I am so, so sorry that you all had to wait so long for this chapter. I did plan to post over the weekend, but I was laid low with an ear infection and just never quite got round to it, then I was back at work and just had no time. I do hope you're sticking with me anyway.

Right, where did we leave them? Oh yes, dead body time!

Chapter 15

Molly took a sip of her brandy and passed the other to Marie as she did Sherlock burst into the room. Molly felt relief wash over her at the sight of him, knowing that there was someone who would take charge of the situation.

He glanced at her questioningly and she shook her head ever so slightly; he nodded in return.

The first thing he did was talk to the four members of staff standing around watching the proceedings.

'Did any of you find the body?'

All bar the concierge shook their heads.

'You stay...the rest of you get out, you're just getting in the way.'

Before they'd even reacted, he made his way to the bathroom, addressing the paramedics.

'Stop wasting your time, pack up what you need to then get out. The police are on their way, and I need to see what actually happened here...preferably without lots of excess idiocy in the way.'

Molly couldn't help but shake her head a little at his harsh tone, but she had to admit he was getting results. Within a couple of minutes, the paramedics had packed up their equipment and moved out of the bathroom leaving Sherlock alone with the body.

She stood and made her way over to him and hovered in the doorway, enough that he'd know she was there without getting in his way.

He'd unwrapped, and was now examining Mike's wrist with a small, pocket magnifying glass. From a surface view there was just one large gash...no tentative cuts which was unusual. Molly knew from her experience in the morgue that people would quite often not cut deep enough the first time...their nerves normally getting in the way...

He glanced up at her and she gave him a bit of a half-smile.

'Time of death?'

'Hard to say, the water would have kept his body warm and delayed rigor. I suspect it was over half an hour at least because by the time I arrived there was no blood actively leaking from the wound.'

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure the dead man's wife couldn't hear their conversation. She was being comforted by a member of staff that Molly recognised from working on reception sometimes.

She turned back to Sherlock. 'What do you think?'

He shrugged, still checking the body. 'I don't know...not yet. Everything points to suicide, but it just doesn't feel right.'

He turned his attention to a cutthroat razor blade lying open on the floor between the body and the bathtub.

'Do you know if anyone has touched this?'

He bent down checking it with his magnifying glass.

'I...I don't know. It was there when I came in, but he'd already been pulled out of the bath.'

At that moment the DI, who had interviewed Molly only the day before, came into the room. She made her way through to the bathroom followed by what seemed like a veritable posse of people.

'Ms Hooper, Mr Holmes on the scene again I see. You know that could be judged to be suspicious.'

'Only if the judge was a complete imbecile,' retorted Sherlock.

Molly saw the woman's nostrils flare, but she seemed to bite back any response. 'Anyway, clear the scene. Forensics need to go over it...but don't leave the hotel I'll need to interview you both...again.'

'Fine, but I suggest you check that blade for any residue of Harlow's blood.'

This seemed to stop DI Robinson in her tracks. 'You think it's the weapon used to kill the dancer?'

'I do. I've only had a cursory look but there appears to be dried blood near the handle which wouldn't match Michael Havers death given the rest of the blood is still wet.'

'OK, I'll make sure it's done. But please, leave now, let us do our jobs.'

It looked as if Sherlock was going to dig in and say more, but Molly stepped forward. 'Come on, Sherlock...'

He looked between the two women, but then much to Molly's relief he acquiesced.

Molly left the room and made her way back through the Haver's small apartment, with a view to leaving, but when they got to the front room Sherlock stopped following her. Instead, he started to open the drawers of an oak sideboard against one wall.

They weren't alone in the room, but no one seemed to pay him much attention...most were passing through on their way to the bedroom and the bathroom beyond. Marie Havers meanwhile was nowhere to be seen.

'What are you doing?' She whispered, feeling intensely nervous about what might happen if they were caught.

'I would have thought that was obvious Molly, I'm looking for evidence.'

She took a deep breath and sighed. 'Fine, what kind of thing?'

'I don't know yet. Something which links Michael Havers and Harlow, I'd like to find evidence of an affair between the dancer and Marie. I doubt it would be here...but here is all we have at the moment.'

Molly helped him go through the drawers and cupboards in the room. Most was irrelevant; CDs and DVDs; old photo albums, which Sherlock riffled through before casting aside; an odds and sods drawer filled with batteries and old cables as well as envelopes and pens.

The only thing that Molly found of interest was an old swimming trophy awarded to M Havers in 1984 for distance swimming. She passed it to Sherlock who smiled at her, quickly retrieving his phone and snapping a photo of it. He also took photographs of some financial information before they finally put everything away and left. Molly couldn't help but sigh with relief as they did.

There was silence between the two of them as they made their way back up to their room. Sherlock seemed lost in thought, and Molly knew better than to ask him about the case whilst they were out in public. That changed the minute they entered their room.

'Shit Sherlock, what was that? Did Michael kill Harlow and then himself?'

Sherlock poured himself a whisky and, when she asked for it, another for Molly...she needed something to calm her frayed nerves. How did Sherlock and John do this daily for fun?

'I think somebody certainly wants us to think that that is the case.'

He pulled his phone out and a couple of seconds later made a call.

'DI Robinson...Sherlock Holmes...never mind how I got your number...make sure your people run blood tests on both Michael and Harlow...they should be looking for a sedative of some kind...well if you want to know more come and find me instead of shooing me out of the crime scene like some passer-by.'

With that he hung up and threw the phone down. Then he paced up and down as he sipped on his drink. Molly couldn't help feeling as if she was trapped in a room with a caged tiger...the energy was pouring off him and she had to admit it was a huge turn on...it always had been. Seeing him like this, so focused on a case...on finding the solution, it had been a big part of her initial attraction to him, and it had never diminished. At least now when she thought about what she could be doing to him after the case there was a chance it could come true.

'So, what do we do now?'

Sherlock stopped his pacing and seemed to stare into space for a moment.

'We find out where people were the morning Harlow was killed and we check lost property.'

'Lost property?'

Sherlock turned and smiled, and she saw a gleam in his eyes. 'Yes, I've been a fool, Molly. What better place to look than in a hotel's lost property...people forget things...all sorts of things; phone chargers, razors, clothes, medicines...come on.'

She didn't know why but she had a sudden urge to tell him how she felt, maybe it was that she finally could, so as he turned to go, she caught at his arm making him turn back.

'What?'

'I...' She saw his eyes sweep over her impatiently and she lost her nerve. Instead, she shook her head, looking away from him in sudden embarrassment.'

'Nothing, don't worry.'

At that he stepped forward and used his hand to cup her face, turning it back to face him. His expression this time was softer. 'No, it's not nothing, what was it?'

She could feel herself blushing and once again she avoided eye contact. 'I was just being daft. It's just...seeing you, like this, all focused on a case and buzzing with energy...well, it's just a massive turn on.'

She bit her lip and finally looked up at him and she saw his pupils dilate as she made eye contact.

He brushed his thumb over her cheekbone and bent his head, so his lips were by her ear. 'Good to know Molly, do you want to know what's turning me on about you?'

His voice was so low that it sent shudders down her spine, and she knew she was trembling. All her senses seemed to be heightened. In the end she just nodded her head.

He brought his hand up and trailed two fingers down from her neck to the top of her dress which lay in the valley between her breasts. Slowly he opened the top button and then another.

'The fact that you're wearing this dress and that I know there's no bra underneath it...that's been turning me on since the moment I saw you in it this morning.'

At that he slid his right hand into the bodice until his palm lay over her breast and she gasped at the feel of him. The atmosphere felt different all of a sudden, as if there was an electrical charge between them. And when he bent his head to kiss her, she leant into him, pulling him to her. Her mouth opened to his and she felt his tongue slide in against her own and it just seemed to ignite something inside her. She let one hand move down until she was covering his growing erection and she could feel him pulse at her touch.

He pulled away for a moment and closed his eyes before quickly glancing at his watch.

'Sod it, ten minutes isn't going to make any difference and I won't be able to concentrate until I've had you.'

He cast his eyes around the room before alighting on the bed and Molly assumed that's where he wanted them to have sex, but she was wrong.

'Take off your knickers and turn around.'

She felt a flood of wetness at how commanding he sounded, and she was still a little shell shocked at how easily she'd been able to distract him from the case. When she'd told him how she felt she had had no idea that it would come to anything, at least not now, she just wanted him to know...hoped that maybe it would act as foreplay for later.

'Wh...what?'

'You heard. I want to fuck you, hard and fast...don't you want that too Molly?'

She swallowed heavily, feeling a spike of lust right through to the core of her being and she shakily pulled up her skirt until she was able to hook her thumbs into the sides of her now damp knickers. Slowly, knowing he was watching her, she pulled them down her legs and threw them off to one side; then she turned away from him.

'Bend over and hold onto the end of the bed...and Molly,' he leant in closer until his mouth was by her ear once more. 'Hold on tight.'

She closed her eyes for a moment and a shudder ran through her...she couldn't remember ever being so turned on by a guy, but Sherlock just seemed to be pushing all her buttons. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest as she leant over and held onto the post. She felt almost exposed and vulnerable as she waited to see what he would do next.

You know me well enough by now to know that I'm going to leave you wanting to come back for more. And I promise I won't leave you waiting as long.

Anyway, which are you enjoying the progress of more, the crimes, their relationship, or both? xx