Well, I'm so glad you all enjoyed the sex and let me off the short recovery time. Now it's time to move the crime on a little and get our guys back to their home turf.

Chapter 14

The next day turned out to be one of the longest in Molly's life, at least it felt that way. They were at the government offices by nine o'clock but spent the next hour waiting as various calls and checks were made; checks on their identities, their visas, their reason for being there. Calls were made to police chiefs, government officials both in London and Moscow and Mycroft was called on to vouch for them once again giving his own credentials.

Finally, with Sherlock almost ready to climb the walls in frustration, they were led through a maze of corridors, down two flights of stairs before finally ending up in a basement office filled with old files and an even older looking microfiche machines.

'Wow, I haven't seen one of these since I was at school in the 90's,' commented Molly as she let a finger slide over the old machine.

'Well, looks like you'll be reliving old times then because this is all we've got,' replied Sherlock grumpily.

Just then a young lad joined them. He must have been the equivalent of an apprentice or on work experience because Molly swore he couldn't be much older than nineteen. He smiled nervously at the two of them before launching into a stream of Russian.

Sherlock responded and the lad set to work pulling out folders and various boxes.

'Looks like we're going to have to do this the hard way; Demetri and I will go through the files as they're all in Russian. He does have some news stories on microfiche, written in English so if you can view them and pull out any murder references which look appropriate then we can try to locate the files.

Sherlock said something else to the lad who disappeared from the office before returning ten minutes later with badly made coffees for each of them.

Molly wasn't sure what she had expected from working a case with Sherlock but it wasn't this. She'd had it in her head, and she blamed John Watson and his damn blog for this, that it was all running around hand in hand and lots of shouting and pointing. Not back breaking, boring file searches. Within a couple of hours her eyes were scratchy and sore and her back and neck were aching. She hadn't found anything useful and from the sounds of it, not that she could understand much of it, neither had Sherlock.

She sat back in her chair for a moment and closed her eyes as she rolled her shoulders and rubbed her neck. She let her mind drift back to that morning and she smiled at the recollection of their first time waking up together in the same bed.

She'd been the first to awake and she lay there for a moment revelling in the fact that she was wrapped up naked in Sherlock's arms. He had one hand brushing her breast and she could feel the full length of him against her back; their legs tangling together.

She let her fingers slide gently over the skin of his arm feeling the muscles and veins. As she did he stirred in his sleep and pressed himself against her slightly as he arched his back. The sudden realisation that his erection was pressed against her backside had her stifling a moan but she couldn't help the way she pressed back against him.

He responded with another stretch and this time his hand moved against her breast pressing his palm flat against it and using it to hold her close to him. He hummed and his mouth moved to the back of her neck kissing her just below her ear as he rocked his hips against her.

She linked her fingers with his as he kneaded her breast letting out a moan, telling him without words that she wanted more.

His hand moved down across her flat stomach until he found her curls. Her fingers were still linked with his and she pressed his hand to her clit as his fingers searched out her entrance. His mouth was still working at the skin on her neck and she vaguely wondered if she had any scarves she could use to cover up a love bite but then figured, as he let two fingers push their way into her, that she just didn't care.

Her moans now were louder and she could feel how hard and ready he was as he let his hand fuck her, but she wanted more, she wanted him.

Slowly she rolled over and he let his leg slide over her adding weight to his hand. As they started to kiss Molly could feel her orgasm starting and she knew her hips were rocking up to meet his hand as her muscles clenched and unclenched around him. No one had ever made her come as fast as Sherlock had; it was as though he were made for her.

As she caught her breath he moved over her and after removing his fingers he slowly filled her until she was gasping with pleasure. Her hands tangles with his hair, loving feeling his curls, wondering at how she came to be here in a foreign hotel suite making love with the one man she thought she would never be able to be with. It felt almost like a dream, a fantasy and she hoped she would never wake up.

Bit by bit his pace increased and his thrusts went deeper, causing shockwaves to ripple through her but it felt as though her first orgasm was just the starter and the main course was still to come. His voice...HIS voice whispering in her ear and saying her name had her coming a second time and this time he came with her, both of them crying out as their hands linked before riding out their climaxes with a kiss which left Molly breathless.

Sherlock sagged against her, catching his breath. 'Jesus, Molly I want to wake up with you every day for the rest of my life if that's what I can expect.'

She chuckled and it must have travelled through her body and into his, where they were still connected, because he let out a shudder and a moan. 'I would love to wake up with you every day but I'm not sure I'd have the stamina for sex like this each morning.'

She must have let out some noise because Sherlock disturbed her reminiscing bringing her back to the dusty basement and the endless searching.

'Care to tell me what you are thinking about Molly? It certainly sounds more interesting than this search and poor Demetri here is cringing with embarrassment.'

'Oh God no what did I do?'

'Nothing much, just let out a moan which, if we were anywhere else, would have me considering fucking you against a wall.'

Molly swivelled in her chair and looked at him in shock. 'Sherlock!' She gestured towards the teenager who thankfully seemed oblivious.

'Oh don't worry Molly he can't understand a word we're saying. So what were you thinking about...last night or this morning?'

She smiled. 'This morning. I just...well, I still can't believe we're together. I mean together together...oh you know what I mean.'

He smirked. 'Yes I think I do. Well how about the quicker we work the quicker we can get out of this god forsaken hell hole and the quicker we can be back home in Baker St and indulging in sex again.'

Molly didn't want to pick up on the fact that he'd implied Baker St was her home. She still worried that he was going to get spooked and change his mind or something but she smiled. 'Sounds good to me.' Then she turned back to the film slides and got back to work.

It was another slow, painful hour and a half before she found something which might be worthwhile.

Sherlock had finally found the file that the police officer in Georgia had referred to and it had helped him narrow down their search to a particular region. Molly had switched her records around to meet the new criteria and it was because of that that she found him.

The paper was reporting on the murder of a student. She was popular and had been involved with a few different guys all of which had been interviewed but her murder had gone unsolved. As Molly traced the case through the news reports she had come across a class photo reproduced in the paper with the victim's face circled. She had been looking at the girl, so happy and unaware of her imminent demise when she had seen him and cried out in shock.

Sherlock was immediately at her shoulder. 'What? What is it?'

'I...I was following this murder case. It didn't seem to fit ours particularly but I thought I should check but...but then...' She lifted her finger and pointed to the young man stood two rows behind the victim. He was a lot younger but still very recognisable. It was Peter Michaels, her boyfriend up until a few nights ago.

Sherlock kissed her hard on her cheek and then indicated for her to stand up so he could take her place at the machine. 'Oh Molly, this is brilliant. We've got him. This must have been his first murder.'

He scanned over the details and barked something to Demetri who had been watching them curiously. As soon as Sherlock spoke the lad was in his feet and hunting through the archives; no doubt looking for the case file.

As the boy continued his search Sherlock stood taking his phone out of his jacket and checking for a signal. He must have had some because he was soon dialling a number and waiting to be connected. A few moments later and Molly had worked out that he had phoned Greg Lestrade back in London.

'It's too much of a coincidence to expect him not to be connected...Lestrade. The man we're looking for is a Russian national going by the name of Peter Michaels...was Petyr Mikeladze.'

He huffed in frustration as he had to spell the name out for the Detective Inspector. 'He's working as an electrician. Molly...his number...hang on...'

Molly scrambled for her bag and pulled out her phone, quickly finding Peter's mobile number which she recited for Sherlock listening as he passed it on. 'Any other details Molly?'

'He mentioned living in Bethnal Green and he was hired by my landlord so he might know more.'

Again Sherlock relayed this to Lestrade. 'His English is good...very good. I didn't pick up any trace of an accent. We'll carry on checking here but I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't have English relatives. Ring me if you find anything.'

He paused listening to Lestrade. 'Yes...yes...we should be back tomorrow morning but I'll text when we know more.'

As he got off the phone Demetri came up to him holding a box and looking triumphant. Sherlock slapped him on the shoulder and said something to him before taking the box and starting to unload the contents. As the murder was an unsolved cold case it seemed all the evidence was still available so there was plenty to go through. Molly just found it frustrating that she couldn't help more due to the language barrier but she was able to view and comment on the autopsy pictures. It wasn't much but at least it was something to make her feel more useful.

The afternoon wore on into the early evening and Sherlock seemed to be in no rush to leave. The trail that started with Peter and his classmate had led on to two more murders both increasingly showing more similarities with the current murders. Sherlock also had some of Peter's back history which included a father from Georgia and a mother from Manchester in England. It seemed she had returned to the UK just before the first murder and Peter had followed his mother out there just over a year ago. He'd had ten years of murdering in Russia and had now exported his skills into the UK.

Some of the detail Molly saw made her feel ill. To know that she had been seeing this man, that she had kissed him and liked him and contemplated sleeping with him. Sherlock hadn't said anything but she knew he must be adding Peter to his list of "psychopaths Molly Hooper has dated." What was wrong with her, why did she always seem to attract and get attracted to this kind of man...surely she couldn't blame it all on them wanting to get close to Sherlock?

He glanced up at her once or twice as he was working and as she was thinking and she saw him narrow his eyes as though trying to deduce her. Each time she tried to give him a smile but she knew her heart wasn't in it.

Finally, just before seven and after a long conversation with Demetri's boss, none of which Molly understood, he finally picked up his coat. 'I think we've seen everything we need to here. They've promised to send over any further information they find and they may even ask for extradition when we locate him so he can stand trial for the murders that we've linked together here.'

Molly stretched, eager to be out of that suffocating room. She couldn't wait to be home again.

OK so I slipped (fnar, fnar) another bout of sex in there but I just couldn't resist. So had any of you guessed the murderer?