A/N: Oh, god, your comments about the last chapter were wonderful to read. Hugs and kisses for all of you. Hope you enjoy this! It's quite long, it just refused to stop being written and so I tried quite hard to have it ready for you today Shout out to Sammy Katz for being very observant! xM

Disclaimer: I don't even own the shoes I'm wearing. What makes you think I'd own this?

Molly stood there, her hand trembling, as she lowered the gun she held. Sherlock looked at her and then at the corpse behind him in amazement. She let out a small sob.

"Oh, god, oh my god, Sherlock."

His face turned solemn. "Are you all right, Molly?" He asked, grabbing the gun out of her hands and pulling her down to sit on the grass beside him.

Molly nodded. "I think so, yes." Her voice was still tinged with fear. "Just sort of in shock, that's all."

"You shouldn't have-"

"Don't." Molly cut him off. "Don't tell me I shouldn't have because I already did. He would have killed you and I don't think I could have lived with myself if I just stood by, so don't tell me I shouldn't have because there's nothing you or I can do to change it now."

He nodded. "I suppose thanks are in order. This is the second time you've saved my life."

"You're welcome." She twiddled with the hem on her dress. "So, I suppose you can go back to London now, back to 221B."

"Oh." Sherlock sounded slightly surprised at the suggestion. He hadn't really thought about it since they had arrived in the town. "Yes, I suppose you're right. We'll leave tomorrow afternoon." His tone was brisk. "Until then, you're still Clara, of course."

"Of course." Molly replied. "When we get back, could you please not tell anyone about..." she gestured to the body.

"I doubt you'd serve time for it, but perhaps it's for the best." He allowed and took her arm. "We should go back now. We can pack our things and order dinner up to our room."

They sat on the floor of their hotel room, eating chicken with some sort of buttery sauce and sipping from glasses of wine. They were silent, for the most part. No one wanted to breach the topic of their afternoon.

"Molly, thank you. For everything. And I'm sorry for dragging you away from your home and making you play Clara. And, above all, I'm sorry that you had to save my life. Thank you." Sherlock finally spoke, dropping his fork onto his plate and leaning back. His posture was casual but the apology sounded oddly formal coming from him.

"Oh, er- Thanks, I suppose. Or rather, you're welcome. Or-" Molly let her sentence drift off. "I mean, I've really enjoyed the past week or so." She thought back to their kiss in the park and the nights where she had watched as his eyes closed and heard his breath even as he fell asleep and she lay awake.

"Ah. Yes, well, so have I." He said, sounding slightly embarrassed at this small confession.

"Right." She nodded. "I suppose I'll just get ready for bed, then."

He turned to a book and she began rummaging through her suitcase for her pyjamas. She was about to grab her normal sleepwear when she noticed the lingerie that Irene Adler had insisted upon buying her.

Could she put it on? She was tempted to, to see if Sherlock would noticed, if he would say anything. Before she could think about it any longer, she snatched them up, along with her toothbrush, and dashed to the bathroom.

When she finally got up the courage to tiptoe out, her face was beet red. She was slightly relieved when she saw that he was sitting in bed, still reading, his back facing her. She quickly dove under the blankets and tried to look natural.

"You can relax, Molly." Sherlock said after a moment had passed. "I can practically feel your face burning."

"Sorry." She croaked, shifting uncomfortably.

"And I know you're wearing that lingerie, I saw you take it out of your case."

Molly gave another embarrassed squirm. "I wasn't trying to- I didn't mean-"

"I know."

They lay in silence, and then, "What Moran said earlier, it wasn't true of course, was it?" He asked.

"Which part?" She bit her lip.

"About, um, where you talked about me- to him." His sentence was choppy and vague, he sounded incredibly nervous.

Molly hesitated. "No, of course not. Of course not." She gave an unconvincing smile, and then-

For the second time, Sherlock's lips were on hers and she could no longer thing about Sebastian Moran, or the revealing garments she happened to be wearing, or anything else for that matter.

After what may have been minutes, or hours, or several sunlit days, they broke apart, both of them gasping.

"Molly Hooper, you are a terrible liar." Sherlock laughed.

"Am I?" She replied with a weak smile. "Well, you're a terrible-" She broke off, thinking, and Sherlock smirked when she was unable to come up with anything.

"What possessed you to wear the lingerie?" He asked her, his expression amused.

"What possessed you to kiss me?" She retorted.

"I asked first."

She sighed. "I had them, and I was wondering what you'd say, if you'd even notice. Since this is our last night, I figured that any embarrassments or repercussions could easily be forgotten. But you didn't seem to notice, and I was embarrassed anyway."

"Of course I noticed." He replied. "I always notice."

Molly blushed again. "Oh." She mumbled, and then "Right, well, it's your turn."

"Why did I kiss you? I wanted to prove that you were lying about what Moran said." Her face fell slightly. "And," he added "I very much enjoyed our kiss the other day. Why did you kiss back?" He knew the answer, of course he knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it.

"You'll have to give me more wine than this if you expect an honest answer." Her response caused Sherlock to start towards the wine bottle and glasses that they had left out.

"No, I don't need anymore." She told him, laughing, but he passed her a glass anyway, and she took a sip.

"What are you going to do when you get home?" He asked instead as she sipped.

"Feed my cat, call work to apologise, and watch a film. Just normal sorts of things. Are you worried about going back to John?"

"Yes." He admitted. "I think constantly about what will have changed, how he'll react when he sees me, if he'll even believe it's me. How many boyfriends have you had since I 'died'?"

"Seven. None lasted more than a week. What did you want to be when you were a child?" It was clearly turning into some sort of 'truth or drink' game, except Sherlock hadn't taken any alcohol.

"A pirate." He answered, completely serious, and Molly laughe. "Why didn't the boyfriends last?"

"Oh." Molly paused, thinking. "Well, they weren't really my type. Have you ever dated?"

"No, I don't believe I have. What is 'your type,' then?"

"I don't know." Molly said quickly, too quickly. "Why did you sleep with Irene Adler?"

He was silent for a long while. "I was curious." He said at last. "That, and she very nearly died. She wanted to, I thought it might have a positive effect on her emotions or something like that. It was... enjoyable, I suppose, but not romantic. Which was why you were my first kiss. Why did you sleep with Irene?"

Molly's blush deepened. "She was very kind, actually, and very good at what she does. That, and she was-" she took a gulp of wine before continuing. "She reminded me of someone." The last but was mumbled, but he heard it anyway. "Were you and John ever... romantically involved?"

"Of course not." He looked vaguely annoyed. "Why did you not sleep with Jim Moriarty?"

Molly stared into the depths of her wineglass for a long time. When she finally replied, her voice was quiet, hardly more than a whisper. "We were both too in love with the same person." She set her wineglass down very carefully and stared at the ceiling.

They were both quiet, and then Sherlock made a move as if to touch her hand, but then seemed to think better of it.

"Molly, I-"

"No, it's fine." She cut him off. "I know that the feeling isn't mutual. That's why I was reluctant to tell you." The words were rushing out of her mouth so quickly that it was a wonder Sherlock could understand her. "I know you're married to your work, and that's-"

"Molly, shut up." Sherlock said vehemently, and then kissed her, hard.

For god's sake, why did he never warn her? She thought to herself. Although it's not as if I mind. She was now hyperaware of her choice of sleepwear, especially now that Sherlock's right hand was on her overexposed shoulder, his left around her waist, burning through the thin fabric. God, that sounded cliche.

"Would you believe it if I told you that the feeling was completely mutual?" He asked when they had finally broken apart.

"Oh, god." She took a shuddery breath. "Yes. Yes, I would definitely believe you."

Sherlock gave a satisfied grin. "Good, because it's true."

Molly smiled and snaked her hand down to place it over his, which still rested on her waist.

"You had to have known I had the gun, yet you were so prepared to die." She said, sobering the mood slightly.

"I didn't want to force you to become a killer against your will."

"You'd honestly have rather died?"

Sherlock shrugged. "If you weren't going to kill him, then yes, of course."

"You're ridiculous." Molly told him, but her tone was fond. "There's absolutely no way that I wouldn't have killed that asshole, if not doing so meant losing you." Again with the sentiment and sappy feelings. "I mean, the same would go for any friend, really. He wasn't a pleasant bloke."

"No, he wasn't, was he?" Sherlock gave a laugh.

"So, home tomorrow?" Molly said, not sure if she was pleased about this or not.

"Yes, I think so. Unless you'd like to stay?

"As nice as it is here, I think home would be very good."

Sherlock nodded. "Before we leave, there are some things I'd like for us to do, actually.

"Oh, really?" Molly gave him a curious look.

"I mean, if you'd like to..."

She tried to bite back a smile, failing, when she realised what he meant. "Of course I'd like to."

This time, when this kissed, Molly was ready for it, ready for the burning sensation that his hands brought as they travelled over fabric, under, and her hands traced a similar map over his pale skin.

When they finally fell asleep, it was late. They did so with their fingers intertwined, a quiet smile on Molly's lips.

A/N: God, this bit killed me. My kissing scenes are so awkward because I've never been kissed. So if anyone wants to volunteer for a test... Just kidding. Anywho, I hope you're happy. I know I am. *fuzzy feelings, fuzzy jimjams* xM

update: Ye who ask about Molly sleeping with Irene, it's hinted at in a chapter 2 when they meet.