A/N: WARNING! SMUT AHEAD! Yes, loves I must have been in the mood for love today because this chapter has a very explicit scene. So if that's not your cup of tea, stop reading at the break...LOL. Hehe... I'm enjoying this. BTW- Thank you so much for the reviews! I promise that this story is going to be light and sexy. I should have just called the story "Summer of Love."

Gabriel was sitting on the patio overlooking the beach, blithely eating his third bowl of cereal and watching the waves. His hair was a tangled mess blowing about and his knit shorts were threadbare, but he didn't seem concerned as he sat in the fluffy chaise with his book. Unlike his father, he was a bit of a morning person and liked being awake before any of his loud siblings woke up. Besides, he was going for a run on the beach with John if the good doctor would ever get up.

"Gabriel, darling. Would you mind taking Cat for a walk?"

He looked up to see his mum stumbling into the lounge, still yawning and rubbing her eyes as the dog wound in and out between her ankles, getting tangled in her dressing gown. "Sure. Does she need to go now or can she wait to run with John and me?" Cat answered first with a whine. "I'll assume that means now," he chuckled. "Come on, Cat." The dog barked and went to sit obediently by the door while Gabriel found her leash. He considered going to get a teeshirt, but he didn't want to take too much time. He could already hear John moving around upstairs.

"Don't forget to clean up after her," Molly called as they started out the door and down the stairs to the beach below. Gabriel let Cat pull him a little ways down the beach before reaching down and letting her off the leash. Cat wasn't a young dog, but she splashed in the surf like a puppy. She'd run for a bit and then stop to look back and make sure she was never too far from Gabriel.

The beach in front of Ambergris was wide with soft, almost white sand. It wasn't isolated, but there were always a few people here and there. Gabriel liked it both ways. In the winter, he had grown to appreciate the desolate beauty. In the summer he enjoyed the bustling about. His father had told him that he must have inherited this love of the sea from his grandmother. Gabriel thought he'd liked to have met his grandmother. The more he learned about her, the more he liked her. He often found himself looking through the old pictures of her that adorned the walls at the cottage.

"Hey handsome! Is that your dog?"

Gabriel turned to see a blonde girl sprinting toward him. She wore a pair of shorts that ended in the middle of her thighs and an oversized long sleeved teeshirt. Her smile was infectious and Gabriel grinned as she approached. "Are you talking to me?"

"Of course," she said. Suddenly he was very aware that she was staring at him and while he could hear his father's scoffing in his head, his heart fluttered. "So is it?"

"Is it what?"

"Is that your dog?" She pointed to where Cat was nosing around a discarded can.

"Um… yeah."

"Oh. He's cute!"

"She."

"What?"

"Cat. My dog. She's a girl."

"Oh," the girl said, then giggled. Her cheeks flushed a pretty pink and she wrinkled her tiny, turned up nose when she laughed. It made Gabriel want to smile too. "Your dog's name is Cat?"

"Yeah. It's short for Catastrophe. My dad named her."

The girl laughed harder. "That's cute." She held out her hand. "My name's Jessica."

"Hi. I'm Gabriel." He took her hand, meaning to shake it but ending up just holding it in his palm. After a few seconds it seemed awkward and he dropped it abruptly.

"Well hello, Gabriel. Are you here for the summer?"

"Well, for a month. I'm here with my parents and my brothers and sister. Actually there's lots of us." He pointed at Ambergris a little ways down the beach. "That's our house."

"Oh okay. We're staying at the hotel. Just me and my mum." She stood there looking a bit awkward for a moment. Gabriel watched as she shifted from one foot to the other, staring down at the sand. It was an odd sort of dance and he wasn't sure he understood what was going on. "Well anyway, I'm just glad to see another kid here. It's been pretty boring so far. I've never been here before."

"There aren't many kids here. I'm from London, so most places are pretty quiet to me. But I like it."

"You're from London?"

"Yep. Lived there since I was five."

Jessica seemed impressed. Her round brown eyes were wide, like one of those dolls that Scarlett played with all the time. "Nice. I've never been to London. We're from a little town in Shropshire. Nothing ever happens there." Someone called out and Jessica turned. "Well, I guess I have to go now. But maybe I'll see you on the beach later?"

"Sure. I'll show you this place down the beach where most of the summer kids hang about. They have coffee and ice cream and wifi."

"Great!" Jessica exclaimed. She waved once more before running off.

OoOoOo

Molly carried two cups of tea carefully up the stairs. She avoided the squeaky third step and the other noisy planks as she made her way back to the bedroom. She didn't want the other children to wake up just yet. Mary and John could be heard talking in their bedroom, but there were nothing but snores coming from the girls' room where Scarlett, Izzy and Jada were still sleeping. The twins would be her biggest worry, but if the door was locked, they'd just go downstairs and watch telly. She spied the clock in the hall and noticed that it wasn't yet eight o' clock. Perfect.

Sherlock lay on his back with one arm thrown behind his head and the other across his stomach. A corner of the sheet covered one leg partially but the rest of him was gloriously naked. His face was turned away from her, accentuating his elegant throat and profile. He must have been dreaming because as she tiptoed across the room and set their teacups on the nightstand, she could see his eyelids twitch just a little and he made soft, unintelligible noises as if he were trying to talk to some unseen person.

With a tug of the knot at her waist, she opened her dressing gown and let it slip from her shoulders to puddle on the rug at her feet. Her long, auburn hair fell across her brow and into her eyes as she climbed into the bed beside him. She finally became frustrated with it and tied it in a quick knot at the back of her head. "Sherlock," she whispered, kissing the pulsing vein at the base of his throat. He responded only with another of those murmurs and waved his arm as if trying to swat away a fly. Never one to be discouraged, Molly traced his collarbone with her lips placing hot kisses along his skin. She paused at his nipple, rubbing the flat of her tongue against it until it prickled. She suckled it gently and then moved over to the other, climbing over his body until she was perched on her knees between his outstretched legs.

Molly smiled when he didn't stir. He was most definitely knackered. The last few weeks had finally caught up with him, but Molly was a clever girl. She could wake him properly. Leaning over, she brushed her cheek against the patch of soft hair that began just under his navel, marking the trail that led further down to the root of his cock. Already she could feel it stirring against her chest, sensing what she had in mind. She couldn't resist flickering her tongue around his navel, tasting the salty skin. He smelled divine, even after sleeping a long and humid night. Musky and masculine. It made the corners of her jaw ache as her mouth watered. She was hungry for him. Sherlock was the love of her life and nothing gave her greater pleasure than giving him pleasure, but this was more basic. Primal.

She sat up on her knees and looked down at him, just to be sure he was still asleep. It would be just like Sherlock to pretend, but even he couldn't disguise those telltale signs of sleep. He was drifting in the shallows now, in that vague expanse between waking and dreaming. Molly ran her palms over his chest and down his belly, feeling the flesh against her palms. The deep scar at his side where he'd been stabbed in Latvia stood out in harsh relief against the muscle. There were others. Other scars, other adventures. He'd told her most of the stories. Some of them with laughter, others with tearful resolve. There was one high on the inside of his thigh, bright white and jagged. Molly had stitched it herself when he'd shown up late on her doorstep one night during his "death." Before Gabriel. Before he loved her. She remembered that night so well. He wouldn't have stopped in at all if he hadn't been truly afraid he would bleed to death. His attacker had nearly nicked the artery and his leg was covered in blood by the time he got to her, soaked through the pair of dirty jeans he'd been wearing. Sometimes when she recalled the memory she could still smell the blood and it brought tears to her eyes. Every time she stared at him this way, she remembered that night. In order to get to the wound, he'd had to completely disrobe and Molly could still remember trying not to blush and keep her eyes on her work as she stitched him up. Up until that night she'd never seen a man's genitalia up close. It had always been some great and frightening mystery. Nice girls didn't peek. But he hadn't been the least bit shy about it and only lay there on her old couch smoking a cigarette while she attended to his wound. His voice didn't even hitch when the back of her hand brushed against his penis.

"You're so beautiful, Husband," she whispered before leaning in and taking him into her mouth.

Sherlock didn't wake at first. Which was perfect. It gave her time just to enjoy the taste of him. The softness of the thin sheath of skin against her lips. The sensation of his cock pulsing in her mouth as he came to life. These were the things Molly relished. The novelty of taking control just this once. Most times she was content to let him lead, but the excitement of having this power over him every once in a while—it made her drip with desire until she could feel herself daring to press her sex into the bed. Subtle delicious friction that would dissipate the growing heat in her womb.

In seconds he was fully erect and Molly could tell that he was awake now. His hips arched against her and the hand that had been resting against his belly was now in her hair tugging at the knot she'd made before. He didn't speak save for incoherent growls and moans. They only added to her enthusiasm, urging her to take him deeper. She wanted to reach down and touch herself, but denial could be delicious and she could wait. He shouted into the pillow as he came, his entire body shaking with tense release that had been a long time coming.

"Jesus," he said when he was able.

"Good morning," she giggled, wiping her mouth daintily with a tissue from the nighttable. "Happy vacation."

"Come here, Mouse," he snarled, beckoning her forward with his long and elegant fingers. She climbed into his arms, snuggling into his embrace, still warm from sleep. She had to hand it to Sherlock. He was very progressive, having no trouble whatsoever kissing her forcefully after their encounter. "Naughty mouse," he purred, drawing his fingertips down her side and along the back of her thigh.

"Mmm," she sighed against his ear. "Put those expert fingers to good use."