Okay, I am a lying liar who lies. I am going to post another part. Because this part is on of my favs. I did also get some good, solid work done yesterday and will continue with that today.

I got a lot of replies on the last part. Thanks to coloradoandcolorado1, booda77, Murmeltierchen, myleneSW, Hellscrimsonangel, Ella Palladino, Nocturnias, Spyder and Sherlockian101. Just a couple of quick responses:

FangFan: I do love Lestrade for his ability to do that. I really love the "Sherlock" version of Lestrade. He's an actual competent, which is rare and greatly appreciated.

Sophs: If I were Moffat, Irene would be having a lot more success with Molly. Lesbian Spank Inferno indeed (Sorry, I can never resist a Coupling reference).

PART ELEVEN

Despite Sherlock's prediction, nothing had changed much in the past month and a half, aside from the lack of the Woman's presence. She had a promising lead abroad.

"Besides, Mister Holmes... I don't want to spoil your 'experiment'."

The Woman or no, the experiment was progressing smoothly. Sherlock had worried Molly would become a simpering, cloying moron when it came to sex and attachments. She did seem like the type to fall for such romantic twaddle.

In truth, very little of their arrangement had changed. He did his investigations and experiments and she would become annoyed if he made some sort of arbitrary social taboo. She did insist on kissing him in the morning and before she went to bed. Were it up to Sherlock, he would not have been so regular in their affections, but that was not to say it was unpleasant.

Nor did he mind when she would card her fingers through his hair while he was working on her computer or plucking at his violin. It seemed to help his concentration.

Of course, there was also the addition of sex. It was not what he would call a common occurrence. Then, Sherlock wasn't entirely certain what was considered 'common'. It tended to happen on the nights when he would finally give in to sleep, his mind and body craving rest. He had thought just sleeping in Molly's arms was a balm on his restless mind. It was nothing compared to finally resting after allowing himself pleasure.

It reminded him of when he would take morphine, the calm that would come over him. Yet they had one or two encounters- when Sherlock was frustrated by lack of leads or annoyed by boredom- that made his cocaine highs pale in comparison.

Perhaps he should have begun having sex when he had tried to get clean. Maybe he wouldn't have relapsed so much.

He had surmised that Molly had been correct and practice did make perfect even with something as base as intercourse. At least if her red cheeks and barely contained grins were anything to go by.

Sherlock was conflicted. He was enjoying it all, but that disturbed him. He wasn't supposed to be content playing house with a cheerful pathologist. He longed for his old life back, yet he did not want to give up these new additions.

It was a peculiar situation. One he needed to ponder further.

"Do you mind if I ask you a question, Sherlock?" Molly was lying on her stomach on her bed, looking up at Sherlock as he dried himself off after his shower. She was already dressed for the day.

Sherlock went to work drying off his hair. "Well, I suppose it depends on what it is. Will I find it banal?"

"I don't know," Molly replied, giving a slight shrug and an embarrassed smile. "You find funny things to be 'banal'."

"All right." Sherlock nodded. "Ask."

Molly's smile widened and she let out a small giggle. "Why do you have 'VR' tattooed on your backside?"

Sherlock winced slightly. He'd thought of having the damn thing removed many times. "How long has that been bothering you?"

Molly blushed and looked away. Clearly, it had been on her mind since she'd first glimpsed it, probably when he'd started jumping into the shower with her. Yet she hadn't the courage to bring it up. Their current relationship made her much more relaxed about things.

"Why don't you tell me," Sherlock suggested, eyeing her. "You've deduced me before. Why don't you have another go?"

Molly's eyes widened. "What? You want me to..." She shook her head and let out a nervous little twitter. "How do you expect me to...?"

"You are a pathologist. I'm sure you've had to identify bodies using tattoos before."

Molly shook her head. "That's not really how it works or even what you're asking."

He gave her a smile. "Indulge me."

He liked when Molly showed off her intelligence. In the past, he had insulted her breasts and mouth- both which he realized now were just fine the way they were- but really, they didn't matter. For him, it was her intelligence that attracted him.

"Brainy is the new sexy," he recalled the Woman telling him once.

Molly bit her lower lip and her cheeks turned pink. "I... Ummm... I need to... Well..." She twittered nervously again. "Get a better look at it."

Sherlock pulled the towel from his hips. "You just want to get a good look at my backside, don't you, Molly Hooper?"

Oh, he was flirting. And he meant it. He was disgusting himself. When had that become so easy to do? Still, he turned and allowed Molly to do her investigation.

He felt her fingers trace the elaborate letters and a shiver went through him.

"I'd say..." Molly said quietly. "Based on how much the ink has faded, it's at least ten years old. And you haven't had it retouched. You regret having it done. But you haven't had it removed, which is normally what someone does when they regret having a tattoo. So you leave it there as a reminder. It also looks like it wasn't done at the most reputable place, considering how sloppy the edges are..." She hummed softly in thought. "You had it done while you were high on cocaine and you leave it as a reminder not to fall back into it."

Sherlock smiled down at Molly and gave her a nod. "Good show, Molly." He threw himself onto the bed. "What made you say cocaine rather than morphine? I did use both."

"You would have used morphine to knock yourself out. Cocaine is the drug that makes you do mad things. Besides, I know you preferred it." She went quiet, running her fingers over Sherlock's calf. She was pensive and Sherlock knew why.

"I'm clean," he said softly. "I've been clean for years now. Longer than you've known me."

It felt strange, to try to ease Molly. He had always been unapologetic about the things he had done. But he didn't want her to worry about him relapsing.

"I'm a doctor," Molly said quietly. "I know it's not as easy as all that. The addiction doesn't die, it's just... Asleep."

Sherlock turned himself around so he was closer to Molly. "I have willed the addiction away with the power of my mind."

Molly shook her head. "That's impossible."

Sherlock scoffed. "My mind can do anything." He was lying. Molly was right; the addiction never did truly go away. But he didn't want to tell her that. He wanted to make her feel better.

So few had ever been concerned about him. There were even fewer he tried to assure. And fewer still he wanted to think well of him, despite all his flaws.

When had Molly Hooper become one of them?

He lightened the mood by leaning in and pressing a kiss behind Molly's ear. She shivered slightly, which Sherlock found endearing, despite still being slightly uncomfortable with such a gesture. "You've left one important detail: Why is it VR?"

"I've been trying to figure that out," Molly admitted with a slight frown. "If it were anyone but you, I'd say it was a lady's initials. But doesn't make any sense."

"There's always the one thing," Sherlock commented with a shake of his head. "It actually is a lady's initials."

"Wh-What?" Molly sat up quickly, her eyes going wide. "B-But..."

Sherlock leaned in and placed a finger to Molly's lips. "Victoria Regina. As in Queen Victoria."

Molly pulled away from Sherlock's finger and cocked her head in question. "Why in the world would you get Queen Victoria's initials tattooed on your backside?"

Sherlock sighed. "I haven't the faintest. I had a reason at the time, but I've forgotten what. I was very high."

Molly looked down at Sherlock. "So... Do I get a prize for my wonderful deduction?"

"A prize?" Sherlock's brow furrowed. "I do wonderful deductions all the time and I don't get prizes. Why should you?"

"You get paid," Molly pointed out. "And people do give you things. Diamond cufflinks and the hat the police bought you..."

"Do you want the hat?" Sherlock asked. "I can't stand the thing."

"I think you look cute in it," Molly said with a blush.

"It's ridiculous!" Sherlock protested. "Why would a hat need two fronts and earflaps?"

Molly blinked at him. "Well, it protects both the face and the neck from the sun. And you wear the flaps down if it gets cold. Important things to keep in mind when you're deerstalking."

Sherlock's nose crinkled. "How do you know that?"

"I know things," Molly replied, a touch of indignation in her voice.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Okay, why would you know that? How useless is that information? When in your life have you ever gone deerstalking?"

"I..." Molly blushed deeply. "Well... I... Ah..."

Molly becoming flustered was something that was waning more every day, but occasionally she still succumbed to it. Sherlock was beginning to learn it was Molly's equivalent of John telling him he was being an arse. He leaned in and cupped her cheek. "Forget that damnable hat. I could give you... A naked Sherlock Holmes in your bed."

"Oh." Molly giggled, trailing her fingers up Sherlock's chest. "I do seem to have a naked Sherlock Holmes in my bed."

Sherlock leaned in towards her. "Congratulations, Molly Hooper." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, trailing towards her mouth. "What would you like to do with your prize?"

It was too easy to fall into it all. The comfort of being with Molly. The pleasure she offered him. The warmth he got from her smile or her laugh. Part of him wanted to rail against it, fight the things that felt so unnatural to him. But he had lost so much when Moriarty had forced his hand. If he had found something that made him happy, even if it felt alien, should he really avoid it?

Molly Hooper actually made him happy.

Had he known that was going to happen, he might have honestly jumped. She still made him so uncertain and he did not like uncertainty.

But it was hard to find anything wrong while she was kissing him firmly, sorting out the jumble of rooms in his mind palace, reducing them to just the salient thoughts. Which at the moment was that it was quite pleasant for him to be a prize.

There was a rap at the door. Molly pulled away from Sherlock with a small frown. "I've got to get that."

Sherlock shook his head and tried to draw her back to him. "It's got to be one of the neighbours complaining about some rubbish. You've already paid the landlord, so he won't be by for rent. Can't be a proper visitor. You don't have any friends."

Molly gave Sherlock a light shove as she scowled. "And for that you can put your trousers on."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Molly got off the bed and strode out of the bedroom towards the door. "What? It is not like I didn't say anything that is not true..." He grabbed his pants and trousers and tugged them up his long legs. "What we were doing was much more interesting that anything that is behind that-"

He heard a muffled shriek and then the slam of the front door. His eyes went wide and he raced out of the bedroom.

"MOLLY!"

POST-NOTES: Molly is accurate in her description of the function of a deerstalker. I like the picture Molly seeing Sherlock in the hat, thinking it was cute and then looking up exactly what kind of hat it was.

So this is pretty much my favourite part I've written so far. I don't know why. Maybe it's because besides the cliffhanger end, it's pretty solid Sherlolly fluff. Maybe it's because Sherlock is nekkid for like the entire part. Maybe the idea of Sherlock having a tattoo just tickles me. Anyway, I was superhappy with it. I hope you guys are too.

Now I probably really will take a break, just to drive y'all crazy with cliffhanger. Yeah, I know... I'm mean.