A/N - I'm so sorry that this took so long, I have been battling a chest infection, and have got lots of uni work due in a week.

Thank you all so so much for the wonderful reviews :] I shall respond to them all as soon as I can :] You guys are definitely keeping me writing.

And you were all right, Sherlock lied about it being a one time thing :]

This chapter is basically just smut, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Echo

Chapter Six

The Morning After

Molly stood hovering over the microscope, watching the bacteria wriggle and writhe hypnotically. She had been working all day, feet tired, hair a mess and her head ached. It was silly, but Molly resented the man laid on the metal slab, he had arrived a half an hour before the end of her shift, obviously it couldn't wait because the police wanted the post mortem as soon as possible. It wasn't as though the poor man could have waited a few more minutes to die, but perhaps he could have been a little smarter and not gotten himself killed while she was working.

With an agitated sigh Molly lifted her head from the lens of the microscope and scrawled down her findings in short hand, her eyes heavy with sleep. She heard the door swing open and cringed as she heard the handle collide with the wall; Sherlock. Molly didn't feel the need to turn and greet the irritable consulting detective, she knew him well enough to anticipate his harsh words and cold stare. She didn't think she could handle him and all the work at the same time.

"Miss Hooper, aren't we rude this evening?" Sherlock's usual cocky tone was set in place however, surprisingly so, Molly actually thought she detected some semblance of humour laced within his words. Was he trying to make a joke? Sherlock Holmes? Surely not.

With a slight shake of her head, Molly pushed aside that thought - believing she had imagined the humorous undertones; Sherlock didn't do double meanings, he told the truth, no matter how harsh. "I'm a little busy Sherlock. Can... whatever it is you need wait?" She hadn't meant her voice to sound quite that rude, hopefully he hadn't taken too much offence. Molly could hope that he wouldn't notice, but Sherlock noticed everything.

To Molly's surprise Sherlock began to laugh, a light sound unlike anything she had heard pass his lips. Turning on her heel, eyes wide, she almost gasped as she caught sight of the scene before her. Sherlock stood naked, a bunch of roses held precariously to cover his man hood. "Unfortunately not, Molly. Would you really have me go back into the street looking like this?" Using his free hand, he waved toward the door. His icy, blue eyes seemed to show so much warmth, the smile genuine. Molly had never seen him look so handsome.

With a fiery blush setting in, Molly tucked an errant curl behind her ear and smiled up at him, her feet carrying her toward him of their own accord. "Are these for me?" She reached slowly for the roses, watching the spark ignite in his eyes as their fingers touched.

"Yes, and also to give me a little dignity." Sherlock's grin broadened as he looked down at the pathologist. Molly gasped as he threw the roses aside, his arms wrapping around her before his lips claimed hers.

Sherlock had been awake for several hours, laid on his back staring at the cracks on the ceiling. He hadn't yet moved from Molly's embrace. She lay glued to his side, her head resting on his shoulder, arm draped across his stomach and leg hitched over his. He would deny it profusely, but he was enjoying the intimacy; Sherlock rarely allowed people to get so close, but that didn't mean that he didn't crave it every once in a while.

He would have to leave her soon, perhaps give her one more day. Molly deserved a little happiness, the girl had the worst luck. She had been pining after a man who was seemingly uninterested. When she finally found someone they were only using her. And whenever she tried to go out on dates, Sherlock seemed to interrupt and destroy her plans.

Sherlock glanced down at her as she made a slight groaning noise in the back of her throat. How fascinating. Sherlock turned his attentions to her as she began to whimper, her small grasp tightening. Was little Mousy Molly having a dirty dream?

Molly's hand gripped his hair as Sherlock lifted her onto the table, his mouth devouring hers. She allowed her eyes to flutter closed briefly as Sherlock trailed kisses down her neck. Running her fingers through his curly hair, Molly couldn't remember ever being this content. Just as a smile spread across her face, her eyes sprang open as she suddenly felt a chill washing over her skin. Looking down, she furrowed her brow in confusion as she realised that her clothes were gone. Turning her questioning gaze to Sherlock, he merely smirked and shrugged his shoulders.

Before Molly could interject, Sherlock had pounced, his hands pawing at her flesh while he used his legs to separate her knees. Pulling her to him, Sherlock didn't waste any more time, as he lent down to kiss her. Gripping her hips he dragged her closer to the edge of the table, inwardly shivering as he swallowed her moans or pleasure while entering her.

Sherlock propped his hands behind his head as Molly began to moan, her hips rocking ever so slightly, bumping gently into his hip. A slight smirk spread across his lips as he heard her mutter his name faintly. Perhaps this was a usual occurrence for Molly Hooper, having Sherlock star in her erotic dreams. But to Sherlock this was a rather strange feeling, having a woman he had considered innocent, panting in her sleep and rubbing herself against his hip and thigh.

Quirking his brow slightly, Sherlock decided to have a little fun. Pushing his leg to meet Molly's gentle thrusts. He wasn't surprised to hear the increase of volume to her breathy pants and moans. It appeared that this little experiment was going to be rather exciting. Turning toward her, Sherlock made sure to be careful and not wake her. His leg was still wedged between hers. With the lightest touch, Sherlock ran his fingers over her cheek, the pad of his thumb trailing over her soft lip before he bowed his head, kissing her slowly and silencing her constant whimpers.

Molly allowed her head to fall forward into the crook of Sherlock's neck. Her eyes closed and mouth agape as she relished the feelings he enticed from her body. Their skin slick with sweat as they moved in sync. Molly lifted her head slowly as she realised that his movements had slowly stopped. Looking up into his eyes, she didn't say a word as his fingers gently traced her cheek. He seemed miles away, his eyes following the movements of his hand. The fingers trailed slowly toward her mouth, his eyes squinting in silent concentration as he dragged his thumb painfully slowly over her bottom lip.

"You're beautiful, Molly." His words were a whisper against her ears.

She allowed her eyes to flutter closed as he once again bowed down to claim her mouth. He rocked his hips slowly and Molly almost stopped breathing, the intensity seemed so much stronger than before. Gripping his shoulders, she tucked her head into the crook of his neck, crushing herself closer to his warmth.

Sherlock broke away from the kiss, his eyes taking in every detail of Molly's face. It was obvious that she was dreaming of him, as he had already heard his name several times. By the look of pleasure on her face, he'd say that the dream was rather good. Her body seemed to be reenacting whatever she was experiencing in her sub conscious. He wasn't exactly an expert on these kinds of things, but surely the real thing was much better than the imagined.

Deciding it was a better option, Sherlock gently ran his fingers through Molly's long brown hair, whispering her name softly. Molly began to protest, her eyes squinting before she grumbled incoherently. "Molly, wake up. I have something for you." Her eyes instantly sprang open, the memory of her erotic dream still fresh in her mind. However she knew that it was highly improbable that he had roses for her.

Molly glanced down at their intertwined bodies, her throat closing slightly as she registered that last night had in fact happened and that she was currently laid naked with Sherlock Holmes. Reading the thoughts as they crossed her face, Sherlock was quick to lay any fears to rest. "Yes, it wasn't a dream, Molly. However, you did seem to be having one. About me." With those last words, he pressed his growing length into her, relishing the sound of her petite gasp. "I was wondering if you wanted the real thing instead?"

Maintaining eye contact with him, Molly made a split second decision to throw away her insecurities and enjoy the moment as she had the night before. "Perhaps it really is healthy to be selfish," Molly whispered, a slight smile quirking her lips. Sherlock didn't need much more of an invitation, with a small chuckle he took what he wanted. What was his. He'd be damned if a dream would take his place.

Molly released a squeal of surprise as Sherlock's hands gripped her hips, pulling her onto him with such intensity that her eyes began to water. She bit her lip to stifle the groan of pain. His fingers dug greedily into her flesh as his teeth nipped at her neck. She never knew that Sherlock had this side to him. If he were honest, neither did Sherlock. Perhaps it was a build up of sexual frustration over the years, or having to watch Molly fantasising about him, maybe the memories from the previous nights activities were still bouncing around his mind, causing his arousal. No matter what it was, neither of them wanted it to end.

Once again Sherlock opened his eyes to watch as Molly unravelled before him. Her eyes closed softly, mouth open in a delicate 'o' shape and eyebrows drawn together slightly. He knew that he would never tire of seeing her this way. He didn't know why, but he felt the need to memorize it. He didn't want this to be the last time he would see her like this, but just in case, he wanted to dedicate it to memory, file away every sound and soft movement of her delicate face. She was fascinating. The experience was fascinating. He had dedicated himself to science, yet missed out on one of the most complex experiences. Sherlock wanted to see how much he could entice from her.

Giving his head a slight shake. Sherlock bowed his head and began to place slow kisses down her neck, keeping a steady rhythm as he felt her begin to tighten around him. Moving his hand over her body, Sherlock finally threaded his fingers into her hair. Gripping tightly as he tugged her closer, trying to conjure up the same sounds her little fantasy had created - Sherlock Holmes was certainly better than some dream invented by the shy pathologist.

Molly opened her eyes to see Sherlock looming over her, his eyes piercing and hair tousled into a curly mess. She allowed herself to get lost in their blue depths as the euphoria washed over her, wave after wave crashing into her as his pace increased in speed. His hips colliding with hers as he grunted, head bowing and eyes closed. Molly watched with wide eyes as Sherlock tossed his head back, neck exposed, veins pulsing, muscles rolling as he gave one final thrust. She almost choked as her own orgasm took control, curling her toes and setting off fireworks behind her eyes. The last thing she recalled was her finger nails digging into Sherlock's shoulders, before her mind went blank and her eyes glazed over.

Sherlock quickly untangled himself from the incoherent brunette; no need to get too attached. Molly laid panting, eyes glued to the ceiling, much as Sherlock had been doing previously. He laid beside her, dissecting the strange emotions which were being dragged up from the previous night. Sherlock didn't necessarily feel all that differently toward Molly Hooper. It was the way he saw her that had really changed. He had never imagined that one day he would seek her for sexual gratification. That was all this was really, for both of them. Molly did have considerably stronger feelings for him, yes. But she knew the rules.

Sherlock was brought out of his musing by a giggling Molly Hooper. "I thought you said this was a one time thing?" She cocked her eyebrow at him, her mouth quirked into a smile.

Sherlock didn't miss a beat as he replied almost lazily, "I said the same thing about smoking."

Well, whatever had changed in the fundamentals of their relationship, he was actually enjoying himself. Sherlock wasn't bored or even frustrated with the once irritating woman beside him. Perhaps he was getting a little soft. It would probably be easier on her if he broke this off sooner rather than later.