Dreams

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They experimented with touching recently.

Sherlock was gentle, yet very shy, as he prodded the back of Molly's forearm. Not once would she ever move or disrupt the flow of sensual curiosity between them. Sherlock was like a curious beast. A beast that was curious, majestic, and very much strong-willed. She couldn't help but find him to be exotic when he would do something unexpected; like touching her.

Some days, his gentle prods would turn into that of mindless caressing, and then eventually his hand would fully grab hold of her skin. Molly was sure he felt the skin prickle and harden into tiny bumps. Soon after, he found the small patches of sensitive flesh that had her in a tangled mess of nerves. In those times, Molly found it hard to not keep quiet.

"You don't know what you do to me." her voice was playful as she tried to slip away from him. Molly wasn't offended by the contact, merely she was just alarmed, and turned on at the same time. Her dreams were beginning to take fruit in reality; Molly found the combination to be extremely vexing and strange.

In her dreams, Molly would initiate their foreplay that would lead to love-making in the end. Feminine hands would fill the empty, and lone spaces of his much larger ones. Her small lips would ever so softly place little adoring kisses onto his chest, up to his neck, and eventually onto his cheek. What it would feel like to kiss the prominence of his cheeks, she mused to herself. It was from there (that her dream husband) would pull her quietly into his frame, and they would move around the room to a nonexistent music box playing in the background. The soft 'tinks' of the melody would guide them around the floor. Gliding on instinct and talent.

Usually, at this phase of the dream, Sherlocks' face would be comfortably rooted into the crook of her small neck as he inhaled her perfume. His head hung low, his left hand held her in place at the dip of her back, while his right intertwined with her small fragile fingers. They were a ferocious pair of seduction and mystery.

Molly's dream Sherlock would eventually raise his head, rest his cheek against her forehead, and run his eyes to the left of her hand. The small band encircling her ring finger would be his reminder of who, and what she was... and maybe even... what she stood for. Him.

But... that was just a dream... right?

Dreams were supposed to be fleeting and other-worldly.

Strange thing is—Molly wasn't finding herself alone in a bed when things had calmed down. When the lustful haze had cleared from her eyes and head... well, she found herself in the arms of her husband. Dreams weren't meant to come true... right? Right? Then why—this?

"Are you... a-are you, uh... I mean. D-do I-I—" Molly stuttered huskily and she hugged Sherlock tighter. "Do... I... make you happy?"

How could he explain just how he felt these past few days..? Happy? No, it was so much more. Molly made him somewhat joyful. He wasn't bouncing off the walls screeching undying love nor blooming adoration. Though, sometimes he had those feelings too, but they came out more as condescending banters, and pointed looks thrown in someone's direction. Without such intended cruel intentions, mind you.

No, Molly gave him a sort of joy that was relatable to something John had introduced: Friendship. Yet, this joy was something much more to a deeper relational root. A joy was that of a relationship that was open for testing and pondering and even... intimacy. A new found joy that Molly had elicited within him, yes. Perhaps, Sherlock had finally found the start of something 'marital'. Is this—is this how it feels the first time? Sherlock thought to himself.

"Quite frankly, much more than that." Sherlock smiled against the soft hair of his wife and inhaled. He felt quite reinvented. Akin to a foreign freedom.

Molly's dream would not end today.

No, especially not today.

Sherlock was too comfortable.

So was Molly.

Yes, my friends, Sherlock is starting to get certain attachments towards our little Molly. This is my calm before the storm. There is still the matter of Molly finding out the truth about Hamish, and whether or not if she can let herself be pulled into that sort of drama. I mean, after all the suffering she deserves to breathe, right? I agree ;)

I had such high hopes into dragging this chapter out some more but... I couldn't. I had re-written this multiple times and each paragraph felt disconnected. Nothing was continuous nor did it hold your attention long enough to get the spark between them to crackle-and-pop! So, I had to cut it at a mere 600 something words. The rest of it will be tossed into the 'extras' folder, and saved in case I want to add them into another chapter.

My reason for being absent: My mother has been having some health problems as of late so I took some time to help her. I basically was the substitute mother for almost a month. Domestic skills ACTIVATE! She was rather adamant in pulling through on her own, but things got from better to worse then back to better, and again back to worse. I took the responsibility with balancing my work, the family, and this story. Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. *hugs everyone*

Again, thank you all for your support on this story. You have helped me through quite a stand-still in my life. You guys keep the light burning for me after so many things. So, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU ALL AND TO EVERY SINGLE ONE. Thank you so very much.

Leave your wonderful words of criticism, praise, and FEELZ in the reviews. I read through all of them whenever I can. Yes, your words make me laugh and smile and giggle like an idiot ;) thank you for that!