Hey, I'm back, and can I say I am so excited to see all the promo work that Benedict is doing for Doctor Strange. He is looking simply sublime at the moment and I can't wait to see the film. I'm booked to go to the cinema on Friday evening, how about the rest of you? Fans of Doctor Strange or not?

Thanks again for your response to this fic, I am so glad that you're enjoying it. It's good to be back.

Chapter 3

Sherlock was buzzing, and for once it wasn't from being high, or from the thrill of a case. No, it was from Molly Hooper kissing him.

He'd been initially confused when she'd caught up with him by the lift, but it had soon become apparent that she knew; she knew how he felt about her, and far from being angry with him, or disbelieving it, she had just accepted it and come to him. His beautiful, bright, compassionate Molly had just come to him, and let him know that she was waiting for him when his case finished.

As the lift rose upwards, taking him away from her, he vowed to solve it as fast as legally or illegally possible.

'So, you and Molly then? About time.'

Rather than grouse at Lestrade's observation Sherlock just smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgement. He found the idea of being romantically linked with Molly gave him a light, happy feeling in his chest. He'd always viewed being emotionally attached to someone as a disadvantage, but his friendship with John had taught him otherwise, and it meant that now his feelings for her were out in the open, he was able to embrace them rather than push them away.

For a moment or two, just before the lift juddered to a halt, he closed his eyes and let himself remember the feeling of Molly's slight body pressed up against his own. The feel of her soft lips moving perfectly with his. It had been so much better than he'd thought it would be, and his body's reaction to it had him aching for the case to be over.

It took him another painfully slow 24 hours to solve it, but as he made his way back to Baker St, for some well-earned rest, he texted Molly.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly was halfway through her autopsy on one Hezekiah Monroe, when she heard her phone buzz across the room. She glanced towards it, and as she did, half of Mr Monroe's intestines slithered to the floor making her swear. She'd been in a complete tizz ever since the kiss with Sherlock the day before, and if she wasn't careful her boss, Mike, was going to pick up on it.

She took a breath, and bent down to gather up the slippery organs, vowing to ignore the text until she'd at least finished this autopsy. After all, there was no guarantee it was from Sherlock, and even if it was, it wasn't like she'd be downing tools and running off to see him.

'Stay professional, Molly.' She muttered to herself through gritted teeth.

It was therefore another 40 minutes before she was washed up and able to finally go and check the message.

Her stomach swooped as she saw the confirmation that it was indeed from Sherlock, and she noticed her hands were trembling as she opened it.

Case finished. Off to get some sleep (I have a feeling I'll need my energy). Come to Baker St. 8pm? SH

She appreciated the question mark, and the comment about him needing his energy had her raising an eyebrow and giggling, but she knew she needed to give some thought to what SHE wanted from the evening. Did she really want them to actually have sex? Was she happy for them to move so fast?

She went and made herself a cuppa, and as she sat drinking it, ignoring her paperwork, she thought it all through. It wasn't long before she came to her own decision, and when she had, she texted him back in the affirmative; then she opened Google translate.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Thankfully, she'd had plenty of time after finishing work, to go home, shower and change. This time she felt an excitement, as she realised she wasn't playing pretend anymore when it came to viewing the evening as a date. It didn't stop the butterflies in her stomach though, or the way her legs felt almost shaky as she made her way up to his door.

She only had to wait a moment or two for it to be answered, and when it was her stomach swooped at the sight of him.

He looked as if he was fresh from the shower, his hair still damp, dressed in black trousers and a dark blue shirt, his feet still bare.

She smiled nervously. 'Hey.'

His smile mirrored hers, but it seemed to put her a little more at ease; he seemed as happy to see her as she was him, so she took a deep, calming breath as she followed him up the stairs.

'I'm glad you could make it; do you want to hear about the case?'

He turned to face her as she made her way into the flat, and when she shook her head, he frowned.

'No, at least not yet. I… I wanted to talk about us.'

She put her bag down on the coffee table and wasn't surprised to see Sherlock's eyes follow the action and then remain on the bag. She knew him well enough to know he was deducing its contents. She'd earlier pondered to herself what she should take with her for the evening.

She took a step closer to him, resisting the urge to touch him, at least for now, and his eyes moved back to her face.

'I decided to give some thought to what I wanted from this evening.'

He nodded his head. 'Fair enough, so, what do you want?'

There seemed to be a tension between them, an almost tangible aura of electricity or magnetism, slowly drawing them closer together.

'I thought about how important it would be for us to talk, for me to understand why and how your feelings have changed. And I thought about how sensible it would be for us to take things slowly.'

Again, she took another step closer, and now she had to lift her head to look at him, seeing him looking down at her. His face was flushed, and his tongue was already licking his lips in readiness to kiss her.

'So, you want to take things slow?'

Her breathing was starting to shallow out, her heart thudding in her chest, and she knew it wouldn't be long now. Still, she didn't reach for him.

'In the end, I decided I just needed to know the answer to two things.'

'Which were?'

'Did you mean what you said?'

He seemed to know instinctively what she was referring to, and he nodded. This time it was he who closed the gap between them, and as he moved his hands to her hips, she looped hers around his neck, feeling his hair tickling her fingers.

'I did. I do. I love you Molly, I'm just sorry I didn't realise it sooner.'

'And secondly, are you in this for the long-term Sherlock?'

'I am, I'm in this until you can't take anymore of me. I'm in this until death do us part. I've never been more sure of anything in my life.'

Her eyes seemed to be locked on his as he started to bend his face to hers.

'In that case, Sherlock, emmène-moi au lit (take me to bed).'

He pulled back, shock on his face before he laughed.

'Oh, with pleasure, Molly.'

Even though she'd asked him to take her to bed, she wasn't quite prepared for him to sweep her legs out from under her and start carrying her through his flat. She squealed and locked her hands around his neck, only relaxing once she felt certain that he had a good hold on her and he wasn't going to drop her.

He chuckled at her initial panic. 'You do know you're not that heavy Molly, and I'm stronger than I look.'

At that she moved one of her hands to his bicep, feeling it bunched and stretching the material of his shirt and she felt her desire for him starting to wash away her nerves.

When he pushed the door to his bedroom open with his foot, she got a quick glimpse of a large room. It smelled of Sherlock's cologne and it invaded her senses. The furniture was dark and masculine and dominated by a large, king-sized bed. But before she could see more Sherlock put her back down, and then swept her up in a kiss which quite simply left her breathless in its intensity.

She had always suspected that Sherlock had hidden passions running below the surface, and it seemed that for once he was letting them be released; Molly was more than happy to be the cause and the recipient.

She wrapped her arms around him, her hand sliding into his hair, feeling how damp it still was as she wrapped it around her fingers. When she tugged lightly, he let out a groan which seemed to echo through her whole body.

Finally, she had to pull back to breathe, and as she did his lips relentlessly moved to her neck as his hands started to pull at her shirt.

He spoke and she could feel his breath against her throat, heating up her skin.

'So, what language do you want me to speak when I make love to you?'

She grinned and giggled as she realised there was only one answer.

'Umm, body language?'

At that he lifted his head back to hers and he both chuckled and groaned. 'I can't believe you said that Molly, I always knew your jokes were bad.' He grinned and raised an eyebrow. 'That being said I think I can manage that one. How about we start with your body?'

He moved his hands to the front of her shirt and swiftly undid the buttons and as she started to remove it his hands were already reaching for the clasp of her bra.

As it came loose, she let it slide down her arms to the floor and she had to resist the urge to cover her breasts. His eyes took in everything until he slowly brought them back to her face.

'Oh Molly, you are beautiful! I should have told you that years ago. You've always been beautiful to me, right from the first time I met you. I think some part of me knew we'd come to this, and I just wish I hadn't spent so long being…being scared.'

She moved forwards, into his embrace once more and kissed him. 'It's OK. You weren't ready. And if this is moving too fast for you…'

'No!' The force of his voice shocked her for a moment, and he tempered it with a quick kiss. 'No, I'm ready. I am more than ready.'

Molly looked at him searchingly. 'And have you…I mean, are you…'

'A virgin? Not quite, but I'm not particularly experienced. Is that a problem?'

Molly shook her head. 'Of course not, maybe this is one language where I'm better than you.' She winked and he let out a laugh.

'We have got to stop with these language references.'

She giggled but this time, when they kissed, Molly felt the atmosphere starting to change, to turn from light to something much more passionate. All her frustrations from the last few days came to the fore as she quickly helped to relieve him of his shirt.

The feeling of her breasts pressed against his naked chest had lust swirling through her body and she just wanted to finally feel him on top of her.

Slowly, she backed up to the bed, taking him with her, until she was able to lie down.

As she did his hand moved to her trousers and she helped to shimmy them off, along with her knickers until she was naked.

Once again, she saw his eyes devouring her, but after his last comments about how beautiful he found her she felt empowered rather than nervous. She watched, her bottom lip between her teeth, as he removed the last of his own clothes, then he joined her on the bed.

So, it was Molly using a foreign language to say what she wanted this time, and to use her lame joke it's time for some body language. Are you looking forward to it?