52 reviews, 40 faves and 99 follows?! I cannot believe this. I mean, when I started writing this fanfiction, I didn't even think I'd continue writing it. So, I am really happy to see people like what I write. I am trying to do my best. Thank you everyone! Each and every one of you matter to me. (:

P.S.: I finished this at 2 a.m. in the morning and I am a little sleepy so, this chapter might have more grammar/word mistakes than it normally has.

A/N: English is not my native language so please ignore my grammar mistakes if there are any. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but this fanfiction. All credit goes to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss and BBC.

Two fucking days. It had been two fucking days since they went out of town for the case and she hadn't heard from him since then. He could have at least called her and told her where he was. But no. Of course, the great Sherlock Holmes wouldn't call a woman to tell his whereabouts. If Molly called him, he would pick up the phone and answer all her questions, she knew that. But she didn't want to be the one to call.

Then she felt guilty for thinking like this. He was on a case and that meant he was busy catching a killer. This was his job and his life. She had to respect him.

She sighed and focused on the deadbody she was opening up. She could think about all these later.

Sherlock decided not to try deduce the woman in front of him. He tried it lots of times a long time ago. He never succeeded solving this impeccable woman. She remained to be a true mystery, even after all these years. When he looked at her, all he could see was emptiness. This was what attracted him to her at the very first sight anyway. He wanted to solve her like a puzzle so bad that he went after her to save her in Karachi. She didn't deserve to live, no, but it was early for her to face death too.

When he saved her, they stared at each other for a moment before she crashed her lips to his. And without even noticing, they found themselves in a hotel room, touching each other, whispering dirty things. They both fought for dominance, both of them trying to be on top. In the end, it ended up equally. He never felt so good before. On the contrary to popular belief, Sherlock liked sex. And that night in Karachi was the best sex he ever had. Even four times in a row wasn't enough for them to get tired. They needed to feel more of each other. This was not attachment, no. This was lust.

So when they met after all those years, the first thing he remembered was that night they shared. Appearently it was what Irene thought of first too because she smirked at him, pulling him closer by his tie and kissing him fiercely.

At first, it ignited something within him and he answered her by opening his mouth for her exploration. But then Molly's sweet little face popped up in his mind and he broke the kiss abruptly, erasing the beautiful red lipstick marks from his lips angrily. He was angry at himself more than Irene. He was defeated by his weakness and that weakness was the woman standing in front of him.

She narrowed her eyes as she kept staring at him intensely. She was aware of the fact that they were in a public area but she didn't care. Oh how much she missed those lips. She could kiss them all night long. And that's exactly what she wanted the most right now.

"Get out of my life." He snapped at her angrily, but couldn't hold himself back when she once more crashed her lips to his. She bit his lower lip and sucked it, enjoying every second of it. Sherlock—absolutely unwillingly—wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Thank God nobody in the restaurant looked at them. Anyone could kiss whenever they wanted, it was a fancy restaurant after all. Maybe the guy proposed to the woman, right? Nobody could know the truth lying behind it.

"I missed you." Irene whispered to his lips, deepening the kiss.

Sherlock's eyes flattered close. All he could feel was her hot lips on his, her tiny waist underneath his long arms. Caring is not an advantage, he heard his brother say to him in his mind but he didn't care. This was not caring. This was passion. And at that moment, he had no courage to tell her to go the fuck away.

This was absolutely not going the way he planned it.

Molly was pacing in her flat, listening his cat Toby complaining with his annoying meows. She knew John and Sherlock were together so she decided to give him a call. He could at least inform her about when they were going to come back. Molly missed Sherlock so much. She didn't know if he missed her too but that's what she hoped.

After three rings, John finally picked up. "Hi Molly."

John tried to keep his voice steady. He informed Lestrade beforehand in case Molly called him first. John knew Molly would eventually wonder about Sherlock's whereabouts and call either John or Lestrade. She wouldn't call Sherlock because she would think he was busy. John shivered, feeling guilty as hell.

"Hi, John. I know I'm disturbing by calling in the middle of a case but… I was wondering when you guys are gonna come back. It's been two days and… I miss him." She bit her lip when she said the last part. She still felt weird that John knew about their relationship.

John took a deep breath before answering her. "Yeah, well, we don't know for certain when we're going to come back. There was another murder in town so Sherlock is now investigating it too. Double homicide we suppose. So it got a bit busier than usual, you know." With each word he uttered, he felt more and more guilty. Shame on you, John Watson, for being such a good liar, his innerself yelled at him.

Molly frowned and looked at Toby who was trying to climb up to her leg. He did that when he got hungry and she noticed she didn't feed him for a few long hours now.

"Okay. Thank you John. Tell Sherlock I said hi." She said and hung up before waiting for an answer from John. Then she fed Toby and sat down on the couch, opening the TV. She needed to be distracted. The case was going to take long, it was obvious. She didn't like it. She knew she was acting immature right now but she loved him. It wasn't wrong to miss someone you love. Of course if she knew the truth…

John cursed under his breath when Sherlock didn't answer his phone. But John didn't give up and called him one last time.

"Oh, hello John."

When he heard her voice, he felt like something big got stuck in his throat. For a few minutes, he couldn't answer her. He felt his knees go weak and sat down on the armchair, hearing Mary putting the kettle on. She loved having a cup of tea before going to bed at night. Thank God she had no idea what was going on.

"Where's Sherlock?" was all he could say.

"What the hell are you doing?" he heard Sherlock say and then suddenly, Sherlock was the one talking on the other line. "John. Hi."

John gritted his teeth angrily. "Hi? Is that all you got to say? Hi? Seriously Sherlock, you fucked up really bad this time, mate."

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" John parroted Sherlock, his voice raising more and more every second. "You had dinner with The Woman, you dickhead! Did you not think of Molly? God, she's never going to forgive you."

"Don't be ridicilous John. I didn't have dinner with The Woman. Well, we kissed and made out a little bit but nothing more happened. I managed to stop myself at the last minute." He told him.

Though, John didn't believe a word he said. "Then why the hell did she answer your phone?"

"Because I was dressing up and she…" Sherlock's voice faltered when he noticed what he had just said. Sherlock was always a good liar but now he couldn't even keep up with a simple lie he just said a few minutes ago.

John stood up from the armchair, his hands curled up into fists. "When you come back, if you don't tell Molly the truth, I'm going to tell her myself and you will not be able to stop me Sherlock. She doesn't deserve this and you don't deserve her." he hung up the phone and turned around to leave the living room when he saw Mary standing there, looking at him with wide eyes. Fuck, he thought and went past her, not wanting to give her an explanation right now.

Sherlock returned to Baker Street the day after he had that awful phone call with John. Sherlock Holmes never felt guilty once, never. But now, his chest was tightening and he felt a big weight on his shoulders.

He opened the door to his flat and found Molly sleeping on the couch. It was obvious she came here not long ago. She wore a tshirt of Sherlock's and she drank two cups of coffee. He had dark circles under her eyes that meant she hadn't had much sleep during the past three days.

He knew he was the reason for all of this. He couldn't make her happy. A guy like him could never make a woman like her happy anyway.

He closed his eyes when he remembered last night. He hated and enjoyed every second of it at the same time. He also hated himself for being such an idiot. It was a mistake to meet with her in the first place. He should have known that he would be drawn to her charms in the end.

He removed his coat silently, putting it on his armchair before making his way to Molly. He kneeled in front of her sleeping posture and caressed her cheek lightly. She mumbled something in her sleep that he couldn't understand. The sides of his lips turned upwards and he kissed her forehead. But suddenly he felt… disgusted. No, he wasn't disgusted by Molly. He was disgusted by himself. Not long ago he kissed another woman and now he was kissing Molly. His guilty conscious kept talking to him while he kept caressing her cheek.

Molly's eyes snapped open and she panicked at first but then smiled when she saw it was Sherlock. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck.

"I missed you so much." She whispered to his ear and kissed his neck.

Sherlock gulped. He had no idea how to respond to that. Did he miss her? You had no time to miss her while snogging The Dominatrix, you arse! His friend John yelled at him in his mind and he dismissed him fiercely. His guilty conscious was enough as itself.

The way she acted, the way she kissed him were obvious signs that indicated her desire. She wanted to have sex with him. Obviously.

He stood up and watched her stand up with him.

"I am going to sleep a little bit. I am tired. Goodnight Molly." He said and kissed her forehead before going to the bedroom at full speed.

Molly was dumbfounded and had no idea why he was acting so strangely. Maybe he's just tired, her Pollyanna side spoke but secretly, she didn't believe it at all. There was something wrong with him and she was going to find out what. Soon.

*ducks to avoid any punches, kicks* DON'T KILL ME! I know, I know. Sherlock acted like a bastard, Molly didn't deserve it, you don't like Irene one bit and neither do I (because I sincerely hate the way BBC portrayed Irene Adler) blah blah blah… BUT we always need some drama, now, don't we?

Trust me on this… Things are gonna get pretty fucked up. LOL Not really good news, I know. Yet, this will be a test for both Sherlock and Molly and a test for their relationship. You will see how their characters will develope hugely in the upcoming chapters. So just stick with me, okay? Plus, what really happened that night is still a secret ;)

Yeah… well… Reviews are my inspiration. Keep 'em coming? Thanks a lot for reading!

xoxo Louvreangel