A/N: Many thanks to asteraceae-blue for providing the crash test dummy scenario! Rated K+ for Excessive Smooching.
Molly eyed the crash test dummy suspended from the ceiling, ready to fly down and (allegedly) prove Sherlock's theory about his case. He'd carefully positioned it in a Supermanish pose: arms outstretched, legs pointing toward the ceiling at a slight angle while the head faced downward and seemed to be staring eyelessly directly at her.
She took an uneasy step sideways - to her eyes, it looked decidedly wobbly - and crossed her arms. "I'm sure this has never worked, ever."
Sherlock, busily adjusting the set of wires holding the dummy's legs in position, said nothing, just grunted in a "don't be stupid, Molly, of COURSE this will work" sort of way.
Ten minutes later, as the pair of them lay tangled beneath the combined weight of the fallen dummy and the equally fallen ladder - having escaped with only minor bruising, they would quickly discover - Molly looked Sherlock square in the eyes and opened her mouth.
Before the words "I told you so" could leave her lips, however, he covered them with his own, being sure to entirely rob her of her breath before ending the kiss.
Expertly rolling the pair of them from beneath the entrapping materiel, he pulled Molly to her feet and kissed her again. "Fine," she mumbled against his lips as she allowed him to guide her toward the safety of the leather sofa, "but don't think you're not going to hear it later."
(It was very nice, actually, to have him swoop in to kiss her whenever she opened her mouth over the course of a week, although rather puzzling to John and Mrs. Hudson. Rosie, on the other hand, just clapped her hands and crowed.)