Hey this chapter gets a bit steamy... Nothing explicit just a general warning.

Days. DAYS it took to Hoover, lift, dab, extricate and clean up the glittery shimmering pestilence that had infected Baker Street thanks to his glitter bomb. At times he was irate about it; at other times he found the process oddly soothing. It was after all a puzzle in a way. A challenge. One he would conquer.

Finally when it was complete Sherlock sent a text to Molly reading simply 'come'. To which she responded with the most irritating text message known to man 'k'. It was infuriating. Even more irritating was that fact that she wasn't coming. He knew she was off of work and yet after the usual time it would have taken her to come she hadn't. An hour passed. Then another, and still no Molly.

Just when he decided she wasn't coming as it was nearly 10 pm the sounds of her opening the door and her footfalls were heard gently treading the steps up the stairs. "You're ready for me, I presume?" She called up.

"Bit late for a visit isn't it Molly?" He called back as Molly appeared at the door. She was dressed in a knee length dress with sandals and a lightweight size-too-big military cut jacket on.

"Oh am I interrupting you? My apologies. Sorry if I'm late but well you see, I do have a life that doesn't revolve around you." Dinner with some friends; someone's birthday he deduced. And had consumed a fair bit of wine he deduced. Not enough to be drunk exactly but relaxed. Pouting a bit he spun from her to sit in his chair. She'd gone out knowing full well that be was he was waiting for her and that bothered him. It bothered him more than it would if it had been Lestrade or Watson to have done so (which they had before) and he wasn't all to sure as to why.

"Yes. I'm aware how little my presence is desired in your life these days." He whined. "I seem to be a bother more than anything."

"Hmmm." Molly didn't comment. She sat her bag and pulled her jacket down, and set it on top. "Bit stuffy in here, isn't it? How can you bare it dressed all like that?" She shook her hand in his direction indicating his suit complete with jacket.

"It's fine for me." He groused. Molly shrugged.

"So let's get on with the inspection, shall we?" Returning to her purse she pulled out her phone thrumming through it until she found just what she was looking for and giggled "oh I just love this picture of you!" She held the phone out to see one of the pictures that Geoff had taken of Sherlock glaring. "I even made it the background on my phone. Wanna see?"

"No." Sherlock gave the answer his most obvious pout.

"Oh. Okay." She didn't seem all that bothered, Sherlock noticed. A part of him began wondering what Molly was playing at, for she certainly was playing at something. "What are you doing, Molly?"

"Analysis Sherlock. I'm looking to see where you got bombed at based on Greg's pictures." She gave him a look that he himself was far too familiar with giving 'obviously'. "So you were right around here... When poof!" Looking over her shoulder she smiled, "oh I wish I could have seen it in person. Right. Anyways that makes here ground zero."

Kneeling she got down as close as she could to the floor, leaving her bottom up higher than any other point of her body. Sherlock didn't think it was an intentionally sensual pose, but the wine was going to her head a bit more than she was possibly aware of . And it didn't help that he found himself unable to look away from the flash of blue knickers that kept peeking out from her hem. "Well then, it's very, very clean under here. Sherlock, I must say I am mildly impressed! And you had absolutely no help?" Crawling back to a seated position shaking her hair out Molly looked around her shoulder again at him. Now he felt his eyes tracing the curve of her neck as she did so. His head nodded in answer to her question and her eyes went bright. "Good boy."

"Thank you?" Was all he was able to answer as he watched her rise again and peek around the cushions and under books on the side table in search of a glimmer. When she was satisfied she faced him once more. "Well Molly, did I pass muster?"

"You mean have I forgiven you and have you earned your treat?"

"Yes?" Why had he answered it as a question. Was he that unsure of her answer?

A strangely wicked smile took over her face. "Too soon to say, I'm afraid. Stand up and strip your shirt off."

Standing he moved to slide off his jacket before he realized just what he was doing. "What?"

"Oh you clearly heard me. So come on now; off with it!" She veritably grinned.

"I can't see how that would be at all necessary."

"It is," she insisted. "Because you were not wearing a shirt when you got bedazzled."

"I'm clean now I assure you. A dozen showers assured of it."

"Yes, but I want to see to be sure. So take off your shirt. Now if you please. As you said it is getting late."

They held one another's eyes, heads tilting, daring and challenging each other. "You're not going to just take my word for it, are you?"

"Nope." She smirked, popping her 'p' and narrowing her eyes. "So strip." At last a blush began to fill her cheeks at her own daring words. Although Sherlock could see that it wasn't simple embarrassment that had formed it but arousal. She's aroused. He studied each symptom she presented of the state she was in. Definitely aroused.

But then if he were to be honest with himself so was he. While he knew she was far from the timid woman she was assumed to be, seeing her so fully in charge was still highly stimulating. Particularly when she was currently standing in front of him, telling him what she wanted in no uncertain terms with her hands on her hips and her expression serious. That, Sherlock decided made the decision for him, he would obey her. Under his terms, however.

Slowly he slipped the jacket off his shoulders and turned to lay it gently on his chair back, where it would be sure to not get wrinkled. Next he held her eye and moved to his cuffs, removing the cuff links in a slow paced manner, loving the way her eyes watched each dexterous move he made before he sat them on the desk to his left. As he began to unbutton the shirt he stepped forward to her. "Wha- what are you doing?" Molly questioned as she realized he was nearly to her. It caused her to step back again and again, until her legs met with the back of the couch.

"You said you wanted to see." Sherlock crooned. "So I'm giving you a show."

"I... I didn't- I don't I mean that's what I meant." She fell back.

"So you're not liking what you see?" At this he pulled the tails of the shirt up on sliding the fine material soft as silk up across his hips and abdomen. Molly gulped and looked up at him as her lips softly fell open. Finally he slid the unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders and arms, tossing it a lot less skillfully into the chair. "Do I please you now?"

"No." She blurted out. "You've done a good job as well on the body. That fine glitter can absorb into the pores. Can't be too careful, you know?" She looked up his torso to his face, then a bit higher. "A- and you could still have some in your hair. Have you checked it well?"

"As well as I could. And the dozen showers thing. I'm fairly sure. I'm clean." Humming Molly just continued to look at the hair, "you want to check though for yourself don't you?

"Would you let me?" An actual question. One he took a moment to deliberate. Molly wanted to put her fingers in his hair; to search through the follicles for glitter, however he knew how much she had longed to have this particular experience since the moment they'd met. And now she had a chance, but still in her typical giving nature she was allowing him the make that call so it fell to him to make the choice. Did he want to let her? His hair was inordinately sensitive. Even having his trusted stylist work in it was at times overwhelming, and yet… Sherlock could not help but wonder how would it feel to have Molly's gentle and able fingers combing through his hair? Amazing, his mind supplied. Gulping, Sherlock pulled the coffee table over slightly, thrilling at the slight gasp Molly let out and dropped to his knees to move in front of her to present his head for her inspection.

When she made no movement to begin he looked up at her from his bowed position "is his how you wanted me?" The tone of his voice was low and heated. It made Molly inadvertently suckin her breath rather than expelling it. It seemed words failed her (a reaction he was quite delighted to have produced) but hen she lifted one hand to comb through his locks of hair. Now Sherlock found it was his own turn to give his own involuntary relation as a moan escaped his suddenly tight throat. Her pressure was just right to be pleasurable, but not painful as she stroked through his hair.

"Oh! Liked that, did you?" She's whisperd moving slightly and sent her fingers through the curls again. Sherlock sighed a most contented breath and Molly smiled in amusement. "Yes, you most certainly did. Another stroke and you may start purring loud as Toby does. Shall I?"

"But what about your search?"He challenged.

"It's still on going. And I plan to be most thorough indeed." Her fingers gave a gentle wiggle in between his curls and he felt a tingle shoot down both his arms. Curious sensation, that. "Continue then." He nearly begged. "I'm rather eager to see if I pass your test."

"Eye on the prize then?" Her laugh was low as well and then one hand became two intertwining among his locks.

"To be honest I can't think of anything I'd want more than this at the moment." If one hand had been bliss, two was giving the sensation of nearing an out of body experience.

"Oh Sherlock, the things I could do to you would make this pale in comparison" Molly sighed. "If only..."

If only what he couldn't help but wonder. If he wasn't him? If he hadn't hurt her if he wasn't such an ass, "what?" He asked. .

"If only, I hadn't found this." Pulling one finger out of the back side of his hair she brought forth a glimmering teal fleck of glitter. "You failed, Sherlock."

Eyes wide, Sherlock leaned back and watched, waiting to see what her next move was. The minx swiftly stood and grabbed her bag and jacket. "Such a shame." She had made it through the door when he called out to her. "Wait! Please don't go. I'm sorry, you know I am. I was wrong to behave like I did at the lab, and I'm sorry that it was you that I hurt most by acting out the way I did. Please Molly, please."

Oh god. He'd actually gone and begged the woman. Twice. Somewhere is Australia Irene Adler was feeling victorious without quite knowing why she needed to do so.

Molly turned back to face him but kept herself deliberately outside of the flat. She leaned her head forward to rest it against the door frame, biting her lip and cocking her eyebrows as she looked at him. The sincerity read on his face and she smiled a ghost of a smile. He rose up and slowly walked towards her. A veritable vision from a fantasy with his shirt missing and his hair well tussled. When he got near enough he rested his head on the other side of the door way from her. "I was wrong to throw the sides. And you were right to have given me a taste of my own medicine. I'm sorry to that I failed your test. But what I need to know most is can you forgive me, Molly?"

"Of course I can. Do I though..."

"Molly."

"Oh alright. I'll forgive you. But next time I'll get you even harder Mr. Holmes. Understood?"

"Perfectly."

The two stayed lingering, hanging on the door frame smiling at one another softly. This felt good. It felt right, comfortable even in a way that it never quite had for them. As if this was the moment they had been waiting for, not just this night but since they had first met, or perhaps even longer than that. And it was only natural that they found themselves drawing closer until his lips reached hers and caressed the with his own, feeling her gentle answer in return. It was a soft moment but its impact was life shattering.

"Oh wow!" Molly smiled. "That's was pretty..."

"Nice? Good?" He asked shyly. Affection was usually something he performed as an act, with Molly though he had tried his hardest to be good for her.

"I was going to say fantastic." She playfully shoved at his arm. "You know, somehow I always pictured you kissing me for the first time as some impulsive reaction. I don't think I ever thought of it be at all slow or tender."

"Is that good or bad then that it happened like that?"

"Oh good. Good doesn't even cover it. It was splendid. In fact I'd quite like to do it again." Sliding her hand softly over his chest hairs she managed to coquettishly look up at him from blow her lashes.

"I agree." This time Sherlock brought his hands to her face and pulled her closer giving a more heated kiss until she clung to him. As he pulled her in he shoved the jacket and bag down to the floor freeing her other hand to slide over his back, scratching lightly and leaving his skin tingling in her fingers wake. It was an entirely different but equally pleasurable experience as her fingers in his hair had felt.

When his lips went to discover the feel of her skin Molly found the ability to speak, "I also never imagined you being shirtless either. Well at least not during a first kisses. I mean I have imagined you with your shirt off- but that came a bit later into it." Oh she was rambling and it was bad.

"Molly?"

"Yeah?" Her answer was half breathed and half moaned.

"Stop talking." Teeth were being used on her shoulder blades and Molly simply nodded before turning to capture his lips again.