John and Sherlock arrived a short time later at the address of the bar Mary had sent him. It was a rather nondescript place with dim lighting and various jumbled pictures of London and its history hung all over the walls. Sherlock was already cursing himself for agreeing to this.
He followed John to the back of the pub to find the group laughing at one of the large tables. Everyone looked up in surprise after he approached the table. He was about to turn and leave when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Mr. Holmes. I'm glad you decided to join us. Would you like something to drink?"
It was Tom, standing beside him, slightly inebriated, with a glass of beer in his hand. Sherlock eyed the hand on his shoulder with a skeptical look at first, before turning to face it with slightly narrowed eyes. Then he deprecatingly pushed the hand off his shoulder.
Molly watched the whole situation with a fear-filled look and held her breath. It wasn't until Sherlock answered him and then sat down in the chair across from her that she expelled her breath again.
"I'll have a beer." said Sherlock then, pausing for a moment. He seemed to be thinking.
"And thank you."
Molly couldn't help but smile slightly. Carefully, she reached her hand across the table and lightly clasped Sherlock's. Relief in her eyes and the word "thank you" on her lips. Sherlock slightly surprised at the touch, nodded slightly at her. Molly then pulled her hand away again and Sherlock instantly felt the warmth leave him again.
The hours passed and most of the group was beginning to get quite drunk. There was a lot of laughter and a wide variety of stories were exchanged. For Sherlock, they were rather boring and bland conversations, so he quickly retreated into his head and sipped his drink from time to time. When Tom was then asked about his life, however, Sherlock couldn't help but roll his eyes dismissively. With a glance at Molly, however, he decided not to say anything further.
At some point, he became a little uncomfortable in his chair and stretched his long legs out from under the table. His leg brushed against Molly's. Slightly nervous, she looked at Sherlock and then sheepishly to the side. Her cheeks flushed slightly and Sherlock couldn't help but grin to himself. It pleased him that he still seemed to have such an effect on her.
Time continued to pass and the drinks continued to flow. At some point, Molly had to leave the table briefly and go to the restrooms.
And again it was Sherlock who encountered a tipsy Molly in the narrow hallway. She tried as hard as she could to have a straight walk, but briefly lost her balance as she approached him.
Sherlock caught her with ease and held her in his arms. He breathed in her sweet scent and instantly felt that tingle run through his body again. Molly looked deep into his eyes and grinned.
"Thanks," she mumbled, blushing slightly under the detective's gaze.
Even though the light was quite dim, she could clearly see that his eyes were dark. Heat spread through her and she felt a burning desire rise up inside her.
She didn't know if it was the alcohol or Sherlock himself but suddenly she forgot everything around her.
She leaned further into Sherlock's embrace and rubbed herself lightly against him, causing him to groan slightly. Slowly, she then ran her tongue along his neck, leaving a wet trail of kisses.
Sherlock, meanwhile, was paralyzed. Molly felt his growing arousal and it only spurred her on. With her mouth she continued to kiss her way down his neck, sucking and then finding her way to his ear. She nibbled lightly on his earlobe, causing Sherlock to moan again. With a slight smile on her lips, she continued to trail her way down his cheeks, his chin. With her hands, she slowly slid down his chest to his stomach. Carefully she pulled his shirt out of his pants and slid her hands underneath. Under her hands she felt the heat of his skin. She stroked his abs and then moved further down. Sherlock trembled under her touch. Her hands were just finding their way to his waistband when Sherlock suddenly woke from his stupor and grabbed her hair with his hands. Gently, he pulled it back enough so that her lips hovered just above his. He cupped her face with both hands. His eyes still fixed on Molly's. Gently, he took in her scent of strawberries and wine and was about to close the distance between them when voices suddenly appeared at the other end of the hallway, startling them both apart.
Molly stood against the opposite wall, glancing nervously at Sherlock. Her chest rose and fell from her rapid breathing. Sherlock didn't even avert his gaze from her the entire time.
As the guest slipped past them and disappeared into one of the rooms, it was Sherlock who closed the distance between them. Again he gently put his hands to Molly's cheeks. But something was different now.
There was suddenly sheer shock in her eyes. Eyes wide, she looked at him.
"Oh my God. Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to do this. I shouldn't have done that."
Sherlock then abruptly dropped his hands in disappointment. The realization came to Molly that it was wrong and she was ashamed of it.
"Molly. It's okay." he whispered softly, hoping to reassure her somewhat.
"No! How can it be okay! Damn it I'm engaged!" she was yelling now. There was anger and despair in her voice at the same time.
Startled, Sherlock took a step back. His eyes widened.
"No. I'm sorry, I can't do this!" she screamed again, then ran to the end of the hallway. Back to her friends. Back to her fiancé.
Sherlock stared after Molly, who fled from him in utter horror. He sighed heavily.
He knew he couldn't stay here. Briefly, he straightened his step and cursed himself for having such a reaction to Molly's body. He also went back to the table, briefly fished a few bills out of his pocket, placed them on the table and disappeared without saying a word or glancing at Molly.
He stepped out into the cold London night air and took a deep breath. His mind wandered back to Molly and what had just happened. Sherlock knew he would have kept going if they hadn't been disturbed. Again, he felt that warmth enveloping his entire body. His body yearned for her. He was literally longing for her. And contrary to his friends' assumptions that he had no feelings or sexual needs, he wanted her. He wanted Molly Hooper.
But it was too dangerous. Molly would never take that step. She felt that she had already taken it too far with that kiss. She was just too responsible and sensible for that. She simply had too pure a heart for that.
Sherlock was clear that he would never want to hurt Molly and thus would not want to destroy her happiness. She seemed happy with her fiancé and that meant for him to back off and stay away.
He heaved another deep sigh, then buried his hands in his pockets and finally made his way back to Baker Street.
With one last look, he said goodbye.
