Frustration curled Molly's toes. In the fifteen minutes since John and Mycroft had left the hotel room, Sherlock had not said a word. He'd just taken a seat across from her and stared as if she were a piece of some sort of abstract art.

"Sherlock, I-I can't lie, a week ago I would have sold my soul to have you pay this kind of attention to me. Right now- I kind of want to smack you."

Sherlock raised his head from his folded hands and frowned at her in confusion. "I am just trying to understand why you're so special."

Molly let out a noisy breath and shot up. "I am going to pretend I didn't hear that."

Sherlock's lips parted in surprise and his eyes enlarged. "What? Where are you going?"

She averted her gaze momentarily. "I am going to use the, erm, facilities."

His eyes flitted back and forth as he thought about something. "You aren't going to carry through on your earlier threat and run the tub, are you?"

Molly put her hands on her hips. "Hmm, is that a problem? Mycroft said I could stay here if I wanted. Maybe I should make myself comfortable. I don't even need a change of clothes. There was this lovely, fluffy white terry cloth robe I saw in there before that I could wear."

Sherlock shifted in his seat. He looked about to stand up but paused as if unsure about his next move.

"You should not do that."

Molly lifted a brow. "And why is that?"

He opened his mouth as if to speak but nothing came out. She held back a smirk as he looked away with a scowl. He then clamped his lips together and huffed through his nose. Molly sauntered over and plucked a room service menu from the table next to him.

"I'll think I'll peruse this while I'm in there. Mycroft did say I could charge whatever I liked. Ooh, I believe I may fancy a bit of wine with my bath. Do you think they can bring me some candles? A posh place like this ought to be able to manage that, mm?"

Sherlock rocketed to his feet. In an instant, he towered over her like a dark, conflicted angel. Giddiness overtook her. She wanted to squeal.

"You cannot do that. It will be distracting."

Molly moved back languidly but her heart was hammering in her chest. She smiled and winked at him.

"Oh, come now, Sherlock. Surely you're busy and such trying to figure out what makes me so special."

She backed away one more step before turning on her heel and practically sprinting to the bathroom.

"Molly!"

She ignored him and slammed through bathroom door. The bathroom was something out of an interior designer's magazine with wall to wall marble and shiny polished fittings. Little soaps and towels stood next to a fresh bouquet of flowers on the vanity. Seriously, it was ridiculous, fresh flowers in the loo.

She thought about locking the door but backed away deliberately, leaving it unsecured. It was a dangerous game but she desperately wanted to provoke him. Years she had fantasized about seeing that heat in his eyes. When he looked at her now, it was actually there, simmering behind his carefully controlled facade. She felt on the edge of a precipice with the winds of change blowing her hair back and she almost couldn't stand the anticipation.

She went about her business, glancing at the door every so often, but uncertain of what to do next so she leaned back against the counter and took it all in. Sherlock probably thought she wasn't serious about having a bath and normally, he'd be spot on. However, a lot of crazy things had happened, like mental things that should have her hiding in a closet somewhere, plucking her brows out. Instead, she felt invigorated. Next thing she knew, she had the taps on the bath blasting water in the tub.

Her hand flew over her mouth as she suppressed a giggle. "What are you going to do now, Mr. Holmes? I am disobeying you."

Molly stripped out of her clothes. She was about to step into the bath when she heard a pounding at the door. She grabbed the robe off a hook on the wall and whipped it on just as Sherlock opened the door.

Her breathing ceased the moment she saw the stormy look on his face. She could tell he'd been raking his fingers through his hair as his curls were in wild disarray. He'd ditched his suit jacket and not one, but two of his buttons were unfastened at his throat. His pale eyes set on her with an intensity that started a tremble in her feet. She busied her quaking hands with the ties on her robe.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Her inner voice squeaked.

He paced into the room, watching her with narrowed eyes as he strode to the tub. When he was finished slowly twisting each of the valves closed, he straightened and shook his head.

"What have I told you about soliciting trouble, Ms. Hooper?"

Molly didn't realize she'd been gravitating backwards until she bumped into the vanity. "Yes, I d-do realize it is generally not r-recommended . . ."

Sherlock flicked each of his cuffs open, pushed his sleeves up and traversed the space between them in two steps. His eyes held hers as he trapped her by placing a hand on the counter either side of her hips.

"But?" His eyes glinted.

She licked her lips nervously. "I like it."

Sherlock's eyes closed briefly and a gravelly sigh escaped his lips. "Molly, this is madness. I cannot form a single coherent thought."

Oh, her knees! She wobbled. Sherlock grabbed the knot of her robe tie and held her upright until she stood on her own two feet again. She placed her hands against his chest. God, he was hot, like touching an iron left on too long. His heat seeped through his shirt into her fingers.

"What else do you like, Molly?" He murmured.

She felt a tug on the knot of her robe and the garment loosened around her middle. He leaned into her, dipped his head and brushed his lips against the tender skin of her neck. She let her neck go slack and head tilt to one side to allow him more access. At the same time, his fingers parted her robe and sought the smooth plain of her stomach. As she felt the slight roughness of his calloused hand slide around her middle, a thousand sparks rained down and exploded between her thighs.

"Oh, God," she whispered.

Sherlock pulled his head up at that moment and slammed his lips down over hers. She slung an arm around his neck and held on for dear life as if she were riding pinion on a motorcycle. Both of his hands were in her robe shortly thereafter, gripping her hips and pulling her forcefully against him. Then, she felt it, evidence of her effect on him pressing insistently against her belly through his trousers.

"Molly," he gasped against her lips. "Do you want this? Truly?"

Molly nodded, bumping their noses. His full lips assailed hers again forcefully as if he teetered on the edge of control. Molly drowned in it. She burned for him, every inch of her felt aflame and there was a molten fire in her core, hot and slick. She was beyond ready, throbbing and wet for him.

Her robe was discarded. He scooped her up and carried her from the bathroom towards one of the two bedrooms in the suite. She buried her face in his neck, feeling fleetingly embarrassed about her complete nakedness and raging arousal. He deposited her on the bed, causing her to bounce once in his haste to remove his own clothing. She watched, chewing her lip as every perfectly sculpted inch of him was revealed. There were ribbons of lava coursing through her veins as she took in the sight of his smooth, pale skin and lean form.

Oh, and then there was his member, fully aroused and bobbing as he crawled towards her on the bed. In the glimpse she had, she was glad she was ready for him as it was going to be a tight fit.

She reached for him, anxious to run her hands over his body and wrap her fingers around his cock, but he grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head as his body settled over hers.

"This is not something I have done recently, Molly," he said gruffly. "I am practically undone as it is. I don't think I can sustain this for much longer if you touch me."

Molly swallowed and nodded. His erection strained against her belly. She felt impossibly frayed. She didn't think she would last either as his lips trailed down her body. Her insides were wound so tight, she thought she might split at the seams. Of course, he had to gauge this for himself by stroking a finger over the most sensitive part of her. She almost leaped off the bed as an arc of electricity pulsed between her legs.

"Oh! Unh, Christ!" She clutched his hand. "For the love of God, you need to fuck me now, Sherlock."

He grunted. "Noted."

Sherlock moved between her thighs, his fingers bit into her leg, hiking it up. She felt the blunt tip of him push against her opening and got lost in that moment. Time stood still.

"Is this really happening?" She wondered.

Then she felt him intrude into her body, stretching and invading her, the feeling at once both so deliciously right but also unsettling in its visceral reality. Her eyes lolled back in her head as she felt every vein along his shaft against her inner walls. This was real. He was inside her and . . . moving. He pulled out partway and then groaned as he plummeted back inside. He slammed into the back of her womb and she could practically feel him all the way up in her belly.

"You are-" he panted, "so wet."

"Mm, yes, for you, Sherlock. Please . . ."

He answered her plea but thrust in and out deliberately and slowly at first, ensuring she felt his full force with every movement. Then, as if breaking free on black ice, the pace exploded. Molly felt something unfurl in her belly like a wire stretching tight. She concentrated on that point of tension, strained for it and soon felt sparks accumulating at her center. Sherlock continued to thrust, his breaths rasped in her ear. When the sound from his throat hitched, the sparks that had been building full on combusted and she flew apart. Her orgasm hit her so suddenly and completely that she cried out as the waves crashed through her body. Hearing her release, Sherlock grunted, pressed his forehead against her chest and came. A second shockwave rocked her core as she felt the pulsing of his member as he emptied himself inside her.

It was real. Too real. She buried her fingers in his hair and shifted herself beneath him. Sherlock's exhausted body weighted her down against the bed. She almost burst out into a hyena laugh.

She just had sex with Sherlock Holmes. Sex. With Sherlock.

Oh, shit. Shitty, shitty, shit! What was she thinking?

She just had unprotected sex with Sherlock Holmes.