Well, I've just taken on a new role at work, and I'm swamped, not sure I've made the right decision but I'm sure it will all calm down once I get the hang of it. I wasn't sure I'd have time to post this today, but I don't want to slip from posting at least weekly.

Thank you so much for staying the course with this fic, through both death and romance. I will never tire of Sherlolly, even if we will be well into old age by the time we get a new season (if ever).

Chapter 17

Molly stayed with Anne until just after ten o'clock and then the two women retired to their respective rooms. There was still no sign of Sherlock and so Molly got herself ready for bed and then enjoyed reading her current book until she was ready for sleep. She'd rather neglected her reading since all this business with Sherlock, but she couldn't say that she was sorry.

Just as had happened the night before Molly awoke in the middle of the night to find Sherlock in the room with her. This time he was lying on top of the bed next to her with a bedside lamp casting a gentle glow over his features. He was dressed in his pyjama bottoms, but with his chest bare and he had his eyes closed and his hands steepled under his chin.

Her voice when she spoke was a whisper...wondering quite whether she should disturb him or not.

'Hey.'

Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his face to hers and he smiled.

'Hey. Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.'

'You didn't, at least I don't think you did. How's it all going?'

She couldn't help but notice how tired he looked, and she worried about how well he was looking after himself.

He shifted himself, moving the covers so he could climb underneath and then turning on his side so he could face her.

'It's confusing, I feel like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle; when I find it everything will just slide into place. I was just going back over everything I've learnt trying to see what it is that I've missed.'

Molly brought her hand up to his face; she pushed back a lock of his hair that was threatening to fall into his eyes. His eyes closed slightly, and a small smile played on his face at her touch. At that she couldn't resist letting her fingers slide over his cheek and down, tracing the edges of his jaw.

'Maybe you just need some rest, your brain is probably tired, and you won't be able to see things as clearly.'

He shifted forward slightly, and she felt his hand move to her hip.

'Maybe it's not sleep that I need right now...'

Molly couldn't help but smile just before his mouth moved over her own. Just as she always did when he kissed her, she gave into the perfect feel of it. He didn't seem to hold anything back when they kissed and she was sure she could feel how he felt about her, even if he hadn't said the words.

The kiss was slow and languid and sensual, and it seemed to send a warm glow through every part of her body. Bit by bit they shifted until she was on her back feeling his weight pinning her to the bed as the kiss just seemed to deepen and last forever.

Neither of them seemed to want or need foreplay and as he settled between her legs, she lifted her knees and waited whilst he pushed at his pyjamas until she could feel him, hard and ready, and starting to deliciously press into her.

He watched her face as he pushed into her and seeing his expression in that moment, so open and full of desire, had her moaning out his name and wanting to feel more of him.

He pressed a kiss to her lips once more as he fully seated himself inside her and then he paused until her muscles started to flutter around him. She wondered if he could feel it but before she could ask, he let out a deep, rumbling groan and he started to move, and Molly simply lost all track of what she'd been thinking about.

He kept his thrusts slow and shallow, his hips pressed tightly against her own and the angle just seemed to hit all of her sweet spots until she was moaning out his name and pulling on his backside, her fingernails dragging on his skin, desperate for more of him.

They came within seconds of each other, and it just left Molly feeling boneless and sated. It was an effort to get out of the bed to go and clean herself up in the bathroom. By the time she came out Sherlock was fast asleep, and she was glad for it, he obviously needed his rest even if he was so reluctant to take it.

She quietly turned out the lamp and climbed into bed and as she rolled onto her side, she felt him shift closer and wrap his arm around her pulling her close. He let out a mumbled 'love you' before he fell back to sleep, but it had Molly tensing and wondering if she had heard what she thought she had heard. Either way she couldn't ask him for confirmation at that moment, but it took her a while before she could fall asleep herself.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

By the time Molly awoke the next morning Sherlock was already up, dressed, and working on his laptop. He lifted his head as she sat up, yawning.

'Morning sleepy head, I wondered how much longer you'd sleep for. There's a coffee by your bed, probably still warm…just.'

He gave her a lobsided smile and then resumed whatever he was doing on his laptop.

Molly picked up the drink; grateful for it even if it was lukewarm.

'What's the plan for today? Are you any closer to knowing what happened? Who did this?'

Sherlock sighed, sitting back in his chair and running his hand through his hair, making it stand up. It had Molly smiling, covering her lips with the coffee mug so he wouldn't see.

'Like I said last night, it all feels so close. As if just one more piece of information will make the whole thing clear. I'm going back over all the police files trying to see what I might have missed.'

'Oh, have they given you access then?'

At that Sherlock full on smirked and raised one eyebrow. 'No, but it was frighteningly easy to hack into.'

Molly shook her head but chuckled a little as she swung her legs out of bed. She was starving and determined to have breakfast even if Sherlock wasn't hungry. He surprised her though by joining her as she made her way downstairs.

When she queried it he explained. 'I want you to tell me again, from the start, everything you remember, everything you've heard, every conversation you've had. Something will click, I just know it. John's inane ramblings often act as a lightning rod so maybe you will too.'

Molly rolled her eyes at the implied insult, but she knew it wasn't worth challenging him on it. No doubt their chatter was inane to someone of his intellect. Given his intelligence was a big part of what she found attractive about him she shouldn't complain. And, anyway, she knew he didn't mean it as an insult.

By then they were at the restaurant, and it was Marie Havers who showed them to their table. Molly thought she looked surprisingly well considering she'd lost her husband the day before. She didn't say anything, but maybe she'd shown something in her expression because as Marie took their order she shrugged. 'The show must go one and this hotel needs to keep running. I heard tales of my grandmother running the place almost single handed through the war not knowing if my grandfather was alive or dead as he fought on the front lines. Plus, it's a distraction, isn't it? I don't want to sit around and dwell on what's happened, it won't change any of it.'

Molly gave her a sympathetic smile but then turned her attention back to Sherlock. As he'd requested, she went back to the beginning and told him as much as she could remember, in as much detail as she could. Only stopping to eat some of her food whilst he sipped on a cup of black coffee.

The only time he interrupted her was when she recounted her conversation with Anne the night before.

'You haven't mentioned this before…why not?'

His voice was sharp, and Molly felt flustered for a moment.

'I don't know…I mean, I didn't see you before bed and then this morning…I…I suppose I'd forgotten. It didn't seem relevant. Is it?'

'Molly, everything's relevant…everything.'

He closed his eyes and Molly stayed quiet, letting him think; watching as her plate was cleared away and their drinks replenished. She tried to work out the relevance of what she'd said herself, but to be honest none of this whole case made a lot of sense to her and she was glad it was Sherlock who was the detective and not herself.

Finally, he opened his eyes and picked up his coffee, drinking it swiftly before he got up to leave. She saw his face scrunch up momentarily and knew he'd drunk it without putting his habitual two spoonsfuls of sugar in first. She pushed away from the table and asked him where he was going.

'Back to our room. I need to think. You're sure there's nothing more.'

Molly shook her head. 'No, nothing. Do you want me to come with you?'

Sherlock shook his head. 'No, I need to think in peace, there's too much noise here.' Then he turned and left. Molly sat back down and watched him go and couldn't help but worry that she'd let him down. She didn't know exactly what it was about that conversation with Anne which had piqued his interest, but something had. She also knew she was worrying that he'd think that the sex they'd had the night before would have been a distraction from the case. Would he end things because of it?

Molly's biggest take-away from all this was that she still felt very unsure about the long-term viability of their relationship. Even if he did have feelings for her, she knew what he was like. If he thought his work was being affected, he'd break it off with her in a heartbeat.

She stayed for another ten minutes, picking at the toast she'd been brought. She was just contemplating going back to the room, to see if she could help Sherlock in any way, to maybe make up for her oversight, when Marie came over.

'Hi, Dr Hooper…'

'Please, call me Molly. I think we're past being so formal, aren't we?'

Marie gave her a quick smile. 'Molly…Mr Holmes has called down and asked that he not be disturbed. He said something about you maybe spending the morning in the town, and that he'll meet you for lunch later.'

Molly frowned but nodded her head in acknowledgement. 'Oh, OK. I might as well have another cuppa then.'

Marie smiled and left her as she poured herself another tea from the pot that had been brought out with her toast.

She felt a little concerned that Sherlock hadn't even told her himself that he didn't want disturbing. Did he not even want to speak to her now? Even by text.

Ten minutes later and she'd left the hotel, but as she set out into the town, she felt the first spots of drizzle on her face and she sighed. Her sandals would be totally inadequate if it got any heavier and she hadn't got a coat or umbrella or anything. For a moment she stood on the pavement trying to decide what to do, but as the rain came down more heavily it made her mind up for her. Two minutes of disturbance wouldn't kill him, and anyway, she didn't want him to get too used to bossing her around.

Given where she was it was easier to go back into the hotel through the car park and she ran up the stairs to the top floor.

As she reached the room she fished in her bag for the key card and then took a deep breath, hoping that Sherlock wouldn't be too angry with her, she really didn't want to start an argument.

She clicked the card and opened the door. 'Hey, sorry, I'll only be a tick. I just need…'

Her voice trailed off as she took in the sight before her.

Sherlock was lying prone on the bed. She could see him struggling to lift his head, his voice slurring as he tried to speak. But worse than that was the sight of Marie Havers leaning over him holding a sharp blade against his wrist.

Dun, dun, duuunnn! Well, I know some of you were suspicious of Marie (and one person was even suspicious of poor, innocent Anne). Question is why and can Molly rescue Sherlock (because why should it always be him rescuing her) xx