And relax…good news is I'm now on my summer holiday from work and I have almost four weeks off…yay! I'm determined to put some time aside to write and I have my sights set on a Christmas fic. Amyutz has given me some ideas and work has begun!

Thank you for all your replies re the last chapter. Looks like you all like a jealous Sherlock. Shall we see how he's getting on?

Chapter 10

Molly was aware of Sherlock standing over on the other side of the room, watching as Oliver took her hand and led her onto the dance floor. It made her feel self-conscious as they started to move, her feet stumbling and missing steps here and there.

'Oops, sorry.'

She could feel Oliver's sweaty palm against her own, his alcohol soaked breath against the skin on her neck, and she had to concentrate on not grimacing. Now she knew how Sherlock felt dancing with people he didn't like.

She just kept reminding herself that it was for a case...for Sherlock.

She asked him more about himself and hoped that the dance would soon be over.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock made his way over to the bar and ordered himself a bottle of water and a double scotch. The water was to help cool him down after all the dancing, and the scotch was to take his mind off Molly Hooper. It was getting harder and harder for him to just concentrate on the case. His feelings for her were becoming almost impossible to repress, but he was determined to find Harlow's murderer before he gave into them.

He glanced at the clock, seeing that it was almost time for the final show dance, and he sighed with relief. The evening had been very productive, but he was ready to get back to his rooms and sort out all he had learnt. He also wanted to find out what Molly might have got from Margaret's son. Whilst he was a definite possibility as a suspect, Sherlock knew he still wasn't even close to being sure.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly sat back down with Anne to watch the final dance of the evening. Seeing Sherlock, moving effortlessly around the dance floor with Chantelle once more, just made her even more embarrassed about how clumsy her own efforts had been. It also made her sad that she hadn't actually got to dance with him, it didn't seem fair.

There was lots of applause as the dance came to an end, and Molly saw a few of the guests and hotel residents making their way over to talk to Sherlock and Chantelle.

'Right, well thank you very much for keeping me company tonight Molly dear, but I think I shall wend my weary way to bed. It's been such a good night, and you tell your man that he's a very able dancer, very nice to watch.'

Molly stood at the same time and the two women bade each other a good night. Then, as she was gathering up her wrap and bag, she was accosted by Oliver.

'I do hope you're not calling it a night just yet Molly. The evening is still young.'

He took her elbow and started to guide her towards the bar as Molly procrastinated a little, not sure how she should play things.

As they arrived, he bent his head towards hers. 'So, do you want your nightcap down here? Or shall we throw caution to the wind and have them to go? I assure you my room has an amazing view...not that you'll want to see it once I get you in my bed.'

He smirked and winked, and Molly swore she threw up in her mouth a little, but before she could say anything Sherlock joined them.

She saw Oliver sneer a little as he looked Sherlock up and down.

'No offence my man, but we don't need a third wheel, and we certainly don't need some second rate, gold-digging dancer cramping our style.'

Molly winced wondering just what Sherlock's response would be. She'd been keeping Oliver sweet in case they needed more information, but that didn't mean Sherlock would feel the same.

She saw Sherlock narrow his eyes and take a deep breath, but there was no vicious put down. Instead, he slid his arm around Molly's waist and smiled at Oliver.

'Thanks for keeping my fiancé company. It was entertaining helping Marie Havers out with the dancing, but I think I'm happy to go back to being a guest now rather than a gold-digging dancer. Your mother tells me you're into property development, but that you're struggling for income at the moment. Maybe you can tell me more at some point, but I think for now I'd like to take my girl to bed in my suite on the top floor. Are you ready Molly?'

As she turned her head to answer him, she didn't have much chance to prepare herself before his lips met hers in a breathless, but over too soon kiss.

She could hear Oliver harrumphing in the background, and as she and Sherlock pulled apart, she heard him complaining.

'Bloody hell, you could have let on you little...'

Sherlock held his hand up, cutting the other man off. 'I'll stop you there shall I. After all, we don't need to fall out about it. Come on Molly...I think it's time we left.'

He used the arm around her waist to guide her away from the bar with him, and as they waited for the lift, he raised an eyebrow at her. 'That prick is still watching, shall we give him a show? I'd hate to miss an opportunity to wind him up.'

Molly frowned wondering what he meant, but soon found out as he pulled her closer to him for another kiss. This time it wasn't just a brief press of lips. Instead, he cupped her face lightly and tilted her head so that the kiss, when it came, was deep and passionate. Molly felt herself getting lost in him as she literally clung to his jacket to keep herself upright. His body felt firm and strong against her own, his other hand splayed out, low on her back, holding her close.

She could feel her own heartbeat thundering in her chest as lust swirled through her. She'd been kissed many times before, by many different men, but none had ever affected her the way that Sherlock's kiss did right now.

When the lift doors opened, he pulled away and glanced back at Oliver, before looking back at Molly. She couldn't help but shake her head and laugh at the look of smug glee on his face as he pulled her into the lift behind him.

He then made a show of kissing her once more as the lift doors shut, and Molly wasn't sure that the kiss didn't last a bit longer than it needed too.

This time when they stopped, he pulled away from her completely and leant against the wall of the lift.

'Thanks for indulging me Molly, I was being childish I know, but it was fun bringing him down a peg or two.'

'I...no...I mean, that's OK. Do you want to press for my floor?'

She started to move towards the lift buttons, but he put his hand on hers to stop her.

'No, come back to my room. Have a nightcap with me. I want to hear what you learnt.'

She'd initially felt a brief rush of joy at his suggestion, but it was quickly quashed when she realised that it was all just about the case.

'Yes, of course. Anyway, another drink would be good.' She knew she needed one to calm her down a little after all that kissing.

'Great.' He gave her such a wide, genuine smile that she couldn't help but return it.

As Molly walked into his rooms, she couldn't help but glance at the bed through the archway, and she bit her lip at the fact that she would be sharing it with Sherlock the following night. Had she really thought that through...had he?

She was broken out of her thoughts by Sherlock talking. 'Do you want to pour the drinks whilst I just get changed. I think better in my pyjamas. Kick your shoes off, make yourself comfy.'

Molly nodded and made her way over to the chairs where there was a new set of glasses to go with the whisky and the remains of the wine from the meal earlier. She poured Sherlock a large whisky and herself some wine, not wanting to mix her drinks, and possibly embarrass herself more with him than she already had today. She did kick off her shoes though and was glad to do so, new shoes always had a tendency to rub and pinch until they'd been worn a couple of times.

She made the mistake of glancing up to find that Sherlock had once again just stripped off by the bed rather than moving to the bathroom. She caught him just as he pulled his pyjama trousers on, his back fully exposed for a moment before he pulled on a soft looking grey t shirt.

'Oh, that reminds me...I did buy you some swimming trunks. I'll bring them up tomorrow.'

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her and smirked, but thanked her, and it was only then that she realised what she'd implied...that looking at his body reminded her about the trunks. She knew she was blushing as she turned away and sat down in one of the chairs. Thankfully, it was much comfier than the chairs in the restaurant and she felt herself relaxing into it as she sipped on her wine.

Sherlock, now wearing his dressing gown over the top of his pyjamas again, came and joined her and she turned slightly so she was facing him a bit more.

'So, did you get any good info tonight?'

Sherlock took a sip of his drink and nodded his head.

'Yes, Margaret was definitely infatuated with Harlow. She'd been giving him money for weeks and she was convinced there was a future in the relationship. She's worried that he was being hassled or blackmailed, and that whoever it was has "bumped him off". Apparently, he mentioned a visitor from his past and had inferred he might need more money. She was eager to help him and was just waiting to find out how much when he disappeared. What about the son? Did you get anything out of him other than the offer of sex?'

He grinned as he said that and laughed at Molly's shocked and then mutinous expression.

'Yes, thanks for that. Let's just say he wasn't a pleasant guy to get to know. He was definitely not happy about his mother's relationship with a dancer, or the fact she was giving away what he referred to as his inheritance. It is absolutely the reason why he is down here.'

'He also mentioned he'd been away the last couple of days, some investment opportunity. He left on Monday which is the day Harlow was killed so...I don't know...maybe it was him.'

Sherlock frowned. 'It does all add up, theoretically, but I just don't see that prick being capable of this. I'm more than sure he's capable of murder, but he'd have done it here in the hotel...why would Harlow agree to meet him at Flat Iron rock?'

He went silent and after a couple of moments Molly looked over at him. His eyes were closed, and he looked deep in thought.

In the end she put her glass down and whispered to him. 'I'll leave you to it, let you think.'

His eyes flicked open, and he looked directly at her; she felt her stomach flip over as he caught her in his piercing gaze.

'What? You're going?'

'Yes, it's getting late, and it's been a long day. Are we still off to the beach tomorrow?'

Sherlock averted his eyes and nodded. 'Mmm...yes. I have some other leads I want to follow up, but I can do that in the afternoon. At least I don't have to do any more tedious dance practice.'

Molly smiled. 'You were really good you know...better than I expected. It's probably a good thing we didn't dance together...I spent most of my dance with Oliver tripping over my own feet and standing on his.'

Sherlock let out a snort of derision and rolled his eyes. 'That wasn't you Molly, you had a bad lead.'

He swiftly stood and moved back towards his bedroom. Molly sat forward in her chair and picked her glass up to take one last sip before she put her shoes back on, so she'd be ready to leave.

She was more than surprised therefore when she heard music flooding through the room. She looked up to find Sherlock walking back and holding his hand out.

'Come on. Let me show you how it should have been done.'

Her brain seemed to pause and stutter for a moment at the idea of dancing with Sherlock in his bedroom, but when he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow at her lack of movement, she hurriedly finished putting her shoes back on and made her way over.

Even with him barefoot, and her in heels, he was still a good half a foot taller than her. She looked up at him shyly as she placed her hand in his with her other resting on his shoulder and felt his hand looping around her waist. Her heart rate had already picked up and she was feeling a little breathless, but she couldn't stop smiling.

Slowly at first, he started to move them around the small space, and she realised immediately what he meant. It was so much easier to dance with Sherlock than it was with Oliver. He made her feel as if she was actually good at dancing. The only time he told her off was when he told her to look at him and not at her feet.

'Relax Molly...smile...let the music guide you. See...you're a perfectly fine dancer. Are you ready for a spin? Three, two, one...'

As she spun away from him her skirt rose up around her and she laughed before spinning back into his arms seeing him smiling as much as she was.

She had never enjoyed dancing so much.

The music changed tempo moving into a slower rhythm and Sherlock pulled her closer, bringing their linked hands to his chest as they just moved from side to side and Molly seemed to stop breathing. Tentatively she rested her cheek on his chest, and she closed her eyes willing the music not to end. She'd never imagined herself being able to slow dance with Sherlock like this, and it was so perfect that she had to bite her lip to not cry.

But eventually, the music came to an end and as they slowly moved away from each other Molly couldn't even look him in the eye. Instead, she concentrated on looking for her wrap and her bag.

'Right, thanks for that Sherlock. I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast.'

She glanced at him quickly and saw him watching her with an inscrutable look on his face, but then he nodded his head and she smiled.

'Ok then...good night.'

She was out of the door before he even had a chance to reply.

As she made her way down to her room, she berated herself, telling herself that she needed to be careful and not read too much into any of this. Her feelings were hers and hers alone, not Sherlock's. He just saw her as a friend, and she needed to keep remembering that.

It didn't stop her smiling though at the memory of that dance and just how good it had felt, and when she went to sleep that night, her head was filled with images of Sherlock.

Oh, to slow dance with Sherlock…sigh. So, did you like "the show" he put on for Oliver to mark his territory?