Thank you all for your continued support. I'm so glad that you're enjoying the fic so far. Remember my thanks and warnings, please.
I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~
Now, how 'bout we check on the fall-out from Molly Holmes' First Spanking?
Chapter 3 - Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go (Wham!)
Molly occasionally missed her old flat. She missed the small balcony where she would often drink her first cup of coffee. She missed her neighbor Mrs. McMasters who kept her supplied with homemade biscuits. But she didn't miss her old bathroom, with its shower instead of a tub, wobbly toilet and what she suspected was black mold (later confirmed with a few lab tests, though nothing would get rid of it). Sherlock's bathroom was superior in every possible way. It was large and well fitted with modern fixtures. But the best feature was the enormous tub. Molly wanted to live in it.
When she woke the next morning she found herself naked, a little sore and a lot confused, lying in Sherlock's bed. The first thing she did, after getting up, was pour herself the hottest bath she could stand and have a much-needed soak.
It didn't take long for her to do a little math and realise that Sherlock had not only spanked and fingered her (putting a pin in that) but the bastard had drugged her as well! She had slept for nearly eleven hours. There was no way she'd become so relaxed after their… activities... that she'd been rendered comatose. It had been a while since she'd had sex (and even longer since she'd had good sex) but that didn't account for the length and way she had slept.
Impressive orgasm or not, she was going to flay him when she next saw him (right after she got over the embarrassment of coming on his hand like a freight train!). Knowing how hard he'd been working, Molly assumed she had some time before she'd have to face him. By then she planned on being properly over the spanking and have moved on to explaining, forcefully if need be, about the importance of boundaries especially where 'drugging people to sleep against their will' was concerned.
As she stepped out of the tub she realised that she had brought no clothes into the room. With a sigh, she donned Sherlock's burgundy dressing gown that she'd appropriated upon waking since her clothes were nowhere in sight.
The second she opened the bathroom door she knew he was there, even before stepping out of the room. A clank of china and the scooting of a chair across the lino told her that there was someone else in the flat. A feeling of foreboding told her it was her 'husband' and not their landlady.
How was she going to handle this? She needed more time to process… all of that... before having to deal with the man. Now he was here and...
Then he was in her face, or at least less than two feet from it. "Ah, I was considering sending in a search party," he said with a slight grin as he blocked her exit.
Molly said nothing, too shocked by his sudden appearance.
Stepping to the side he said, "I have a surprise for you."
"I'm not sure about anymore of your… surprises."
He just chuckled and walked into the kitchen; Molly reluctantly followed.
"Have a seat," he said, motioning to the completely clean table.
Molly stood there, looking down at the spotless piece of furniture. "When did you do this?"
Sherlock, busy pouring a cup of coffee, glanced over his shoulder. "Couldn't sleep."
Of course you couldn't, I was in your bed, she thought as she sat down. A cup of coffee appeared to her right and she peered at it cautiously.
"It's not drugged, Molly."
She simply couldn't resist the inviting aroma and took a drink. It was perfect. "I'm quite mad at you, you know."
"I am aware," he said very close to her left ear. "But will you do me a favour and close your eyes."
"No."
"Molly…" Placing both his hands on her shoulders and squeezing lightly, he continued, "You've got to learn to trust me."
She pretended not to be affected by his slow ministrations on her tense muscles. "I might if you didn't do things like slip me unknown drugs."
"That was completely herbal… well, almost completely." The mirth in his voice was unmistakable.
"If you think this is funny…"
"Close your eyes, wife. I have something to give you!"
Is it another mind-numbing orgasm? she thought, as her eyelids fell shut. And what's with the 'wife' thing all of a sudden?
"Good girl," he praised with a final squeeze before releasing her.
Molly waited, eyes closed, feeling a little ridiculous and a tiny bit excited about what he had in store for her. It was madness! She should be thrashing him for what he did, not playing his little games.
"Okay, open up."
Molly opened her eyes and looked down to see what Sherlock was holding under her nose. "Oh, sweet Lord. Is that..?"
"It is."
"How'd you know?"
"I overheard you talking about them with Mrs. Hudson the other day. Only took me twenty minutes to locate a bakery that made them," he explained as he sat the plate in front of her and handed her a fork.
Molly took it from him, her eyes never straying from the food in front of her. "That was… nice of you."
Sherlock was no longer by her side, she heard him behind her preparing another cup of coffee. She cut into the luscious looking confection then brought the bite to her mouth. Stopping the moan that came out of her would have been nigh-on impossible.
A deep, lusty chuckle came from Sherlock as he sat down across from her. "I take it you like it?"
"It's warm," she observed.
"Indeed. Vernon at The Sweet Spot recommended that I warm it for you," he explained.
"So, is that where you've been all morning? Cronut hunting?" She took another bite.
"No." He paused, looking slightly uncomfortable. "I also spoke with John."
"Really?" she said hopefully.
"Well, when I say spoke…"
That's when she noticed his knuckles. "Oh my God, Sherlock! You punched him?" She reached across the table, grabbing his hand and examined it. No broken skin, just bruises. "That's not going to fix anything. Why? Why on Earth…?"
"I allowed him to punch me twice when I returned. That's all he gets," he growled. "Besides, after the way he spoke to you yesterday…"
Molly stood up, taking her plate (still very much full of cronut) and coffee cup to the counter, Sherlock followed right behind her. "I don't need defending!"
"He basically called you a weak, dimwitted, sycophant," he bit out as he poured his coffee down the drain. Obviously everyone's breakfast was ruined.
Whipping around, Molly squared on the detective. "I won't have you making this situation worse on my account!"
Sherlock stepped closer and braced his arms on the countertop, caging her in. "And why not? You are my wife. What's the point of all this if not to protect you, Molly?"
He had a dangerous look in his eyes and Molly knew it was pointless to argue. "Fine. But I won't thank you for giving your best friend a bloody nose for me. We're grown people, Sherlock, act like it."
"It's a black eye. I would have had to bend down to punch him the nose. And don't worry about me and John, that will fix itself. Eventually. His anger is misplaced. He'll have to deal with it at some point." He inched closer, bringing his hands to rest on her hips, reminding her just how naked she was under the gown. "As for you being grown." He nuzzled her neck. "I'm perfectly aware of just how grown you are, Mrs. Holmes."
Her body tensed instinctively. How did she lose control of the situation so fast? "Sherlock…"
"Hmmm?"
"What the hell's going on? We aren't… really married."
"We are actually. I was there. I remember it vividly."
"You know what I mean. Why are you…" God, it was hard to form coherent sentences when Sherlock was nipping at the skin of her shoulder. But she still couldn't relax, it had been so much easier last night. "This wasn't supposed to be real."
He pulled back, thankfully, and looked her in the eyes. Oh no…
"Molly," His voice sounded like melting chocolate,"did you or did you not enjoy yourself last night? Don't lie. I have the distinct memory of you coming apart on my hand."
"You arse." She folded her arms across her chest. "Of course I did!"
"Well then, what's the problem?"
Stupidest genius in the world! "The problem is, Sherlock, that you aren't interested in me like that and I'm over my feelings as well, so…"
Suddenly Molly was roughly pushed up against the counter, Sherlock's erection shoved into her stomach. "Does it seem like I'm not interested in you like that?"
She braced herself, her hands on his shoulders as he ground his hips into hers. "Fuck, Sherlock…"
He pulled back slightly, no longer dry humping her, but still in contact with her. "And I'm aware that you're over you little crush, but that doesn't mean that you don't still want me. There's a big difference in romantic interest and sexual attraction. I see this as an opportunity. An opportunity to explore each other. You cannot see other people until we resolve this, Molly. This way you won't have to give up sex to help insure your freedom and gainful employment."
She was quite impressed that the man could carry on such an intelligent conversation when so much of his blood supply had been diverted to his penis. "Sherlock," she said as she feebly pushed against his chest, barely moving him a couple of inches. No matter how tempting the offer, she needed to put a stop to this, now. "I really don't think this a good idea."
"Why not?"
Where do I start? "First off, this whole thing is complicated enough without adding sex to the equation, don't you think?"
"I don't agree; I think it's quite simple, actually."
"Did you sustain a head injury whilst dealing with Moriarty's network?" she asked incredulously.
He moved his hand to his hips, but didn't give up an inch of his position. "And people call me a drama queen."
Molly saw the opening and tried to take it as she casually moved to the left to get away from him. She made it as far as the end of the table and for a couple of seconds thought she was actually out of danger (the danger being letting Sherlock strip her of his dressing gown and have her on the countertop).
Then suddenly he was behind her, one arm around her middle. "Molly," he whispered into her ear. "Why are you fighting this so hard?"
That was an excellent question. Taking a deep breath she tried to relax, then she tried to imagine letting herself just enjoy meaningless sex with… Sherlock Holmes... NO! "Tell me why you want it so damn much."
He didn't speak for several seconds, just held her back against his chest. "I told you that day in your office, wife, I know the real reason you and Tom broke up."
Molly gasped. Bloody hell, it all made sense now in some strange, perverted way. "How in fuck's name could you possibly know that?"
"Tsk, tsk. Such language. Might have to bend you over my knee again. Though in your case it's not much of a punishment, is it?" He moved a piece of damp hair away from her neck. "If I let go will you sit and talk to me like the grown-up woman that you claim to be?"
She bristled at his tone but nodded nevertheless. When Sherlock let go of her, she started to pull out a chair, but he stopped her.
"The table, Molly. If you don't mind," he said.
"What do you mean? Sit on the table?"
"Please." He nodded.
Molly thought for a moment. She was wearing naught but a silk dressing gown and this idiot wanted her to sit on top of his kitchen table. "Why?" she asked.
"Christ, you never used to ask this many questions," he grumbled, losing his cool for the first time. "Because I asked it, isn't that enough?"
Molly squared on him, putting her hands on her hips, completely ready to give the git a piece of her mind when she saw it: he looked vulnerable for a split second before the mask of indifference once again was in place. What the hell happened to you? she wondered as she turned and started to hoist herself up. Suddenly Sherlock's hands were on her hips and she let out a graceless yelp as he positioned her, evidently, where he wanted her.
"There. Was that so hard?" he asked as he ran a hand through his hair, then paced away mumbling, "No wonder Tom couldn't manage…" the rest was inaudible.
"What was that?" she demanded.
He whirled to face her. "I said: no wonder Tom couldn't manage to dominate you!" He paused. "Good God, Molly, I know you're worried about… everything, but I'm trying to help you the only way I know how!"
She stared at the man, mouth agape, trying to process what he just said as ice seemed to suddenly flow through her veins. "You mean this is some sort of… of a pity… spank?" she sputtered.
"A what?" His face was screwed up in a nearly unattractive expression. He threw his hands in the air and started to turn around, but didn't. "This is why I can't deal with relationships! Sex? Sex I can do. But this? This is madness!"
"Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, Sherlock? You show up out of nowhere, offering to marry me and save me from certain doom…"
"You mock, but there's doom, Molly. Trust me."
"We barely speak for weeks and then all of… this!" She waved her hands in the air, unaware of how her gown gaped open at the gesture. "None of it makes a damn bit of sense."
Sherlock closed the distance and loomed over her, somehow, since they were just about the same height with her position on the tabletop. "Did it never occur to you that perhaps I simply wanted to enjoy the benefits of our union and perhaps I've been trying to give you something that you lacked in your last relationship?" His voice was suddenly dripping with sexuality. He slowly untied the dressing gown and Molly couldn't find a good reason to stop him. "Passion. Excitement. The unknown." He threw it open. "An honest to God orgasm?"
A whimper escaped Molly's lips, completely against her will. "You don't find me attractive," she said through gritted teeth, trying to fight the arousal in her body.
He took her hand and placed it on his erection. "What do you make of this, then?"
She never took her eyes off his. "Involuntary response."
Chuckling, he said, "I've misjudged you, Molly. I really didn't think you'd be this stubborn." He trailed a finger across her clavicle, between her breasts and all the way down her stomach. When he reached the damp curls at the apex of her thighs, he stopped. "This isn't over, but you might want to cover up."
"Why?" she asked breathlessly.
"Because…"
Just then there was a knock on the door of the flat, followed by Mrs. Hudson's trademark 'Yoohoo' and Molly scrambled to cover herself. Difficult to do since Sherlock hadn't moved an inch.
"Sherlock, your brother's here. Oh!" the older woman gasped, covering her eyes, as she walked into the kitchen to find Molly and Sherlock in what must have appeared… well, there was no denying how it looked.
"Ah, enjoying married life I see, little brother," Mycroft commented, though he was careful to avoid looking at his scantily clad sister-in-law.
Molly jumped down and turned her back on the pair as she tied her gown.
"Thank you for safely delivering Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson. Those stairs can be difficult for a man of his stature," Sherlock said to his landlady.
Trying to maintain her dignity, Molly clutched the dressing gown closed and held her head high. "Mr. Holmes, Mrs. Hudson, if you'll excuse me…" She moved past Sherlock and the older man and woman without so much as looking at either of them.
Just before she got to the stairs she heard Sherlock say, "Do consider what we discussed, dear," from behind her. She didn't even pause, just kept walking.
If you've never had a cronut, you must. You simply must! It's like a sweet, flaky little piece of heaven. I know we've only seen things from Molly's POV, but that will soon change. Chapter 4 is ready to go and I'll post it in a day or so. Please keep the reviews and comments coming. They absolutely inspire me. Thanks so much ~Lil~
