Soooo, yea...enough of you wanted a part three after this...so okay. I suppose I can swing it. ;)

but I don't own anything!

K, story time:

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Molly hadn't remembered anything from that night, apart from hammering down one too many unfamiliar drinks that she would otherwise not have had, were she thinking clearly. Aside from that self deprecating activity, the only other recollection she could muster was being carried in big, strong arms, and placed carefully, lovingly into her bed. She had woken the next morning, only to find a note beside her bed, along with a bottle of water and some aspirin.

'Take the aspirin. And the rest of the day to rest off that hangover. Bart's has been informed.'

She gazed over the loops of the letters. They were large, almost comical in their flow. Not recognizing the handwriting, she decided to follow the advice on the piece of paper anyway. The rest of the day had been filled with comfortable naps, and a later-than-usual lunch. She hadn't even changed from her pajamas, perfectly fine in taking the day off. It wasn't until the next day, when she returned to work, that she had been filled in on what happened.

Mary had texted her, saying that they needed to meet for lunch. Molly agreed, and they set up the mutual time, picking the cafe just down the street from the hospital. When Molly arrived, Mary was already there, a smile lighting up her face.

"Wow! She is alive!" Mary joked. Molly rolled her eyes, before quickly hugging her friend.

"I thought you might have decided to just stay in bed forever. I mean, I would have. No sense leaving bed when you've got everything you need right there, eh?" The blond woman winked slyly at her. Molly bit her lip nervously, a small, unsure grin on her face. Mary gasped a bit, her eyes widening.

"Oh my God! You don't remember a thing, do you? Wow. You really were drunk." Mary chuckled. Molly had blushed a bit, but ignored her friend while they ordered their food. As they sat down to eat, Molly leaned forward across the table a bit, her voice hushed.

"Mary, you have to tell me what happened. Please. I don't remember anything. All I know is that I woke up the next morning with a note telling me to take some aspirin and the day off." Molly said quietly, her demeanor obviously anxious. Mary smiled warmly, before nodding her head.

"Alright, Mols, calm down. It's okay. Wow, I didn't take him for that type." She shook her head in disbelief. Molly motioned for her to continue. "Well, you had more booze than I think the rest of us combined. And that's okay, it's good to see you loosen up once in awhile. Anyway, Hannah met this really sweet guy, Chip, so she dragged him over to meet you. You guys went to the bar, had a few more drinks, and you were doing great." Molly listened in, and tried to remember the events. The name 'Chip' sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him for sure. 'So, this Chip must have carried me home.' She thought to herself. Mary continued speaking, so she listened in again.

"But then he left, because you had started talking to some other bloke. At first I couldn't get a good look, so I went back to dancing. Chip came and joined us even, poor fellow, he'd just broken up with his boyfriend. Anyway, when I turned around to look for you, you weren't at the bar anymore. And then I saw you with Sherlock. He was escorting you out..." Mary was rambling, when Molly's eyes grew exponentially wider. 'Chip...gay. I remember that.' She thought, being distracted when she heard the detective's name.

"Wait, Sherlock? What was Sherlock doing there?" Molly asked.

"Beats me. But he must have seen how drunk you were, and nodded to me across the room that he was going to see you home so the rest of us could stay out later. I never would have taken him for the doctoring 'take two in the morning and call me' type person." She smiled brightly, laughing at her own joke, until she saw Molly's worried face. She grabbed her friend's hand, squeezing it tightly.

"Mols?"

"Shit. Shit shit shit!" Molly mumbled under her breath. She looked up to Mary, tears in the corners of her eyes. "I remember it now. I remember everything now. Oh Mary, I've made myself into such an idiot!" Molly buried her head in her hands, wiping away the tears from her eyes. Mary looked on in concern, not sure what to do or say.

"I don't think I can ever face him again. Oh, he must think I'm so stupid!" Molly exclaimed through her muffling hands.

"Come on, don't say that. What could you have possibly done or said that would make him think that?" Molly looked up to her friend, and took in a shaky breath, before she began filling in the rest of the details of that night. By the end of it, Mary was trying to suppress a giggle.

"It's not funny, Mary!" Molly said with a hurt tone. Mary shook her head, and smiled sympathetically at the brown haired girl.

"It's okay, Molly. If you ask me, it's about time that stupid boy knows what he's supposed to be in charge of. If anything, I'd say he's probably just as nervous as you are, if not more. I don't think he has any idea how to talk to a woman." Mary said before bursting into laughter. Molly chuckled softly, before joining her friend in the happy fit.

When they had gone their separate ways, Mary hugged her friend, reassuring her that it would be alright.

"You just hold your head up high, you've only stated the truth of things. That boy does need to shag you silly. If for no other reason than so you can get him out of your system." She grinned mischievously. Molly rolled her eyes, and turned to go back to Bart's.

When she returned to her lab, she was nearly startled out of her wits, as she saw the all too familiar man, sitting behind his favorite microscope. She gasped a bit, her eyes seemingly locked to him. He looked up at the sound, meeting her gaze. Neither one of them said anything for several moments, both just taking deep and even breaths.

"He...hello, Sherlock." Molly finally offered up after she noted the silence. Sherlock's expression hadn't changed from it's slightly shocked, slightly...nervous?...look.

"Hello, Molly." He returned the greeting. Molly nearly felt the shivering jolt go down and across every single one of her vertebrae at the way he said her name. It was low in his throat, airy in tone. Molly moved to the work that she had been working on, trying to ignore the feeling of his eyes on her as she walked about the lab. The rest of the afternoon had gone like this. Neither of them speaking, both working side by side in companionable, tense silence. When it came time for her to leave, Sherlock stood too, throwing his coat around his shoulders, and pulling it on. Molly turned then, feeling the need to break the awkwardness.

"Sherlock, I just wanted to say...thank you. For um...for making sure I got home...the other...night." She stumbled over her grateful statement, as she looked up into his deep, dark eyes. 'Are they darker than normal?' She thought. He was standing close to her, his height becoming a looming presence. Molly had to look away, too uncomfortable with his no doubt judgmental stare.

"You're quite welcome, Molly. It was my pleasure." He stated in return, his own voice sounding quite unsure of itself, quite sultry in the way he said her name once more. She smiled nervously, her eyes not quite meeting his. As they quietly strolled down the hallway, Molly stared at her feet, no doubt feeling the dark blue eyes on the side of her face. They reached the lifts, and the door opened for them. Both stepped into it, and Sherlock pressed the button for the floor below that they needed. The tension only grew more in the small quarters of the box, when it came to a jolting stop halfway through its trip. Molly felt the pressure of their silence closing in on her, having nowhere to escape.

"Listen, I'm sorry if anything I said the other night made you feel uncomfortable or w...weird. I don't really remember much anyway, but I remember enough, an-an-and...I'm sorry." Molly spewed out the terrified apology, before looking up at him. Her cheeks were beet red, and she bit her lip waiting for him to say something, anything. However, when he didn't, instead choosing to take the few steps to stand in front of her, Molly went from nervous to positively terrified.

"What do you remember, exactly?" His baritone practically purred out the question. Molly drew in a shaky breath, her eyes meeting their line of vision with his suited chest.

"I...remember...saying something about," she closed her eyes, not believing she was admitting this to the man who already knew what had been said, "sh...shagging me silly." Molly shook her head a bit, embarrassed that she had just said it again.

"And?" He asked, his voice quieter than before.

"And then...I think I fell asleep?" She stated, more as a question than an actual sentence. Sherlock sighed out, before he began to speak.

"You had stated that the one person that you would allow to, do that to you, was someone who had never had the desire to with anyone else, much less you. I can only infer that you meant me, given that you then asked if I were going to that night." He told her the conversation he had had with her drunken self, causing Molly to blush and hang her head in even more shame. She hadn't even noticed that the detective had been slowly moving her back, until the wall pinned her between itself and him.

"You were correct, in that you fell asleep after that, thus missing my promise to you." Molly looked up at him this time, confusion laced obviously over her face.

"Wh...what did you promise?"

"I told you no, that I would not...on that night." She nodded her head, before her eyes widened at his silken voice whispering in her ear.

"But soon. Very, very soon."

Molly looked up to him again, their eyes meeting, before she instinctively snapped them shut as he took her lips in his own. Her palms were flat against the lift walls, as was the rest of her. Sherlock had pressed her further against it, his own hands bracing himself against the same wall to keep from simply crushing her. As he worked her mouth against his, Sherlock realized just how long he had wanted this, wanted her. Soon, he felt her small hands sliding up and down his chest, before one finally settled around his neck, the other pulling his body closer to her own by the back of his trousers. The man complied eagerly to her request, and he moved closer.

The flickering lights in the lift served their purpose of creating and almost ambiance for the situation the two found themselves in. Skin couldn't be revealed or touched fast enough, hands desperately groping and kneading parts of flesh that were altogether too sensitive to the touch. It was soon that Molly found herself being lifted up a bit, and pinned even harder against the wall of the metal box. She gasped out as she realized that not only was her bottom half naked, but so was his, tailored trousers shucked down to his ankles. She felt him nudge at her entrance, almost as if asking permission to enter. The pathologist could only moan out her want, before it turned to a high gasp of surprise when he filled her.

He was the perfect fit to her, his body rubbing and touching all the best spots that made her see stars. It was all she could do to cling to his shoulders for dear life as he sped up. Driving into her faster than before. The shaking lift hit off the walls outside it as Sherlock moved in and out of her, only adding to the carnal sounds that they both were emitting.

"Sherlock, th...that feels, oh shit, you feel so good!" Molly squealed as he thrust into her. Sherlock, for all his clever mind and endless knowledge, was seemingly at a loss for words. His only response was a low animal-like growl of approval. The sheer nature of it stirred something deeper in Molly, causing her to moan out more. The two soon reached their peaks, Molly helplessly clawing at his back to anchor herself to something. Sherlock, digging his nails into the soft flesh of her bum, his damp curls sticking with sweat to her breasts and low on her collarbone. They felt the lift begin to lurch and creak again. Panic set into their eyes, and they hurriedly dressed and straightened themselves out as best as they could. The door of the lift opened once more, and the two walked out of it, and shortly after, onto the streets of London. They stopped at the apex of the main road, ready to go their separate ways.

"Well, considering your state of euphoric release was cut short by the potential of being caught, I would say that I did not get to properly 'shag you silly'." Sherlock stated in his imperialistic voice. Molly smiled softly, trying not to show him just how happy she currently was. He leaned in, taking to nibbling on her earlobe a bit.

"I would very much like another chance, if I may." He whispered hotly into her ear. A proud grin swept to his lips as he felt her shudder against him. She simply nodded a bit, before finding her winded and breathy voice.

"I...I think that's only fair, since you didn't get a fair shot. We were in a lift...after all." She stated almost sweetly. Sherlock found it quite endearing, until he felt her hand graze against the tender flesh of his inner thigh. He gasped audibly, resisting a loud moan as she spoke again.

"Not really my best position, if I do say so myself. Maybe you should come round tonight." It was his turn to shudder, as her hot breath danced around his ear. The world's only consulting detective had just been reduced to a puddle, desperately trying to mop himself up as he watched her retreating form. Sherlock took a deep breath, before straightening himself and following after her, not content at all with waiting until later that night for his second chance.

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K, so um...yea. That's possibly the erm...hottest thing I think I've written. I dunno...you be the judge. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless. Thank you all so much for wanting more from this story! :D I'm glad! Right, so...what do you think?