Chapter 9

It didn't take them long to get to 'Villa Fleur-de-lis', so named for obvious reason judging from the huge garden that surrounded the building. At the entrance of the elegant house there were several police patrols and several officers engaged in collecting the depositions of various eyewitnesses.

Molly stopped just beyond the massive front door, quickly observing all the movement of policemen and forensics team. She looked to her left and saw coveralls, overshoes and latex gloves neatly folded and piled on a table. She glanced sidelong at Sherlock who, motionless beside her, was already cataloguing everything he saw.

She walked over the table and placed her bag on it. She considered what to do given the suit she was wearing. First Molly slipped her feet out of the mid-heel shoes and put on the bottom of a coverall. In the meantime Greg had approached her "I'll keep your jacket if you want".

Molly, who had already undone the only button on the garment, stopped abruptly at the sound of Sherlock's deep voice "Wait, wait...what are you doing?", when she pulled up her head, he was already behind her, "What do you think?" she asked looking at him through her lashes, "I can't work with this on!".

She saw his cheeks blush and with a snort he took off his Belstaff, unfolded it open using it as a screen to protect her from the prying eyes of all the people in the room, "Thank you" Molly whispered appreciating the chivalrous gesture while Greg, giggling, commented "Just like a king should protect his queen!", earning in return a grim look from Molly, who feared Sherlock would grasp the implication of chess jargon and deduce the tattoo whose image had been sent to him by Irene was hers.

Sherlock for his part was temporarily taken by Molly's chaste striptease. Her jacket slipped off slowly revealing the pale, velvety skin of her shoulders and back "Are you enjoying the show?" Molly stammered to dispel her embarrassment, avoiding turning her right side towards him as her bra's cup didn't completely cover the tattoo.

He cleared his throat "Um…I…I wasn't…" he stammered lowering his eyes to the ground and falling silent while Greg looked at him, an expression on his face that clearly said "You can't kid a kidder". After a few seconds Molly let out a sigh of relief saying "Okay. I'm ready", Sherlock looked up again and their eyes remained glued for several seconds.

It was the firm cough of DI Lestrade that shake them, "I want Molly to take a look at the body" Sherlock said regaining his usual self-assurance while the DI led them to the indoor pool where the girl had been murdered. The pathologist on duty as soon as he saw Sherlock approaching, rolled his eyes with annoyance and walked away from the girl's corpse.

"After Molly is done, have the body taken to Bart's. Stamford has already been warned" he continued undaunted, then he smiled at Molly as she walked cautiously to the spot where the murdered girl lay. "Now, update me" Sherlock said to Greg starting to carefully observe every point of the location.

They arrived at Bart's at precisely at one in the morning and walked side by side towards the employees' front door "I'm going to the locker room to change" Molly said, taking her locker keys from her bag. Sherlock nodded and told her that he would wait for her in the lab where, in the meantime, he would start analysing the samples he had collected.

About three hours later Molly entered the lab and found Sherlock sitting on the stool and bending over the microscope, completely focused on what he was observing. Without saying a word, she placed the cup of coffee on the table within his reach and turn on her heel to sit at the desk at the back of the room and start filling out papers.

"Stay here" Sherlock's baritone voice stopped her and when she turned he looked up and leaned back on the stool, "What about it?" he asked reaching for the cup of coffee. "She didn't defend herself. A sudden blow to the right parietal bone with a sharp object. She didn't die immediately though, she bled out. Presumably she was killed between 9.30 and 10 pm" Molly said leaning her back against the table, "And she was ten weeks pregnant" she added sipping her coffee.

Sherlock motioned her to come closer "Tell me what you think" he asked, pointing to the slide inserted in the microscope as he lowered the eyepiece to be level with her and sliding the stool back to give her enough space. Molly took her position and watched in silence for a few seconds, then adjusting the micrometre screw said "It looks like a seaweed. Where did you find it?" she asked continuing to observe.

"Not far from the body. There were a couple of footprints. Anderson made the plaster cast of them. Let's see what comes out" he answered with a long sigh, "The girl, Lizzie Sterling, is the daughter of George Sterling, of the Sterling & Baker construction company" Molly informed him turning and rubbing her neck with one hand, "I guess you will be besieged by the press" she said with a quick smile knowing how much Sherlock hated giving statements and interviews.

"Does it hurt?" Sherlock asked her and she looked at him bewildered not understanding what he meant, "Your neck, does it hurt? You've been massaging it for a while" he explained, "Oh! No, no big deal. My muscles are tense. I slept badly and doing the autopsy made it worse" she said smiling.

"Come over here and turn around" Sherlock ordered in a harsher tone that he intended, "What?" Molly, who had lowered her head, replied looking at him from the corner of her eye. Sherlock, remaining seated on the stool, reached out to grab her left wrist, tugged her towards him and spun her.

Molly found herself standing between his legs with her back to him. Sherlock reached out his right hand and began to free some buttons of her coat and work-blouse. Molly stiffened and put a hand on his "Sherlock, what are you…", he leaned over "Relax, Molly and trust me" he ordered with a whisper in her ear.

She let go of his hand and Sherlock continued to unbutton her garments to her breast, then he pulled them down to her shoulder blades. He rubbed his hands together before placing four fingers of each on her shoulders, then he began to apply firm pressure with his thumbs in a circular motion.

After a few minutes he changed the massage by sliding his fingers up and down her neck, then lightly pinching her nape and continued moving his hands in circular fashion over her shoulder blades. As he progressed, Molly felt her body totally relax. With her eyes closed she was leaning against him completely. If someone had asked her what her name was at that moment, she would not be able to say it.

"Oh, God! Sherlock…" she whispered sighing without even realizing it, he smiled hovering over her, that sigh had given him a long-lasting shiver down his spine, "Do you like it?" Sherlock asked in a hoarse voice, "Yes, definitely" her reply was accompanied by a nod of her head.

"I haven't felt this relaxed since…" Molly said giving him a brief glance over her shoulder, "I don't remember that anymore" she added giggling and turning again, "So, you want me to continue?" Sherlock asked, his warm breath near her ear, "Oh, yes please!" she pleaded.

And he was more than happy to indulge her by resuming the previous movements, this time extending the massage to her shoulders as well.

It was amazing how good she felt about receiving that massage, Sherlock's hand finding and loosening every knot of tension in her muscles. And soon her mind too, cleared away all worry and frustration. The more Molly indulged in the pleasant sensation his touch gave her, the more her thoughts drifted in directions she believed she had buried, if not erased.

She told herself she had to leave with the excuse she needed to catch up on a few hours of sleep, but she couldn't move, there was some kind of force holding her nailed to Sherlock.

He watched in raptures as Molly's body responded to the touch of his hands. Her head alternatively shifting to give him more access to her neck's sides, her soft and velvet skin shivered with every stroke of his fingertips.

Suddenly, without her permission, Molly's hands found their way to lean against Sherlock's thighs, sensing the immediate twitch of his muscles at her touch. She couldn't stop herself from moving them slowly up and down, stroking him through his trousers' fabric. Once again she ordered herself to leave. What the hell was she doing? She was sexually teasing him and that wasn't what a friend was supposed to do. Not that he was complaining about it!

At her light touch, Sherlock's stomach squeezed and his entire body was ripped by a jolt of pleasure. An unexpected and animalistic urge pushed Sherlock to wrap her waist whit his left arm and pull Molly closer to him, knowing that she would have caught how much he wanted her.

She closed her eyes and held her breath as she discovered how affected Sherlock was from the rubbing of her hands on his thighs. "He's a man after all, isn't he?" a voice in her mind told her, "His body reacts to stimuli. It would probably happen even if I were someone else".

He dipped his face into her hair inhaling the scent of her green apple and lime shampoo, his mind becoming dizzy and his nostrils intoxicated. Then, he cupped his right hand on her jaw, stroking her cheekbone with his thumb and bringing her to rest her right cheek on his collarbone.

Sherlock felt Molly's breathing had become heavier and saw her breasts rise and fall at that rate. He placed his palm across her throat, lightly but possessively, brushing with his thumb her pulsing point. A gesture that could have been confused with a threatening action but which she instead found so erotic she could not hold back a low moan.

That faint sound elicited something deep inside him and spurred him to grind himself against her backside. In response Molly let out a more hoarse moan and her lips parted slightly as her hand moved to stroke his inner thighs. His mind was on the edge of a precipice, hers had already given up.

Sherlock brought his mouth close to hers totally taken by the thought of tasting it, and it was then that he felt her tongue slid along his lower lip. He snapped his eyes away from her mouth to fully savour the new sensation and to observe her entire face. Molly was, with her eyes closed, pink cheeks and rapture expression, as beautiful as Sherlock saw her in his latest dreams.

Molly's tongue sliding along his upper lip brought him back to focus on her mouth. Sherlock stroked the tip of his tongue with that of hers once and then again, letting out a groan. She became bold and lashed her tongue with his, spinning herself and facing him.

"Oh God, Molly!" he let out in a rush as she grabbed the collar of his jacket with one hand and tucked the other between his curls pulling them slightly as her tongue intertwined with his. Sherlock cupped his hands on her jaw and deepened the kiss passionately.

He moved one arm around her waist and the other to the middle of her back holding Molly as close to him as possible, a deeper contact hampered by their clothes. Sherlock's kiss became ravenous, he seemed to devour her and she kissed him back with the same enthusiasm. Luckily there was no one in that part of the building at that time of the night, so they didn't have to worry about how loud their moans were.