Hey! Thanks for not giving up on me after my long break. It's been one of those months...

My continued thanks to all my beta's and cheerleaders. Love to you all. Guest who liked the shower scene: there is a bathtub scene later that you might enjoy ; ) No real warnings other than 'self-gratification'. Those of you familiar with the song for this chapter won't be all that surprised!

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~


Chapter 11 - Thinking About You (Radiohead)

Standing in front of the settee, Sherlock stared at the evidence pinned to the wall in front of him.

Jason Evans, university dropout with a liking for cocaine and weed, had studied chemistry at Queen Mary. He had left the year prior and started tending bar at a pub in Camden. The pub hadn't seen him in almost a week; he'd missed three shifts. The flatmates had last spoken with him the day before, but had nothing of value to offer.

The flatmates did owe a drug dealer, but that didn't mean it caused their mate's death. 'Jam' knew the kids, but hadn't sold them the PCP. He had, however, directed them to a dealer named 'Chase' and had heard that money was owed. Sherlock had found Chase not twenty minutes later, but within seconds of meeting him, he knew the kid hadn't done it either; the money owed was nominal and though a dealer, Chase was no murderer.

Upon returning to 221B, Sherlock had sent all his information to Lestrade. The flatmates would have to be brought in for formal questioning, as per protocol. He kept the dealer's name out of it for the time being. The DI had sent back a rather rude message informing Sherlock that 4.37 in the morning was an unacceptable time for communication (though his message contained more swear words) and that he would be unavailable until noon the next day due to a meeting with his superiors.

If only the world moved according to my whims, he thought petulantly and flopped down on the settee.

During the three years he'd been away, Sherlock hadn't had to wait on procedures and such. There was a fair amount of waiting involved, but that was by design and at his own discretion. There had been no 'following the rules', so to speak. He had to admit, he missed that part. Working outside the parameters of the law had been exhilarating and freeing. It had taken quite some time to readjust to the norms of his former life.

Somehow, once he did, he felt even more comfortable than before.

Perhaps because as much as he had enjoyed the freedom, the loneliness had been crippling. Having Molly around all the time felt like a soothing balm since his return. Even before he had engaged her in sexual play, her mere presence in the flat was reassuring.

But, he had to admit, getting to touch her and be touched by her was even more pleasurable than he had imagined. And he had imagined.

His mind drifted back to their shower and what he had planned to do to her once they got to the bedroom. Though he had spanked her and teased her, he'd not simply used her… yet. His plan was to test her limits and see how she felt about adding more humiliation to their playtime.

An image suddenly appeared in his mind of Molly on her knees, hands bound behind her back. She was looking up at him with pleading eyes, begging him for his cock.

Then he gave it to her.

Sherlock groaned and adjusted his hardening prick.

Returning to the image in his mind, he watched as Molly's mouth engulfed him, taking him deep. He fisted her hair and roughly fucked her mouth as she moaned, her eyes watering when his cockhead hit the back of her throat.

He pulled out, watching a string of spittle connect his member and her mouth. "Who do you belong to, wife?" he asked, gently massaging her abused jaw.

"You, Sherlock. I'm yours," she said, gasping for breaths.

"And what do you want?"

"Come down my throat, husband! I want to taste you!"

Sherlock sat up with a shiver. He hastily shucked his suit jacket as he practically ran to his room. Within seconds he was on his back once again, this time with his trousers and pants shoved past his hips, his cock in his hand as he closed his eyes and envisioned Molly swallowing him down again and again. Suddenly, her hands were free, one buried between her legs, the other teasing his bollocks. Oh, how his wife could multitask.

He collected the moisture from his tip, spreading it down his dick and tugged on his balls to mimic the image in his mind. Fuck, it felt good but not as good as the real thing. Knowing just how Molly's mouth felt on his cock helped him create a realistic fantasy. Hot. Wet. And that tongue! Had it really been less than a day ago that she had sucked his dick? He pumped and moaned imagining her lips stretching around his shaft. His hips rose off the mattress as he worked himself towards completion.

"That's it, Molly. Fuck yourself for me!" he instructed. She rubbed even harder as tears poured out of her pretty eyes. "Come, wife!" And she did, growling around his shaft as she rode her hand.

Sherlock came at that moment, alone, on his bed, shooting his issue onto his shirt that he'd forgotten to remove in his frantic masturbatory rush. He pumped through his orgasm, groaning Molly's name and praising her for a job well done.

"Fuck!" What was going on with him? He had orgasmed just hours before. Why was he suddenly so horny that he needed to toss off in the wee morning hours to fantasies of his wife while she slept just over his head? He was in the middle of a case, for God's sake!

Standing, he unbuttoned his oxford and threw it into the corner of the room, then checked the time. Nearly seven-thirty. Wonder what time Mills comes in today? He grabbed a clean shirt and fixed his trousers, then strode out of his room.

Walking into the kitchen to wash his hands and acquire coffee, he nearly ran into his wide-eyed wife.


Toby woke Molly at the unGodly time of 7.23. He had been doing this since Sherlock's 'people' had found him. The cat hadn't been an early riser before, but she didn't mind. If he was hungry she'd gladly get up and feed his grumpy arse.

She noticed Sherlock's coat on the settee as she walked through the front room. She also noticed about a half-dozen pieces of paper tacked to the wall. Shrugging, she followed her cat into the kitchen and freshened his water dish. Then she heard it...

A moan. Or was it a groan?

Stepping into the hall, she listened for it, straining to hear it again. Was Sherlock hurt? Two more steps and…

"That's it, Molly. Fuck yourself for me!"

Molly froze, feeling her face flush. Jesus! She carefully took a step backward.

"Come, wife!"

Two more steps.

"Oh, God! Molly! Perfect! So good! You're such a good fucking girl! Fuck!"

Three more steps and she was, thankfully, in the kitchen. She stood, trying to decide what to do. Should she try to get back to her room? Surely he'd hear her now that he wasn't… erm, distracted. Unless… Maybe he'd done it on purpose? That could have been intentional. Payback for her cheek in the shower. Yes, that made sense. But… he was well on his way to a, ah, finish when she had gotten downstairs. Unless that was all... fake?

She was still trying to figure it out when he walked into the room. The shocked look on his face answered at least one of her questions.

"Molly…" he said, his cheeks colouring the slightest bit pink.

"'Morning," she replied as she turned and filled the kettle. Be casual, she told herself. Act like nothing strange just happened. "How goes the case?" She opened a can of food for Toby, thankful that the task kept her back to Sherlock.

"Ah, stalled at the moment. The pathologist is dragging his feet and Grayson is in meetings all morning."

Good, it was working. "I believe you mean Greg, Sherlock." Rising up on her tiptoes, she reached for two mugs. "Lestrade's first name is Greg. Always has been."

"Immaterial."

Molly snorted. "I'm sure he'd disagree."

"The point is, that I'm stymied and I hate Mills!"

Excellent! His hatred for the other pathologist was just the distraction they needed. "Really? After all these years?" she replied sarcastically as she continued to prepare the tea. "Would have thought you'd gotten over that."

"He's incompetent…"

"Still?"

"And rude!"

"Do tell..."

"He also has poor hygiene and the beady-eyed look of a habitual peeping Tom."

Sherlock had complained about him for months when they had first started working together, Molly just listened, fascinated by the beautiful genius. So glad that infatuation is over, she thought as she finished their tea. "Here." She handed him his mug. "So peeping Toms have a look?"

"Yes, Molly, they look like Mills," he said before blowing gently into his beverage to cool it. "What are your plans for the day?"

Small talk, Sherlock? Must really be uncomfortable about being caught with your hands in your pants! Adding that to his list of 'tells', she sighed and left the kitchen; he followed.

This time of the morning, Molly would normally be getting ready for work. Her job had been the most important thing in her life since her father had died. Her friends mattered, of course, relationships were great, but only once had she put a person above her career. And look where that got you.

Not willing to let her discomfort show, she put on a fake smile and said, "I thought I'd work on my original screenplay about a plucky pathologist and her charming, genius friend who keeps getting her mixed up into his crazy schemes," she said as she sat in John's chair. "You?"

Sherlock studied her for a moment and she knew that he saw right through her facade. Thankfully, instead of calling her out, he smiled at her. "Charming, huh?"

"A little. He has a certain…" She looked up and pretended to think. "... Je ne sais quoi."

He chuckled in response.

God help her! Were they flirting? Well, this is better than wondering if I'll ever see another dead body again. Oh, that's a strange thought.

Then again, maybe they were avoiding the other elephant in the room. Her eyes drifted to Sherlock's lap. He sat with his legs splayed wide, completely opened, relaxed. It was very nearly indecent! And great! Now she was thinking about listening to him wank whilst shouting out her name again. Shit! She could feel her cheeks heating. Which was odd, if she thought about it, considering the fact that he had come all over her arse the night before. Really, though, how was it that she was able to still blush around the man at all at this poi...

"Molly…"

"Yes?!"

"You drifted off there. Where were you?"

"Thinking?"

"Was that a question?" He smirked.

Bastard! "Ahhh…" She panicked for a moment before asking, "What are your plans? The case, I assume?"

"Yes. I have a few leads to follow up on. Unfortunately, Barts is off limits."

"Mills won't help if he know you're the one he's helping. As a matter of fact, he'd probably refuse to give you the results or make Mike double check all of his findings."

"Precisely."

"You really need to get this situation resolved as soon as possible, Sherlock," she said, taking a sip of her now cooled tea. "It's only been a day since my suspension; what will you do if it goes on and you're forced to deal with him?"

He shrugged - something he didn't often do - and said, "He and I will just have to reach some sort of ceasefire, I suppose. Either that or I strangle him with a drainage tube."

Molly laughed as he finished his tea but didn't discount it as a possibility. Shortly after, he got up and left to shower, change and get back to work.

Work. God, I already miss work, she thought as she watched him leave.

o0o0o0o0o

Her day passed slowly, almost painfully so. She cleaned the flat, played with Toby, polished her toenails (something she almost never did) and then had dinner with Mrs. Hudson. The older woman was good company but Molly could have done without the knowing looks and occasional 'I remember when Mr. Hudson and I were first married…' stories. It was obvious that she was aware of the sudden change in Molly and Sherlock's relationship and that made Molly a tiny bit uncomfortable. She wasn't ashamed per se, but it was private, and she did not have an exhibitionism kink (that she knew of).

After dinner, she went back upstairs to watch some telly. She had been away from her mobile for about an hour, so she grabbed it from the table next to Sherlock's chair where she had been working on her toes and checked her messages.

John's with your husband and I'm bored! - Mary ; )

I'm new to this, how long does it usually take? - Mary ; /

Okay, I don't mind sharing but he's been gone for two nights in a row and I'm going loony over here! - Mary : (

She really must have been going a little nuts if the emojis were any indication. Molly didn't even consider sending a text to the woman, instead hit the call button.

"Thank the Lord!" Mary said as she answered, sounding entirely American. Molly noticed that her friend's accent occasionally slipped now that her secret was out.

"Sorry, I was eating dinner with Mrs. H. You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little antsy. We still have a lot to talk about."

"How'd that go, by the way? I would have phoned earlier but I wasn't sure if it was okay or…" she trailed off.

"Well, let's just say I don't have to be jealous of you and all the sex you're having anymore," Mary answered proudly.

"I'm very happy for you, but I've told you that Sherlock and I haven't…"

"Sorry, kinky not-sex," Mary interrupted.

Molly didn't have a valid argument, so she kept her mouth shut.

"Listen," Mary said. "If this case goes on tomorrow night, you want to come over?"

"Of course."

"Great. I'll make pasta primavera!"

"No you won't, you can't cook."

"Nothing gets past you, Hooper. I'll order pizza."

Molly giggled. "Night, Mary!" she said before ringing off.

o0o0o0o0o

The sound of her mobile woke her at 2.08am.

"Yeah, what?" she said, as she answered it.

"Molly, it's Greg. We need you at Royal London. Sherlock's been shot." She must have gasped, considering his next words. "He's fine. Bitchin' and moaning up a storm but you gotta get down here, yeah?"

"'Course. Ah, I need…"

"I'm sending a car, Molls. It's on its way."


Oh no! Sherlock's hurt...shocking, I know. He never gets into trouble, now does he? My next update should be pretty quick but I cannot stress how much I'd love to hear from y'all! Thanks for reading. ~Lil~