Sherlock felt his eyes open reluctantly to the bright light of Molly's bedroom-sunlight streaming through the open windows. It took a few seconds for his sleep-washed brain to comprehend his current position: he was naked-and Molly Hooper appeared to be as well-and the two of them were intertwined like a mass of spaghetti-legs, arms, and torsos wrapped around each other.
Sherlock experimentally stretched his free arm above his head, surprised at the stiffness, trying hard to not wake the still-sleeping Molly whose head had made a dent in his chest. Sherlock rarely slept, and even more rarely did he enter a deep sleep, resulting in the kind of "hit-by-truck" feeling he was currently experiencing.
Remembering the events of the previous evening, Sherlock smiled as he watched Molly's eyes dart back and forth beneath her eyelids. She would be awake soon. Deciding to help her along, Sherlock bent his head down to his chest and delivered a soft kiss to the top of her head. As she moved to look up at his face, he had to stifle a laugh at her extreme bedhead and the large red mark on her cheek left over from sleeping against his chest.
"Good morning, " she croaked groggily, as she began to move and stretch. "What time is it?"
Sherlock rolled over slightly to look at the clock, and came back to his position chuckling lightly.
"What?" she asked, working the life back into her arm that had been under Sherlock's head.
"It's six o'clock," he replied, watching her face for a reaction.
Molly huffed and slumped back down onto Sherlock's chest.
"Oh-let's go back to sleep then-it's too early for a day off."
Sherlock grinned slyly as he turned the clock/radio to a position she could see. It read 18:06.
Molly jumped up at the sight of it, looking quite comical with her hair going in every direction. "We slept all day?!"
Sherlock made no attempt to move himself, quite enjoying the view of a naked Molly scratching her head in disbelief.
"I suppose the experiments of last night were rather…exhausting," he said seriously, the hint of a smirk turning up the ends of his lips.
Molly visibly relaxed then, grinning herself, and returning down to the bed to give Sherlock a long, slow kiss on the mouth.
"And what did the Consulting Detective think of said experiments?"
Sherlock had just begun to pull her in to tell her exactly what he had thought of their experiments when he was interrupted by the familiar buzz of his mobile. He rolled his eyes and flopped his head back onto the pillow.
"Leave it to Mycroft to disengage any moment with any semblance whatsoever to my happiness."
He flipped the phone open and ensured the number, then answered bitingly.
"What is it, Mycroft?"
"Brother, dear-I require your presence at the Milford factory near Hounslow. Just putting the finishing touches on your return plan."
Sherlock rolled his eyes again, irritated with his brother's horrific timing. "Fine. When?" he spat.
"Now would be ideal," Mycroft said with a slight edge to his voice.
"You know, Mycroft, I think even you would have to appreciate the comedy in what you have just interrupted."
"Have to go now, Sherlock. See you soon. Love you."
The phone clicked and Sherlock stared at it in disbelief, his eyes widening.
"What did he want?" asked Molly, her voice giving away her slight desire to throttle Mycroft herself.
Sherlock didn't answer, but instead bounded out of bed and began dressing in a fury.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?" Molly said, concerned, yet confused.
"Something's wrong. I think Mycroft has been compromised."
"What-what did he say? Did he tell you something was wrong?"
Sherlock stopped for a moment, realization setting in as to the only person who could possibly be behind this.
"Yes. He definitely said something wrong."
A/N: We're here! The climax! I think I'll make you wait a couple days until the weekend, then I'll finish this bad-boy in one swoop! Looking forward to it!