Sherlock makes a date with Molly

Sherlock and Molly have a lovely time

Sherlock and John have an intimate chat about John's issues

Sherlock and John have a lovely time

A Big Day for Sherlock - I

Morning at 221B Baker Street. Movement in the bed, what is it? Who's leaving? John next to me breathing, asleep – Molly - time? Ambient light from outside - pre-dawn – she has that early shift today catch her before she goes – catch her now – don't wake John – no, no chance of that - he's dead to the world.

Sherlock slipped out of bed and padded out of the room after Molly. He saw that she'd closed the door to the bathroom, so he waited for her. When she came out, she found him leaning against the wall, watching the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Watson, and how are we this morning?"

Molly smiled. What's he up to? Oh, right, his sweet promise – what will he do? She wondered.

"I'm just fine, Mr. Holmes. How are you this morning? You must be cold, naked as you are under that thin dressing gown." She closed the distance between them, and took his morning erection in her hand.

"Hmhmhm, yes, but not too cold." Sherlock chuckled.

"No," Molly smiled, "Not too cold at all."

"What are your intentions, Mrs. Watson?"

"What are yours, Mr. Holmes? You seem to have followed me to the loo this morning."

Sherlock took her in his arms, and she pressed against him without losing hold of his length in her hand.

"Well, my intentions were rather innocent, I'd only meant to ask you to let me buy you lunch today. But now - ." He kissed her forehead. "Now, I think I'd like to take you back to bed and make John watch me have you before you go to work."

"Well, I do have an extra five minutes." Molly grinned.

"Molly! That is completely unfair," Sherlock chuckled in spite of the rib.

"Ahaha, 20 minutes, then. And I further accept your luncheon proposal for 12:30. Meet at the usual place? We're just talking about lunch, I hope, it's going to be a busy day -."

"Lunch, Molly, I swear. No more ridiculous public – after that incident with – ah -. All right, usual place in front?"

"Mmm."

Sherlock took Molly by the hair, gently pulling her head back, as he leaned in to her ear.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Watson, now please come back to bed with me for the first part of our arrangement, yes?" He bit her neck gently.

"With pleasure, Mr. Holmes, you bad, bad man."

The pair entered the dark bedroom and could hear John's regular breathing. They slipped back into bed carefully, already kissing and petting. Sherlock pressed a knee between Molly's legs, placing her on her back and spoke.

"Like this? Or? I know you like it from behind. Tell me?"

"Hmm – lovely from behind - ."

"I know you like it that way – but - ."

"Lonely. This way – I want to be near you." She kissed him.

Sherlock pressed her legs apart and pressed the head of his erection into her carefully. She was a little unready, and he gently rubbed his head in and out a few times and it wasn't long before he could enter her easily. She hummed her appreciation in his ear and whispered.

"Lovely." She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed him, eliciting a breathy sound from her partner.

Sherlock reached between their bodies, and placed a thumb where he knew she liked it, but asked, as well.

"Is that all right, Molly?"

"Yes - You could -."

"What? Tell me?"

"You could rest your thumb more lightly – that way I can move against you and - ."

Molly demonstrated.

"Ah. But when I – ." Sherlock pressed a little more firmly.

"Oh, ah -yes, also lovely, but - later." Molly was starting to lose interest in the conversation, and was moving with a little more urgency. Sherlock brought one of Molly's knees forward, slinging the leg over one of his shoulders. She looked up at him, smiling through lowered lashes.

"Mmm, also lovely," she started to move even more urgently.

Sherlock could see she was getting close to a plateau, but wanted to experiment some more. He brought her other knee over his shoulder, and pressed her hard into the mattress almost immobilizing her, and then he grasped her wrists, pinning them above her head with some force. He moved only minimally, making her do the work, though she was pinned quite effectively and had to use more than her usual force to move against him. She looked up at him with alarm and saw him smiling at her.

"All right?" He asked, but as usual, he saw he didn't have to ask, as her secret smile, lascivious, almost lewd spread across her face and she pitched herself against him to get what she wanted. No fading flower, he thought, gratified. She came quietly but fiercely against him, biting his shoulder at the end. When she was done, he lowered one of her legs, and fucked her hard into the pillows, watching as she smiled at him, only enjoying her afterglow, no longer invested, allowing him his pleasure, allowing him to take it as he wanted it. When he was finished, he, too, managed to suppress the noise he might otherwise have made to keep from waking John. He only allowed himself a deep moan into the nape of her neck, then collapsed almost completely on top of her, finally rolling off after several long moments. They lay there together listening to one another's breathing become more and more regular and finally Molly chuckled.

"Hmmhmm. That was lovely Mr. Holmes." She kissed him and rolled up out of bed, and gathered her clothing. "I'll see you later." She was rummaging in Sherlock's closet for something. "Did I leave that other blouse here? Yes! Oh good. See you at lunch!" She left the room with an armful of belongings and Sherlock heard her in the bathroom for only a few minutes, before she was closing the door to the flat. A few seconds later the door downstairs slammed, and he felt the sudden emptiness of her absence. Sherlock put his concentration on John's breathing as his friend slept. It was meditative and soothing, but he wanted to reach for John and hold him. He refrained, however, not wanting to wake him. He continued to monitor his breathing, instead, and consciously or not, his own breathing fell in step with it and finally Sherlock drifted into a lovely deep sleep.

He woke some time later and listened for John. He could hear him breathing but could tell that his friend wasn't asleep. He turned to him to find John facing away toward the wall, so Sherlock slid over to spoon him, brushing his jaw and lips across his shoulders, the back of his neck, his hairline. But John was very quiet, not at all his usual self. Sherlock could feel it in his skin as he touched him, could feel his muscles react differently to him.

"John?"

"Mmm."

"What is it? Can you -."

"Mmm, nothing."

"John, you'll tell me, won't you?"

"Mmm, just – I don't know how – how -."

Sherlock could tell his friend was very conflicted this morning, having deep doubts about what to call all this. Their relationship, their triad. It almost seemed to Sherlock that the further the two of them progressed in their physical relationship, the harder John struggled and Sherlock had no small amount of guilt to be the cause of his friend's pain.

"John -?"

"How – Well how did we get here? How did that - happen? We were friends. We were good friends and now -."

Sherlock's heart sank, but didn't take this set back personally. He only tried to find a way to help abate John's struggle.

"You came to me, John. You brought Molly."

"Yes, yes, but - ."

"You'd thought only to share Molly with me. But, I'm afraid I thought that you – Well, I suppose I wanted -."

"You thought we'd share each other, too.

"Yes. We had different - ."

"Slightly different ideas -."

"Yes," said Sherlock, continuing to brush John's skin with his mouth.

"How did I – how did we come to this?" John continued to sound mystified.

"You stayed."

"What?"

"You didn't leave, John. Early on – remember? We – we were in bed with Molly."

"Yes, yes, I remember."

"And I – I'm sorry, it was very ah – ungentlemanly of me, but I sort of – well, I grabbed you, put my mouth on you. But I remember clearly John, we stopped, I stopped and Molly and I both asked if we were forcing you and you said -."

"No. It was true. It's true. You never forced me, Sherlock."

"I hope not, John – I - ."

"No, you never forced me. I promise you."

"I mean – I only – I only wanted -." Sherlock's hands were beginning to shake. Is this the end, is this the way he'll end it, reviewing the beginning, I don't know if I can handle this not this way in bed with my arms around him it can't end like this dear god no no no Sherlock was terrified, but tried to remain supportive for John.

"I know, it's all right," John assured his friend, but he didn't turn around. Sherlock continued to dust his lips and cheek against John's skin, lightly skimming him, hoping to coax John to turn around to face him.

"John?"

"Mmm?"

"Will you – will you tell me - ?"

"Mmm?"

"When you came to me with Molly. Who – how did you decide to do it? To approach me - like that?"

"Mmm. Yes, well, I'll tell you, Sherlock, you – ah, reappeared."

"John."

"Yes, you fucking reappeared."

"John, love."

"Sorry, it's still raw sometimes, to tell you the truth."

"All right, all right, that's fine – I, I -."

"You reappeared."

"I reappeared."

"Yes, and it was painful and joyful – and all that -."

Sherlock could feel John's muscles twitching, rearranging – he tightened his grip on him.

"And Molly and I were – after – after the initial, you know – we were delirious with happiness, but when we – whenever we were in bed together – it was almost worse than when you were gone - no it was worse, much worse – whenever we – god the -."

"When you had sex -." Sherlock wanted to be clear.

"Yes. Well, the weeping and wailing – Ahaha, it was just too much. Molly should be here for this, really."

"We'll tell her."

"Ok." John took a deep breath, getting a little control back. "Um, so -."

"Weeping and wailing," Sherlock prompted.

"Yes. Aghm. We realized then that it was you we were missing in – in – when we were together. That it was your reappearance that made your absence even more – god – unbearable. Then I think Molly talked to you, yes?"

"Yes." Sherlock remembered a spare interview Molly had had with him only a few weeks before John and Molly had approached him, offering to 'share.' He had come to the lab alone, John had gone with Lestrade to the Yard to follow a new lead on a case. Sherlock and Molly were alone together in the lab and she had done it again.

"Still sad."

"What? Pardon?"

"You know what I said."

"Molly," Sherlock used his warning tone, as he bore down hard into his microscope, trying to seem unflappable.

"Don't warn me. I know why you're sad, too. You miss him. Even in his – presence you're – lacking him. Because of me. Because we're married."

Sherlock had been shocked into silence by Molly's dead-on observation. He couldn't help looking up from his work, his lips parted, his eyebrows were raised as she'd leaned in and whispered, grasping his knee.

"I thought so. And I think you miss me, a little, too. Sherlock. It can be different."

Sherlock remembered he had been speechless, but had been able to look back to his samples under the microscope.

"I don't know what you mean," he managed to remark casually, he thought, over his shoulder.

Molly hadn't sniffed or harrumphed. She'd only patted Sherlock's knee where she'd touched him and walked off calmly, leaving the lab. And that was the last time he'd seen her before Molly and John had come over. Their first night as three.

"Yes, she'd quite surprised me. Again."

"Yes. Then she had her work cut out for her." John continued.

"Of course. To convince you." Sherlock hung his head. He knew now, for certain, that had it not been for Molly, John would be forever out of his reach.

"That's right, I think it was three or four weeks - ?"

"Yes,"

"Every night, every night – then we'd go to bed and - god it was a blood bath, the the fucking, the crying, the holding. We did get rather desperate for you. I – I was desperate. Then Molly said it, she put words to it she said – I don't remember – something along the lines of 'we need him here with us in bed.' And I – Ahaha, I thought it was mad at first. Then I realized that was the only way – the only way that we could – that we would be able to – go on. Then I couldn't imagine asking you. But Molly was persistent. She rehearsed me – what to say to you, how to approach you, but I just couldn't do it alone. Molly kept asking if I'd talked to you, night after night. But I couldn't bring myself to do it. Finally, she suggested bringing take-out around to yours."

"Yes."

"And -."

"Yes, and now – we're here. John." Sherlock took a deep breath. "John, if you're – if you need to – take a step back, I – I -."

One of Sherlock's hands was on John's chest, and John gripped it now, rubbing the pad of his thumb across Sherlock's fingers.

"Hmm. Interesting. But, no. . . No, I don't think so."

John turned to his friend, pressing his face into Sherlock's neck, and Sherlock breathed a deep sign of relief to have John facing him at last.

"I can't – I can't leave – you – either of you." John lightly held his friend's shoulder and arm in his hands. Sherlock breathed another deep breath.

"Ok," he said. He wanted to stroke John, pet him, kiss him, but felt a little inhibited, not wanting to put him off. He waited for John to instigate any further contact and he wasn't disappointed. John soon began nuzzling Sherlock's neck, and pressing his erect cock into his leg. Sherlock relaxed and let him, not responding yet, waiting, his hands resting lightly on John's shoulders. He let his friend do what he wanted, not wanting to edit him or influence him. When John gently laid Sherlock back on the mattress, and slid on top of him, Sherlock smiled. Just like when he's with Molly, thought Sherlock. Confident, direct, simple, in control. Just exactly the same how lovely how sweet how delightful He let John slide up to kiss him, he let him press his cock against his own, he let him nibble and bite his neck and murmur his name to him and Sherlock threw his head back and felt it all, took it all in. Finally, Sherlock reached down and grasped John's erection against his own, fisting them together.

"Ah,– mmm, it's good – that's good -," John relaxed into it immediately, Sherlock noted with pleasure. Some things were just easier for him.

"Yes. Come here."

John put his arms around his friend's neck, kissing his throat, then his mouth, letting Sherlock do the work. They came almost at the same time, looking into one another's eyes, not daring to break their contact even as their orgasms washed over them. John collapsed on top of Sherlock unapologetically, and Sherlock put his arms around him, unwilling to let him go, even when John tried to roll off.

"Stay on me," he said. "I like to feel your weight on me."

And John stayed.

OK, short and sweet so you can get on with your weekend

More of A Big Day for Sherlock anon -

I think he'll have a chat with Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft may rear his skeevy head, lunch with Molly, John comes home at 5, Molly joins at 6

It's just a great big day!