13
Sherlock threw himself into the cab seat snorting like an old coal-fired locomotive, earning a stern glare from the cabbie, "221b Baker Street" he grunted even more annoyed. The meeting with Janine hadn't been pleasant, not that Sherlock expected it would be, of course, but he hadn't even considered she, after a long time, was so angry with him.
Where was the woman who had gone to visit him in the hospital and who had made fun of the fact that they had both benefited from their fake engagement? The one who had told him she knew what kind of man he was and that they could at least be friends?
After her initial outburst made up of scowling looks and two-way put-downs, Janine had entrenched herself behind a steely silence. She hadn't replied to any of his questions or accusations, just carefully observing every step he took as if there was something in the room they were staying in, that he shouldn't have seen. "Why so much bitterness now?" Sherlock had asked her at one point, his last attempt to enter her armour.
But she, without much ado, had opened the door of her flat and had signalled him to go out. Sherlock had taken the stairs without further insisting, hoping that at least it was clear that Janine would not be able to separate Molly from him whatever she had in mind.
The ping of his phone, which reported a text's arrival, had momentarily distracted him and in looking for it in the inside pocket of his coat, he had carelessly collided with a man who was entering the building. Sherlock shouldn't have been surprised that the man was none other than Jordan Maddox.
The two had looked each other up and down for a few seconds then Jordan had passed Sherlock and voluntarily had given him a shoulder push, "You're a fucking arsehole, Sherlock Holmes. You and that silly of Molly deserve each other…get out of here and leave Janine alone!" he hissed venomously turning his back and disappearing up the stairs.
Sherlock had barely held back the fierce response that had spontaneously risen to his lips regarding him and Janine. There was something about Jordan that made him instinctively wary even though Molly had always spoken more than highly of her colleague. There was a similarity between he and…who knows! Something in the way Jordan spoke, in his features, in the way he walked…reminded Sherlock of someone else but he couldn't say who! But as usual there was always something he missed.
Sherlock sighed running a hand over his face. Nothing in the past two days had gone the way he thought it would. His sister, Stapleton, Janine…all of them, in one way or another, had helped to get in the way of what he had planned for himself and Molly that weekend.
Molly who was waiting for him. He looked at his wristwatch, "Fuck!" murmured through clenched teeth. He was hopelessly late. As Sherlock reached into the pocket where his phone lay to call Molly, he remembered that while he was in the foyer of Janine's building he had received a text to which he hadn't paid the slightest attention.
It was precisely Molly who asked him if he was okay and if he was on his way home. He smirked to himself as he promptly replied her text, SHALL WE HAVE DINNER? STILL HUNGRY? – SH
It took a good couple of minutes before there was a reply from her, DON'T MAKES JOKES, SHERLOCK – MH; and soon after I AM, INDEED. ARE YOU GOING TO COME? – MH
A small smile played on his lips as he quickly typed back DON'T MAKES JOKES, MOLLY – SH. A few seconds passed and then a new text from her, WHAT ABOUT AN APPETIZER? – MH; followed by a selfie in which she wore his red dressing gown whose belt was fastened very slow on her round hips revealing a long patch of bare skin from her neck to her belly-button.
A soft groan escaped from Sherlock's lips getting another stink-eye from the cabbie in response. He was tempted to stick his tongue out at him like he did when he was a child towards those who bothered him, but he restrained himself at the thought of how Molly would scold him if she saw him.
YOU'LL BE THE END OF ME, MOLLY – SH
FOLLOW THE CLUES, DETECTIVE…THEY'LL LEAD YOU TO ME – MH
He swallowed hard already feeling arousal rising, TWENTY MINUTES…OR I KILL THE CABBIE! – SH, was his reply.
And exactly as expected, twenty minutes later Sherlock crossed the threshold of his flat. The front room was dark, save for the dim street lighting, and empty. He took off his coat and slipped his phone into his trousers pocket. Then he looked around curious to find out what Molly had come up to.
Sherlock noticed that her socks and shoes lay discarded by the coffee table and decide to take a few cautious steps towards the centre of the room. His eyes immediately caught the bright colours of Molly's sweater propped inside out on John's chair. At that point his gaze turned towards the kitchen where her jeans were placed in plain view on one of the chairs.
Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat and dropped her sweater over her jeans. He felt at that moment like a teenager on his first experience and indeed it was a bit like that. It had been many years since he had full sexual intercourse with a woman. And the mutual pleasure he and Molly had given each other that morning wasn't enough to make him less nervous.
He knew Molly wasn't interested in his performance per se, but she thought more important he decided to take their relationship to that level. It was he who worried that Molly cherished their first time as unforgettable. Sherlock wanted to be for her not only the man who loved her most in the world but also the best of the lovers she had ever had.
So in spite of all the bold statements he had made, he was now standing there in his kitchen devoured by jitteriness. He realized his hands were sweaty and scoffing at himself for being so childish, rubbed them against his trousers.
Anxiety mingled with excitement. His throat was dry, his breathing was a little laboured and his heart pounded in his chest at the thought that the woman he had deprived himself of for so long, who had loved him unconditionally for so long, was now waiting for him beyond his bedroom's door. Since judging by her black knickers thrown to the floor just beyond the bathroom's door, and her bra hanging from the knob of the ajar door, it was clear that that was Sherlock's final destination.
As he picked up her knickers Sherlock realized there was no longer any way or time or desire to regain some control over himself. He turned the garment in his hands, absently testing the fabric, then brought it to his nose breathing deeply her most intimate scent. This was enough to send shudders down his back and he felt himself harden.
Sherlock walked to the door and put a hand on the knob, but stood still and peered inside. He eagerly drank in the sight of her. Molly was utterly beautiful. She was sitting in the centre of his bed, her back against a pillow which was placed against the headboard. Her long chestnut hair was down and fell wavy over her white shoulders.
It was not necessary to be a brilliant detective and have collected her clothes scattered around the flat as clues, to deduce that under the white sheet she held just under her collarbone, she was naked. Sherlock's eyes slowly scattered from her soft breasts' outline and flat stomach, to her shapely thighs and legs. Then they came up to her face.
Molly's complexion was as delicate as that of a winter rose. Her cheeks lightly pink and her lower lip caught between her teeth. It seemed to him that she, so languorously laid, was lost in some sort of dream. Sherlock was totally entranced by her sight that he was taken aback to hear a low, almost muffled moan that aroused him even more.
She had tilted her head back and was running the fingertips of her left hand gently along her neck, her other hand was sliding the sheet off her upper body, exposing her breasts whose nipples were almost swollen. His stomach twitched with the urge to take one, rather both, in his mouth. He wanted to lick, suck and nibble them in turns so that Molly called out his name and begged for more.
Sherlock with great effort remained motionless watching intently at her hands. Her left one went down from her neck to her chest while the other one softly caressed her belly in slow circled movements. Molly let out a new soft whimper as her fingers wrapped around her nipple and started inching her other hand lower.
His mouth watered and his trousers were definitely getting too tight! Sherlock toed off his shoes and socks, then took off his jacket suit leaving everything on the hall floor. Meanwhile Molly's hands hadn't been idle, one was back up and intertwined with her hair, the other ghosted over her sex.
He entered the room and unable to take his eyes off her for a single moment, closed the door behind him. It was probably the door's click that made her wince and stop her from continuing, "Sh-Sherlock…I, I was…" she stammered as a lively blush spread from her cheeks down to her breasts.
Sherlock found her so beautiful and sensual, "Missing me?" he ventured with a sinful smirk on his face. Walking like a cat and without giving her a way to answer he braced his arms to either side of her body and stayed still for a few seconds enjoying her eyes, nose, cheekbones and lips. He lingered particularly on Molly's lips as she let out a quivery breath and reached up to the buttons of his shirt.
Sherlock gave her one of his most loving and beautiful smiles and stopped her hand taking it in his "No rush. We have plenty of time". Molly huffed in frustration at his words and then chewed her bottom lip in such an alluring way that sent a jolt of lust down his groin so that straight off Sherlock captured her lips with his own and slid his tongue into Molly's mouth.
It opened to him with a soft whine, and he loved the way she instantly tangled her fingers between his curls pushing him towards her, eliciting from him a primal groan in response. When Sherlock pulled away from Molly her eyes were closed and she was breathing hoarsely, so he leant in more so his mouth was by her ear and with a slight gasp he whispered to her "Go on".
Molly opened her warm honey-brown eyes and raised her brows questioningly. He gently grabbed her wrist and guided her hand to her core. She winced at the contact of her fingers with the tender bud that would help her reach her climax, and blushed again. Sherlock put his knuckle under her chin and lifted her head for Molly to look up at him.
"Go on, Molly" he said with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, "Don't be shy on me" he added cupping her jaw line with one hand and stroking her cheekbone with his thumb, "It's just the two of us. I trust you…do you trust me?" his voice soft and deep and she nodded, fascinated by how much love and desire she saw in his eyes of an indefinable colour at that moment.
"Let me watch you, my love" he growled as he closed the distance to kiss her. It was a kiss filled with lust but above all emotion and she had never felt more beautiful. This was enough for her to relax a little and, with her eyes glued to his, Molly let her index finger starting to pleasure herself.
