This short three-chapter fic came about because of an old song that I was listening to on a loop recently and I couldn't resist letting inspire me to write a bit of sweet and smutty Sherlolly.

Some of the lyrics are littered throughout the fic (sorry, some are a bit forced) and there will be kudos from me to the first person to guess the song correctly - no googling though, that's cheating).

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Sherlock shifted in his bed, rolling over once more. He should have been asleep by now. Normally when a case ended, especially one that had gone on for so long, he'd fall into his bed with exhaustion and wake up ravenous ten or twelve hours later. Not this time though, this time he was just tossing and turning, unable to sleep, and he knew why...it was because of Molly Hooper.

It had been the first time since before Sherrinford that he had spent any real time with her. John had been working, catching up on his work as a GP, and so when the call had come through to him at Bart's, about a murder on the outskirts of London, it had been Molly that he'd taken with him. It had been a spur of the moment decision but not one he could say he regretted.

He knew she enjoyed getting out of the morgue and the labs; being able to see a body in situ. She'd eagerly agreed, seeking permission from Mike, and then travelled with him in the cab. As the journey had progressed she'd asked him all about the details of the case and he'd given her the answers but all the while his thoughts had been distracted by her. The fact that even though she was sat close to him it somehow didn't feel close enough. That even though her outfit was the usual jumble of patterns and materials she looked so radiant and excited it almost hurt his eyes.

He lay in his bed and thought back to that hideous time on his sister's island prison. He'd known the moment he'd been forced to say those words to Molly that he'd meant them but until that moment in the cab he hadn't really realised that he was going to have to act on them. He'd also known that that moment was not the right time and once they had arrived at the scene he had dragged his thoughts away from her and onto the case.

Just as he'd expected she was thorough in her analysis of the body, asking the right questions and assisting him to the best of her abilities.

The case had lasted a week and they'd spent the last 36 hours almost completely in each other's company as he had chased down the murderer and by the time Molly had left him to go home she had looked as exhausted as he had felt. So, he'd let her go, promising himself he'd talk to her the next time he saw her.

The trouble was that now he couldn't sleep. His head was filled with her, and more than that he needed her; it was like an ache down in his very soul.

He rolled over once more, adjusting his pillow and trying to empty his mind but it was no good, she was still there. His lips curved into a smile as he remembered one particular memory. Molly had just stood up after examining the body. The sun had caught her hair and lit up her face and Sherlock had found himself momentarily fascinated by how many different shades actually made up the dark, rich colour of her hair. He'd been so preoccupied by it that even Lestrade had noticed, irritatingly snapping his fingers in front of Sherlock's face and demanding his attention.

Molly had smiled at him just before he'd looked away and he swore that he had felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He'd always assumed these kinds of comments were euphemisms or overly romanticised descriptors but he'd felt it and she'd caused it. Just as she was now...the thought of her was making him sweat, it was making his skin feel more sensitive and receptive ready for her touch. And it was settling down in his groin, making him hard for her.

He licked his lips and shifted again, his eyes flicking to the clock at the side of his bed. It was just after two am. He'd left her at nine which meant if she'd gone to bed almost immediately she'd have had five hours sleep. He'd had maybe two before he'd awoken again and he'd been lying here ever since.

He wished he could slide over in his bed and feel her...wrap his arms around her. Would that make him sleep? Maybe it would just awaken other desires first. He groaned and felt himself getting even harder.

Briefly he considered masturbation...but he quickly dismissed it. He didn't want to sully his memories of her by using her like that. She deserved more from him than that.

He grunted in defeat and sat up using his hands to ruffle through his hair, then he sighed and looked straight ahead. He wasn't seeing the darkened shapes of furniture in his room though...he was seeing Molly laughing and making one of her lame jokes. It had him remembering that Christmas when he'd told her off here in his flat for her bad sense of humour. It had also been the first time he'd kissed her. If he closed his eyes he could almost feel how soft her skin was against his lips; the smell of her perfume...pomegranate noir by Jo Malone. He could never smell that perfume now without it taking him straight back to that moment.

How had he not seen just how much she affected him even then? It seemed that his sister had not been the only thing his mind had suppressed.

He washed a hand over his face and thought through his options. Sleep it seemed was not one of them...at least not without her. And yet sleep was what he knew he needed the most.

It put the seed of an idea into his head and before he knew it he was up and dressing himself; grabbing at the trousers and shirt he'd just taken off. He didn't bother with the jacket, just picking up his coat on his way through his flat.

The cold night air heightened his senses as he waited for a cab to drive by. For the first time he felt a spasm of doubt about his plans. Would she really welcome him into her bed in the middle of the night with no precursor?

He shrugged it off and held up his hand as he saw the yellow for hire sign of the black cab heading in his direction.

As he sat watching the world go by he thought through his intentions. At the end of the day he would take whatever crumbs she would offer him. He knew how she felt about him but he was under no illusion that that meant anything. Molly deserved the world and he'd given her nothing and so he deserved nothing from her in return. He just knew that now was the moment that that would change. He would do whatever it took to win her, to deserve her.

The cab driver deposited him at the front entrance to her flat and as he looked up, his need for her felt raw in his chest...this was it...he had to let her know just how he felt.

Thankfully he had had the foresight to pick up her spare keys; the ones she'd given him all those years ago when he'd persuaded her that her place would be a good bolt hole for him when he needed to escape John or Mrs Hudson. Talking of John it was his voice he could hear telling him that letting himself into her flat at almost three in the morning was not a good idea but he selfishly didn't want her turning him away at the door.

His footsteps echoed as he made his way up the communal stairwell to Molly's floor only to be muffled as he hit the carpeted corridor to her door. He took the keys out again and paused. This was it. The moment of no return. If he went into Molly's flat right now their relationship would change forever.

He smiled to himself, he was ready...he was so ready.

He opened the door and listened but there was no noise. It was only as he made his way into the living room and shucked off his coat that he was greeted by Molly's cat who purred and wound his way around Sherlock's legs. For a moment he bent and scritched the top of the cat's head before it lost interest in him and wandered off into the kitchen, no doubt in search of food.

When he pushed open the door to Molly's bedroom he could just about make out her form in the bed but he could smell the faint aroma of the perfume she'd worn when she was with him. It was mixed in with her apple fresh body wash; she must have taken a shower before going to bed.

He made his way in as quietly as he could...and given that he'd had plenty of experience at breaking in places he was very quiet indeed.

It took him moments to strip down to his shorts and then he lifted the covers and slid into the bed, the warmth of it hitting his cold skin as he settled down at the side of her.

She grunted and rolled over and as her hand landed on his stomach and slid across his skin three things seemed to happen all at once. His skin felt ablaze at every point that she touched him. He realised with utter shock that she was sleeping naked and Molly woke up...at least partially.

'Sherlock?'

He closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath trying to settle his heart rate which had spiked alarmingly.

'Shh, yes it's me.'

'What's wrong?'

'I couldn't sleep. I just...' His nerve faltered and instead of telling her he needed her he just lamely added that he thought he'd sleep better with her.

He felt her nod her head against his shoulder but she didn't move her arm or the leg that had shifted over his own. Her breathing seemed to settle back out and he knew she hadn't really taken on board that he was there. Even he knew that there was no way Molly would have been comfortable snuggling up to him whilst she was naked.

He made himself a bit more comfortable though and shifted her so her head was lying more on his chest and he could loop his arm around her shoulder and then he covered the hand lying on his stomach with his own.

She let out a sigh and for a few minutes they lay peacefully together; Molly sleeping and Sherlock adding the reality of holding her into his mind palace. He could feel the sleep that had eluded him earlier starting to take over his senses but he didn't want to miss out on the experience of finally being able to touch her in this way. He didn't think he'd fully realised how much he needed it until this moment.

It meant that when she started to move again he wasn't fully alert.

Her hand moved from underneath his own and travelled down over his hip, onto the material of his shorts. She let out another sigh and he felt her lips press against the skin of his chest as she rocked her body lightly against him. He immediately felt the heat of her centre burning his thigh.

He was about to say something, to check she was awake maybe, when her hand moved over his semi hard penis and all his thoughts seemed to narrow down to that one point on his body. The touch of her made him pulse and harden and as he did she gripped him through the thin material and all he wanted was for her to be stroking him.

'Molly...'

'Shh...don't speak. I don't need you to speak.'

Her voice was little more than a whisper, still heavy with residual sleep but he was in no doubt that she was awake and knew what she was doing.

She stroked him then, making him harder and he squeezed his eyes shut wondering why he had waited for this for so long. It had been years since another person had touched him so intimately and he was finding it all a bit overwhelming and he was a little worried that he wouldn't last, so he turned his concentration towards that.

The next minute she shifted herself once more and slid herself over him so her chest was on his, her legs either side of his hips and he could feel her pressing herself against his erection as she kissed her way along his collarbone.

Her hair was tickling his arms and shoulders as he moved his hands to her hips and he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to hold her in place or encourage her to move. This was all going so much faster than he had anticipated and he didn't really have a plan or any defences against her assault. His body wanted her though and seemed to be disconnecting itself from any shred of will power that he had. He'd always assumed any relationship they had would start with talking...lots and lots of talking, and maybe even some begging as far as he was concerned but it seemed his Molly had quite different ideas.

She ground herself against him as she kissed her way up his throat and he could feel her sighs and moans against his skin as she started to rhythmically rock against him. It was all just exquisite torture though. He could feel her so close but just not close enough. He just wanted to be able to thrust himself up and into her instead of pushing futilely against the insides of his shorts.

'Please Molly...'

She shuddered at the sound of him and one of her hands moved to cover his mouth.

'I said no talking...don't burst the bubble...'

He frowned, wondering just what she meant but before he could ask she reached her other hand inside his pants and the feel of her touching his cock had his mind spiralling. All he could do was let out an inarticulate grunt as she moved to rub herself on his naked erection.

The heat of her was overwhelming his senses, her hand perfectly gripping his penis as she slid herself along its length. He couldn't remember ever feeling this turned on before. He felt as if he could let himself go, here and now, coming in her grasp.

A moment later she sat up a little and he could feel her positioning him at her entrance and he groaned at the feeling of her tight, wet, heat engulfing him.

Let's leave them there for now but I'll be back soon with the next chapter. Any ideas on the song? If not, just let me know if you like it so far xx