The Broken Hard Drive

Sherlock had been at Molly's flat for about forty-five minutes before he heard her fumbling with her keys, unsuccessfully trying to unlock her door. He listened for a minute then got up and opened the door. Molly fell into his arms giggling, drunk off her arse.

"Oh, Sherlock... ah ha! You didn't scare me this time!" She laughed.

"That's only because you're too drunk to know enough to be frightened. Your friends let you walk home like this?"

"They walked me to the corner. Anyway, I'm not as think as you drunk I am." More giggles.

Sherlock was holding her up almost completely. He was seriously considering finding her friends and having them deported. I'm sure I could come with a good enough reason. Now what do I do with her?

"Molly I think we need to get you to bed." He said steering her toward her room.

"Oh, wow... that only took six years...I'mmmm gooood! It must be the fuck me boots!" More giggles.

By the time he got her to her bed she was laughing like she was the funniest person in the world. He had to admit, she looked adorable. Wait... Okay fine, Molly Hooper was adorable. He couldn't help it. They had been spending so much time together lately that he missed her when she wasn't around and well he seemed to always find an excuse to see her. That didn't matter right now, right now she was seriously drunk and he needed to be a good friend and take care of her, because that's what friends do.

He crouched down eye level, "Molly I need to get these boots off, okay?"

"Your not wearing shoes either Mr. Detective Man."

"Right, I'm taking off your boots Molly, do you understand?"

"I understand that you have amazing eyes, how can they be twelve different colors at once? Hmm?"

"It's heterochromia." He said

"Heter-watta?

"Never mind, may I remove you boots Molly?"

"Yup!" She said popping the 'p' and leaning back on her elbows and sticking out her left foot. "You can remove anything you like Mr. Holmes." She leaned back up quickly and whispered in his ear, "Anything at all." Then leaned back once again.

Well, that was unexpected, not a drunken flirtatious Molly (people often act overly sexual when inebriated,) but Sherlock's body's reaction to said flirtation. He steadied himself and unzipped her high black boot and pulled the first one off, then when he started on the other Molly shifted and her skirt road up on her thigh. That's when he noticed her undergarments... Molly Hooper was wearing stockings and garters. Gulp, damn Molly... sexy underthings really? Okay focus. He got a hold of himself once again and pulled off the other boot.

"Molly, why did you decide to dress like an inexpensive prostitute tonight? Did you attend a fancy dress party?" He asked as he put her boots at the end of her bed.

"I felt like looking sexy tonight Shhherlooooock."

"That took a while, didn't know if you were going to make it." He laughed. "Where's your waste basket?" He said absently looking around, he didn't notice that Molly was unbuttoning her top. He found the bin on the other side of the bed and brought it over and put it next to her. That's when he realized she had removed said top to reveal a sheer black bra. Sherlock stood there staring, though he knew he shouldn't be. She wasn't even trying to be sexy anymore, just laying there being very drunk... this is so wrong.

"Okay, you need paracetamol and water." He sprinted out to find the medicine, a task... I need a task.

Unfortunately in the time that it took him to find the the pills and get her a bottle of water Molly had managed to get her skirt off, but of course not her garters and stockings. When he came back into the room he found her passed out on her stomach, her arse sticking straight up in the air. Oh my that's a perfect ares... Sherlock couldn't pull his eyes away from Molly's lovely bottom, he was frozen once again.

His best friend had once called him a machine... nothing could farther from the truth. Sherlock, for all his attempts at keeping that area of his mind from infecting the important parts (that which are allocated for his work,) was still a man and of course the sight of a beautiful nearly naked woman did things to him. Things that even a completely naked Irene Adler hadn't managed to accomplish.

He had finally accepted that he cared for Molly, really cared for her and now his mind was trying to marry Molly 'very good friend whom he cared for and wanted to be around' with Molly 'the sex kitten,' full round bottom poised suggestively in the air. If John was here he'd have (well he'd be pulling him out of this bed room and thumping him on his head,) but he would have noted Sherlock's buffering face. He may just have to completely rewrite his hard drive after this evening.

With far too much effort Sherlock finally managed to force himself out of Molly's bedroom and into her kitchen for a nice cold glass of water (since an ice cold shower was, at the moment out of the question, however very much needed.) Now he needed a game plan so to speak... He supposed he should stay, if she tried to get up Molly could hurt herself (she wasn't sure footed in the best of circumstances,) not to mention the possibility of choking on her own vomit. Yes, he'd have to stay, hopefully she'd not remember that he was present for her little strip-tease tonight. Sherlock set up camp on her sofa and tried to rid his mind of the exquisite things he had just witnessed.

As it turns out trying to delete a beautiful half naked woman you (apparently) desire, really only makes things well... harder, as it were.

Definitely going to have to rewrite that hard drive...