Chapter 20

There was a knock on the door again, but still nobody was calling out 'room service.' Sherlock motioned to Molly to stay in the lounge section of their suite and approached the door cautiously. "Who's there?" he enquired loudly, standing against the wall.

"Mr Holmes? Might I have a quick word with you please"

"I said, who are you?" Sherlock demanded impatiently.

"Just a friendly messenger Sir, please can you let me in and call off the dogs?" Sherlock opened the door and saw a short, middle-aged man flanked on both sides by Mycroft's men.

"He's unarmed Sir," the agents confirmed. Sherlock nodded and beckoned the man into the room. He scanned him rapidly, and did not invite him to sit down. The man nodded to Molly.

"Howaya Dr Hooper, it's nice to see you in the whole of your health after that carry on recently." Sherlock sighed in irritation.

"Never mind all that, you have a message, you say? Tell me something, what possible message could Sinn Fein have for me? The man's eyes widened in shock and then he spluttered out an incredulous laugh.

"Jesus, you're every bit as good as they say you are!" He shifted uncomfortably and double checked that the door was closed before he continued.

"This is an entirely unofficial visit, Mr Holmes. Please be clear, I do not come here this afternoon on behalf of the Party like, but as a general courtesy to Aoife Quinn, and I suppose by default, to your brother, of whom we in the Party are well acquainted."

"Yes, I imagine you are. I am not my brother. 'Politics' bore me. What do you want?" The man smiled placating, holding his palms up to him.

"I come in peace Mr Holmes, to do you a favour." He nodded his head towards the seats and Sherlock sighed and over-emphasised an invitation for the man to sit down, and then sat beside Molly on the couch. The man, who clearly wasn't going to give his name, cleared his throat and continued. "Our friends in America have informed us that a certain individual, long of our acquaintance, killed his demented old brother in a nursing home stateside, big brave man that he is. They also tell us that this same charmer is gunning for you, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock tilted his head curiously at him and replied dryly, "that's so sweet of you, to be concerned for my welfare, but this is not news to me. Thank you and goodbye." He flicked his hand towards the door in a dismissive gesture. The man rolled his eyes and continued.

"Well, if you know so much, his current address is probably no good to you then?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed at him.

"And why would you give me that? No wait, let me tell you. You or your henchmen exiled 'Jim Moriarty the Elder' decades ago, letting him live on condition he didn't thread on your toes. He complied, until now. The brother he killed is one of your supporters, he's been funding you for years, but you cannot exact revenge for his murder yourselves, now that you're 'all legitimate', so," Sherlock paused to laugh incredulously, "you thought you'd send 'the British Government's' brother to do it for you? Sherlock clapped his hands with mirth. "That's brilliant! Oh, Mycroft's going to love this!" His phone, as if on cue, rang in his jacket pocket from the bed.

The man shook his head in denial. "We are not 'sending' you anywhere Mr Holmes. What you do, or where you go with this information, well, that is entirely up to you." He stood up and retrieved an envelope from his pocket. He placed it on the arm of the chair he was sitting in and nodding at both of them, he left the room. Molly looked Sherlock with raised eyebrows.

"He was a bit slimy, wasn't he?" making him laugh. "Yes, he was rather, wasn't he? I get that a lot." And she laughed in return. His phone rang again, just as there was another knock on the door. This time it was Room Service with their food. Molly let them in while Sherlock picked up the envelope, examining it in the light. The phone was relentless however so he answered it, greeting his outraged brother.

"What the hell did he want Sherlock?" Sherlock sighed and protested,

"You cannot blame me for that visit Mycroft. For God's sake, all I wanted is an uninterrupted afternoon with Molly!"

Mycroft cleared his throat and moderated his tone.

"Right, yes, ahem, how is Molly?" Sherlock threw back his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Tell Aoife she's fine; we're fine." He sighed deeply. "You can also tell her I did not break my promise. That man came here uninvited."

"I know that Sherlock, but for heaven's sake, what did he want?" Sherlock told him and Mycroft asked him for the address.

"I haven't had the chance to open the damn envelope Mycroft. Too many interruptions."

"Do it now, I'll wait." Sherlock sighed, and refused, to the exasperation of his brother. Sherlock mollified him by promising that he'd tell him when they all reconvened in the house and warning him that he didn't want the Americans tipped off. He was worried that they'd scare him off. Mycroft, reluctantly, agreed to wait, and told him Aoife and Michael had made progress and would be there to collect them in under an hour. Time was short, he warned him, as his flight to New York was leaving at 02.00.

"That better be first class Mycroft," and Mycroft answered with a laugh, leaving him none the wiser.

He sat at the table that Molly had set for them both and opened the envelope. There were three addresses on it; two in New York and one in West Kerry, in Ireland. Sherlock frowned in concentration. Molly watched him in amusement while they ate. He was eating, but she knew he was just going through the motions to humour her. He was miles away and she could almost see his great brain working in his head. She loved looking at him when he was figuring something out. He wasn't quite in his 'Mind Palace', but he was close. It was a very attractive sight; highly arousing actually, she thought.

She tidied their plates away on the food trolley and checked the time. She figured they had another half an hour before Aoife and Michael arrived to collect them. Molly stood up and went into their bathroom. She touched up her makeup, vamping it up slightly, and then pulled her dress over her head and lay it on the side of the bath. Examining herself in the long mirror, she straightened her stockings, then re-snapped the garter belt, which matched her black satin bra and pants.

She looked down nervously and decided to leave her high-heeled black leather boots on. If she was going to do this; she may as well go all out. Their afternoon doesn't have to be a total disaster, she reasoned, and Sherlock was going to be busy for the rest of the day and night, and then gone to the States for God knows how long? Deciding to be brazen and see this through, she brushed her hair out, took a deep breath and then strode boldly out of the bathroom.

Sherlock was still sitting at the table where she left him, hands steepled under his chin, and eyes unfocussed. Molly walked slowly towards him, hips swaying languidly, poured a glass of water and pouted her lips slightly as she sipped from it. She gazed at him boldly and smirked when she saw his lips twitch. Then, when he licked his lips and she knew she had him. She cocked a hip cheekily and drew her hand down to the garter belt, toying with it. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath and locked eyes on her and then deliberately ran his eyes up and down her body. He met her eyes again and smirked boldly at her. Desire flooded through Molly and she smiled back at him.

"You are completely stunning Molly," he murmured, and pushing back his chair, he held his hand out for her. Her eyes never left his as she approached him, stopping still between his legs. He sat forward in the wide dining chair and reached for her, taking her two hands in his and kissing them reverently. Then he ran his hands slowly across her stomach and around to caress her buttocks. Molly's pulse raced and her breathing accelerated, and he knew, and his mouth curled in satisfaction. He clasped her hips with strong hands, pulling her tightly in to press her against his groin, leaving her in no doubt as to the extent of his own arousal. He leaned forward to lick a bold stripe across her stomach and she groaned as she gripped his shoulders tightly.

He looked up at her, desire blazing in his silver blue eyes, and the sight of him took her breath away. A practised hand reached behind her back and flicked her bra open and removed it. He smiled at her and cupped her breasts in his large, sculpted hands. Pulling her closer to him, he kissed her breasts, nuzzling and tugging at her nipples and she groaned and ran her fingers to the back of his head. She ground her hips into his groin and then he was the one moaning.

"Christ, Molly!" he growled, as she reached her hand down, undid his trousers and gripping him firmly in her hand, she began to stroke him. He stalled her hand and ran his own under the waist band of her pants, deft fingers exploring and stroking her. He hissed with pleasure as he felt how ready she was for him. He gripped her buttocks firmly, as he kissed her low down on her stomach and then tugged her pants down her legs, and away. He slid to his knees then and stroked her thighs, kissing and licking his way up to her clitoris. It was too much for Molly, and she shuddered out her climax under his talented mouth.

Molly's legs buckled from under her and he smiled in satisfaction as he caught her. Lifting her up gently, he sat back down in the chair. She straddled his lap, flushed and panting and hugging his neck as he caressed her soothingly. Sherlock took her face in his hands and kissed her lovingly. "You are one magnificent woman Molly Hooper." She kissed him back deeply, licking his lips and exploring his mouth with her tongue and he groaned as he ran his hands all over her body.

Sherlock couldn't get enough of her, but opted to dilly dally around her garter belt, growling in approval at the garment. Molly reached down between them and gripped him again in her hand. She reared up, and placing him at her entrance, she eased down until she took all of him inside her, gasping as she adjusted to his girth. Sherlock hissed in a harsh breath and cupped her face in his hands, locking eyes with her as he began to thrust up into her. She clung on to his shoulders and met him, thrust for thrust, fast and furious, until they both climaxed together. She slumped down on his shoulder and hugged him hard as they came back down to earth slowly.

Sherlock's phone rang and they both began to laugh at the timing. He lifted her gently off him, handing her napkins from the table, and fixed himself up with a mischievous and very boyish grin. Ignoring his phone, he scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom. Depositing her gently down on her feet, he turned and gathered her clothes and brought them to her. Molly cleaned herself hastily and began to redress while Sherlock called Aoife back, telling her they'd be in the car park to meet them in a few minutes. Returning to her side, he washed his hands and then he turned her and gently tilted her chin up to look at her.

He scanned her face and then smiled tenderly at her. "I'll be back before you know it Molly."

"I know you will. I just…, well, maybe I wanted to remind you of what you're missing while you're away." He frowned at that and she sighed and shook her head. "No, that's not quite right." She sighed as she tried to clarify how she felt. She took one of his hands in hers and ran her thumbs over the back of his knuckles as she looked up at him earnestly.

"Since we've got together, circumstances have sent us hurtling forward at a breakneck pace, from danger to danger, country to country. It's separated us and tested us. Making love to you like that, it, well, it grounds me, grounds us." He pulled her into his chest and sighed as he held her there.

"Oh Molly. Don't you know? I am yours, completely yours, and no case can ever change that." She smiled happily and then looked up at him cheekily.

"Well, there may have been a smidgen of 'make up sex' thrown into the mix there too."

Sherlock threw back his head and laughed as he released her. He turned and gathered their coats and her bag briskly and led her out of the room. As he wrapped an arm around her in the lift down to the carpark he shook his head in mirth.

"There is no response to that that will not get me into trouble so I am not saying a word." Molly giggled and snuggled into him.

"See? You really are a genius!" and he swatted her playfully on the ass in response, making her squeal as the lift doors opened. Michael and Aoife were pulled up to the door and waiting for them. As they both climbed into the back seat, Michael raised a bold brow at Sherlock.

"Not a word, Irish!" Sherlock quipped and Michael snorted as he drove out into the busy Dublin traffic.