Molly stared up at her lovely blue ceiling in the predawn light.

Blue.

Thoughts of intense blue eyes flitted through her mind, and that was all it took as she felt moisture gather down below.

Her right hand snaked under the covers and into her underwear. She imagined his long fingers slipping into her body where they touched places that she couldn't quite reach with her smaller digits. There was a delicious friction as she moved her fingers in and out of her pussy with thoughts of Sherlock's strong fingers manipulating her. But it wasn't enough, so Molly reached up into her shirt with her other hand and began pinching her nipples. She continued to dip her first two fingers inside herself. The need for more making her move her hand harder, striving to mimic the feeling of a hard cock, but falling short.

Frustrated, Molly pulled out her fingers and spread some of her wetness around her clit. But not too much, she needed that delicious friction again. Her middle finger found her swollen nub and began to ease some of the tension she felt as it rubbed in tiny circles. She rubbed faster and faster, and an exquisite ache filled her body. Her hips began to move in time with her finger and Molly moaned at the tightening in her cunt.

She thought of Sherlock leaning over her, and it almost seemed real as flashes of the detective flickered through her mind. She could see so clearly the sweat dripping off his shoulders as she reached up to grip his thick curly hair. And she could practically feel his rough callused fingers gripping her hips while he pistoned in and out of her in a rapid fire staccato. It was all so real. He was right there. His hard cock was giving her that friction she needed and the ache was building more intensely than ever. Her hips moved in counterpoint to his and he held her close so that her breasts were pressed tightly to his bare chest. The ache was so intense, but she wasn't quite there yet. And she could make out his warm breath on her cheek as he pressed kisses to her temple. His whole body shuddered above her and he moaned in her ear as his orgasm hit him. The feel of him coming drove Molly over the edge and that delicious ache became an explosion in her cunt as she shivered with the force of her own orgasm.

The images of Sherlock, so realistic, faded away into the morning gloom.

At the sound of movement in the flat, Molly jumped up out of bed to wash up in her loo before Archie could come into her room like he did most mornings.

As she washed her hands, Molly stared at herself in the mirror over the sink. She looked tired. Or maybe it was sad. She certainly missed seeing Sherlock Holmes everyday at work, and that had only occurred a few weeks before his companion came on the scene. Molly did receive the odd text requesting lab results and body parts, so there was that.

"Mummy!"

Molly smiled at the slightly muffled voice of Archie outside the door. No doubt his little face was smushed up against the doorframe. "Be right out sweetheart, go change into your school clothes."

"Okay mummy! But I want ice lollies for breakfast because I didn't get my morning kisses!"

Molly laughed at the blatant manipulation from her five year old. Six in less than three months she thought wistfully. A lump formed in her throat but Molly quickly finished washing up and got dressed for her day.

Archie was sat at his usual place. He was scrutinizing something quite closely with his magnifying glass and Molly feared that he had brought another bug to their breakfast table. But as she came closer she realized there was no bug, and what he seemed to be studying so closely was a clump of his hair, most likely gained from his hairbrush.

"Mummy?" Archie inquired, still bent over his 'specimen.'

"Hmm baby?" Molly bustled around the small kitchen, half her attention on making pancakes while the other half waited for Archie's inevitable questions.

"Why is my hair curly but not yours?"

The question was oh so innocent, the simple curiosity of a child really, but Molly felt her heart speed up and a nervous jittery feeling take over her body. She looked up and saw her reflection in the microwave. Her straight light brown hair seemed to mock her, and for the first time Molly wished her lovely hair away in lieu of Archie's dark brown curls. Casting around for an answer that would satisfy her very perceptive son, Molly alighted on a medical journal she left on the counter the previous night.

"Well..." she began slowly, working her way to the answer. "Do you remember when mummy told you about genetics?"

"Yes, mummy." Archie was now singularly focused on her, and it unnerved her that the look seemed to remind her of someone she just couldn't place. As if she needed to think on William in her critical moment of barefaced lying.

"Well, sometimes genes like curly hair don't show up in everyone of a family," she said as she licked her drying lips and attempted to give her son a smile not mired in panic. "Sometimes, you get genes that give you such beautiful curls because you are very very lucky."

Archie tilted his head to the side as he seemed to deeply contemplate her answer. "Aren't you lucky mummy? What about your hair?"

Molly reached up a hand to her ponytail with its usual center parting and sighed. "Would you like to fix mummy's hair for me?"

"Yes, mummy!"

Archie hadn't done a terrible job with her hair, and it had certainly distracted him from asking any further questions. Her hair was brushed into a side swept messy bun with a side parting. She had always worn her hair parting down the middle, but Archie said he liked it better this way and Molly didn't want to disappoint him.

After a long few hours of cutting up severely decomposed dead bodies, Molly stood staring at her meal options in the canteen.

"What are you thinking? Pork or the pasta?"

Slightly startled, Molly looked up at the sound of a deep voice she recognized. The voice belonging to a man she had been longing to see for the past few weeks and who fueled her morning fantasies. "Oh, it's you."

Sherlock scanned the contents of the food trays before them with an air of barely contained disdain. "This place is never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it? I'd stick with the pasta. Don't want to be doing roast pork, not if you're slicing up cadavers."

Molly didn't even need to ask how Sherlock knew she had already done autopsies that day. He was simply brilliant, and a bubble of excitement coursed its way through Molly as she thought on the fact that he had paid enough attention to deduce her again.

"What are you having?" A small part of her hoped that they could lunch together.

But in a bit of a dismissive tone Sherlock thwarted her plans once again. "Don't eat while I'm working. Digestion slows me down."

Molly let that bit of cherished information about Sherlock Holmes sink in despite her disappointment. He attempted to get access to a couple of bodies, which a small part of her suspected was the case when he came up to her. But she had to apologetically let him know that the paperwork she spent an hour working on had already gone through.

"Changed your hair."

"What?" The sudden topic change threw her off and a picture of an excited Archie attempting to put her hair in a hair band came before her mind's eye.

Sherlock seemed almost awkward as he gestured to her hair. "The style, you usually part it in the middle."

"Yes, well..."

"Well, it's good. It... suits you better this way." Sherlock's compliment brightened Molly's day considerably, though it was really due to Archie, she thought. She smiled to herself as she turned away from Sherlock to help him with his latest case. She was now intent on letting Archie know that she was also very very lucky.