Author's Note: Sorry this took an extra week to post, I really took a long time with it because of the content. Which, some of you will be pleased to find, is entirely smut :) I found it really hard to keep the characters real when writing this, so please let me know how I did. Again, thanks for all the support!

Sherlock rested his forehead against Molly's hair, closing his eyes and struggling for control. Her words, spoken in that desperate tone, threatened to be his undoing. There were a lot of things he expected he was not capable of giving, but he was fairly certain he could give her this.

He ran his hand down the front of her body, feeling her squirm against him. Ignoring the twinge of insecurity he felt, he continued until his hand was resting lightly atop her knickers. He paused, wanting to gauge her reaction.

Molly moaned and pushed her core against his hand. This pace was going to kill her. Every nerve ending in her body was on edge, all screaming to be touched at once. Sherlock ghosted his hand over her center, and her knees buckled.

Sherlock caught her weight, surprised by the intensity of her reaction to such a light touch. She was grasping the arm wrapped around her chest with both hands, as if it was the only thing holding her to this world.

Frustrated with the pace, and wanting some form of retribution, Molly reached behind her to palm the hardness she could feel against her backside.

Sherlock had been so focused on eliciting reactions from Molly and sorting them away that he had ignored how aroused he was. At her touch, all air left his lungs. Even through the thin material, the sensation was overwhelming.

It was now that his mind began to teem with probabilities, possibilities, outcomes, complications. Typical to the detective, his mind had been quiet when focused on the task at hand, but now, with the focus turned back on him, faced simply with feeling what the moment had to offer, he began to overthink the situation. What if he wasn't what she expected? What if he didn't measure up to her other lovers? Was this just physical attraction for her? For him?

Molly felt him tense behind her, and turned in his arms. His face had an expression akin to when he was puzzling through scenarios for a case, and that simply would not do.

"Stop thinking," she said up to him, slowly walking him back until his knees hit the edge of the bed. He sat, and she used her weight to push him back until they were laying down.

He swallowed hard. "Molly, I-"

"Shhh," she soothed, sliding down his body and working on removing his briefs. "Stop thinking," she repeated, tossing the detectives last article of clothing to the side.

Sherlock was not uncomfortable with nakedness, even his own. He had gone to Buckingham palace in only a sheet, for Christ's sake. But suddenly he felt very exposed, and quite aware that he had absolutely no idea what to do with his hands. The decision was made for him, however, when Molly grasped his length in her hand, causing him to fist the sheets at his sides.

Molly glanced up towards his face through her lashes, her face bent down to breathe warm air over him. She smirked, noting his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. The control had shifted back into her hands (literally), and she was going to make the most of it. Ever so slowly, drawing out the moment and keeping her eyes on his face, Molly lowered her mouth over him.

Sherlock's "education" in sexual matters had naturally included fellatio, but this was something else entirely. While the mechanics were more or less the same, the effect on him was completely and utterly novel. He felt weak, completely given over to the sensations, and completely dependent on Molly to give them. He was no longer able to focus on anything besides Molly's movements, and the desperate need for her to continue one moment to the next.

Molly took him completely into her mouth, until she could go no further. Slowly, she moved her head up an down again, once, testing the waters. His ragged breathing encouraging, she began to move faster, knowing what the detective craved even if he did not. After a few minutes, she felt his muscles beginning to tighten, and he sat up quickly, pulling her up towards him with what sounded like a muttered curse, and crushing her mouth to his. She was so swept up in his kisses, in the gentle strokes of his tongue against hers, that it took a moment to register that he had turned them and was now lying on top of her, his hips cradled between her thighs, pressing against her where she needed him most.

Molly moaned into his mouth and pushed her pelvis up into him, seeking friction. He ground himself against her, causing her to moan into his mouth and dig her nails into his back. He hooked a finger under the waistband of her knickers and began to draw them down her legs. Breaking the kiss, he looked at her face, pausing for some sign of approval. Molly nodded slightly, and he shifted onto his knees to remove them from her legs.

Sherlock bent down and pressed a kiss to the inside of Molly's calf. He was going purely on instinct now, his lessons never delving into this more…intimate area. He worked his way up, placing another kiss on the inside of her knee, enjoying the journey up towards his goal. He had to tighten his hand holding her leg, she was squirming dreadfully. At this rate a whole room in his mind palace would need to be dedicated to her reactions to sexual stimuli. Interesting, his research had not indicated that the legs were erogenous zones. He kissed the inside of her thigh, and based on the pattern that was developing, he was surprised to feel her freeze and her breathing hitch, and not in what he thought was a favorable way. Looking up at her face, he noted that her eyes, which had been shut, were now open and looking toward the ceiling.

"Molly?" Sherlock asked, not sure what he had done wrong. He was sure he had been reading her reactions perfectly until now…

Molly continued to stare at the ceiling, not meeting his eyes. After a moment, she finally spoke, so quietly Sherlock almost couldn't hear her. " Could we not do…that? I just…I can't."

Sherlock was puzzled. All of his information showed that what he had been about to do was something most women enjoyed, although he had no first hand experience. Maybe he had deleted some important fact on the subject. Nevertheless, with a sensitivity only seen in post-fall Sherlock, he decided not to press the issue in order to satisfy his curiosity, and instead moved up to kiss her. She returned the kiss enthusiastically, which he took to mean the strange moment had passed. He worked his hand between them, reaching down to palm her now naked heat.

Molly arched into him, desperately wanting him to move his fingers against her, her mind becoming hazy with the intensity of her desire. But, ever the sensible one, a very practical thought fought its way to the front of her mind.

"Sherlock," She said to pause him, pulling her mouth from his, his hand resting between them still distracting her terribly. "Do you…condoms?"

Sherlock looked genuinely surprised by her query, and she couldn't help but laugh, breaking the charge of the moment ever so slightly. At her laughter, Sherlock looked affronted.

"Why ever would I have such a thing? Unlike John, I am not a slave to my baser urges, rutting everything in sight-"

Molly thought it unwise to point out the hypocrisy of that statement in their current position. However, the mention of John gave her a thought.

"Maybe John had some in the flat somewhere?" she asked Sherlock, hoping this would indeed prove to be the case.

Sherlock thought for a moment, distractedly removing his hand from where it was torturing her. When John had moved out, it appeared he had only taken those things he really needed, and avoided coming back, so the chances were good that he had left things such as these behind. However, where would they be? The most logical place would be in a bedside table…and John slept on the left side of his bed, closest to the door, so the left bedside table then. And his slightly prudish morality would keep him from keeping them in the first drawer, where they were more likely to be discovered…

Without a word Sherlock was up and out of the room, in search of his prize, leaving Molly only slightly flustered and frustrated. In what seemed a ridiculously short amount of time, the detective returned, holding the box like a proud cat might brandish his prize mouse.

Molly ignored his smug expression, instead rising up on her knees to push her mouth to his, at the same time taking the box from him and pulling out one of the foil packets it contained. Sherlock reached out and teased one nipple with his fingers, worrying it into a tight peak. Picking up where they had left off, he once again let his hand drift down to the apex of her thighs, determined to slake his curiosity on this subject, at least.

He was pleased to note she was quite well lubricated, something he knew to be a sign of adequate arousal and a benefit to pleasurable intercourse. Curious, he began exploring her with his fingers, having an intellectual knowledge of the anatomy but no practical application to go on. As he grazed a particular spot Molly jerked against him and whimpered. Ah, that would be the clitoris, then.

He focused is attention on that spot, applying light, continuous pressure. Molly moaned against his mouth, and he felt her abdominal muscles quiver against his arm. He pushed her back into the bed, lying half beside her, half over her to continue his ministrations, relieving and reapplying pressure rhythmically, never lifting his touch completely. Molly began to moan in time with his motions, which he took to be a positive indication.

Molly was teetering on the edge, so close already, and yet not quite able to let go. She gripped his arm, feeling his breath against her ear. She could feel his intense concentration, and it was distracting her ever so slightly from her goal, making her feel vulnerable.

Deducing her frustration from her scrunched face and increasing pleas, Sherlock decided to try something to push her over the edge.

"Stop thinking, Molly." He whispered in her ear, simultaneously using his free hand to pinch her nipple, hard, and giving a final hard press against the bundle of nerves responsible for her pleasure.

His deep voice whispering against her ear caused a warm heat to unfurl in Molly's belly. Before she could think about it too much, her climax crashed over her, causing her to arch off the bed with an exclamation of his name.

Sherlock was floored by the sight of Molly in this state. It caused his hardness to throb painfully, watching her writhe and moan his name. He watched her body begin to relax, her skin flushed and damp. She slowly came back to herself, and slowly opened her eyes to meet his..

"Did I—that is, did you…" Sherlock trailed off in uncharacteristic shyness.

"Orgasm?" Molly smiled up at him, somewhat pleased that he cared to ask. "Yes." She pulled his mouth down to hers, kissing him languidly, the strokes of his tongue against hers causing ripples of aftershocks to course through her body. The high from her recent completion faded quickly, and suddenly she felt empty and needy. Remembering the condom in her hand, she extracted it from it's foil package and maneuvered herself so that she could grasp his erection and roll it down his length. Her movements becoming desperate, she grasped his hips tightly, pulling him fully on top of her.

Sherlock felt himself positioned at Molly's entrance, and all control and reserve left him. Without warning, he plunged himself in, seating himself completely within her tight channel.

"Christ." The exclamation left his mouth in a rush, a woeful understatement of the sensations he was experiencing. He remained still, his mind trying to process and categorize and failing miserably.

Molly cried out something unintelligible, the sudden fullness startling her. His exclamation sent a wave of heat through her, and she reveled in the fact that she could cause the great Sherlock Holmes to swear. After a moment, he began to move in long, slow strokes. His gaze was locked on where they were joined, his breathing fast. She gripped the muscles of his back, lifting herself to meet his thrusts.

He raised his gaze to her face, wanting to watch the reactions there. She was biting her lower lip, and every time he pushed inside her her eyes closed briefly. He kept his movements slow, already overwhelmed by sensation and not wanting this to end too quickly. This time, as he pushed into her he ground his pubic bone against her. She cried out his name in response, and moved her hands down to squeeze his buttocks.

She tried to pull him into her faster, harder. By chance, her eyes met his, his pupils blown wide, only a thin rim of blue-green visible now. The intensity there was overwhelming, forcing her to shut her eyes, the pressure within her building.

Sherlock looked away from her face, dipping his head to take a nipple into his mouth. He felt her clench around him at the contact, sending a jolt up his spine. Releasing her breast, he gave into the urge to move faster, earning a breathy 'yes' from Molly.

Knowing he wouldn't last much longer at this pace, he reached down to use his fingers against her, wanting her to finish with him. She moaned his name, and within seconds she tensed around him, milking him. And, with a cry of her name, he followed her over the edge.