He glared at her. 'Give it to me.'
'No.' Molly pouted playfully and held her fist close to her chest, turning her body away. 'I called dibs, it's rightfully mine!'
'There is no such rule as 'dibs,' so give it back, it's mine!'
Sherlock leaned over the coffee table and grabbed her wrist, prying open her fingers.
'Sherlock, let go!' She squealed and ripped her hand away, jumping up to get out of his reach. 'I claimed it, it's mine! Choose something else.'
'I don't want something else, I want that one. I've always had that one, it's mine!'
Placing her fists on her hips, Molly frowned at him in scolding. 'Well, someone never learned to share.'
With a growl, he lunged over the table, sending papers and cards across the floor, and made a futile grasp for her as Molly twisted out of his way, practically prancing around the lounge. Sherlock picked himself up from his, rather undignified sprawl, and growled as he stalked toward her, backing her knees into the sofa.
'I don't have to share, it's mine!' He made another attempt to retrieve his property, but Molly held fast, her knuckles turning white as she shoved her hand into the pocket of her trousers. He quirked an eyebrow and drawled seductively, 'That will hardly stop me.'
'Try me,' she challenged, lifting her chin.
With a wicked smile, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her onto the sofa, using her moment of surprise to roll her underneath until his legs were on either side and his arms bracketed her head.
Her cheeks flushed bright red and her breathing came rapidly, as her gaze flitted up to him.
'One last chance, Doctor Hooper,' he warned. 'Give. It. Back.'
Although flustered by the caress of his breath across her face, Molly shook her head.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her obstinance and slowly lowered his face.
'Molly,' he growled. Her body shivered at the rich tone, but she held fast. As his nose nearly brushed hers, she closed her eyes and lifted her chin, in silent invitation. Their lips were nearly touching, he was close enough to make out the individual eyelashes that curved onto the apple of her cheek.
He shifted so that he leaned on one arm, his other hand caressing the side of her face and following the curve of her neck, onto her clavicle and down her side. Then, with an evil grin, he attacked.
Molly's eyes flew open as his hand suddenly found the bare skin of her stomach where her jumper had ridden up and he danced his fingers lightly across the sensitive flesh. Shrieking in involuntary laughter, she tried in vain to push him off, her fist still closed tightly as she shoved against his chest.
'Sh-Sherlock, s-stop, oh my god, stop-p!' She laughed, turning to the side to try and escape his tickling fingers. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she laughed, Sherlock's chuckles joining in as he continued to tickle her without mercy.
'This is your punishment, Doctor Hooper,' he admonished, somehow managing to tickle her side at the same time as he pulled off her fuzzy sock and found the ticklish spot on the arch of her foot.
Molly shrieked in laughter and jerked away from his hand, suddenly finding herself in the air before landing on her back on the floor with a spectacular thump.
She stared at the ceiling, trying to catch her breath.
Muffled laughter from the couch brought her attention to the raven-haired man with half his face buried in the cushion, his eyes staring down at her in a mixture of mirth and apology. He slowly lifted his hand over the side and dangled his small, metal trophy between his fingertips over her red face.
'Mine,' he declared smugly.
Molly huffed in defeat. 'Fine. This time you can be the boat.'