Chapter 16

As dawn broke the next morning, Sherlock was wide awake and deep in thought, while Molly lay fast asleep in his arms, her head resting on his chest. He'd lifted her into his arms when he'd first woken up, wanting, yet again, to feel her naked body on his. Although he was still disappointed about their forced change of plans, he was determined to sort this Moriarty parental issue out so they could finally take their ever elusive break. She didn't really seem to care too much though, once she was with him. He gazed at her as she slept on and smiled softly as she nestled into him in her sleep. Their emotional connection was strengthening by the day, he thought, spilling over into their physical relationship, and increasing the intensity of those couplings.

They'd both been almost insatiable last night, bringing each other ever higher, and teasingly whispering and caressing each other between bouts. He found those intimate moments with her, the softly spoken confidences, the little revelations shared as he held her in his arms' or she hugged him to her breast, every bit as satisfying as the sex between them was. He'd been a loner for most of his life, he'd thought that was predestined for him and was fine with it. Then he'd met John Watson, and made his first true friend, and now he had Molly, (he raised his eyes to heaven at his sentimental thoughts), and she was his one true love.

He smiled at the memory of the night before. Molly Hooper had the ability to seduce him with one look from her bold brown eyes. Last night she had been quite deliberate in her seduction, and he had gone from livid, to completely turned on, in seconds. She was getting bolder, and more self confident, with each passing day and he delighted in it, and in her.

She challenged him and understood him, and she had an almost unique ability to calm him, or arouse him, sometimes with just the slightest of touch or eye contact. He knew he had the same effect on her. He was completely besotted with her, and she with him. He fully comprehended it, he thought, how people could kill or die for love. He'd understood the concept before, but not the emotion. He sure as hell did now though.

He was satisfied that Molly was completely with him on this case. It was extraordinary, he thought, how quickly she adapted to changed circumstances. Whenever possible, he decided, they would work the case together. That way, they could still spend time together and he could keep an eye on her too. The best case scenario was that the real Jim Moriarty Snr was dead, and had been for decades. Alternatively, he'd simply abandoned his wife and children and started a new life elsewhere. Either way, he wanted answers, and as soon as possible.

Reasonably, it would be a few more hours before he would hear from Aoife and Mycroft. He felt a little guilty about his brother and his new partner. They'd also taken a long awaited week off together and then this had kicked off, upsetting their plans too. It was unfortunate, but Aoife particularly, was going to be vital to this investigation because both herself and Michael were privy to information that he just couldn't access. Well, he could, but it would take longer and probably cause an international incident if he did, bringing the wrath of Mycroft, the Prime Minister and the Irish Taoiseach on his head and frankly, he could do without it. He smirked to himself. 'Best not', he decided, but he had a few ideas he wanted to bounce off his Irish friends, and as soon as possible. He had taken on board what Michael had said about the computerisation of criminal records but something had been bothering him since he mentioned it.

His phone vibrated on the locker beside his bed and he frowned. It was Mycroft, but it was hours earlier then he expected. Reaching across to answer, he whispered, "hang on Mycroft" and gently slid Molly out of his arms and drew the duvet over her. Grabbing his dressing gown off the chaise longue, he slipped it on and moved out onto the landing, closing the door behind him. "Sorry, go ahead, what's wrong?"

"We're on our way there now Sherlock." Sherlock sucked in a breath. It was seven in the morning, whatever had happened, it wasn't good.

"Tell me..."

"The Moriarty uncle in Virginia was just found dead by the night nurse. He's been smothered." Sherlock thought rapidly.

"Dementia or not, someone was afraid of what he might say. Did the psychiatrist have a chance to interview him?"

"Yes, she'd just left a half hour before his body was discovered. She taped the session and is sending it to the FBI as we speak."

"We need that Mycroft!" Mycroft sighed in irritation.

"I'm aware of that, Sherlock. This is just breaking. I should have it by the time we touch down in Dublin."

"You're coming straight here?"

"That's the plan."

Sherlock paused and then laughed ruefully.

"What?" asked Mycroft.

"Well, I'm just thinking, can nobody in that cursed family have a natural death?" Mycroft spluttered out a laugh.

"It appears not. I'll see you in a couple of hours Sherlock."

Sherlock thanked him and hung up the phone. Remembering the night before, he went down to the kitchen to gather up their clothes. He retrieved them and depositing them on a chair, he made a pot of tea. He stood for a long while watching the sun rise over the grounds of Aoife's beautiful gardens and then texted her head of security to inform him of their imminent arrival. He decided to rebuild the fire in the living room too. They were going to have guests. When he was finished he poured out fresh tea for both of them and, their clothes tucked under his arm, he went back up to Molly.

She was still sleeping, murmuring something crossly in her sleep and it made him smile. He put their clothes down, and the tea down on his locker and, shucking off his dressing gown, he climbed back into their bed and gathered her back into his arms. He sighed contentedly. Minutes later he felt her stirring and then gentle kisses landing on his chest. He ran a hand through her hair and laughed as she yawned and stretched. She lay back on her own pillow and smiled at him in response, running her hand across his cheekbone.

"Hello you." He smiled and kissed at her hand.

"Good morning sleepyhead. I've been awake ages!" Molly looked at him in amusement. He sounded like a little boy sometimes and it was totally endearing.

"Did you get any sleep?" she asked him and he grinned roguishly at her.

"Oh I did Molly, you quite wore me out last night. I needed to recuperate." Molly snorted with laughter.

"I wore you out? That's not quite how I recall it!" He smirked at her and then said, rather proudly,

"I made you tea."

Yep, she thought, he's turned into a four year old.." She sat up fully, allowing the duvet to drop.

"Oh, you did? Wonderful. Is that it there?"

She leaned over his chest, quite deliberately, and her breasts brushed off his chest as she stretched over towards his bedside locker to retrieve it. Sherlock stared at her for a second and then, grasping her reaching hand in his, he spun her around and under him, nudging her knees apart with his other hand. Then one large hand clasped her breast and he lowered his mouth to the other, hovering over the nipple as he looked up at her with those magnetic eyes of his.

"You, Molly Hooper, are a very naughty woman." He dipped his head and took her breast into his mouth running his tongue over the nipple. Molly laughed and tried to ignore the warm tingles shooting through her. She wrapped her limbs around him, clasping him tighter to him as she protested weakly.

"Sherlock, we can't. I have to brush my teeth!" He chuckled heartily at her.

"She says, as she traps me between her legs...", he teased, as he continued to nuzzle at her. Molly laughed in response as she ran her fingers through his curls.

"I confess, I may be sending out mixed messages..." making him laugh again.

"So which is it to be then? Me or your toothbrush?" She ran a hand down his back as she considered the question.

"You know, I'm going to let my body decide."

"Oh good!" he chuckled, and continued his ministrations. She giggled and wriggled out from under him.

"Body wins.. I need the loo." He lay back with his hands behind his head and watched her as she threw on his dressing gown and went to the bathroom. She turned at the door and smiled back at him.

"I love waking up with you, just so you know." He looked lovingly at her.

"Ditto, Dr Hooper." She threw him her megawatt beaming smile and went into the bathroom. A few minutes later she stuck her head out of the door, toothbrush in hand and asked him if he'd heard from Mycroft. He winced and she frowned at him.

"What? You have, haven't you? Hang on..." She finished up quickly, and grabbing her tea, she clambered back into bed with him.

"Tell me? He sighed and grimaced at her.

"Mycroft and Aoife are on their way here now. They'll be here within the hour, I expect." She nodded at him.

"Ok. Why?" He filled her in on the murder in Virginia and she took it in and thought about it. Then she shook her head in confusion.

"It's weird though. Why now? Why not after you visited him?" He thought about it.

"That's a good question, although It's under a week since I did see him so it rather depends on where the murderer normally resides now, doesn't it? Well done Molly, I hadn't thought of that."

Finishing his tea, he leapt out of bed and headed, buck naked, to the bathroom. He turned at the door, bold faced and eyebrow up and beckoned her to him.

"Well come on then, shower." He winked at her. "It's your last chance to scream my name before our visitors arrive." Molly spluttered out a laugh, but as he grinned and went through the door she gulped down her tea. Then she slid out of bed and went after him.