Chapter 27

It was half past four in the morning by the time Sergeant Doyle was satisfied with Sherlock's statement, and permitted him to leave, and almost five by the time he rapped gently on the door of the hotel suite. Mycroft opened it, still fully dressed, but shirtsleeves rolled up as a concession to the hour. He held an elegant finger to his lips, gesturing to the two women fast asleep on the two separate double beds. Sherlock scanned the slumbering women and shook his head in wonderment at his brother. "How the hell did we two ever get this lucky, Mycroft?" he whispered. His brother's eyes flickered over Aoife's features and he shook his head at Sherlock.

"I have absolutely no idea." The two brothers grinned happily at each other.

Sherlock turned and smiled in affection at the still fully dressed Molly. He knew it was a combination of her shyness in front of Mycroft, and her wanting to await his return so they could retire to their own suite, that had prevented her from sleeping more comfortably, in just her t-shirt. He patted his brother gently on the back in thanks, and scooped down at the side of Molly's bed, kissing her on the cheek, and then, as she began to awaken, pressing a soft kiss on her lips.

Molly's long brown eyelashes flickered open and her eyes lit up with a smile at the sight of him. She reached up and caressed his beloved face. "Hello, you," she whispered softly, and with such throaty tenderness that he felt compelled to kiss her quickly again.

"Hello, my love," he responded quietly, smiling broadly at her, "ready to change rooms now?"

She stretched and nodded. He took her elbow and helped her out of the bed. Molly held onto his arm to steady herself while she swiftly pulled on her boots. Then she took his hand in hers and smiled warmly at Mycroft. Tugging Sherlock along with her, she crossed the room to where he was sitting in a deep armchair and observing them fondly. She leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"Thank you for being the most gallant of bodyguards, Mycroft." He chuckled quietly.

"You are very welcome, Molly. Perhaps we can all catch up over a late breakfast later in the morning?"

That agreed, they said their goodbyes and Sherlock wrapped a long arm across her shoulders as they walked the short distance to their own room.

"I can't wait until breakfast Molly;" he told her, "I'm starving. I've ordered fish and chips." Molly stifled a delighted shriek and he laughed and pulled her in tighter.

"Oh Sherlock! It's really over then?"

"Yes Molly. Although we'll be here for another couple of days, if that's ok?"

"Of course it is. Mycroft told me about your lovely idea for Aoife," she replied as he closed and locked the door of their room, "it was so thoughtful of you, and let me tell you something, Mister Holmes, you are so 'on a promise'!"

Sherlock chuckled deeply and swung her up in his arms for a kiss and a hug.

"I'll hold you to that Dr Hooper, but first, food and sleep. After that, you can have your wicked way with me…"

Molly giggled happily and hugged him tightly.

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" he said as he nuzzled into her ear.

"I've no spare clothes."

Sherlock snorted. It was one of the things he loved about her, how randomly her thoughts could flow sometimes.

"That's alright Molly, you won't need any." Molly sniggered and slapped him lightly.

"Oh hush, you." She wriggled to get him to release her but he just held her more tightly.

"Where are you going, Hooper?" he complained petulantly. She looked at him, scrutinising his features carefully.

"Are you alright, Sherlock?

He sighed and released her, averting his eyes, but she placed a gentle hand on his face and tilted his head gently to look at him. "What is it darling, tell me?" He shook his head dismissively, and then relented, and shucking off his jacket and shoes, he took her hand and tugged her with him over to the couch. He lay back on it and opened his arms for her. She joined him immediately and he brought her down to lie on his chest and into his firm embrace.

"It's nothing serious Molly, really. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I've missed you; Christ! it feels like I've been missing you for months. We've only had snatched days together, days so short that they felt like mere moments, and then we're bloody separated or interrupted again. That stops now, because I'm heart sick of it. You and I are staying here for a few days; it's a stunning place, by the way; wait until you see it in daylight, and then we are returning to Aoife's house; alone, where we are going into lockdown for weeks, and I swear to a God, if one more Moriarty pops out of the woodwork, I'm going to tell Mycroft to just shoot them and be done with it. I mean it Molly!" he finished indignantly, and then took in a much needed deep breath.

Molly began to tremble in his arms and he looked down at her in alarm, before realising she was shaking with laughter. He swatted her bum lightly. "Molly Hooper, are you laughing at me?" Her shoulders shook even harder as she attempted to shake her head in denial. He bit back a grin and pretended to be insulted, but she saw through him, and peered up at his face; tears of laughter flooding her eyes.

"Oh my God Sherlock! '…just shoot them and be done with it.' Oh, I shouldn't laugh," she spluttered guiltily, and then she erupted again. Slowly, he began to chuckle along with her, and before long they were both gripping each other and laughing hard, until a member of staff knocking on their door and announcing room service interrupted them. Sherlock wiped his eyes, and plonked an enthusiastic kiss on her nose before manoeuvring her gently away from him to get up.

"You see how good you are for me, Molly? You are a tonic!" he declared as he checked through the spy-hole in the door before letting the staff member in with his dinner tray. He tipped the waiter and then closed the door, immediately popping a piping hot chunky chip into his mouth. "Oh my God, Molly, you have got to taste these, they're fantastic!" He carried his plate over with him, without bothering with cutlery, and re-joining her on the couch, he placed it on the floor under his elbow. He decided he was going to feed her as well and Molly happily indulged him. She'd missed him, and worried about him, and wanted nothing more than to be with him now. She lay back down against his chest and tasted the chip he'd popped playfully into her mouth, and then moaned softly. Sherlock froze momentarily and then chuckled again.

"That's a sound I don't normally associate with you eating, Molly…" Molly giggled and leaned up on her elbow to peer up at him.

"Never mind that you, give's another chip!"

He smiled and slid down lower on the couch, nudging her gently to align her hips with his and then complied with her demand, dropping another one into her mouth. He nuzzled into her ear and murmured suggestively as she ate,

"You know what effect 'bossy Molly' has on me, Dr Hooper; you're being very naughty. I told you I was tired."

Molly sniggered and nibbled into his neck, knowing full well the effect that particular action had on him too. She ran her hand in a long caress down his side, from his shoulder to his hip bone, and then swiftly swiped a chip from his plate. Sherlock spluttered out a laugh, have amused and half indignant.

"Molly Hooper! Distraction tactics? I never knew you had it in you…" Molly licked her lips with a bold grin.

"Yeah you did," she replied impishly, swallowing her chip, and he laughed again. He reached a long hand down to the plate for another chip and held it tantalisingly over her lips. She leaned forward slightly to claim it. Sherlock snatched it away at the last second and popped it into his own mouth. Molly gasped indignantly and then pealed with laughter, making him laugh again. Sherlock reached down again and broke off a piece of the battered cod and sampled it. Then he groaned too.

"Oh my God, seriously Molly, wait until you taste this; the fish was just caught this morning." He broke off another piece and brought it to her lips. "I couldn't be bothered with cutlery, Molly, I'm too comfortable and too tired. Do you mind my fingers?" Molly looked up at him from under her lashes and smirked boldly.

"Is that even a serious question?" she murmured throatily. She grasped his hand by the wrist and then slipped both the morsel of fish and his fingers into her mouth, sucking the fish from his fingers, swallowing it, and then licked his fingers clean. Sherlock growled, deep and low, and kissed her mouth hard.

"That's it, Molly. I'm throwing out all the cutlery in Baker Street…" She sniggered again and then stretched her two arms around his neck, and rested her forehead against his for a long moment. She let out a long deep sigh of contentment and nuzzled into his neck again.

"I love this Sherlock," she murmured, "being with you. You make me so happy, and I love you so much." He held her tighter and caressed her head, stroking her hair.

"I know Molly; I love you too. I love being with you." He laughed a little ruefully. "That's why I got a little cross. We need time together, you and I, bonding time." Molly looked down at their two bodies, pressed so closely together, then grinned and raised an amused brow.

"I'm not sure we could get much closer than this." He smirked and winked boldly at her.

"Oh, we really could, you know."

He kissed her smiling mouth again, then stretched and gave a long yawn.

"I shall conduct a practical demonstration to prove it in the morning, rest assured, but for now, Molly mine, I need sleep," he said.

He levered her up and stood up, picked the plate up off the floor and carried it over to the tray. He broke off another large piece of fish and ate it and then sighed, and picked up the knife and fork.

"Nope, I'm going to have to finish this."

He gestured his fork at her enquiringly, and she smiled and told him to finish it himself. She began the ritual of getting ready for bed, humming happily to herself. They'd left the house in such a hurry that she had no change of clothes, no wallet, not even a spare set of underwear. She frowned and stopped humming.

Sherlock read her as he began to undress himself. "I have my cards with me, Molly, we can go shopping for clothes for you in the morning in the town." She looked at him in relief.

"Oh good, Sherlock, I can fix you up later." He shook his head disapprovingly,

"Molly, we've discussed this before, my money is your money." He laughed as he took his shirt off. "My shirt is your shirt," he continued, as he handed it over to her and she laughingly accepted it.

"Thank you," she said softly, "when I was first in America, I wore your Irish rugby shirt every night, you remember, the one Michael gave you, until after about a week; I couldn't get your scent from it any longer." She looked stricken for a moment. "That was not a good night," she told him quietly. Sherlock grimaced and then held her face tenderly in his hands.

"I left the beautiful dress you wore that last night lying on our bed for weeks too, Molly. That awful time is all over now though."

He pulled off her sweater and t-shirt and reached tenderly behind her back to open her bra, and removed it too. He helped her into his shirt, but only buttoned it to just over her naval, making her giggle. They finished preparations quickly and clambered into bed; Sherlock sighing contentedly, with the comfort of the warm bed, and the comfort of the amazing woman tucked up in his arms. Five minutes later they were both fast asleep.

Molly woke first and gazed into the handsome, slumbering face of the man she loved more than life itself. She wrapped her arm around his chest and snuggled into his side. A minute later Sherlock ran his hand down her back to grip her pert backside and pull her tight against his fully aroused body. Molly gasped in surprise. His large hands massaged her firm behind and a moan of appreciation escaped from her lips.

"Time for that practical demonstration, Molly," he asserted, "a promise is a promise," before kissing her senseless. He broke contact with her only to pull his shirt over her head and yank down her knickers, along with his pyjama bottoms, and tossing them aside. He pulled her firmly back into his arms and then he couldn't stop touching her, his hands caressing from her pert breasts, all the way down to her thighs, and back up again.

He licked along her pulse point in her neck, feeling his own heart skip a beat as he measured how fast hers was pounding. He smiled smugly, relishing the effect he had on her, and brought his mouth down determinedly to her breasts. She arched her back as he sucked in a tightened nipple and gripped his hair with her fingers. He nipped firmly at the swollen bud and then laved over it with his tongue, and she moaned from deep in her throat. He switched to the other side, giving it equal treatment, before continuing his exploration of her body. He reached her naval and licked into it, before running a smooth tongue over the satin skin beneath it.

"You're so beautiful, Molly. I love the taste of your skin."

Molly's eyes were tight shut and she was beyond a verbal response. She gripped his hair more tightly and he growled in arousal, unable to think about anything but her, and how much he wanted to hear her climax, and how much he wanted to sink deeply inside her. He reached her sweet centre and flicked his tongue over the swollen pink flesh, the familiar taste and scent of her making his erection pulse painfully in reaction. He kissed and licked into her deeply, until she was writhing underneath him and calling out his name, begging him for more, for release. He slipped his fingers inside her, finding she was more than ready for him, and then moved back up her body, kissing her mouth hungrily.

Molly ran her hands all over the taut muscles of his back, and wriggled her hips tight up to his to bring him closer. "Please, Sherlock, please. Now!" He gripped her thigh hard and spread her legs even further apart, and then rubbed his member along her folds. He almost lost all control at the wet heat of her, and he sucked in a rapid breath to steady himself, before thrusting deep inside her in one swift movement. Molly cried out his name as he filled her with his length. He paused for a long moment, struggling to get himself back under control, so determined was he to pleasure her first. Molly jerked her hips up to him demandingly, and so he didn't wait any longer. He began to thrust hard, in and out of her as her gripped her hips tightly in his hands.

His tongue in her mouth mimicked his lovemaking and she groaned out loud with the intensity of her pleasure. Sherlock began to drive into her even harder, and increased the pace, and he felt her body tense under his for a long moment as she reached her high, before she threw her head back in ecstasy, crying out his name as her body convulsed around him. She clenched him tightly, deep within herself, and Sherlock reached the panicle of pleasure, and then he felt his own release shoot deep inside her body, like lightning shooting though him. It was, he thought, the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced in his life, just as he knew it was for her. He slumped down against her sweat slickened body, and then, concerned he was crushing her, he turned their bodies so she was lying on top of him, still connected to him in the most intimate of ways. He lay silently with her until their breathing slowed down, before he turned her face up to his and kissed her again.

"See Molly, I told you we could be closer. That was a very, very, satisfying experiment in lovemaking."

Molly giggled and moved away slightly, letting him slip out, and then wrapped herself around him again, sighing happily.

"Please feel free to repeat that experiment at any time Sherlock. Bloody hell, that was amazing. You're amazing."

He hummed proudly at her and grinningly told her that she brought out the best in him. She smiled as she kissed him.

"Well, my love, we certainly have chemistry."

They lay happily in each other's arms, spending a leisurely hour together before washing and dressing, and meeting Aoife and Mycroft for breakfast.

Aoife was happy and relaxed, cuddled up to Mycroft in the restaurant booth, and relaying animatedly the success of the FBI raids in New York. Her phone rang and she took the call at the table, and her features relaxed even further as she listened to the voice at the other end informing her that Jim Moriarty's body had washed up on the rocks in Dunquin, at the furthest tip of the peninsula, and was being transported to the mortuary in Dingle hospital.

Mycroft smiled gently at her. "We'll take DNA from the body, of course, but I think it's a foregone conclusion that it is him, my dear." She nodded in agreement.

"So do I." She reached across and covered Sherlock's hand on the table. "Thank you, Sherlock," she said earnestly, and he smiled affectionately at her.

"No problem, but I'm warning all of you, stay out of trouble for the next month…" and they all laughed in response. Aoife's phone buzzed again with a text. She read it and broke into a broad grin, focussing on Sherlock.

"It's Michael. He's flying into Shannon, he'll be here after lunch, and he says to tell Sherlock he's bringing his violin. He wants a rematch!" Sherlock threw back his head and laughed heartily.

"Tell him he's on, Aoife."