Chapter 23

Mycroft hesitated momentarily outside their bedroom door. He was feeling slightly nervous. Only this woman, he thought, could reduce him to this state. Well, he admitted to himself ruefully, Aoife, and his Mother. He set his jaw determinedly and entered the room. Aoife had her back to him and was looking out of the window into the garden. She hadn't turned around when he'd entered, which he considered an ominous sign.

"Can you close the door please Mycroft?" she asked, very politely. Shit, he thought resignedly, I'm goosed. He closed the door quietly and awaited her outburst. She turned around then and stood, tall and imposing, and he could see her eyes glinting at him from across the room. "Actually, could you lock it?" Mycroft narrowed his eyes apprehensively at her, but he did as she asked and turned the key in the door. He considered his options and decided bravado was his best approach, so he leaned nonchalantly against the door and folded his arms.

"Anything else, Aoife?" he drawled, and her lips curled up in a smirk in response. She began to move then, slowly approaching him from across the room. It was only as she neared him though, that he saw it. She had a glint in her eye alright, but it was for a very different reason than he had first envisaged. He stared at her in astonishment as she stopped, and pulling her jumper over her head, she tossed it on the floor. He watched her, completely transfixed, as her glossy amber hair tumbled down her back. Her boots were already off, and she opened her jeans and peeled them down and off her long athletic legs, never once breaking eye contact with him. He emitted an incredulous breath as she stood before him, utterly magnificent, in black silky underwear.

"Yes, there is something," she purred seductively at him, "can you guess what it is?"

Mycroft was, quite simply, gobsmacked. This was the very last thing he'd expected. He had misjudged her completely, because clearly, she'd been aroused by his assertiveness with her downstairs, and not annoyed at all. He recovered his equilibrium very quickly, and smirked boldly at her.

"Well, that wouldn't take a genius, so…" She came up to stand very close to him and then stopped, a knowing smile on her lips, and brazenly placed her hands on her hips, while he ran his eyes slowly and deliberately over her body.

"And yet I still managed to surprise you, Mycroft Holmes, genius or not," she retorted smugly. He laughed, then reached for her and pulled her hard against him, gripping the back of her head tightly with his hand, his fingers entangled in her hair, as he stared into her eyes.

"Surprise me?" he said, "Aoife, you don't just surprise me; you fascinate me," he murmured and tugging her head to him, he kissed her deeply and passionately. Aoife kissed him back hungrily. She kept kissing him as she pulled his jacket off and dropped it, then immediately went to work on his shirt buttons. He gripped her hands and then divested her of her bra with one practised flick of his fingers behind her back, and then hurriedly took his own shirt and trousers off. He reached for her again and lifting her up high by the waist, he walked with her to the bed and tossed her on it.

"You bewitch me," he continued, as he tugged her knickers down her legs and dropped them on the floor. "You amaze me," he crooned, as he ran his hands back up her legs, then gripped her knees firmly and spread them apart. Moving between them, he loomed over her, eyes glinting lustfully as he admired the sight below him, before lowering himself down to her to kiss and caress her breasts. Aoife gripped him tightly by his shoulders, her fingers digging into his back. She clamped her legs around his waist and began to slowly grind her hips up into him.

"You intoxicate me," he gasped out, as he reached down to stroke her expertly. He hissed out a satisfied breath as he felt how completely ready she was for him, and he was certainly ready for her. Grasping himself, he pierced her entrance, and then gripped her hips and thrust firmly into her. Aoife groaned out with pure pleasure as he filled her completely. He paused momentarily to give her time to adjust to him, and then he drove into her relentlessly, over and over, and she writhed and moaned underneath him. Her fingernails dug into his back as she built to a climax beneath him, gasping out his name, and she gripped him tightly to her and kissed his mouth as he followed her.

Mycroft slumped down on top of her, and she held him tightly to her as he recovered his breath and then, lifting his weight off her and onto his elbows, he gazed down at the flushed and smiling woman looking lovingly back up at him. He stroked a stray strand of her hair off her face, and kissed her tenderly on the lips.

"You enthral me and captivate me, Aoife Quinn," he told her softly, "and while I can draw a breath, no one will harm a hair on your beautiful head. Do you understand me, my love?" Her eyes brimmed with emotion as she pulled his head down to kiss him again. She was lost for words, so she just nodded her head at him as errand tears escaped down the sides of her face. Mycroft tutted and turned her deftly to lie on top of him, wrapping her up in his arms and legs, as he pulled her head onto his chest and stroked her hair. She placed soft kisses on his chest and sighed happily. A few minutes later she sat up and tapped him lightly on his shoulder.

"Come on you, Mr Holmes. Stop distracting me. We have work to do!" Mycroft spluttered out an indignant laugh.

"Me, distract you? May I remind you that it was you who seduced me this evening, Ms Quinn?" Aoife giggled as she hopped out of the bed and began to gather up their clothes.

"Well, that was really your fault, for getting all bossy and masterful with me," she said, matter-of-factly, throwing his trousers at him as she headed into the loo to freshen up, and he laughed again.

"I shall have to keep that in mind," he quipped, and she stuck her head round the door to throw him a warning look, but he just smirked and began to dress.

In their bedroom further up the long landing; Molly sat on their bed watching Sherlock as he threw 'a few necessities,' as he described them, into a holdall. "Is Michael going to be ok, Sherlock?" He looked up at her and smiled reassuringly.

"He'll be fine; he's just worried about Aoife. He'd rather stay here and co-ordinate her protection detail." Molly gave an understanding nod.

"Ah! That makes sense. He loves her." Sherlock hummed in agreement and threw a black knitted cap into the bag. "He shouldn't worry though," she said reflectively, "Mycroft would never let anything happen to her." She gazed into the distance reflecting past events in the house, and then met his eyes. "I'll never forget how he stood in front of me to take the bullet that was intended for me." Sherlock looked steadily back at her and responded softly,

"Neither shall I, Molly." She smiled at that and then began to giggle.

"Speaking of Mycroft, just how much trouble do you think he's in with Aoife?" Sherlock smirked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at her.

"Oh, not as much as you might think, Molly…" She looked at him in confusion and then the penny dropped and she threw her hand over her mouth as she smothered a laugh. He grinned back at her and then continued with his packing. She watched him affectionately as his hand hovered over the bag, about to drop his magnifying glass into it, then thought better of it and pocketed it. She thought about him going off on his own, chasing mad murderers yet again, and she wrestled with the worry of it.

Molly sighed almost inaudibly but he heard. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she began to chew her bottom lip and fidget with her fingers, which had suddenly become of enormous interest to her. He strode over to the window to draw the curtains and then paused suddenly, narrowing his eyes in concentration. Something out at sea had caught his eye. He pulled out his phone and texted his brother and then turned to see Molly feigning normality and smiling at him.

He smiled back at her and then moved to sit up opposite her, cross-legged, on their large bed. She looked enquiringly at him; her bottom lip between her teeth once again. Sherlock poked at her shin with his toe. She rolled her eyes and smothered a smile, so he poked her again. She set her lips mutinously and shifted her foot to toe him back, but he gripped her ankles with a grin and tugged her down the bed. Molly flopped down on her back and he crawled on top of her and began to tickle her just over her hip. She squealed and wriggled to escape him. "Stop Sherlock," she gasped out, giggling despite herself; so he did, and caressed her face gently instead. He ran the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip, and she cupped his head lovingly in her palms.

"Come on you," he coaxed, his deep voice reverberating right through her, "out with it." She shifted her hips underneath him and ran her thumbs over his cheekbones. She smiled ironically and said, "you already know, Sherlock."

"Tell me anyway. Say the words." She sighed.

"You won't be angry with me?"

"No Molly, of course not. Go on. Spit it out," he coaxed her gently.

"I'm worried you're going to get hurt and I wish Michael was going with you too, and I know I promised you I wouldn't fret about your job anymore so it's fine. I'm fine," she blurted out and then drew an anxious breath.

"It's very understandable for you to be a little worried, Molly. I will be careful. Really though, this is just a reconnaissance mission. I'm not expecting it to be dangerous." She smiled in relief and planted soft kisses on his earnest face.

"Ok. You go on down to Michael. I'm just going to relax here, maybe watch the telly. Come say goodbye before you go?" Sherlock nodded, grabbed his bag and made to leave. He paused at the door and looking back around, he said firmly, "leave those curtains drawn Molly, even during the day, and please, promise me you won't leave the house without Mycroft knowing. Actually, do everything he says; I'm sorry, I know how tedious that all is."

"I thought you said you were not expecting it to be dangerous?"

"I said I'm not expecting Kerry to be dangerous." She looked gravely at him.

"Alright Sherlock; I promise." He smiled swiftly and turned to leave, yet still he hesitated. Molly gazed at him, and her heart filled, and she murmured softly to him, "I know my darling, and I love you too." Sherlock gave her a long warm smile and went back down the stairs to find his brother and Michael.

As Mycroft re-buttoned his shirt, his phone vibrated with a text from Sherlock. He read it, turned out the bedroom lights and strode over to the window. He moved the curtain very slightly to look out for brief second and then dropped it back in place.

"Aoife," he said, "how far away are the coastguards?" Aoife's features set and she picked up her phone. She had a brief conversation and was put on hold.

"How far out, and how large a vessel?" she asked him.

"Not far enough, my dear; looks like a hundred-foot trawler, and I don't think they're fishing for mackerel. We are under surveillance." Aoife went back to her phone and he listened, frustrated to only hear one side of the conversation. She ended the phone call, looked at him and grinned.

"I can do you one better than just the coastguard. Our brand spanking new Navy vessel, the 'LE Samuel Beckett' is anchored in Wicklow. They're on their way. They'll accompany the Garda Marine Unit, scare the shit out of the bastards."

"Tell them to hang back, just put them under surveillance for now. I'd like an idea of the number on board." He smirked at her. "They certainly have state of the art surveillance equipment on 'The Beckett'. She rolled her eyes at him.

"That's hardly a state secret dearest; I believe we even issued a press release describing her capabilities."

"Em, not all of them, Aoife." She spluttered laughing despite herself.

"Give it a rest, 'M'. Come on, let's go spy on the internet activity from that house in Kerry." He squeezed her waist as they headed downstairs.

"Yes dear," he muttered into her ear and she smiled in amusement at him and then took his hand in her own.