A/N: This chapter and the next one are where this story earns its M rating. This is my first smut fic, so please be gentle.

A couple of days later, Molly woke up feeling like she had been hit by a fleet of buses. She called in sick then stumbled out of bed and into the kitchen to find Sherlock looking through a recipe blog. On her laptop. Molly rolled her eyes, too tired and sore to do anything else, then winced when the gesture worsened her headache. Sherlock looked up at her and assessed her condition in less than a heartbeat.

"I'll give you two choices," he said gently but firmly. "You can lay down on the sofa or your bed, but you are going to lay down."

"Sofa," she muttered. "The telly's out here." She sat down on the sofa then promptly had a coughing fit. When she was done, Sherlock standing in front of her with a bottle of cough syrup. She smiled up at him weakly as he handed it to her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He went back to the kitchen while Molly took a dose then settled against the sofa. Needing a comfort show, she brought up Netflix then put on Glee. Sherlock came over a little later with one of the pillows from her bed and her favorite rainbow-striped afghan. She smiled at him gratefully as he put the pillow at one end of the couch and covered her with the afghan. "Where were you the last time I was sick?"

Sherlock chuckled. "Probably doing something that would make you blush."

He winked and Molly indeed felt herself blushing as images filled her mind. Sherlock grinned at her then went back to the kitchen. Grabbing a magazine from the coffee table, Molly fanned herself, wishing she could cool down her mind the same way.

I have the world's sexiest flatmate and we're "just friends," at my request. Maybe it's my mental health that needs to be checked. Ugh, I can't even remember why I'm resisting him. She looked up as Sherlock set a tray on the coffee table. On it were a cup of weak tea, two slices of plain toast on a plate, two painkillers, and a glass of orange juice. "Thanks."

He smiled a bit. "You're welcome. Is there anything else you need?"

"Tissues and, um, company?" She smiled weakly as she took the pills with the juice. "Even Glee gets boring after a while. Toby used to hang out with me all day when I was sick. I miss that."

"I see, so I'm to take the place of your cat." His tone was annoyed but Molly could see the truth – his eyes were dancing.

She giggled. "Well, you are my pet demon."

Sherlock grinned at her wickedly, a flash of red in his eyes, then he leaned to murmur in her ear, "I'll get you for that, Molly."

Now I'm blushing again, damn him, she thought fondly. She playfully smacked his arm. "Behave."

He chuckled as he left the sitting room. When he came back, he was wearing his jeans from the bar, a gray t-shirt Molly had never seen on him before, and no shoes. The shirt was tight enough to show off his muscles and Molly decided she wasn't going to ask where he got it, she was just going to enjoy the view. Sherlock set a box of tissues on the coffee table then sat down next to her. Even though they weren't touching, Molly could feel his body heat radiating off him. She shivered and Sherlock raised an eyebrow at her.

"Sorry, just a chill."

He grinned. "I have the perfect cure for that." He gently pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her loosely.

Oh, Heaven… Molly curled into him, her head on his shoulder, and let his body heat warm her. "How warm are you?" she murmured, her breath on his neck.

It was Sherlock's turn to shiver. "Incubi and succubi are a few degrees warmer than humans." He smiled a bit. "You'll really appreciate the difference this winter."

Molly giggled. "My own demon-shaped hot water bottle." She felt one of his hands slip under her pajama top and stroke her back. "That is, if you're still in my good graces."

Sherlock chuckled as he removed his hand. "You can't blame an incubus for trying."

He leaned back against the sofa and Molly felt herself dozing off. She yawned softly and closed her eyes. Just before she fell asleep, she felt soft lips kiss her forehead.

A week later, Molly was well again and ready to tackle the morning. She walked into the kitchen and found it incubus-less. There was, however, a full pot of coffee and a note.

Molly,

I needed to get some emergency supplies. Coffee is ready. I'll be back soon.

Sherlock

Emergency supplies? Molly wondered. She checked the fridge and the pantry. We have plenty of everything, what is he on about?

Half an hour later, she was still in the kitchen, sipping coffee and contemplating making a bowl of cold cereal when Sherlock walked in with a cardboard box full of airholes and some plastic shopping bags. Molly examined the bags. Kitten food and a litter box? Her eyes widened. "Sherlock, what-"

"You were in dire need of a new pet since Toby is gone and I don't count." He set the box down on the floor in the sitting room and grinned at her. "Go on, open it."

Molly walked into the sitting room and knelt on the floor beside the box. She slowly opened it. A black furry head with pointed ears and bright yellow eyes looked up at her curiously.

"Aww! Aren't you darling?" She gently picked the kitten up and settled it in her lap. The kitten started to knead her pajama-clad thigh.

Sherlock chuckled. "It's a boy, he's neutered and litter-trained and he's had all his shots."

Molly beamed up at him. "Sherlock, thank you! I'm going to call him Devil."

She gestured for him to join her on the floor. He sat beside her, chuckling still. She gave him a quick peck on the lips. Sherlock stared at her, blinking, and Molly just grinned.

The next morning, Molly received a text.

8:03a Are you free for lunch? MW

8:07a With you, Mary, always. Molly

8:10a Excellent! Rosie and I will meet you at Angelo's at noon. MW

8:10a Oh, and no guys. This is a girls-only lunch. MW

Molly walked into Angelo's at noon and found Mary and year-old Rosie at their favorite table. She sat down across from Mary and grinned at Rosie, who was sitting in a high chair and playing with a handful of Cheerios.

Mary looked her over, grinning herself. "Either you're in love or you're drinking 8 glasses of water a day – you're glowing."

Molly rolled her eyes, laughing. "Neither, I swear."

"Uh huh," Mary said, her grin widening. "Mind if I perform a little experiment?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What sort of experiment?" When Mary didn't respond, she let out a melodramatic sigh. "Very well."

"How's Sherlock?"

Molly couldn't help a smile. Mary crowed in triumph.

"Liar, you are in love!"

"He's just a friend, Mary. Like Greg or John."

Mary scoffed. "You don't light up like that when I mention Greg." She smiled a bit. "And if you lit up like that when I mentioned John, I'd shoot you." At Molly's laugh, she went on. "Ask him out. Snog him. Shag him. Do something."

"Little ears, Mary," she said, indicating her goddaughter.

Mary scoffed, smiling. "She's too young to understand those words, but you certainly aren't. What's stopping you?"

"It's … complicated."

"Conan Doyle novellas are complicated, this is easy. He's hot, he really likes you, and you're both single. I'm telling you, kiss that man like there's no tomorrow and see where it leads."

I wish it was that easy, Molly thought, shaking her head. But there's so much more than what Mary knows.

When Molly and Sherlock walked into the flat that night, Sherlock went to the kitchen to check on dinner and Molly went to the fireplace in the sitting room. Knowing Sherlock was probably watching her, she took her framed engagement photo off the mantle then carried it to her bedroom. Molly wrapped the frame in an old jumper she no longer wore then put it in a box in the bottom of her closet.

A few days later, Molly decided she would make dinner for Sherlock. She had her iPod playing and was swaying along to "Hungry Eyes" coming from her little speaker as she mashed potatoes. God, this song could be about Sherlock and me. The way he looks at me sometimes is definitely hungry. She suddenly felt large hands gently holding her hips as she swayed and could feel the heat of his body behind her. She leaned against him for a moment then he took her hand and spun her around to face him. Sherlock took her in his arms and started to dance with her. Good God, I'm so turned on and it's not even dirty dancing, it's a proper ballroom hold. Molly laughed softly at the absurdity of it all.

Sherlock just gazed at her. As the song ended, he was leaning in for a kiss when her mobile rang.

Molly gave him an apologetic look then answered it. "Hi, Greg."

"Hey, Molly. I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me tonight."

Greg, you have the worst timing on the planet. "Oh, um, I can't tonight, it's already made. How about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow's fine, pick you up at seven?"

"Sure."

"Great, I'll see you then." She got off the phone to find Sherlock looking annoyed.

"If he really respected you, he would have given you more notice."

She shrugged. "Greg's a busy man, maybe he didn't have time to call me sooner."

"Do you like him?" Sherlock's voice was quiet, resigned.

"He's a good friend, he always has been."

He said after a moment, "I should go with you."

I have got to lighten the mood. "Oh no, you're staying here." She smiled a bit. "This is a humans-only date, no incubi allowed."

The long-suffering look he gave her made her giggle.

The next evening, Molly noticed that Sherlock had made himself scarce while she got ready for her date. She was in the foyer, just pulling on her coat, when she heard him playing his violin in the guestroom. After a moment, she realized he was playing "Hungry Eyes." Is he trying to get me to change my mind? God knows I want to, but I did promise Greg. I know I could have a normal relationship with him, but who wants normal? Of course, I'm not sure what kind of relationship I'd have with Sherlock. Would he stop sleeping with other women? Would we grow old together? Would he want to have children with me after what happened with Myrddin? She was about to go to the guestroom and ask him when Greg knocked on the door.

Molly came home a couple of hours later to find Sherlock dozing on the sitting room sofa, Devil asleep on his stomach. She gently picked the kitten up and set him on the chair then was draping an afghan over Sherlock when he opened his eyes. He assessed her.

"You didn't sleep with him."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Correct. Greg and I decided we're better off as friends."

"Any particular reason why?" He grinned triumphantly

"Goodnight, Sherlock."

A few days later, Molly had just finished a particularly trying day at work and was walking out of Bart's when she saw Sherlock waiting for her on the sidewalk, as usual.

Sherlock took one look at her and said firmly, "Forget the Tube, we're taking a cab."

Molly was too worn out to argue. Once they were settled in the cab, Sherlock took off his gloves then took her hand, squeezing it gently. The warmth from his hand relaxed her a bit.

She sighed quietly, her eyes on their joined hands. "Meetings, paperwork, then an autopsy on a child who died in a house fire," she said in answer to his unspoken question. "I had to tell Greg that the child had been beaten severely before the fire started. He should be arresting the parents even as we speak. How can any parent do that to their child?"

"In all my years, I've seen the worst of humanity," Sherlock said softly, "but I have also seen the best. For every parent who would harm their child, there are many more who would do anything for them." He lifted his free hand to her chin, gently raising it until her eyes met his. "You are the best person I have ever had the privilege to know, Molly. I know you would do nothing but love your children."

Molly searched his eyes but couldn't find any indication that he was anything but sincere. She smiled at him softly, feeling some of the stress of the day start to leave her. "Thank you, Sherlock." She moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder, sighing softly. "I wanted kids when I was younger. I dreamed of a nice house in the country with a bunch of little ones running around."

"What happened to the dream?" he asked, wrapping his arm around her.

Molly laughed mirthlessly. "The men I met didn't want the same things. Jim was only after sex. Tom was more focused on his career." At Sherlock's surprised look, Molly nodded. "I can admit that now. To be fair, he told me at the beginning he wasn't really interested in children."

"Instead of giving up the man you loved because he didn't share your dream, you gave up your dream?"

"Yes." She smiled weakly. "All those motivational posters I had as a kid would be very disappointed in me."

"Molly…" he said sternly.

"If I ever get married, I'll make sure he wants children, alright?"

He nodded. "And that he truly appreciates you."

"I'm not asking for miracles here, Sherlock." She smiled a bit.

Sherlock growled at her and the only thing Molly could think was, Damn, I need to annoy him more often, that sounded so sexy.

When they arrived at her flat, Molly went to her bedroom and changed into her pajamas. Sherlock had suggested they make it a Netflix night and Molly had heartily agreed.

There was a knock on the door. "Molly? How do you feel about Chinese?"

A craving Molly didn't realize she had flared up. "I could really go for peanut butter chicken right about now."

She heard him chuckle through the door. "Noted. I'll be back soon. While I'm gone, you can decide what we're going to watch."

"Will do."

By the time Sherlock was back with take-away, Molly was on the couch with Devil in her lap as she scrolled through the options on Netflix. He carried the bag to the kitchen, chuckling. "Glad to see you two got comfy while I was gone."

Molly laughed. "I think Devil likes me."

"Mmm, tell him to get in line."

He brought her food out on a tray. Molly set the kitten on the floor then took the tray from him. Sherlock went back for his tray then sat down with it next to her.

"What did you decide on?" he asked.

"Nothing yet. All of the comedies are idiotic, I've seen all of the documentaries that interest me, and I'm not in the mood for an animated movie."

Sherlock looked at the screen for a moment then back at her. "How about romance?"

Molly expected him to tack on innuendo but when he didn't, she shrugged a bit. "Alright." She put on The Princess Bride. "This is one of my favorite movies."

Sherlock nodded. "It's a classic."

She stared at him. "You've seen it?"

He grinned at her. "Come now, Molly, is that really so … inconceivable?"

Molly groaned quietly. "My God…"

"Not quite." He smirked.

She tried her best to ignore him during the movie, she really did. Molly focused on her food and when that was done, she focused on Devil, who had jumped onto the sofa and crawl back into her lap as soon as she got rid of the tray. Still, she couldn't ignore the heat radiating from the incubus next to her, or the smell of his cologne, or his chuckles whenever something funny happened on-screen.

When the movie ended, Sherlock smiled at her. "Feel like another one?"

Molly felt mesmerized by his eyes. After a moment, she mentally shook herself. "Um, sure." She pulled up Pride & Prejudice.

Sherlock smirked. "I should've known you'd like Mr. Darcy."

She smirked back. "How do you know it's not Mr. Bingley who's my type?"

He leaned to murmur in her ear, "Because I know how much you like tall, dark, and handsome."

Molly shivered. She wanted to tell him that her taste was expanding, but all she could say was, "Oh yeah…"

Sherlock chuckled then softly kissed her cheek. "Never change, Molly."

She wanted to melt into a puddle right there. Oh God… Why can't I just do as Mary suggested and kiss him?

When the movie was over, Molly pretended to be tired and said she was going to bed early. She could tell Sherlock didn't believe her but at that point, she didn't care. I have to put some distance between us or I am definitely going to jump him. She said goodnight to Sherlock then went to her bedroom. After going through her nightly routine, she got into bed and tried to sleep.

After almost two hours of tossing and turning, she finally gave up. It must be my hormones. No way is it because there's an ultra-sexy incubus in the next room. She almost believed that. I need an orgasm so bad but I can't masturbate with him so close, he'd hear me. I have to get rid of him. She got up, went to the guestroom, and knocked lightly on the door.

"Yes?" Sherlock asked, not sounding tired at all.

"Sherlock, can you do me a favor, please?" she asked, hearing some of the desperation make its way into her voice.

The door opened a moment later to reveal Sherlock in his pajamas. He looked her over and Molly knew he could tell exactly what was wrong with her. She decided to lie anyway.

"Could you go to the store for me, please? I'm cramping really bad and I'm out of painkillers."

Sherlock gave her a dubious look. "Cramps? Are you sure that's what's wrong?"

"I'm positive. Please, Sherlock?"

"Very well." He snapped his fingers and his clothes changed to his usual black suit, this time with the aubergine shirt, and Molly whimpered at the sight. He raised an eyebrow but said simply, "I'll be back soon. Call my mobile if you think of anything else."

"Thank you, Sherlock."

As soon as he was gone, Molly locked herself in her bedroom, took off her pajamas and panties, then stretched out on the bed. She closed her eyes and imagined Sherlock just as he was a moment ago, very sexy and knowing exactly what she needed. She slowly slid a hand up her stomach to her left breast, imagining it was his much larger hand. Fingers cupped her breast then lightly played with her nipple. "Sherlock…" she whispered. In her head, he was gazing at her with eyes that burned red-hot with passion.

Her other hand moved between her legs and she imagined it was Sherlock's hand seeking out her swollen clit and starting to stroke it. Being so close to the edge already, her body soon exploded into fireworks, leaving her out of breath and finally, finally sated. Molly opened her eyes and blanched.

Sherlock was standing by the bed.