Blame lilsherlockian for the start of this chapter. I said should I write Sherlock wanking or just refer to it. Her response - WRITE IT! So I did ;)

Chapter 5

When Molly had left the night before Sherlock had raged around his flat for a few minutes before going into his bedroom and slamming the door. What had happened there? What the fuck had just happened? He had been aiming to just get Molly comfortable around him, happy to touch and kiss him without tensing up or apologising so how...how had he now ended up sexually frustrated and with a raging hard on?

He leant against his bedroom door and closed his eyes trying to find his way into his mind palace so he could calm his breathing and his heart rate but as soon as he closed his eyes the only thing he could see was Molly on her knees in front of him with her hand on the button of his trousers. Her hair was delightfully mussed up and her lips were red from kissing him and all he could think about was the fact that she had been considering taking his cock into her warm, pliant mouth and when she had changed her mind he had done nothing, NOTHING to stop her walking away.

The part of him that had Mycroft's voice tried to say that that was a good thing, that he didn't want to go further with Molly because that risked turning a lie into a reality but thinking that didn't stop him from pressing his hand against his still hard cock and bucking his hips upwards to create some friction.

He tried to remember the last time he had actually had to masturbate; he had become quite adept over the years at subverting his physical needs but he had never been able to completely eradicate them. It must have been a month or so ago though and now here he was with Molly in his head and his own cock in his hand needing to jack off. It was infuriating but that didn't make it any less necessary.

He threw himself onto the bed and quickly divested himself of his clothes and then with one arm over his eyes he let his other hand take hold of his erection. He cast around in his mind for images that would help him achieve his climax but all those old favourites that normally worked just left him cold. He kept coming back to that image of Molly on her knees.

In the end he bit his lip and just let his mind follow that pathway. He imagined what she might have done next, taking his cock out of his pants and holding it in her small grasp, sliding her hand up and down his shaft. As he thought...so he did, letting his hand mirror the actions in his mind.

He saw her lick her lips and swirl her tongue around the head of his penis and just the though of it made him pulse and he let out a low moan. As she took him into her mouth his hand quickened and tightened, relentlessly pumping up and down and he knew it wouldn't take much to push him over the edge. Other images crowded into his mind overlapping themselves. Molly deep throating him as he fucked her wet mouth, Molly touching herself and looking up at him as she did, Molly lying naked waiting for him to slide his hard cock into her, Molly...Molly...Molly...

He came calling out her name and feeling the hot splash of his come across his stomach and lubricating his hand as he gave a last few jerks of his hips. It was only as he started to descend from the natural high of his orgasm that the full implications of what he had done hit him.

And it was those implications that he was still thinking about and rolling over in his mind the following day. He knew he ought to call the whole thing off; to just avoid Barts and go to his aunt's house alone and suffer whatever indignities she had lined up for him, but damn him he couldn't seem to find enough energy or incentive to pick up the phone or do anything but keep going.

He was however saved from thinking about it further by the welcome appearance of a case. It eventually took him four days to solve and entailed himself and John traveling first to Gloucester and then up to Manchester chasing down the brutal murderer of three trusting pensioners who had made the fatal mistake of believing the lies of a killer. Lestrade had also been involved and so it had been a quiet few days for Molly in Barts. She hadn't even needed to help out with Rosie as John's sister had temporarily moved into his flat whilst he was away. The siblings had grown closer over the last few months and Molly knew that that was something John was grateful for.

For once she knew about the case having received a text from Sherlock himself informing her that he would be out of London and that he would be in touch on his return. She'd smiled happily when she'd read it liking the fact that she was being kept informed rather than one of the last in their group to know. She normally had to contact Mrs Hudson or Greg to see where they all were and what they were up to and she wondered if she could ask Sherlock to text her in future...just as a friend.

As she thought that word her mind immediately went back to THAT night. She had spent many, many hours at home and at work worrying about THAT night and how close she had actually come to giving Sherlock...Sherlock Holmes no less, a blow job. Even just the thought of it had her colouring up and feeling sick with nerves. The most bizarre thing was that she wasn't actually sure he would have stopped her. When she thought through what they had done she would have expected him to call a halt to things much, much earlier but he just hadn't. In the end it had been her realisation of what she was considering that had had her backing away.

She finally decided to discuss it with her friend Meena the night before Sherlock was due back. It would have been embarrassing had Meena not been so enthusiastic about the idea of her seducing Sherlock.

'Oh my God, you should have done it. Why on earth did you stop?'

'Because it was Sherlock and this thing between us isn't real and how would I have looked him in the face afterwards knowing what we had done?'

'Pfft, you would have got over that maybe by the second or third blow job.'

'Meena! And anyway I just don't understand why he didn't stop me himself.'

Meena just rolled her eyes. 'Really...you don't? You can't think of any reason?'

Molly's forehead wrinkled as she thought. 'No...no I can't.'

'How about maybe, just maybe, he wanted you to go down on him? Was he hard?'

'I...I don't know. I didn't...I'm sure he wouldn't have been.'

'Well I bet you anything he was. I bet he was gagging for it and you just left him high and dry.'

Meena chuckled and Molly shook her head in disbelief at her friend's glee as she took another drink of her wine.

'I bet he had to jack off...thinking of you...all alone...'

Now Molly knew Meena was joking and she joined in the laughter. 'I can see it now...maybe he had to close the door so Mrs Hudson didn't hear.'

'Haha...she might have walked in on him accidentally.' Meena did a fine imitation of an old lady. 'Sherlock, that's not nice, put it away.'

Molly thought her sides were aching she was laughing that hard.

When they finally calmed down Meena asked her what her plan was.

'I don't have one. I was going to see what Sherlock suggested.'

Meena shook her head and poured them both some more wine. 'No, no, no you need to go on the offensive. Invite him around to your flat tomorrow. You've already said he'll be back by then and you only have two more nights after today before your big trip away. Go on… get your phone out, we can text him now.'

Molly frowned. 'Are you sure...I mean, what should I say we'll do?'

'Umm...you need to practice some more. I don't know, just invite him for a drink and take it from there.'

Molly got her phone out, glad of the Dutch courage from the wine,

Hi, if you're back tomorrow do you fancy coming over to mine for a drink and a catch up about the weekend? Mx

She hesitated for a moment but then Meena made a grab for her phone and in the confusion she pressed send anyway.

'Oh, why did I do that? It's all your fault.'

'That's OK you can thank me by making me your maid of honour.' She gave Molly a smug smile and tilted her glass at her.

Molly scrunched up her nose. 'You're just after a new frock and some fancy shoes. Well, we both know that it will never come to that. I'm going to die alone surrounded by cats.'

They both giggled and stopped suddenly as just then there was a beep from Molly's phone and two pairs of eyes turned to look at it.

Molly picked it up. 'It's from Sherlock.'

'And?'

'He says.."sounds good, I'll be there at 8.00, how about take out...my treat". What do you think that means?'

'I think that means he wants his blow job!'

'Meena you really are incorrigible. There will be no blow jobs. I can at least be certain of that.'

'Can you?'

Meena's question and the appraising look on her face stayed with Molly long after she had left her flat and as work progressed the following day Molly found herself getting more and more nervous.

By the time Sherlock arrived at her flat carrying a bag of Chinese food her heart was ready to beat out of her chest and her stumbled greeting and his subsequent kiss on the cheek felt more than a little awkward.

He sighed and followed her through to the kitchen realising that they still had more work to do before Molly could act comfortably around him but he was so tired from the case; if he hadn't already made this arrangement he would have been asleep in his bed in Baker St.

As they sorted out the food Molly asked him how he'd known what to get her and he mildly berated her for not knowing him better and pointed to her kitchen cork board where she kept various appointment cards, phone numbers and the take out menus she used complete with her favourites underlined.

She shook her head and wondered how many other things he knew about her because of his use of her flat as a bolt hole. He rarely ever used it when she had been there and it felt strange that he might know so much about her without her realising it.

They sat on the settee together and Molly quizzed him about the weekend to come and what she might need to take. He confirmed that Mycroft had booked them a car and that he would collect her at 3.00 for the two hour journey down to Chilworth in Hampshire.

She then asked him about the recent case, knowing how much he liked an audience to his victories, letting his sublime, baritone voice wash over her as she ate. She couldn't help but notice just how exhausted he was though and she asked him how much sleep he had had.

'Not enough, a couple of hours each night. You know I don't like to indulge when I have a case.'

Molly shook her head in exasperation. 'Sleep is not an indulgence Sherlock. Maybe you should go home and get some rest.'

'No,' his answer was quicker and sharper than either of them had expected. 'No,' he repeated a little softer. 'I'm here now and we still need to get more comfortable around each other.'

Molly chewed on her lip for a moment and then put her empty plate down on the small coffee table. She rearranged her cushions behind her and half lay down before patting her chest.

Sherlock just looked confused.

'Come on, lie down. I'll put some telly on and you can just doze if you want. I've done this before, you know with...um...boyfriends, it'll be relaxing I promise.'

How did you like the aftermath of that night? And what do you think will happen now that they're going to be cuddled up together on a couch? Let me know and I promise I won't make you wait as long for the next chapter xx