A/N: Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, I haven't had time to reply to all of them and will do so after I posted this chapter. This part is from Molly's perspective and I hope it will give some more fun details of all the horrible frustration Sherlock is causing Molly. Enjoy!

One week, just one week and she would have been married. My ultimate test to see whether I really was over him, and I it failed in the most horrific way. How could he have done this to me, surely he must have known what he was doing to me. Why couldn't he just leave me in peace?! I couldn't stop sobbing in Sherlock's pillow, which smelled deliciously like him, but only worsened my crying. Still clutching his sheets around my bare body I forced myself to sit upright as John's voice penetrated the wall in angry waves. He was asking Sherlock what he'd done this time, sniffling and half suppressing a manic giggle I thought of the things that had left me naked, alone and ring-less in his bedroom.

She'd begun her morning thinking Sherlock wasn't home and went out of her bedroom in her nightgown, but she'd found him reading a book on the couch in lotus position. That wouldn't have such a bad thing if it wasn't for the fact that he was only clad in his bed sheets, which were only covering one particularly area, leaving very little to her already overactive imagination. All of his limps exposed, torso completely on display and just a small stroke of sheet lying over his lap, just low enough to see his hip bones and nearly all he had to offer.

She'd felt her blood rush to her cheeks and warmth pooling in the lower part of her abdomen and hadn't known how to get to the bathroom as quickly as possible, still being able to mumble something about showering. The first five minutes she needed water just above freezing temperature to cool her down, but just as her skin had gotten used to the warmth she was under and her hair was filled with shampoo, she heard Sherlock enter the bathroom. She cursed herself for leaving it unlocked out of habit and tried to calm herself down, he was probably just in there to brush his teeth. She should have known better.

He calmly stated that he needed to shower, after which a rustling sound made her aware of his bed sheets becoming a pile on the ground. She'd screamed as he'd stepped into the shower cabin and frantically tried to cover herself up with her arms, no shower curtain to hide behind.

"What are you doing?!" She'd yelled.

"Showering" Had his only answer been, while pulling a face like it was the weirdest question. She hadn't dared to meet his eyes, neither the courage to look down, too frightened to find out what was poking her abdomen. Hastily she'd rinsed the shampoo out of her hair and scrambled to get away from him, grabbing a towel as she exited the bathroom.

Locking herself in John's old bedroom before starting to look for clothes. Strangely enough her suitcase was missing and so was the little box that held the lingerie for her wedding night. But she didn't dare to look for any of it with just a small towel wrapped around her. Neither was she going back to get her nightgown while Sherlock was still very much naked under that shower. Suspiciously, Sherlock's lab coat was draped over her bedpost. Hearing the shower being turned off she hurried into the coat. Of course Sherlock being quite tall she'd nearly drowned in the bloody thing. Frustrated she'd sat down on her bed to contemplate whether it was better to jump out of the window or make a sprint to the doors in hopes of avoiding Sherlock, preferably for the rest of her life.

After regaining enough courage to go and look for her suitcase she was greeted by the sight of a freshly showered Sherlock…still just clad in his bed sheets…stretching the lingerie for her wedding night at its maximum…near the bluish flame of a Bunsen burner. Angrily she'd snatched the knickers and matching corset from his grasp.

"For God sake, Sherlock! Why on earth did you think it was okay to experiment with my panties?! And where the hell are the rest of my clothes." He'd nearly gotten her to her breaking point and she was barely able to contain herself.

He'd looked at her with a strange tender look, making her feel even more self-conscious about only wearing his lab coat.

"Hmm, why would you need any more clothes? This looks lovely on you." He fished a navy striped thong from a pile that could only have gotten out of her suitcase and contained every piece of underwear she'd brought. "Also, I needed to test the strength of the fabric and its flammability. Tom wouldn't have liked the white set anyways."

He did it again, trapped her into asking a question she didn't want to know the answer to.

"Why wouldn't he like it?"

His broad smile had only increased her fear.

"Glad you asked. You see Tom's porn preference indicate that he is more attracted to women of Asian origin, and he likes them best in red. Red doesn't suit you though, neither do light and powdery colors. Makes you look very pale. Black or navy blue would do wonders for your complexion, even coral perhaps."

She stopped him with a slap to his cheek.

"Stop it!"

Swallowing her anger and perhaps the slight arousal of being so close to a naked Sherlock she took a deep breath.

"Just get dressed, and get out of those awful bed sheets or the next time they will be covered in itching powder and you won't be able to sleep in your own bed for the next few days." She'd known it was a childish thing to say, but as she was dealing with a man-child she'd thought it to be justified. The second after the words had come out of her mouth, she'd already regretted them. Sherlock had taken just a small step closer, bended his head down to hers and spoken words that caused her to shiver all over.

"Then I'll just have to sleep in your bed."

Her hormones were on a rampage through her body as her heart rate quickened, causing her to feel the signs of arousal all over.

"Just…get…dressed." She'd barely managed to squeak.

"Fine." His voice had come out as slight growl dramatically dropping his bed sheets half way to his bed room, slamming the door behind his…well behind. A behind that she was unable to get out of her head, worsening her arousal, only adding to the collection of images that swum through her head. Everywhere she looked she'd begun to see opportunities to snog and shag the daylight out of him and with those her mind had already begun to create images that made her desperate for relieve.

She took a moment to steady her breathing and got her phone.

Screw waiting! I need you here at Baker Street, right now. We're not having lunch, but I'm dying for you to be my dessert. Xxx MH

She knew Tom was a bit daft, but even he would get what she had planned. If Sherlock wanted to annoy her and make her uncomfortable he'd definitely succeeded, but now it was her turn. Shagging Tom upstairs and doing so very loudly for the rest of the afternoon would certainly not please the consulting detective.

Five minutes before Tom arrived; Sherlock had come out of his room dressed in that cursed purple dress shirt and very tight trousers. He'd looked at her with a somewhat smug grin and taken up the violin to play. It was mesmerizing sight and she couldn't help but stare at him. His hips ever swaying so slowly, the beautiful sound he produced with those hands, the way he would place emotions in his music he rarely would show in real life.

Realization had dawned on her; all she would ever want was him, and only him. Then Tom had rung, very much in anticipation of being ravished. She still had been very much aroused and angry causing her to slam the first door she met shut. After which she had, in what she now thought to be a moment of insanity, lead Tom to Sherlock's bedroom. She'd closed her eyes and pretended, so while reality had begun to fade away, her imagination had taken over and at his first touch she'd found her release with his name on her lips. In horror she'd opened her eyes, to see Tom look at her in confusion and disgust, no shirt and his belt undone. He'd yelled at her, how he'd known all this time that she'd never loved him and how she'd been distant. He'd ripped off her ring and no pleading could stop him. Clothes assembled in a bundle he'd made his way to the door. In the realization of her own nakedness she'd wrapped herself in Sherlock's bed sheet, sprinting after him. While Tom had thrown Sherlock some angry words she'd locked herself in his bedroom too embarrassed to face the consequences of her action.

Now she was still sitting here, in his bedroom, surrounded by the intoxicating smell of him listening to John reprimanding Sherlock.

His last sentence wasn't as loud, but she could hear him just fine.

"I'll be back in three hours to make sure she hasn't murdered you, or maybe just help clean up the mess. You better have solved this then, otherwise I will kill you myself."

Her blood ran cold, unsure whether she could face any of this right now. But could've John been right? That Sherlock had been undermining every single one of her relationships because he wanted her for himself?

Silence followed as she heard the front door shut, signaling John's departure. The door was locked, but slight sounds of ticking metal made her aware he was picking the lock. Any second now she would have to face the source of her frustration.

A/N: I know! I'm a horrible person for ending it here, but for the next part I needed it to be from Sherlocks perspective. I'll update within a week, hopefully sooner! What would you like to hear from our favorite consulting detective? Apologies, a declaration of love, the typical 'i'm a sociopath and therefore not relationship material' thingy? I have stuff planned, but I'm always curious whether it will be very predictable!