him-unsure this time.
"I know that."
"Ok," He pulled back the covers and climbed into bed behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close, her back against his bare chest, his head buried in her hair.
"Sherlock-"
"Goodnight,Molly."
She sighed, flopped back down on her pillow, and fell almost instantly asleep.