Sherlock Holmes could not remember the last time his mind was so blissfully blank without the aid of illegal substances. Kissing Molly Hooper was unlike any drug he had ever experienced, rendering him completely unaware of his surroundings. Only when Molly pulled away several minutes later was he reoriented with the present, the grin on her face enough to make him swell with pride.

"That's even better when we're not undercover," she giggled.

As Sherlock leaned down to place another gentle kiss on her lips, the outside light to the Watson house began to blink erratically. Turning his head, but not moving away from Molly, Sherlock narrowed his eyes at the flashing porch light.

"What is it?" asked Molly, her fingers unconsciously wrapping tendrils of his hair around themselves.

Sherlock sighed and gave a light chuckle as he turned back to Molly, bringing his forehead to rest against hers. "It's my brother."

Molly furrowed her brow, obviously confused, so he continued. "Morse code. It's been years since he's had to tell me to come inside. I suspect our ride will be leaving shortly."

Molly smiled as she turned her head to the flashing light. "Who's 'Captain Will?'"

Sherlock tensed as she turned back to face him. "You know Morse code?"

"Well, I'm going to take one of your lines here and say 'obviously,'" she laughed.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked back at the house. He seemed very uncomfortable. "I'm Captain Will," he mumbled, not daring to look her in the eye.

"Like…a pirate captain?" Molly's grin grew wider as she detected his embarrassment.

"Yes…like a pirate captain."

"Oh my god. You were a completely normal child, weren't you?" she teased.

"You take that back," he said seriously, though Molly could hear the underlying sarcasm.

"Come on, Captain Will. I think Barbossa is ready to set sail."

Sherlock huffed and looked up in the air with a shake of his head before following Molly inside.

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"Will you sleep tonight?" Molly asked as Sherlock opened the door to 221.

"There are some encrypted e-mails from some of Moriarty's network that I was going to wade through tonight. I doubt they have any useful information, but it still needs to be finished."

They walked up the stairs into the flat, stopping at the stairs to Molly's bedroom.

"Promise me you'll try to sleep a little?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes again as Molly took a single step up toward her room. She leaned down to give him a solid kiss, not failing to notice the way he closed his eyes and swayed a little on the spot.

"Goodnight,I had a…great time," she said, turning to go upstairs.

"Goodnight," he replied, smiling at her back. Sighing, he removed his coat and tossed it on the back of John's old chair and leaned back against the wall of the sitting room, reviewing everything that had happened over the course of the evening. He was just getting to whether or not Molly would insist on referring to him as her "boyfriend" when he heard Molly's footsteps on the stairs coming back down.

"Did you decide to stay up for encrypted e-mails, because I could teach you how to hack a-"

Sherlock was immediately stopped by Molly rather forcefully grabbing his hair and pulling him down into a searing kiss. Feeling as though he had momentarily gone cross-eyed, he recovered enough to return the action fairly quick. Closing his eyes, he relished the feeling of his once mousy pathologist pushing his body with hers against the sitting room wall, not-so-gently pulling at the curls on the back of his head. He brought his hands down to her hips, the slight curve leading down to her backside enough to send unfamiliar shivers up and down the length of his body.

At the precise moment he believed himself to be regaining control of the situation, he felt Molly gently nip at his bottom lip, using his startled gasp as an invitation to explore the inside of his mouth. Through the sound of lips smacking he heard a pathetic sounding whimper and was rather embarrassed when he realized it had come from his own throat.

Determined to not come off as a complete prude, he tightened his grip on her hips and pressed her body even closer, inadvertently causing her hip to brush against the now-obvious proof of his enjoyment. His eyes snapped open wide and they broke apart gasping, the need for oxygen an afterthought. He rested his forehead against hers in an effort to slow down his frantic heartbeat. "I'm sorry-I've never done this before," he gasped breathlessly, one of his hands bravely seeking the bare skin of her lower back.

"Well, from an outsider's standpoint, you're doing astonishingly well for your first time," she replied, equally debauched.

"I'm a quick learner," he smiled, coming back down to kiss her again.

"I'll try to keep up," she answered between kisses, one hand remaining in his hair as the other slid menacingly down his chest and stomach. As her hand swiftly moved to grasp him through his trousers, Sherlock felt his brain go temporarily off-line. His usually razor-sharp thoughts were diminished to the most primal: WANT. NEED. MOLLY. NOW.

Breaking from the kiss he knelt down sharply and grasped her by the upper thighs, picking her up and turning her around to place her against the wall. Immediately she followed his motion by wrapping her legs around his waist and bringing her face back down to his, their kisses changing from sweet and loving to hungry and needy. Holding her up with one hand, Sherlock used his other arm to brace himself against the wall as she began deftly unbuttoning his shirt. Those damn buttons have been working too hard anyway. The moment his shirt was opened she began running her hands up and down his chest, at the last second giving his nipples a teasing flick.

An incredibly humorous and uncharacteristic yip indicated his surprise as he pulled her away from the wall and began carrying her through to the kitchen. His knees buckled slightly when she brought her fingers up his sides with a feather light touch, eliciting a muffled giggle from the consulting detective.

She pulled away from his mouth suddenly. "Sherlock Holmes, are you ticklish?"

His eyes widened as he stopped to set her on the edge of the kitchen table. "Absolutely not," he replied, his voice approximately two octaves higher than usual.

"Are you sure?" She said against his mouth, locking her legs around his to hold him in place as she brought her hands up to repeat the tickling motion. Sherlock giggled again, squirming like a child.

"Stop it! Stop-"

He brought his right hand up to the inside of her knee, poised in position to make Molly begin a laughing fit of her own. She stopped immediately. "Truce?" he asked, his face pink from laughing.

"For now," she answered, using her legs to pull him back to her, their mouths colliding once more.

Molly brought her hands up to push his shirt from his shoulders. Stepping back to remove it, he faltered when he forgot to unbutton his cuffs, managing to dance around in place and get himself thoroughly caught in his own clothing. Giggling at his futile efforts, Molly held out her arms from her position on the table. "Come here," she chuckled.

Sighing in frustration, he approached her backwards, presenting his captured hands behind his back. "We'll save tying you up for another time," she smirked.

Sherlock gulped before feeling his hands fall free from his shirt and Molly's small fingers turning him around to face her once more. Gathering his courage, he ran his hands up her thighs and under the pale pink fabric of her dress. Silently giving permission, Molly raised her arms above her head as Sherlock guided the silky fabric up and off, leaving her only in her bra and knickers.

Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the entire situation, Sherlock brought his head down to rest on her shoulder, allowing his hands to continue their trek across the newly exposed flesh of her back and sides. "I take back every demeaning remark I ever made about your body," he panted, realizing suddenly the lack of attention he had been devoting to Molly's neck and shoulders.

Her heart fluttering excitedly to the new sensation of Sherlock gently sucking on her neck, Molly felt him slowly guide her down to lay upon the table, Sherlock awkwardly scrabbling up to kneel over her. In his attempt to brace himself over top of her, several of his petri dishes and beakers went crashing to the floor, shattering into a million pieces. Turning her head away from Sherlock's ministrations against her collar bone, Molly gasped "Your experiments! You'll have to start all over!"

"Finding it really difficult to care right now," he replied, pressing their chests together, evoking a collective gasp from the two of them at the skin-to-skin contact. Staring into each other's eyes, they seemed to think the same thing at the same time.

"Bedroom?" he asked.

"Absolutely."

Hopping off the table with much more grace than a grown man should possess, he quickly pulled her up into a sitting position and into his arms again, carrying her from the kitchen, the broken glass crunching beneath his shoes as she giggled at his eagerness. They continued a heated kiss the entire way down the hall, stopping only briefly for Sherlock to kick off his shoes and pull off his socks. He pushed his way through his bedroom door, allowing Molly to slowly slide down his body to stand on her own feet.

After another moment, she wrapped her fingers around two of his belt loops and pushed him backwards onto the bed. Appreciating the shocked look of delight on his face, she crawled seductively on top of him until she straddled his hips, inducing a deep rumble from the detective.

"Now, Mr. Holmes," she moved back slightly so she could begin unbuttoning his trousers. "There are very few things in this world about which I know more than you," she unzipped his fly. "And this is definitely one of them," she ran her fingers under the lining of his boxers, listening to his breath hitch. "Watch and learn."