Sorry you had to wait a bit, today – got going late – SNAFU!

There's not even any river in this scene!

But it's all a scene about making up and stuff, so I've kept it under the same title.

Unbridled Sherlolly, I'm totally serious.

AND: THE BIG SCENE – no kidding, it's finally here. All Three Are Present

The Thames IV – The Big Scene

In which Molly and Sherlock have some serious quality time

And Sherlock and John do, too, while Molly joins them

"Tonight, love? Are you sure? You feel - ready?" Molly was lounging in bed when John had phoned her from the clinic.

"Well, how much longer, do you think . . .?"

"Hmmhmm," Molly laughed quietly. "No, indeed, it's not fair, is it? What did you two do last night? Kiss and make up?"

"He did that at the park, actually, yesterday when we talked."

"Kissed you outside, in broad daylight?"

"Mmm, yes."

"After Mycroft had just talked to you. Maybe Sherlock wanted him to see you. Wish I had been there. What did you two get up to last night in bed?"

"It's ah – it's often referred to with a number - ."

"Oh, I see." Molly smiled, wishing she hadn't missed that, but knew there would be other chances. "That's kind of a first time, I feel a little left out."

"No you don't, you're just teasing me."

"A bit. And you – you told him this morning, or are you going to tell him, you shouldn't spring it on him, I think - ."

"No, no, I told – well, I asked him this morning. He seemed rather – you know - over the moon, I think – I mean if I do say so. It's time, it's time, love. I'm sure. Since that one night . . ."

"Yes, when we bound him."

"Yes – I've been -."

"I know, I know – it's been so lovely to watch, you've been so lovely with him, and then this wretched standoff of yours -."

"Well, it's over, and we'll be together tonight. You've had a good sleep? You'll come tonight? We'll - well, we can wait if -."

"Try and stop me. Usual time?"

"Mmm. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Molly rang off her mobile, and placed it back on the bedside table. She continued basking in the diffused light that streamed in through her blinds onto hers and John's bed. It was the daylight of midday, but the blinds and curtains darkened the room sufficiently for her to continue to lounge comfortably, a rare treat. She had no plans, now, until she was to meet John and Sherlock at 221B and she made a promise to herself to make none and be as idle as possible for the rest of the day after the incredible week she had had.

When she'd gotten home the night before she had collapsed on the bed, and directly fallen asleep, clothes and all. She woke some 5 hours later, and stripped, drawing a hot bath. She turned up the heat, and walked around the flat naked, eating a bowl of ice cream as the bath filled. She used her favorite bubble bath, and slipped in, lifting her ice cream into the tub with her. After the bubbles dissipated somewhat she was able to survey the topical 'damage.' John and Sherlock had left marks just everywhere on her body. Her feet, her legs, her hips her abdomen. Her breasts were just black and blue. And that was all she could see of herself from the chest down in front. Who knew what they'd done to her back. She squeezed her lower muscles, now, feeling the soreness, a bit of pain, and reveled in it. She squeezed her backside and felt the burn. During the week, Sherlock had had her there, and so had John. She arched her back at a particular memory of John. He had been able to let go for her so beautifully. She hoped he'd remember their moments when he had. There is absolutely nothing like being properly fucked. She thought, smiling, potent.

She set her empty bowl aside, and stretched her arms, lifting a leg out of the water, looking at herself. She'd never felt so sexually powerful and satisfied before. She'd never forget this feeling. Sherlock and John must have a fight just about every month or so, she thought. Hmm, maybe every six weeks. Look at these marks. Just beyond anything she'd ever had before. Incanfuckingdescent.

Molly continued to soak until the water started to cool off, then picked up a bottle of shampoo. She didn't feel like washing her hair, but knew she had to, god knew what all was in it. When she finished, she wrapped her hair up in a big towel, she returned for more ice cream, a new flavor now, induldged in some TV, drowsed on the sofa, paged through a book of photographs of Paris, and finally went back to bed. When she'd awakened this morning, or rather this noon, it was only about 5 minutes before John called after which she continued to lounge, this time in bed.

She considered the evening ahead of the three of them. She'd suspected she could turn John's mind to Sherlock from the beginning, when she'd first suggested to John that they come to Sherlock. She was also excited for Sherlock, she knew how much he was looking forward to getting closer to John in this way, to beginning this kind of new relationship. This kind of physical bond. She knew he'd be nervous, for all his ferocity. She wondered how he was doing.

"Well, I'm a little nervous, but I'm fine, I'll be fine." Sherlock had slipped silently into the room.

Molly wasn't a bit surprised or frightened.

"Hmmhmm, I thought you'd fixed our security system so we wouldn't get broken into, love? Yes, I was – I was thinking about you, exactly about that . . .how you might be doing."

"Yes, I fixed it - but I didn't fix it against me, darling." Sherlock smiled, peeling off his gloves.

"I was wondering when you'd show up. You look rested -?" Molly was naked, but partially obscured by a sheet and the relative dark of the room. A breast was showing, a hip and a leg. She made no move to cover herself, as she watched Sherlock strip out of his coat, and jacket, chucking them on the chair in the corner.

"Yes, I slept in a bit after John left for his shift. Had a very pleasant dream – about you two."

"Really?" Molly wiggled quite alluringly in her sheets, quite invitingly.

"Yes," Sherlock smiled, not moving, knowing when he was being teased. "And then some flying and floating, which I haven't had for a long time. Interesting. I wonder what Doctor Freud would say about it? And solving a puzzle all together, the three of us. A puzzle of random-seeming numbers and letters. And large, sort of blocks. It was, it was a bit like school, though we were grown up."

"Numbers? Were we adding one plus one plus one?"

"Hmmhmm. Possibly. And you? Did you catch up on some rest? I know we've been rather naughty with you, darling." Sherlock was standing at her dresser, leaning against it with an elbow, perfectly comfortable. Utterly elegant.

"Yes, I had a lovely evening. A lovely sleep, a lovely bath and I'm having a lovely long lie-in, as you can see." Molly smiled, but saw Sherlock wince as he took in some of the marks on her body.

"Oh, love, oh god." Sherlock approached the bed and reached down, picking up a corner of the sheet Molly was under. "May I?" He asked. Molly nodded, and Sherlock pulled the sheet away revealing a veritable crime scene. She saw him start at the sight of her.

"You must be scientific," Molly admonished, as she saw pain, guilt and shame wash across her friend's face. "And you must promise not to get upset, all right? I know you won't, not for long anyway. My plan for John is to stay in the dark until the marks go away. It will upset him, Sherlock, you understand, don't you? I reckon I can manage it, since the two of you will be – preoccupied with one another for a while. You must help me distract him from me, all right?" She tried to put Sherlock's focus on John, but she saw his eyes threaten tears.

"Sherlock, stop that! Now, don't be ridiculous, give me my sheet!" Molly snatched her sheet back, covering herself and continued. "Now, come here, darling."

"Molly, how on earth did you let us -?"

"Oh, please don't be silly, come here, come here right now." Sherlock toed off his shoes and stretched out next to her. They held one another.

"You must believe me when I tell you it was the most unbelievably thrilling week of my life – my adult life, do you understand that? To have you each, so needy and keyed up night after night – hmmhmm. It really satisfied a number of fantasies, didn't it? And the afternoon I thought I would sleep, and you were here, waiting – that was indescribable in case it needs mentioning. And I'm confident this won't happen again, hmm? Though that would make me very sad, to think it could never happen again. But no more disagreements – Well – I know it wasn't your fault. And no more jumping off of things."

"Mmm." Sherlock kissed her hair and face, then gently pulled the sheet away from her neck, exploring the marks with his finger tips, identifying the marks he'd made himself apart from those that John had left by the size and shape, and the teeth marks in some cases.

"Oh, for godssake." said Sherlock.

"Scientific, love."

"Yes, yes." Sherlock pulled the sheet down, exposing her collar bone where there were more marks to look at. "Very – ah, colorful. They'll, – aghm," Sherlock clearned his throat, and struggled to be objective for Molly. "They'll remain for some time, I think, at least a week, certainly."

"No word of a lie."

"God. Ah, nothing for it but to let them - heal." Sherlock pulled the sheet lower still, to reveal her breasts. The black and blue was just everywhere, and he felt the blood rush from his head, dizzying him, slightly. "Oh, love," He breathed, seeing that the larger finger marks and bites were larger in number.

"They will go away, Sherlock, please don't make me send you home."

"No, no, you won't be able to make me, love. I – ." Sherlock was moved deeply by the marks on Molly's body, but he couldn't identify what it was exactly he was feeling. All he knew was that he suddenly had a raging, angry erection, and wasn't sure what he could do about it. He hissed as he recognized his own teeth marks on the side of one of Molly's breasts. Without thinking he leaned down and kissed the mark, but he was also compelled to bite the same place again. He stopped himself and only deposited a careful kiss. Molly's breath hitched, and she ran her hand through his hair as he leaned his head to her. Sherlock pulled the sheet down further to inspect her abdomen, kissing her, kissing her as he went, trying to be gentle, but getting more and more needy as he progressed down her body. She let him pull the sheet away from her hips and sex.

"Ah, Molly, love, you are so beautiful. And the marks – the marks – I don't know." Sherlock's mouth fell on her, kissing the marks, inspecting them, pushing her legs apart, looking at the insides of her thighs. One mark, his own, high up on her thigh, had broken the skin.

"Oh, god, love, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, I've put some stuff on it, it's fine."

Sherlock continued to kiss the marks, and rub his face and cheek over her skin, moaning his regret, but also his desire. He spread her legs apart wider, and looked at her sex carefully. He got off the bed, and opened the blinds, letting daylight stream between Molly's legs. There were bites all inside the lips of her sex, big ones and smaller ones. One of John's marks had broken the skin.

"He's broken the skin here, you should watch it carefully, all right?" Sherlock touched her to show her where the mark was and noticed how wet she already was. How flattering, he thought, and how delightful. He peered up at her, his view of her face, just past her sex from his vantage point and he noted her particular expression. He smiled at her and licked his lips, then he slipped a finger inside her gently, gently, but deeply and felt Molly arch her back into the pleasure of it.

"All right, I'll, w- watch it." Molly managed.

"Aren't we a pair of shameful brutes?" Sherlock saw the mischief, need, the hunger in Molly's face as he very slowly started to fuck her with his finger.

"Yes, yes, you both are," Molly smiled and groaned, wondering what else Sherlock would do to her without her telling him what she wanted. For now, she just pulsed gently against his finger, oh, two fingers, now, how lovely, shall we say three? Come on, give me three, give me three, you pagan, you animal, she thought, her back arched, and she flung her head back. Now, from his vantage point, all Sherlock saw of Molly was her sex, her belly and the mountainscape of her breasts, her nipples hard.

"We should, ah, be ashamed of ourselves." Sherlock added a third finger, pressing into Molly carefully, gently, then lowered his mouth to her sex, licking her where and how he knew she liked it. She laced her fingers through his hair and pulled his mouth hard against her, grinding her sex against him. He let her guide his head, let her press hard against him, let her pull his hair hard, and then harder, relishing her power, her roughness with him. She came to a plateau quickly and panicked, not wanting this illicit moment to end so quickly. What to do, what to do? She managed to speak up.

"I'm – I'm close – but - I want you to fuck me as soon as I'm through with your mouth, right after I come, right after – do you ah – understand?"

"Yes, yes," Sherlock continued to lick her, his tongue moving as fast as he could make it, pumping his fingers in her and Molly came rather quickly and easily, shouting monosyllables in her release. He kept his mouth on her as she rode out her spasms, but she was already tapping him on the shoulder. He quickly knelt up in the bed between her legs, forcing her legs apart with his knees as he undid his trousers. He quickly released his erection and entered her, beginning to thrust hard, making her shout again and then again and again with each of his thrusts. Sherlock well knew that Molly could take care of herself, and that she often even preferred it, so he rode her fairly hard, and purely for his own pleasure. He smiled when he saw her open her eyes and make eye contact with him. It was an obscene smile, the smile of a wanton, and Sherlock watched as she reached a plateau, and then came, writhing forcefully beneath him, even under his powerful thrusts, shouting in time with his strokes. When he saw her plateau, he let go what little reserve he might have been holding onto and pounded into her, his release coming only a little time after she reached hers. He collapsed on her, his full weight on her, knowing how she liked it. He knew when she liked him to roll off her - just the moment before he might completely smother her.

They lay together for a time, and then looked at one another and laughed.

"I was never a smoker, but after I have sex with you, I very often wish I were."

Sherlock took a package of fags from his pocket and offered it to Molly.

"You naughty. What will you tell John?"

"No, I only bought them today, I haven't had any, I've been good. See? Unopened? You should keep them. I mean, away from me. How opportune, our meeting like this, hmm?"

"Ahaha," said Molly.

She opened the package, taking one out and Sherlock produced a lighter, lighting her up. Molly remembered a friend criticizing a film, remarking that a particular actor probably didn't smoke in real life, only pulling on the fag at the side of his mouth. Her friend had been a smoker, and said 'You put that thing right in the middle of your fucking face where it belongs.' Molly did so now, but carefully sucked it, only taking in a little smoke at first, breathing it in. Naturally she'd smoked before, but never liked it, and never got hooked. She concentrated on the fun of it as a prop, instead, blowing out the smoke, gesturing with it. She conjured some femme fatale as she twirled her wrist around.

"Oh, Clive! The sex with you, daaaah-link, is incanfuckingdescent!"

Sherlock chuckled, watching her.

"You are – you are so very -." Sherlock smiled, and laughed.

"So much fun?" Molly kissed him quickly, smiling.

"Yes, yes, I think so. Yes, that's what I mean." He leaned up on his side. "You are so much fun, Molly Hooper. Thank you for letting me – well for letting me shag you so inconsiderately and, and for loving it – I think?"

"Hmm, yes, of course, daaaahlink." Molly waved her cigarette, smiling the secret smile she and Sherlock shared. He leaned to her and brushed his lips and face against her neck, no kissing, no biting, just pure nuzzling and breathing. She let him breathe in her scent, nuzzling her hair, her collar bone, her breasts. He lowered his voice to his bedroom voice.

"And for letting me – in your life – I mean after I'd been such a boor to you those first years. And for, god, for saving my life and – Molly – I –don't – you must never -."

"Oh, hush, you must shut up about that, love, can't you? We're never letting you go! We can't do with out you." She stroked his cheek with her free hand. "Can't you see what you mean to us? And John – John has fallen completely in love with you. I will not be surprised if you run away together and leave me."

"Oh, don't be absurd." Sherlock smiled and lay back in the bed, steepling his fingers below his chin, thinking about the evening before them. "Mmm."

"I know, I know," Molly soothed, "But we'll all be together, we'll be slow and careful, and it will be lovely after you get over the – you know – nerves."

"It's not the – ah, penetration, I'm quite, I'm quite -."

"I know."

"It's the – you know?"

"It's the new closeness, the progression, the change in our relationships, and what that will do to us. To you both. And all of us. You're afraid of us breaking up. Honestly, I don't think this is going to do that. Break us up."

"You know me so well. You see me, even more than John, sometimes, I'm sure of it. I know you do." Sherlock had a thought and a cloud of doubt shadowed his face.

"What is it, love?"

"Do I – do I know you well enough, Molly? Well enough for you? Do I get to the heart of you? The way you do me?"

Molly looked away, lowering her eyes, smiling to herself.

"I don't, do I.? It's – it's not good enough, is it?" Sherlock's brows were beginning to knit together. Molly was quiet and held still where she was sitting up in bed, reaching to the bedside table for some piece of plastic to put the cigarette ashes in.

"Molly – I – does John? Molly, does he?"

"Shh." Molly held very still, and didn't meet Sherlock's eyes.

"Oh, love, no, no, no, that will never do."

"Shh." Molly held still and hushed him.

"Molly." Sherlock was aghast, but couldn't help leaning across and taking her in his arms, cigarette and all, and burying his face in her shoulder.

"I will try to be better, I will try - to know you better. Will- will you let me?

"You do better than anyone, actually, She whispered and smiled at him, touching his cheek briefly.

"I will do better, love, I promise," Sherlock brought her hand to his lips.

"Shh, never mind, that, kiss, kiss."

Molly kissed Sherlock, hopped out of bed and put on a robe. It was a pale pink one with large flowers on it which put Sherlock in mind of a geisha. She picked up a comb from her dresser and started on her hair which was hopelessly tangled after her day in bed, and her bout with Sherlock. Sherlock watched with enormous affection as this tiny adorable creature started raking out the knots in her long lovely hair, of a peculiar shade of chestnut. Yes, he thought. Chestnut.

"Oh, – I did want to – That is – I didn't mean to come over and abuse you so – spontaneously. Though this was - mmm -."

"Heaven."

"Mmm. Yes. But, I did want to ask – that is, about tonight – I was wondering -."

"Oh, yes, I have just the thing, I'm sure, -." Molly flipped her comb onto the bed and dropped to her knees her cigarette in her mouth, and disappeared from Sherlock's view briefly. She seemed to be searching for something under the bed. Finally, she hopped up again, squinting away the cigarette smoke that was getting in her eyes, and hefted a full-seeming cardboard box to the end of the mattress.

"Here you go. I think this should do it."

"Molly, this verges on the telepathic."

"Don't be silly, you've been worrying, and thinking and getting excited. Now, here we are."

Molly opened the box, setting the lid aside, and Sherlock slid over to her at the edge where she perched next to the box. Inside was a quite spectacular array of dildos, and other sex toys, and he took them all in, cataloguing their probable uses and advantages in terms of their intended use.

"I haven't used a thing in ages – since we – well, since we – ."

"Since you married." They both knew this was still a sore spot for Sherlock, and they both tried to glide past it whenever it came up. Molly married John before Sherlock got back from 'the wars.' But he still mentions it like this, with an arch in his eyebrow, with a look away, Molly noticed. We'll have to talk it out one day.

"Since we came to you, love."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Sherlock smiled. "Perhaps - ." Sherlock selected a plain looking one of a hard plastic that seemed rather thicker than the rest.

"Yes," said Molly, "that's just about his size," and patted Sherlock's arm. But now that Sherlock had the thing in his hand he was a little embarrassed.

"Shall I – shall I use it -now?"

"Hmmhmm, no, love," Molly took the item away from him, setting it aside and replacing the lid on the rest of the items in the box, then replacing the box under the bed. "We'll wait for John. We'll use it tonight. That is – if we need to – Hmm?" She smiled patiently at Sherlock.

"I just want to - for it to be - ."

"Of course, love, but he'll want to use his hands, hmm?"

Molly threw her hair out of her face, and assured him with her best smile.

"We can have a toy night sometime, bring the whole box over, and try them all out on one another – oh, yes, we must do that – but not tonight. Best to keep it simple?"

"Yes, of course." Sherlock rubbed his face with his hands, and smiled at Molly. He reached his hand to hers, holding it, staring into her eyes, watching her carefully, trying to widen his perception of her.

"Fiercely independent. Fiercely. Despite stammering – in a – previous life."

Molly looked away.

"Mmm, yes. That might be part of the problem, you shy away from being known, don't you? Even from those closest to you, if I may say-. Yes, you do hide a bit behind that dazzling smile." Sherlock saw a smile on her face, but it was a sad one.

"Trust. Trust issues. But not with your parents – something else, someone else -."

"Don't –Not now -." Molly sensed Sherlock was getting too close too fast. She didn't want things to get more complicated, not now. Sherlock saw the fear in Molly's eyes, and stood down. He had several avenues of deduction he was following simultaneously as he bore into Molly's eyes, but he had finally developed the sense not to dig at her now, when she'd just asked him to stop, so he desisted.

"All right." He kissed her forehead. "Another time, hmm?" Sherlock looked at her, trying to be comforting, but also wanting Molly recognize his determination to know her better, and to continue this particular line of investigation. He smiled and spoke gently.

"John and I spend a good deal of time alone together, by comparison, I suppose,." he said to her. "Only owing to his part time job, and my complete idleness when there is no case. I think – I think I need to – pencil you in – a bit more – into my calendar."

"You're never idle."

"Oh, Molly, I can't get any work done -. I've cleaned the kitchen. You'll see. It's spectacular. I can't get any work done because of this – this-."

"John."

"Yes. Yes, John." Sherlock hung his head, then locked his gaze on her again, she didn't look away this time. He knew she was thinking back to their time alone together just after his jump from Bart's, and he too cast his mind back and remembered. He remembered her hair, her skin, her body, the sound she made, the scent of her. He remembered her need, her ardor and abandon.

"All I wanted then, Molly all I wanted was for us to -."

"Shh, I know, I know, so did I -."

"But I couldn't – I couldn't say, I couldn't promise you – anything because I -, I thought, I knew there was a very good chance that I would be killed - once I'd – Molly, I had to have – I had to have -."

"Stop it, for godssake, you've said all this already - we don't have to – do all this again -."

"I had to have you take care of each other. Whether I came back or not."

"Oh, Sherlock. We take very good care of each other, love. I hope we're taking good care of you, now, too. Are we?"

For answer, Sherlock wrapped his arms around her, then pulled her up into his lap, brushing his face against her neck and breasts, nuzzling her gently. She combed her fingers through his hair, holding his head to her, and they held each other this way for some long moments.

"It shouldn't matter now, love," Molly said.

"No. And it doesn't, it doesn't – I just remember sometimes. I remember us."

"Me, too. I remember us. I remember you."

"Do you? What was I like?"

"Brutal, but lovely. What was I like?"

"You – you were -." Sherlock stopped to consider – "You were the first person I ever – who cared for me."

"Hmm. Loved. Love."

"Hmhmm." They stayed tangled in one another's arms for a time, and then looked into one another's eyes, affirming again their unbreakable bond. Then Sherlock cast about the room for a clock.

"What time is it?"

"Half three."

"Damn, I have to - sorry, love – chemists. I must - purchase an enema. Right?" Sherlock had hopped up from the bed and was putting on his jacket."

"Probably don't have to -." Molly was arranging her robe around her again, more to ward off a chill than for any kind of issue of modesty.

"Well, it's only good manners," Sherlock smiled and leaned down and licked Molly's ear before he turned to pick up his coat and gloves from the chair.

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"Trousers."

"Ah" Sherlock did up his trousers. "Anything else missing?"

"Just a case."

"Only emergency cases from Lestrade until such time as I get used to – to – to being so -."

"To being so happy with us?"

Sherlock leaned in and kissed her on the mouth. Then he lowered his voice to his intimate bedroom tone and whispered in her ear.

"I will know you better, Molly Hooper. It's a promise."

He stopped at the door.

"Usual time – I – I - ." Sherlock was bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yes, I'll see you soon."

He winked at her and he was gone.

John washed his hands in the clinic loo and as he dried them he caught site of his face in the mirror. Going to shag a bloke tonight are we? What am I now? What am I now? I'm – I'm – He couldn't answer his increasingly annoying inner voice as it continued to question him and his sexuality. He noticed his hands shaking a bit. Not the PTSD tremor, but something else, both hands. What's this? He thought. Been going at it full force, but now that we're talking about actual – oh good lord. He couldn't say the word. Say it, say it – no one will hear it in your mind. Penetration. Yeah, that's what we're talking about, Johnny-boy, that's what it is. Not just kid stuff anymore, locker room rough humour. Gonna be a regular bummer tonight, the real thing. No wonder your hands are shaking. John recognized that the years of society's programming were coming to the fore in these remarks from his inner voice. He felt as though he were in school again. How would he handle a bully? Never easy when you're the one being bullied. Nor, indeed when the bully is yourself. He took in his reflection. I'm in love with them. Piss off. He chucked the bit of paper towel into the bin and returned to his office.

As he prepared to leave the office later in the afternoon, Sarah popped her head in the door.

"A few of the girls and I are going to the Crown? Want to escort us?"

"Oh, I can't – it's -."

"Just one or two?"

"Hmm, can't." John smiled and shook his head.

"No? I guess she's quite a lucky girl, John Watson."

You don't really think that.

"No. I am. I'm the lucking one." John looked away and smiled a small smile.

"Ooo, John, it looks like the honeymoon continues?"

"You could say that." John could feel his ears burning, his face flush.

"That's a lovely shade. Suits you. Hmmhmm. Ok, have a lovely evening. See you Monday." She pulled her head out of the office, and closed the door behind her.

Three, two, one . . .

John heard the predictable titter of women's voices down the hall. He'd correctly foreseen that Sarah would dash to her pub-bound group of female clinic workers and tell of her exchange with him. Never mind. All in good fun. Ahaha. He found he could laugh at himself as well. However, he thought, if he could only see Sarah's face at the news of what he was actually looking forward to tonight, he would have a really good laugh. He set out on his walk home – to 221B Baker Street. To Molly. To Sherlock.

Sherlock, Sherlock. He thought as he walked. John's head was swimming, quite spinning out of control as he approached the door to the flat. He felt a little weak as he mounted the stairs. So wrong, so wrong, so right. How, he thought, how can I still be conflicted, but still looking forward to it? He remembered the illicit boyhood experience. Same thing there. Feeling bad, feeling bad, then feeling incredible. Then feeling bad again. It will just be an ongoing struggle for self-acceptance, he thought, along with all the other things one works through, this will become another one. When he opened the door, Sherlock was leaning against the wall, waiting for him, holding a bottled water in his hands.

"Hey."

"Hey. All right? You look a little pale. Here, drink half of this for me, please?" Sherlock smiled and raised an eyebrow.

"Thanks. Um. Yes, I'm a little – nervous. I think." John accepted the water.

"To be expected. Ah, there's the pot. Tea?" Sherlock trotted off to the kitchen. "Sit down, John, relax – if you can. Hmmhmm." John heard Sherlock chuckle, but decided to take his advice and sat in his chair. Sherlock set an enormous tea tray with sandwiches as well as biscuits on the desk. He remained standing, unable to relax enough to sit.

"Needs a few minutes. I've – uh, tried to keep busy. With little inanities. I cleaned the bathroom. I went to the chemists – you know to get - ."

"Hmm, yes, there was probably no need."

"Perhaps, aghm, but all clean, nonetheless. I am – a little afraid of quite devouring you whole this evening John Watson."

John smiled, taking in his friend standing before him. Excited, nervous, but under control, a kind of forced reserve. After all it was only a couple weeks ago they were playing the game of 'how to kiss John when he comes in the door.' Where's my kiss? John thought to himself.

"Come here." John put his hands on the arms of his chair and uncrossed his legs.

"Hmm?" Sherlock was unprepared for a command.

"Come here, love. Sit – in my lap."

Sherlock smiled. Ah, now he's taking initiative. How delightful.

"What, John? In your -?" Oh, say it again, and say my name, you know I love it when you do -.

"Sit. In my lap. Sherlock."

Ah. Sherlock approached John's chair, carefully, smiling. He leaned down and put his hands on the arms of the chair, close to John's hands without touching him. His face was close to John's now, and the two locked gazes, Sherlock's questioning, amused, John's a little staid, but relaxed though still commanding. Sherlock eased himself down, slowly, sitting on John's legs, his lovely thick muscular thighs, until his full weight was on his friend. Sherlock's hands were still on the arms of the chair as he smiled into John's face, expectant.

"Ok? I'm not too heavy?"

"Not at all. Put your arms around my shoulders." Sherlock did so, smiling. Then he leaned his face in to John's neck, brushing his neck with his mouth and chin, lightly, lightly, then his ear and cheek.

"Love you, John," Sherlock whispered in his ear. John leaned in to Sherlock's ear, and whispered back.

"Love, you. Um, do that some more, um, what you were – on my neck-." John let his head loll back on the chair, and Sherlock continued to lightly brush the skin with his mouth. Slowly, Sherlock incorporated little bites then he was tonguing John's skin, swirling his tongue around, and lapping his neck in wider licks, not able to get enough of John's salty taste.

"Sherlock," John was unbuttoning Sherlock's shirt.

Yes, say my name, I love the way you say it, thought the detective. John found one of Sherlock's nipples and squeezed it gently, then leaned in and tongued it, nipping at it.

"Sherlock," said John, and repeated his friend's name several time. Sherlock slipped down, slouching into John, comfortably cuddling the doctor in his chair. John's hands reached into his friend's hair, rubbing his scalp and smoothing his curls as he repeated his name softly, quietly in his ear. John smiled and noticed that his friend was only resting his hands on the doctor's shoulders now only holding still in his arms, letting John soothe him, stroke him and murmur to him. He noticed Sherlock's breathing become deep and regular. He kissed his friend's forehead.

"Mmm? Too heavy?"

"Not at all, not at all." John gently reassured him. The doctor remembered that Sherlock had asked if he had been too heavy another time, when he was about to fall asleep across John's chest in bed. Had a parent repeatedly told him he was too heavy? Had his mother refused to hold him for being too heavy? Did he hardly ever eat for being told he was too heavy? Jesus Christ. But I mustn't ask, I've promised. He'll tell me when he wants to.

John assessed the picture they seemed to make. Man holding man. Only a few moments ago they had been about to devour one another whole, as Sherlock had put it. But now, this. John took it as a testament to the trust that Sherlock had in their friendship and – and their – their. What? Our what? What are we? What am I? Bond. Our bond. Our deepening sexual bond. Oh god, no. But that's what it is! That's what it is. A bond. A bond of - love. And friendship. John was happy with the word. It was simple and said what it needed to, without too many bizarre labels or taboos. My friend. My colleague. My bond mate. Christ oh Jesus Christ, oh, no, no, no. My lover. Oh, god, my lover. My male lover. 'Good afternoon, ah, your majesty, this is my wife. And my male lover. And bond mate, by the way.' Oh for godssake.

"Stop it, John." Sherlock whispered.

"What?" John asked.

"Thinking. It's annoying. And you're wrong."

"What am I wrong about exactly?."

"The way you're feeling. You're feeling conflicted, and you know you needn't be. Anyway. Stop it. The thinking. It is still annoying."

"Ahaha." John leaned in brushing Sherlock's mouth with his own, letting his tongue just brush his friend's lips, asking permission and Sherlock responded, kissing him back, answering with his tongue, mirroring John's movements, but it was slow, tender, unrushed. Sherlock paused.

"What were you thinking about?" Sherlock was still whispering, it seemed, so John joined him, finding that the tone was more appropriate to the topic at hand.

"I was thinking that you're my - lover. My male lover."

"Mmm. Well, yes, that's accurate."

"And that we have a – a bond. Of um – of – friendship and ah, aghm, love."

"Hmmhmm. Yes."

"What's funny?"

"That would make us bond mates. Hmhmhm. That's funny."

"Well, that's what – that's what we would be and I -."

"Who, John, to whom do you need to say these things? Do you need to introduce me to the duke and duchess or something? Or my brother? Do you need to submit some report or something?"

"A report? To Mycroft? What? Don't be ridiculous, but how did you know I was - I don't know – I – myself?"

"No, John. Please just call me Sherlock. Hmhmhm. But, I do love that you're so forthright with me when I ask, you're so lovely and open with me. You can't know what that means to me. I – I – Oh, John" Sherlock suddenly remembered "Tonight? You're sure?"

"Mmm. Perfectly. If you want to?"

"Oh, god John, you needn't ask."

"But, um, a little nervous."

"Me, too. But, it's quite - delightful." Sherlock buried his head in the crook of John's neck, and John held him, stroking his hair, murmuring his name quietly. And this is how Molly found them.

Molly popped her head in the door of the flat to see her two men cuddled up in the arm chair. Adorable – she wanted to go get the duvet and envelope them in it.

"Molly, love, I've started the tea too soon, again."

"S'all right, I'll do a new pot. Sorry, I didn't want to disturb you – napping?"

"No, love," John kissed Molly, "You're not disturbing anyone. And it's time for tea. Sherlock's getting quite domestic, look." John indicated the sandwiches on the tea tray.

"Lovely," Molly took the teapot off to the kitchen.

Sherlock and John stood next to one another while she was out of the room – a little stupid – a little shy. John reached out and took one of Sherlock's hands in his.

"It's ok." John said, "We don't have to – tonight. But, I'm – I'm ready."

Sherlock smiled.

"Ha," he said.

Tea was done and there was a pregnant pause after the final click of the final tea mug being replaced on the tray. All three sighed a post parandial sign and laughed at the coincidence.

"That happened on our first night together, all three of us, after we were finished eating. We drank three bottles of wine. Do you remember?" Molly said.

"Yes," Sherlock remembered with some reverence. He remembered every moment and replayed the evening in his mind quite often.

"Hmm, sounds familiar," said John.

"Yes, just before John started his talk - ."

"Oy, you make it sound as though I was long winded. I know I – was a little – ah – bashful, but I didn't stammer. Did I? Did I stammer? Was I an idiot? Sherlock?"

"No, no, you were lovely,?" Molly soothed.

"Was I lovely, Sherlock?" John asked with a smile.

"Yes, John, you were. That night was – John, Molly, it was breathtaking. I have often wondered. How did you see – that I was – that I was -?"

"That you were lonely for us?" Molly smiled.

"Yes, yes, that – and that I would entertain such an arrangement? It's not a very-."

"Not a very normal request?" Molly tilted her head.

Sherlock smiled and closed his eyes. He let the feeling of being thoroughly understood flow through him.

"She does that to me, too, you know. It's not just you. Just reads me. It's almost like you." John stood up and stretched, then took Molly's hand, kissing it, then he approached Sherlock and held out his hand.

"Come on. It's early, but why don't we all just get comfortable, just relax, see what happens?"

"I think that's the way to think about, John, Sherlock. Relax and see what happens." Molly kissed her husband on the mouth, licking him lightly.

"Yes, come – come to my bed – well, come to bed." Sherlock led the way.

In the bedroom, Sherlock made sure John was turned away from Molly so she could undress and slip into her robe quickly without him seeing her bruises and love bites. He distracted John with gentle holding and touching, and then Molly was at their side.

"I would love to watch you take one another's clothes off, my loves." She kissed each one of them, then got into the far side of the bed, leaving plenty of room, pulling the duvet out of the way of way, and fluffing it up around her.

John and Sherlock divested one another of their clothes while only lightly kissing and caressing. They managed to remain controlled, breathing regularly as they went, managing the deeper passions that were pressing out from within each of them.

Molly's head swam as she watched them kiss and hold one another after the last pair of pants, the last sock was thrown away. It was so lovely to see them both so deeply invested. It was a lovely kiss, she thought, light and tender, then more and more urgent as they pressed together, holding one another harder and harder, thrusting together already as their bodies started to take over. They relaxed a little at length, and John spoke.

"Get in the middle, Sherlock," said John and noticed Sherlock cock an eyebrow and smile at him. "Yes, I know you like the middle best, go on."

Sherlock smiled, sliding into bed next to Molly, kissing her.

"You look so lovely together," Molly smiled, and Sherlock lingered, scrutinizing her carefully, cataloguing every move, determined to make good on his promise to know her better, watching her more carefully than he ever had, even at this moment in their lives. Then he kissed her cheek and smiled, turning to John, keeping one of her hands in his.

John was lying on his side propped up on an elbow. As Sherlock leaned back toward him, John reached for him, kissing him, lightly at first and then with more heat, pressing against him, rutting his own erection against Sherlock's leg. So much for relaxing and seeing what happens. For his own part, Sherlock's nervousness had vanished, now as well, and he dropped Molly's hand with a squeeze to put his full attention on John and his more and more heated advances. The doctor was gripping Sherlock's shoulder now, his other hand stroking his length, as the two continued to kiss, lick and bite one another. Quickly John slid down to take Sherlock's cock into his mouth.

"Oh, for godssake, John, don't, I won't be able to-."

"Just for a minute, come on, it's your first time, enjoy it?"

"Hmhmhm, don't worry about it, but honestly, John -."

John licked and sucked Sherlock for just a few moments and then slid back up to Sherlock's level, kissing him, and they both smiled, laughing as they joyfully nipped and licked at one another. After some moments of this play, John took Sherlock's cock in his hand, holding the base of him, carefully, but firmly. Sherlock hissed.

"Ah, John."

"All right? You won't come yet, will you love? Is that all right?" John was kissing and biting his neck.

"Yes, yes, ah-." Sherlock's voice was strained and desperate already.

"Molly." John reached out a hand, and Molly squeezed a bit of lubricant on his fingers. John reached down between Sherlock's legs, and entered him with one finger, then two, thrusting carefully into him, kissing him. He whispered in his ear.

"Now, love, I have - ah -no interest whatsoever in hurting you or - ah -surprising you or being rough at all, at all, so please tell me – I-, I – don't want to hurt you, you must tell me if I do -."

Sherlock smiled.

"Please, don't worry. Go on, use three – ah, yes, that's good that's lovely -."

John added another finger and was thrusting a little harder into Sherlock, scissoring his fingers, carefully opening his friend little by little.

"Molly, love; I think he's a little close already?" John asked, starting to position himself over his friend.

Molly took Sherlock's cock in her hand, and held it hard at the base.

"All right, Sherlock?"

"Yes, ah – god, John, love -."

"You ok? We can wait -."

Sherlock took John's face firmly in both hands, lifting the doctor's mouth to his, biting his lower lip, pulling it with his teeth. Molly hissed as she watched Sherlock grip John's neck, pulling him toward him.

"I'm ready, John, please."

"Ok, ok, Molly?"

Molly handed John an opened condom and he put it on as quickly as he could. His hands were shaking, and John expected another visitation from his inner voice, but none came. Good, thought John, fuck off and good riddance. Sherlock noticed John was trembling a little harder than was perhaps necessary.

"Take deep breaths, slowly, go on." Sherlock smiled encouragement and John did as his friend suggested, breathing in deeply, regulating himself.

"Good, good, it's all right."

The two men exchanged reassuring glances. John used some more lubricant on the condom, and leaned up over Sherlock, supporting himself with one arm, and pressed his tip against Sherlock's hole, locking eyes with him. Sherlock's needy expression was all the permission John needed and he sank his tip into his friend. As he felt the head of his cock press into Sherlock he hissed as his friend's ring of muscle tightened hard around the tip. At the same time he watched as Sherlock's face contorted with the pain of his entry, and John had a moment's regret at being the one to cause it. He gripped his friend's jaw, stroked his cheek.

"Ok?" He managed to ask, though he himself was struggling for control.

Sherlock took in John's somewhat worried expression, and smiled, reaching for his friend's cheek.

"It's good, John, it's so good." His mouth remained open and his breath was fast and shallow as he relished the beautiful burning sensation John was giving him. John was holding him hard, trying to hold still, but Sherlock strained to move against his friend.

"It's all right, love, you can move. Move, please."

John pressed farther into Sherlock, about half way and watched his friend arch his back into it, moaning loudly, grimacing against the pain, writhing with the pleasure.

"Oh, god, John it's so good. Please, please -."

"I will, just a second, it's – Oh, god you're so tight, it's hard to –."

Suddenly, John could feel Sherlock's muscle relax slightly, and he was able to lean into him pushing the rest of the way past the Sherlock's almost painfully rigid muscle to the spongy alley beyond. John felt his balls make contact with Sherlock's skin and he immediately felt Sherlock constrict around him – but he was all the way in. He looked down at his friend, stroking his cheek, kissing him and Sherlock opened his eyes. They held one another for a long moment, trembling together.

"Love you, John."

John leaned down to Sherlock's ear.

"Love you, too."

Sherlock looked up at John with a bit of disappointment in his face and John remembered.

"Love, you Sherlock. Sherlock, Sherlock." and John started to move into him.

"Oh. God. Yes." Sherlock hissed as John started to move, now, powerfully, though slowly at first, then gradually pick up the pace.

"You're so tight, it's incredible, Sherlock, you're going to make me come so hard. Molly, love stay close, come, come here, love," John beckoned Molly and she slid up to the pair in bed, leaning up to kiss John as he thrust and thrust into his friend. Then she leaned down to Sherlock who reached into her hair, grabbing a fistful, and pulled her to his mouth, sucking and biting her lips.

"Stay close, love, hmm? " John began to thrust harder into Sherlock and angled up, as he tried to get a sense of where's Sherlock's prostate was with his cock. After some long moments, he leaned down to his friend, kissing him.

"I'm going to come out -."

"John, no don't - I -."

"Shh, just for a moment, ok, turn to Molly, and open your knee out, good." John positioned himself behind Sherlock, and re-entered him, pulling his friend back against him, partly on top of him. Sherlock moaned loudly at John's re-entrance.

"Come here," John leaned up and Sherlock reached around and they kissed as John began to thrust and then pound him from behind, angling his cock up, searching -.

"There, John, oh, god -."

Molly slid into place beside Sherlock, kissing him.

"Did you find his special place, John, love?"

"Ah, I think so."

"Oh, I'm so glad," she purred, licking Sherlock's lips. "I know a special place, too."

Molly slid down to Sherlock's abdomen, taking his cock in her mouth, cradling his balls in her hand, occasionally reaching down to do the same to John.

"Ahaha, Molly," John wasn't expecting this extra contact.

"Oh for godssake, Molly." Sherlock arched his back into the state of bliss in which he now found himself. He could hardly process all that he was feeling. His face and neck, and indeed the rest of his and body were on fire from John's possession of his back, and his cock was about to explode from Molly's lovely attention to it and he found he was gently grinding back and forth between his bond mates – hmhmhm,

"What's funny, love?" John asked.

"Nothing, it's just – ah so good." Sherlock answered as John reached up to his mouth, kissing him as he picked up the pace.

He felt completely possessed by them, wholly in their safekeeping. Is this? This is what I've been searching for - they're here now – oh fuck –

John was now brushing across Sherlock's sweet spot with every stroke, as he tongued and nipped one of his nipples, then he leaned up and pressed his mouth against Sherlock's ear.

"Come for us love, hmm? Come in Molly's pretty mouth for us, won't you?"

Sherlock didn't need asking twice, he was already too far gone to even acknowledge John's words.

"John, love?" Where's John? Molly? Lie down, lie down, I'm going to float away! Nothing meant anything anymore as Sherlock's world became a chaos and the prickly heat in his body seemed to escalate and was almost unbearable as his body lurched into uneven involuntary spasms. He shouted his friends' names, bucking and pitching, moaning loudly, as he spilled his release into Molly's mouth.

"Fuck, shit, motherfucker, oh, god, Molly, Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock." John finished almost immediately after Sherlock, collapsing into the mattress, holding his friend around the shoulders.

After Molly swallowed what she could, and cleaned up what she couldn't, she leaned in and kissed Sherlock's mouth. She didn't take it personally that he wasn't able to respond, actually, that was what she was after. She wanted to possess his mouth, knowing he was still completely delirious. She ran her tongue along his teeth, and nipped at his lips Then she pulled his lower lip with her teeth, as she had seen him do to John, then she let go of him. She smiled into his face, but his eyes were still closed, and he was still utterly senseless. Good job, John. She turned her attention to her husband, who was already coming back to himself. She had to reach across Sherlock a bit, but she managed to kiss John, as well, who smiled a little sheepishly, and even more bashfully, when he saw Molly twinkle her most mischievous grin at him. Pagan goddess, my wife. Makes me a pagan god, doesn't it? No, no, I'm just the court jester. She's the goddess and he's the god. Anyone can see that he is. John begrudged it not a bit, as he slipped softly out from under his friend, letting Sherlock collapse back into the mattress. John clung to Sherlock's side, gently nuzzling his neck, not done with him yet, unable to get enough of him.

"John, Molly. Molly, John." Sherlock started to come back to himself a little and Molly and John continued to be attentive to him.

"We're here, love," Molly soothed, stroking his hair.

"Right here, love," John tenderly sucked a nipple, then the other, still stroking Sherlock, kissing and caressing. Sherlock reached down, grasping John's shoulders, gripping him, then hauling John up to his level, kissing him, nuzzling him. John took his cue, and put his hands into his friend's hair, stroking him, and murmured his name. Sherlock gripped his friend around the waist, and dug the fingers of one hand into the skin of John's backside as John continued to whisper his friend's name in his ear.

Molly smiled at this behavior, John murmuring Sherlock's name. Something new they've found together. Jealous. But it's so adorable. She reached for the duvet and pulled it up over the three of them, but she stayed a little apart, not wanting to interrupt their intimate moment.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, opening his eyes, reaching for her.

"Stay close, love, stay close," John reached his hand to her and Molly slid into place next to Sherlock. They held each other for a time, just breathing quietly, while Molly and John stroked and caressed Sherlock, nuzzling him, kissing him, murmuring his name.

Molly, John, John, Molly he breathed.

One by one, they dropped off into a peaceful sleep.

There it is – Let me know what you think!

More fun and a little angst for three on the way – Ahaha.

I know it's not everyone's ship – I hope I do not offend :-D

But if you like it a little, let me know.

Many thanks to those of you who are following and for the PM's and reviews,

Soooo nice when I hear from you.