Chapter Two.

The darkness was comforting, it enveloped him in its silence and he breathed it in. It wasn't far, he'd known where she lived for a long time and he had been coming here often. She never knew of course, that would have ruined everything. She never knew how he watched her, how her innocent peace soothed and calmed his often frayed nerves. Molly always slept peacefully, he noticed with envy. He wasn't sure how it had started, he had watched her pottering about in her lab one afternoon and he had felt something stir. He found himself enjoying watching her. The way she moved and the tone of her voice roused something in him he'd never felt before. It was intense and Sherlock had an addictive personality. He needed more.

It wasn't a difficult thing to break into her personnel file and find out where she lived. One night, when John had one of his many dates, he had crept out and found her apartment. He didn't believe in God, but he had thanked him that night for allowing Molly's apartment to be on the ground floor. The fates were obviously with him as Molly slept with her window open; Sherlock gently prised it open further and climbed in. Molly's cat had raised his head at Sherlock, who placed a finger to his lips in his most authoritative manner and the cat had gone back to sleep. A small shaft of moonlight pushed its way through the curtains and played over Molly's bare shoulders. Sherlock watched in fascination. The very air held a peace that Sherlock had rarely experienced. He sat on the floor opposite her bed and watched her breathe, she moved occasionally and groaned and Sherlock felt a knot tie in his stomach. She was beautiful. He wondered if she knew. He decided she didn't. She would never fawn over him as much if she had had the confidence her beauty deserved.

Sherlock had been clandestinely watching Molly sleep for about a month when he couldn't take it anymore. He had to touch her. He slipped out again as he done so many times before and all but ran to Molly's apartment, letting himself in the usual way, he was aware his breathing was much faster, his pulse much quicker. He trod lightly over to her bedside and shooed the cat away, Molly let out a deep sigh as she moved and her eyelids fluttered open. Sherlock wasn't sure how she would react. She smiled gently,

"Sherlock."

It wasn't a question, just a statement as if she had expected to see him sitting on her bed. She seemed so different, so perfectly relaxed, so…radiant in her semi-awake state. Sherlock bent down and brushed his lips against hers. She groaned.

"I'm dreaming."

Her voice was quiet and Sherlock could feel himself growing crazy with desire.

"No." He whispered in her ear as he shrugged his jacket off.

"Sherlock?"

This time it was a question. Now she was awake. He smiled.

"Yes," He kissed her again. Harder this time. She barely responded. He commanded her. "Kiss me."

Confusion was written all over her face.

"How did you?" She started.

He stopped her with another kiss.

"Please Molly, I don't know why but I need you."

She visibly shuddered in his arms.

"What?"

"I need to have you. Now."

Her eyes changed, they were no longer dim with sleep, they were alive with fire. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. Their kiss was heated, hard, longed for. Their mouths burned for each other and their hands frantically ripped away clothes and pulled at skin. Molly felt herself swept away on a tidal wave of pleasure, Sherlock kissed every inch of her with a passion she had thought him incapable of. She responded with an urgency she was almost ashamed of. Soon, too soon, it was over. Sherlock's naked body lay next to her, his rhythmical breathing a sign of his deep sleep. Molly couldn't take her eyes off him. She could hardly believe what had happened, this sort of thing just didn't happen. Not to ordinary people. Not to her. Men like him didn't want women like her. She almost giggled as she realised he did. It was extraordinary, the feelings coursing through her body. She felt complete, whole, as if she could die at that moment and it wouldn't matter. She had achieved everything she wanted. Him. He loved her. He had kissed her and made love to her and stayed. He was here, asleep in her bed and he had wanted her. She wasn't stupid she knew it wouldn't last, but she didn't care. She could live forever on tonight.

Sherlock turned and placed an arm around her, she stroked his marble skin and a single tear rolled its way down her flushed cheek. She was overwhelmingly in love and she knew it would kill her…