'Something fairly simple,' John had said on the phone. 'Molly thought you might like it particularly'.

Soooo fluffy, you'll only need peanut butter on that sandwich.

I hope you like it.

Sharing Molly

"What are you up to?" John came home to find his wife lying naked on a towel on their bed.

"What do you imagine?" Molly smiled. They were to meet Sherlock in about an hour at 221B, just down the street from their flat.

"Oh, did you – hmm. Interesting. Getting cleaned out?" A few items in the bathroom and on the bed that led John to understand that his wife had just administered an enema to herself.

"What did you have in mind, Molly?" John stretched out beside her on the bed and took her in his arms.

"I leave it to you. You're the ringmaster."

"Am I?" John wondered.

"I don't say it to flatter you. He's completely deferential to you in bed. I imagine it's a kind of surrender for him, too, you know."

"I know. I know he is. But I'm not looking for any kind of -."

"I know."

"Any kind of reassurance. I feel fine, I'm fine with what's been happening, how it's been going. That it's equal between the three of us is even more important, really, isn't it? And it's certainly working out that way, better than I'd imagined. You seem – are you, Molly? Are you happy with us? With us all?"

"Mmm, yes," Molly leaned in to kiss him.

She relished the roughness of her husband's afternoon beard. She tipped her head back, cuing him to run his chin and jaw along her throat, and down to her breasts and he obliged her, kissing her. But she soon had to pull away.

"Oh, excuse me, I have to – you know." She smiled and scampered off to the bathroom.

John stayed on the bed, reflecting as he listened to the sounds of water running in the bathroom.

It was true what Molly said, being so thoroughly deferential to anyone under any circumstances must be a total release for Sherlock. He realized what a testament it was to Sherlock's trust in John and Molly that he could let himself go so completely with them. John took a deep breath as he thought of the kind of release his friend must have at being able to give over control once in a while. What a relief it must be, too, that he was able to do it with people he trusted and cared for, rather than– oh, god. John shuddered at the length he knew lonely people had to go to for some kind of connection. Images of his first few weeks back in London, fresh from Afghanistan came to mind. That's finished, now, he had to remind himself.

John further considered the bits and bobs of Sherlock's childhood that he had meted out here and there, and the desolate picture they had painted. And what of his adolescence? The horror that almost everyone suffered at the hands of their teen years must have magnified itself many times in Sherlock's case, or he had already started to build those barriers that he had cemented so perfectly in place.

And what on earth had made him abstain for so long? Clearly he wasn't a virgin as Mycroft had intimated, but had had some experiences here and there. But during at least the two years that John had initially lived with him, John had been in his friend's company almost constantly, and was fairly sure he'd never – although, with Sherlock who knew? Whether he'd had a life whoring in the clubs, as he would seem to tell it, or whether he had had several bad experiences, it didn't matter. John wondered if he should ask, if it would be appreciated. In any case, he thought, something must have shut him down at some point, entirely. But no matter what specifically had happened, John knew, the result had been a thoroughly lonely beginning for this man, his friend.

John thought back to having held Sherlock and stroking his hair. Such a simple thing and it seemed to mean a lot to Sherlock. Not just physically, but Sherlock had seemed deeply moved by the experience as well. John fought with his embarrassment at withholding something so simple for so long. He resolved anew to let things continue to move forward.

There was a movement near the door, and John looked up. Molly's naked form leaned over him, smiling.

"All clean," She said, kissing him. She stretched herself out over John's fully clothed body, rubbing against him, encouraging him to stroke her skin and he didn't disappoint her. His hands came to rest finally on the lovely curve of her backside. He kneaded it, and pulled her apart a bit, dipping a finger into her.

"Mmm, yes? Who's there?" She joked, pressing back into John's hand.

John felt that she had applied a bit of lubricant to herself, and he was able to easily push his finger all the way into her.

"Just me, your husband. Who's this for, by the way?"

"Mmm, him, if you don't mind? When we went to the artist, he, uh, expressed an interest. Oh, John! I forgot to tell you, something else rather revealing happened."

Molly told John about how Sherlock had demonstrated to Molly how to hold herself in the artist's harness, how she would have to stretch herself in a spread eagle fashion for the sake of the body painting. How Sherlock had gotten into the harness himself to show her, and how he'd lingered rather longer than had been necessary, and how he had seemed to communicate something to her, smiling and bashful as he stood spread eagle in the harness, himself, and how he'd never mentioned it afterward.

"Oh, I see," said John, "He might like a bit of restraint, then?"

"Mmm, I really think so."

"Do you think he needs it to be at all formal? Or strict? I'm not that interested in getting too involved. I mean we're not -."

"Oh, I don't think so, no it was rather a bashful request."

"Interesting. Food for thought. Well, look at the time, shall we?"

Sherlock was in a rush to get home. The bloody traffic's not moving at all why do they all apply their horns at times like this when nothing's moving it's absurdly useless John and Molly Molly and John they're almost certainly home by now waiting waiting for me anxiety anxiety coming for me now outrun it but how when traffic here is at a standstill Molly and John John and Molly.

"Let me out here. Thank you."

He tossed a few notes to the cabbie, and started briskly walking. Sherlock was blocks from the flat, but he already felt better striding down the street, out of the car, out of the bloody traffic, finally more firmly on his way. 'Something fairly simple,' John had said on the phone, only moments ago, but added, 'Molly thought you might like it particularly,' Jesus Christ, what on earth could it be? Sherlock thought. His head had spun as he felt the blood drain from it.

Sherlock picked up his pace, fairly trotting down the street, barely avoiding other pedestrians. He hardly noticed when he broke into a run. It felt as though he were successfully outrunning the anxiety, and the simple fact of actually running toward Molly and John John and Molly, was pure bliss. He had several moments of childlike abandon, and an urge to giggle. He barely dodged pedestrians, now, as he broke a slight sweat, grinning a little madly.

221. He charged up the steps and burst into the flat. No one. He took in a deep breath, no, no one here, but they're here. Molly's bag and light coat stowed and hung. John's laptop on the desk. It was quiet, but there was a life and tension to the air in the room. He quickly shrugged out of his coat, flinging it to a chair, and made his way to the bedroom where he found the door open. He stepped inside.

John and Molly were involved in an ardent embrace on the bed, John in a dressing gown and what seemed to be nothing else and Molly fully dressed. They sat up at Sherlock's entrance.

"Please," Sherlock's breath was still short from his run, "Don't let me disturb you." He stood before the couple, breathing heavily.

"Did you jog here, Sherlock?" Molly got up and handed him a glass of water she got from the dresser. "You've broken a sweat."

"I'm – I'm sorry -.

"What? Don't be ridiculous. Relax. Take a moment, hmm?" John arranged his dressing gown for a little more modesty, and smiled at his friend, who took a seat in the small armchair in the corner of the room.

"Although, I must say, it's lovely of you to rush to us, love," Molly continued. "But we wouldn't have hurried off if you had been late."

"No, of course not, but I was irritated by the – cab. The traffic. So I got out and I suppose I did have a bit of a run for a few blocks."

Molly leaned down and kissed Sherlock as he relaxed into his chair, then she returned to John's arms for a brief kiss then the couple sat up, and smiled at Sherlock. John and Molly chatted about some fairly quotidian nonsense to do with their flat, and some other details of the day, but Sherlock knew they were only waiting for him to catch his breath. His breathing finally returned to almost normal, and John began.

"We're going to share Molly tonight," John offered.

"Mmm, how will we do that?" Sherlock smiled.

"Well, Molly will tell us, hmm? Molly?"

Molly hopped up off the bed, and John knelt up at the edge of the bed. Molly sat at the edge facing Sherlock with her back against John. A familiar starting position for the three. Molly smiled as John reached in front of her and unbuttoned her blouse as Sherlock watched.

"Remember this?" she asked Sherlock.

"Yes, yes. The first night. When you, - you came to me, John, Molly." Sherlock threatened to wax emotional. John hushed him.

"Shh, we're here now," he said.

"We love you, too, Sherlock," Molly added.

"Yes," said John.

"Yes," said Sherlock hoarsely, as he removed Molly's blouse and bra, leaning in to her, kissing her breasts, her neck and pressing his face to hers. He held her for a moment, just held her with his face against her breast, breathing in her scent, and living the wonder of the moment. John's hand came to rest on his head, then stroked his hair. Sherlock hummed his contentment. Then he was running his hands up Molly's legs to her thighs and bottom, to find that she had on no pants at all under her skirt.

"Molly, what have you done with your pants?" Sherlock was smiling as he kissed her and she felt his suppressed chuckles against her lips.

"John got there first, Sherlock."

"Hmm, John, really. It's hardly fair to have started without me." Sherlock unclasped her skirt, as John chuckled. Molly lifted her hips to help him as Sherlock slid the skirt down her legs. John was running his hands up and down Molly's back and she arched back into his touch, then arched forward to Sherlock's hands. With a frustrated yet somehow also appreciative huff, Molly rose and went to the dresser. As soon as she was clear of John, however, Sherlock knelt in her place, taking his friend's half hard erection into his mouth.

"Ah, Sherlock, that's not nec-"

"Please let me, John -."

"Ah," said Molly, "Lovely, Sherlock, but just for a moment, I'm feeling neglected lately, you see."

Sherlock slowly pulled away from John and took Molly in his arms, kissing her, holding her face in his hands.

"Are you, Molly, darling? I'm so sorry, let me fix it, please?" Molly felt his quiet laughter as he pressed his lips to her temple, and hair. She looked up at him and smiled, leaning up for a kiss, and then she placed something in his hands. Sherlock looked at the tube of lubricant Molly had put in his hands and pursed his lips in a tight knowing smile.

"I'm all clean. And John's already had a go at, um, getting me ready, but maybe you'd like to as well?" Then she paused as she was about to turn her back to him.

"You have done this before, haven't you?"

"Mmm, yes, but, ah - maybe I should say - ."

"Hmm? What?" Molly was an enchanting vision before him, naked, her hair flowing around her, her lips wet and slightly parted.

"Just never– ah, never with a girl."

"I see," she smiled. "How interesting. I'll be the first for you, then?"

"Well, yes." Sherlock could feel his blush come on in the usual manner, his chest, his neck and face.

"Well, just take your time. I'm sure you'll do fine. Um, you might be in for a surprise." And she turned her back to him, leaning against him, letting him run his hands up and down her naked body, running his nails across her chest, her nipples. What kind of a surprise, Sherlock wondered as Molly leaned forward to John. John was still on the edge of the bed, and Molly took him in her mouth, presenting her backside as high as she could to the man behind her. She smiled as John's skin was still wet from Sherlock's attentions earlier, and she concentrated on the taste of it, to see if she could identify it as his. She licked the bit of wet from the tip of John's cock and tickled him around the head with her tongue before taking him deeper and deeper into her mouth.

She was just beginning to drown her senses in John when Molly felt Sherlock's hands on her bottom, spreading her apart. A slick finger entered her nether hole and she felt her face break into a hot flush. She pressed herself back into the hand that was penetrating her. Her thoughts cast back to the painter and the filthy tarp where she'd laid down in the studio. How Sherlock had kissed her when the artist had left the room and said he wanted to take from behind like this. She hummed onto John's cock then pulled away.

"Ready, John?" she asked.

"Mmm, I think so, when you are, sweetheart."

Molly crawled somewhat reluctantly from Sherlock's hands to John, mounting him. She got well anchored onto him, then leaned forward, presenting her arse for Sherlock as best she could. She felt his hands again – oh, lovely. She covered John's face with wet kisses.

"Two now, Molly darling?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, please, , oh, god." Molly's face flushed at Sherlock's penetration. Two fingers found their mark and pressed gently in, then pumped in and out a bit. The lube was cool, but quickly warmed against her skin and left her lovely and slick, she squirmed and wriggled her hips.

"That's all right, go ahead, Sherlock. We mustn't make John wait too long."

"Yes, of course," Sherlock's voice was low and strained. Three fingers and a little more of the lubricant and he was twisting and scissoring his fingers in and out of her harder and harder.

"Ah, yes, ah, good," Molly murmured as she kissed John and whispered her approval to him, rubbing her face against her husband's trying to alleviate the heat that was building up in her.

"Ahaha, Sherlock, do you want to -?"

"Oh, god," said Sherlock with a huff as he realized he was still fully clothed. Molly felt his hands leave her body, and heard a flurry of clothing activity behind her and he was touching her again in only a few moments.

"Oh, Sherlock, I hope you don't mind – on the dresser?"

Molly and John were already establishing a rhythm as Sherlock tore his eyes off them and turned to the dresser and picked up a condom.

"Of course, of course," he murmured, turning back to the bed. He tore open the packet, and rolled it over his tip and down his shaft. He approached the absolutely enchanting sight of Molly's bare and open bottom rising and falling as she and John moaned in mutual satisfaction with one another. Sherlock opened the lubricant again and made a slippery mess of his cock. He tossed the tube on the bed, and splayed his hand across Molly's bottom, directing her to hold for a moment as he pressed up close to her. He thumbed her opening, slightly reddened from the recent attention paid, and pressed the tip of his cock into her.

"Oh, god, oh, Molly –." Sherlock couldn't help groaning out.

"Mmm, yes, yes, go ahead," she said. Sherlock could feel the electric tension in her hips which threatened to buck and swivel at any moment. He pressed into her further, watching as his tip disappeared into her and he listened as Molly's vocalizations grew more strained and deep. He felt her muscles constrict around him, and he had to hold still for a moment, massaging her hips in his hands, hoping some of her tension would ease a bit.

"Please, please," Molly begged, feeling Sherlock just entering, but not far enough, not deeply enough.

"Molly, love just a moment," Sherlock strained. Finally he was able to press in further and at last he sank in all the way, holding Molly's hips in place, gripping her with his fingers, digging into her.

"Sherlock? All right?" Molly asked.

"Just - yes, oh, Molly, ah- go ahead."

Molly began to move and John and Sherlock stayed with her as she developed a slow steady rhythm. She pushed up and down on John with a slight swivel, as she pressed all the way down then up again. She tried to stay steady to allow John and Sherlock to keep up with her.

"Oh, love, I think, I think I can feel –." John began.

"Oh god, I hadn't thought of that, Oh, god Molly, John, John, I can feel you."

"John, love, can you feel Sherlock?"

"Yes, yes, I can – Ahaha," John chuckled and closed his eyes, straining to take in the sensations as his cock rubbed inside Molly, and brushed Sherlock's shaft deep inside her. John placed his hands on Molly's back and Sherlock leaned forward, pressing his own hands down on John's. Their eyes locked.

"John, oh god it's so—."

"Yeah, I – Sherlock, Molly, love—."

Molly took all this in and was in heaven between them. She studied John's face as he strained to feel and continued to register Sherlock's cock thrusting against his own even while inside Molly. He smiled, and grimaced, and kissed her and chuckled, and though he continued to be embarrassed, and warred a little between his obvious pleasures and the mortification he continued to have, he looked like he was having a ball. Sherlock, on the other hand, Molly sensed was much more deeply moved by the events as they moved along. He'd been unprepared, Molly had correctly predicted, for feeling John inside her, and was a quite unprepared for actually making love to both his friends at once. He was rapt, enchanted in love. In love, he's in love with us both, thought Molly as she started twisting her hips with more heat, more need.

"Oh, god, Molly, Molly -," She heard Sherlock straining to say the words, and she knew he was closing in. Oh, dear, I'm no where near, she thought, and looked to her husband.

"John? All right?" She asked him.

"It's good – I'm - oh god -," he managed and reached to kiss her, arching his back as he registered Sherlock's cock against his own. He bucked against Molly, suddenly, involuntarily and she responded, picking up the pace. Sherlock stayed with them, gripping into Molly's hips more and more painfully, Molly noted, revelling in both the pain and the possession.

Suddenly Molly's comprehension of the world around her was falling apart, and she felt the waves of her climax starting, seemingly from out of nowhere. She'd thought she had a way to go yet, but she was falling apart, falling apart, her face and neck burning up. She felt her hips bucking against the two men uncontrollably and she heard herself grunting animal sounds she couldn't at all account for. That sweet wave was rising, rising in her, bubbling up, blanking out everything in her world but the motion and the heat and she came, her head, back and hips spasming out of control. Sherlock felt her rising urgency and gripped her hips, pumping hard and harder, his release coming at the same time as Molly. He leaned hard onto her, pushing her down on top of John, but her bucking and twisting couldn't be stopped and the two came at about the same time.

John smiled, still pulsing softly into Molly, as she and Sherlock rode out the waves of their tandem orgasms. Sherlock was able to roll off of Molly, and stretch himself out on the bed next to the couple, lying on his side, watching his friends.

"Molly, sweetheart, can I -?" John maneuvered Molly onto her side.

"Yes, please, darling.," Molly kissed him tenderly, and John had her on her back, and proceeded to shag her more thoroughly than Sherlock had ever seen him do before. But he was unrushed, as ever, methodical, almost clinical, though utterly tender and loving. The angles that were calculated, the different positions the doctor found that would give her the most pleasure, gauging her responses, changing positions to accommodate her. Finally he flipped her onto her stomach and hauled her hips up, finishing her from behind, managing to bring her to another climax as he reached his own, and then the two collapsed, John lying between his wife and friend.

Sherlock was deeply moved by his friends' lovemaking, as he always was. He couldn't resist them, now, had to touch them, feel them, taste them. He moved in behind John, spooning him, clasping his friend to him tightly. He reached for Molly, too, stroking her hair, and arm. Molly knew Sherlock's need to be close to the two of them after John and Molly coupled, and hooked a leg over John's hip, to let Sherlock caress her calf and ankle. She reached to him, running her fingers through his hair, as he kissed John's neck and murmured to him.

"That was lovely, John, lovely, you're both so lovely together, Oh, Molly, I love to watch you," Sherlock was saying, kissing John's ear and neck.

"Shh, Sherlock, it's all right," John also knew that Sherlock's emotions were rather tender at these moments.

"I know, I know, I'm too, I'm too - , but I want to give that to you, John, I want to do that for you, so thoroughly, so specifically, I want, ah, god, you're both so lovely."

"It's all right, love, it's all right," Molly soothed, now.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm - I'm ridiculous – god. I'll be quiet, now," But he managed for only a moment. "God, what did I just say? What is it about you when you're together that makes me so -Mmm. So revoltingly effusive?"

"I don't know, but I love it, don't stop." Molly said.

"It's lovely, Sherlock, don't worry about it."

"Mmm," Sherlock continued to lick the sweat off John's neck and hairline as he stroked his friend's throat and shoulder.

"Sherlock," John chuckled, smiling at Molly.

"Mmm? Not good?"

"No, no - it's lovely, it's lovely, go ahead. You're lovely, Sherlock, I love you."

Suddenly, the only sound in the room was that of three people holding their breath. Finally John broke the silence with a sigh.

"I said it," John said gently, "and I meant it."

"Oh, John, you're irresistible ," Molly kissed him.

Sherlock pressed his face into John's neck, and held him more tightly.

"John, I -, I – Molly, I -."

"Don't be ridiculous, you don't have to say it back, love. I know how you feel about us, about me. You say it all the time. It's obvious," John said, reaching back to rub Sherlock's hip. But Sherlock couldn't resist the opportunity.

"Oh, god I love you. I love you both so much."

There you go, enjoy your coffee break!

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