A/N: Psst, I'm uploading from work, so no big intro this time. Just a thank you for all the love and reviews for last chapter. I'd never thought you'd like it that much.

„I'll be gone in two months", Mrs. Hudson announced one Saturday afternoon as she sat in Sherlock and Molly's kitchen, drinking tea with Molly while Sherlock sat in front of his laptop, updating his blog.

Molly heard how his hands stopped typing, but only for a second. Both women threw him a glance, but he ignored them and continued to write about tobacco ash.

"Are you excited?" Molly asked and smiled at the former landlady of 221b Baker Street.

"Not yet, but it will come eventually."

"I bet your family can't wait to have you with them."
"Oh, they call me all the time. Amelia has already set up a room for me", Mrs. Hudson laughed. "She likes to be prepared."

Molly chuckled.

"Well, we will very much miss you. Won't we, Sherlock?"

Sherlock only grunted, not bothering to look up.

Mrs. Hudson smiled knowingly.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that. You two seem way too busy to miss me."

Molly wanted to protest, but Mrs. Hudson spoke first, grinning at her.

"Maybe you will have to take care of two babies soon, Molly."

Mrs. Hudson laughed inwardly as Sherlock and Molly stiffened at the same time. While his head snapped around, Molly's eyes widened and was only able to stare at the elder lady, flabbergasted.

"Oh, don't look at me so shocked, you two. A blind man can see you two have something going on."

"Don't be ridiculous", Sherlock insisted grumpily.

Mrs. Hudson looked at him angrily, raising an eyebrow.

"My bedroom is below yours, Sherlock."

Molly gasped and under Martha's stare, Sherlock's cheeks blushed and he averted his eyes guiltily.

"And even if you tried to explain all the bumping and the squeaking of the bed with some odd experiments, both of you are quite…eager to spur the other one on."

Molly let out an embarrassed little squeak, bolted out of her chair and up the stairs to her room.

After the door was slammed shut, Mrs. Hudson snickered.

Sherlock rose from his seat, the color still on his cheeks as he walked into the kitchen.

"Don't upset my Molly, Mrs. Hudson", he scolded her, then his frown turned into a proud smile. As Mrs. Hudson reached out, he bent down to allow her to kiss him on the cheek. He was about to straighten up again, when she cupped his face, suddenly tears in her eyes.

Sherlock was confused, but Mrs. Hudson smiled.

"Seeing you two so happy…oh my dear boy…now I can leave without worrying about you. My dear Sherlock."

She had spoken with so much affection that Sherlock had to clear his throat, fighting with his own emotions. Hastily, he freed himself from her grasp and snapped back into an upright position.

"You're here for two more months. Save the tears for the departure. At your age you need all the hydration you can get."

At that, Mrs. Hudson slapped his butt. Sherlock grinned boyishly over the shoulder as he walked back to his laptop.

He started to type again and Mrs. Hudson was content just sitting in the kitchen, watching him while drinking her tea.

~oOo~

"So, Mrs. Hudson knows", Molly exhaled as Sherlock walked into her room an hour later, climbing into bed with her.

"God, that poor woman. Being disturbed by our…noises."

Sherlock felt the woman in his arms shiver.

"How embarrassing."

"Don't worry about it."

"Aren't you embarrassed?"

She looked up at him.

"Why would I?"

"You know…she's like a mother for you."

"So?"

Molly sighed.

"Forget it."
"So should you."

"Fine."

They lay there for a while, Sherlock lazily stroking her back with his fingertips while he had his eyes closed. Molly had unbuttoned his shirt down to his belly and was caressing his chest, entangling her fingers in his fair chest hair. She, too, had her eyes closed, enjoying the warmth that radiated from his body and breathing in his scent.

"Mrs. Hudson tried to slip me a cheque again", Sherlock said into the silence, his thoughts circling around her.

Molly chuckled at that, placing a kiss on the skin over his heart.

"It's very sweet of you to let her live here rent free."

Sherlock shrugged.

"I just don't want to take money from an old lady."

Molly smiled, knowing that this wasn't the reason at all.

"I don't want you to pay rent, either", Sherlock added after a while and made Molly look up at him again.

"You need the rent to pay the costs. What about Mrs. Hudson's flat? Will you re-let it?"

He thought about it.

"I don't want a stranger living in our house."

Molly nodded her head. She had thought that he wouldn't be keen on just anybody living in his house. Biting her lip, she fumbled with a button of his red shirt.

His pale blue eyes looked at her and he frowned when he saw the insecurity in her face.

"What?"

Molly took a deep breath. Apparently, he wasn't going to like what she was about to say. This deduction was proofed when he saw the look in her eyes as she raised her head.

"I could move in downstairs. This room could be a perfect lab, and much more spacious than the kitchen, where you're supposed to eat", she tried to joke and poked him in the chest.

Sherlock's face told her he was not amused. His eyes roamed over her face, deducing her thoughts.

"You want to leave me."

Molly's eyes widened.

"No, of course not."

But Sherlock wasn't looking at her anymore. He stared at the ceiling, thoughts racing behind his eyes. His heart was drumming against Molly's hand.

"Sherlock…"

He removed his arm from around her and rolled out of her bed. Without a word he went out of her room and closed the door behind him.

Molly needed a second to get the pain in her chest under control. It was the first time since their relationship that he had disentangled himself and walked away from her being mad. She literally had felt how he had shut down, denying her his warmth and love. And that frightened her more than anything.

Not being able to breathe, Molly jumped out of bed.

She wanted to run after him and explain, but as soon as she had opened the door, she froze.

Sherlock was standing there, his shirt still unbuttoned, and his ocean eyes piercing her. There was so much emotion in them that it made her heart cramp.

The feeling that she might lose him overwhelmed her and before he could say anything, she rushed forward and threw her arms around him, burying her head in his chest and holding on tight.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Tell me", Sherlock just said, his posture still stiff and his heart beating fast. Molly pressed her cheek against his warm skin and closed her eyes, inhaling his scent.

"I thought you might want the space…more space. I don't want you to feel suffocated."

After a second, Sherlock curled his hands around her upper arms and entangled himself from her.

When she looked up, she found his eyes pale as ice.

"You know me so well…But you forget, I know you, too. This is not about me. This is about you. Do you feel suffocated?"

She hastily shook her head.

"Do my…affections bother you?"

"No, of course not."

His eyes were piercing her again.

"Then what is it?"

Molly felt cold. She wanted to be in his arms again. She needed his warmth so much already. They've been involved only a couple of weeks and she needed him so much already. This frightened her. It scared the bejeezus out of her because a part of her was still waiting for her to wake up from this wonderful dream and see that it all had been nothing more than that; a dream.

The silence in her room and her face must have given her doubts away, for Sherlock's eyes widened in disbelief for a moment.

"You still don't trust me."

Molly couldn't speak with the lump in her throat, but she shook her head.

"Even after I told you that I love you."

Sherlock looked so shocked and hurt that it broke her heart. Molly reached out for him, fighting back tears.

"It's not what you think."

"Oh, isn't it?" Sherlock asked ironically and something very weird happened: He changed. To Molly, he suddenly looked all different, his face, his eyes, his posture…it turned to stone again. He looked like the day she had met him…a stranger and nothing more.

"So you're not waiting for my feelings to vanish again? You're in fact not suggesting to move downstairs to get some distance between us, so when the magical day comes you feel less hurt? You're not scared of this at all? Then forgive me for thinking that you were pushing me away to prevent to get your feelings hurt. My mistake."

With a last, breathtakingly spiteful look he turned and stormed out of the room and down the stairs.

Molly stood there frozen to the spot, trying to process what had just happened. Sherlock's cold words were ringing in her ears and she could hear nothing but them and the painfully hard beating heart in her chest.

Then she felt sick. She felt so sick she thought she would throw up any minute. Breaking down on her bed, she wrapped her arms around herself, swaying back and forth. The swaying helped fighting back the sickness and Molly buried her head in her hands, catching the tears that fell from her eyes.

Her brain was utterly empty. There was no thought. Just this painful feeling of loss…

The sound of the violin echoed through her room all of a sudden, its music turning from aggressive to yearning and back to anger.

This made Molly jump up from her bed and she ran down the stairs, thinking that it shouldn't end like this. No, she wouldn't let it end like this.

Sherlock was standing with his back to her, forcing the notes of his instrument until Molly called out to him. He opened his eyes and saw her reflection in the dark window. Other than that, he ignored her. But Molly wouldn't be ignored right now.

She rushed over to him and managed to yank his bow out of his grasp. He whirled around angrily and tried to get it back, but she put a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

"Listen to me. Listen!"

When he refused to look at her, she moved closer until he did.

"You're right. I am scared. I've never been so scared in my life. I can't help it. I know you. You're fascinated with all of this now but we both know that it won't last."

Sherlock glared at her, then he whirled around to put his violin on his desk, afraid he might break it in his anger. Molly held on to that bow as if her life depended on it.

"I believe you when you say you love me. And these past few weeks have been the happiest of my life. But there is that little voice that continues to warn me not to invest too much, to hold back, to wait and see if you really feel what you think you feel. I've known you for so many years…and I loved you ever since you stormed into my morgue and you looked at me with those marvelous eyes for the very first time…"

A sob fell from her lips.

"I waited and waited…I hoped and prayed…you have no idea how it feels to want someone so much. It hurts so bad…so fucking bad…"

She sobbed again, clutching the bow in her shaking hands.

"And then came the fall and I was without you for three years and even though I was the only one knowing you were alive, I wished I wouldn't, thinking that if I had thought you were dead as well, I might have gotten closure and moved on with my life. I might have had a chance to stop loving you…"

Molly shook her head, wiping a tear off her cheek.

"You're the love of my life, Sherlock. I have never loved a man like this before. And the thought of you leaving me…"

The words died in her throat and she sobbed again, the pain rushing through her veins like fire. She shook her head again but there was no use, the tears fell freely now.

In the next second her face was grabbed and Sherlock crushed his lips down on hers so hard it hurt. But she had never been happier. She dropped the bow and slung her arms around his shoulders.

"I will never leave you. Do you hear me? Never…"

Sherlock kissed her hard again and Molly stumbled backwards from the force of his kiss.

"Tell me that you believe me. Say it" he ordered her in a husk whisper, his eyes glistening with desperation.

"I believe you", she whispered before her lips were sealed yet again and she was pushed against the wall in the hallway to Sherlock's bedroom. Molly had no idea how she had gotten there.

"You're mine" Sherlock breathed desperately into her mouth as he ripped open her blouse, the small white buttons flying through the air.

Molly moaned into his mouth as his hands squeezed her breasts before they yanked down the cups of her bra so they could feel the hot skin. They massaged them only for a few seconds before they reached down and roughly opened her trousers.

Molly moaned again as one hand were in her knickers and one finger was pushing into her. Sherlock moaned, as well, pushing another finger in, thrusting into her while he looked down at her, his hot breath hitting her face.

"You're mine", he growled again and kissed her once more, his tongue entangling with hers, causing Molly to shiver over and over again.

Molly was dripping wet and aching within seconds, tearing at his shirt and his belt until she managed to open it and his trousers. He was already rock hard when she took him in her hand, rubbing him firmly. Sherlock moaned into her mouth before he broke the kiss to bend down and push her pants and panties down her legs, only taking the time to free one of them. He pressed hot kisses on her mons veneris, her belly and her breasts before he grabbed her bare ass and lifted her up, pushing his waist between her thighs and pinning her against the wall with his weight.

Molly wrapped her arms and legs around her lover, the need to feel him causing her to beg.

"God, Sherlock. Please, please…Sherlock!"

With a dark grunt he pushed himself into her, thrusting hard from the beginning.

"Mine…mine…my Molly…Say you're mine. You'll always be mine!"

Molly let out a squeal as he slammed his cock into her demandingly. She fisted his hair and looked at him, saw the raw lust and fear and desperation and the love in his eyes.

"I'm yours. All yours" she whispered just as desperate.

Sherlock closed his eyes and buried his head in the crook of her neck as he continued to fuck her hard.

"All mine" Molly heard him growl and another tear fell from her eyes while she clung to him, her nails digging into his skin through his shirt.

Yes, she would always be his. Always…

~oOo~

John Watson grumbled all the way through the twenty-minute-drive to 221b Baker Street. This was the last time, he swore himself. Next time Sherlock didn't answer his phone, Lestrade could damn well move his own arse to get Sherlock. He wasn't his bloody messenger, nor was he Sherlock's babysitter. And he was fed up with being called in the most inappropriate of moments, he thought angrily as he climbed out of the taxi and paid the cabbie.

Lestrade and Sherlock as well had the worst timing possible. Lestrade out of bad luck, Sherlock most certainly on purpose. Whatever the reasons, both men had the talent to call him when he was either having dinner with Mary, having a hot bubble bath his loving wife had drawn him or while he was having bloody hot sex with Mary. Three times did that happen already and he was fed up with it. So no more legwork for those bloody lazy men. No more!

John stomped up the stairs to Sherlock's flat. He was almost at the top when he heard the grunting. Definitely Sherlock. Worried that his best friend might be hurt (did Molly work tonight? He had no idea about her schedule), he jumped up the rest of the stairs and hurried into the hallway.

"Sherlo…JESUS CHRIST!"

With his mouth hanging open and his eyes widened he looked at the unbelievable scene before him:

Sherlock with his pants down.

His bare arse greeting him (a sight John hadn't seen since their days living together).

Fucking, yes fucking, his pathologist (who had let out a scream and had buried his head in Sherlock's neck, but her legs were still tightly wrapped around Sherlock's waist, her trousers dangling from one of her feet).

Against the wall.

In the hallway.

Against the fucking wall!

In the fucking hallway!

WHAT THE FUCK?!

"The answer lies in your question, John", Sherlock answered John's exclaim as he turned his head, his sweaty curls sticking to his forehead.

"Go wait downstairs, I'll be there in a minute. You're scaring my pathologist and to be honest, your sight is not helping my erection. No offense."

"N…No, of course…Sorry…"

John stumbled backwards, unable to unglue his eyes from the couple until he walked into the door, tripped and fell to the ground, bum first.

With a last disbelieving look John hastily crawled out of the kitchen and into the other hallway on all fours.

Sherlock and Molly listened to his hurried footsteps and then the slamming of the door downstairs. Then they looked at each other and started giggling.

Sherlock kissed her sweet mouth and started to move, her hot, slick channel making him fully hard again after a few thrusts.

Molly moaned and pressed herself against him as close as she could, clenching her walls to massage his cock while he pounded her.

They had both been close before the good doctor had interrupted them and they didn't need long before they reached the edge once again. When Sherlock jumped off of it and fell into the pure bliss of orgasm, he grunted her name over and over again. This in combination with his cock pumping his semen deep into cunt pushed her over the edge as well and she clung to Sherlock whilst her body was shaking uncontrollably.

Both were breathing heavily and Sherlock's legs and arms were burning as he finally put Molly back on her feet, slipping out of her warm wetness. He cupped her face with both hands and kissed her tenderly, looking deeply into her eyes afterwards. She smiled up at him.

"Never doubt me again" he whispered against her lips and pressed another kiss onto her lips. She looked up at him.

"You really want me", she whispered as she looked into his eyes, still having problems to accept the truth.

"Yes, Molly. This is not a phase or an experiment. This is me being in love with you."

She closed her eyes as warmth spread in her chest and rested her head against the wall. Sherlock bent down and kissed her throat while he gently tugged his index fingers into her bra to pull the cups back over her lovely breast, not without teasing her nipples.

Molly giggled, opened her eyes and stroke his long neck with his fingertips.

"Poor John."

"I'll deal with him, don't worry."

"I'm sorry he had to find out about us like this."

"Very unorthodox, I admit", Sherlock grinned and stole another kiss from her smiling mouth.

Molly giggled and rubbed her tongue against his the way that made his toes curl.

When they parted, she let her thumbs graze his cheekbones.

"I love you. Forgive me", she whispered and looked up at him hopefully.

He put his head to the side, his eyes roaming over her face in that loving way while his fingertips ran over her cheek.

"Always."

~oOo~

Half an hour and a quick shower later, Sherlock had checked his phone with many message of Lestrade on it and was now stepping into Mrs. Hudson's kitchen, where her and John were sitting.

"A month?! This has been going on for a month?!" John greeted him with a glare.

"Ah, I see Mrs. Hudson has already brought you up to speed. Shall we go then?"

"Shall we go? Shall we…Sherlock! You had sex with Molly Hooper!"

"Well, hasn't that been your plan all along?" Sherlock asked, slung his scarf around his neck and walked out the door.

John hurried after him.

"What?"

"Oh, come on. You were the one who wanted Molly to move in with me."

"Yeah, to take care of you!"

"Well, she did. 76 times, actually" Sherlock grinned at his best friend before he started walking.

John made a disgusted face. Sherlock making sex-jokes now?

What the hell?

"I didn't want Molly to move in with you so you two have sex!"

John insisted as he caught up and walked alongside him.

Sherlock just gave the sandy-haired man a look.

"Sherlock, if you're using that lovely woman to blow off some steam…"

"Don't be ridiculous. I've never needed to blow off steam."

"Then what was that I had the misfortune to witness?"

"If I have to explain this to you, I'm very sorry for your wife."

John gaped at him.

This wasn't the Sherlock he knew, making sexual references, being all playful about it, actually having sex in the bloody hallway of his bloody flat.

And he was totally relaxed about it! He could see that Sherlock wasn't just acting cool. Throughout the years, John had learned to read the subtle signs of his body language. Sherlock really was fine with having sex and having John know about it.

"Are you in love with her?" John asked flabbergasted.

Sherlock sighed.
"Always last to understand. You're wife outwitted you weeks ago."

"Mary knows?"

"Of course she does. Ever since that dinner. Even though we weren't actually having sex back then. We started the day after."

"I can't believe this."

John fell back, processing all the data.

After he had overcome the shock of seeing Sherlock and Molly in action, he got to think about what it all meant.

Sherlock Holmes was in love with Molly Hooper.

Sherlock Holmes was in love.

He had almost given up hope he would ever see that happen. Leave it to the gentle pathologist to make him come round.

John let out a laugh and shook his head, speeding up with his friend again. Sherlock threw him a side glance.

"That woman is amazing."

Sherlock frowned.

"Who is?"

"Molly! She never gave up on you. Even after all this time, after all those many insults and cruel deductions, she never stopped believing that you would see how perfect she is for you one day. And she is, you know. She is the most patient woman on this planet, so the only one able to put up with you. Aw, you lucky bastard!"

John smacked Sherlock's shoulder, who threw him a dark look in return. As it turned out, he preferred having his assistant shocked rather than smug. That stupid grin on John's face was very displeasing.

While Sherlock thought of something that would wipe that grin off of his face, they arrived at the crime scene: The open air theatre in Regent's Park.

A very gruesome scene lay before them and the smile on John's face vanished on its own. He swallowed hard as he slowly followed Sherlock down the stairs to the stage. Due to his work with Sherlock, John had faced ghastly murders before, but this…this was beyond every word he could think of.

Children.

Dear God, so many children…