Three Days Ago. Molly's Flat

As disguises go, Sherlock knew his was pretty lame; a Ramones t-shirt and a baseball cap courtesy of Dr. Doyle, a pair of reading glasses from Boots, and copy of the trusty London A-to-Z to make himself look like a tourist were hardly the stuff of master illusion, but he didn't need them to be. He only needed to disguise himself enough not to tip off the two guards within a twenty yard radius of the main door to Molly's building, long enough for him to unlock it and run up to her inside door. Everything else would have to be improvised.

He knew he had only one chance at this. As Molly's building became closer and closer, he readied his key, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He walked closer to the buildings than the curb so that his sudden last-minute jutting off to the right and the door wouldn't take as long. One chance, he thought, I have one chance at this.

When the building was upon him, he made the quick dash right and opened the door. Once inside he hauled it as fast as he could for Molly's door. He was able to get in one knock at her flat's door before he felt himself flying through the air and hitting the landing with a painful thud. It was the same damn guard that had taken him down so many weeks before when Molly had fled his own flat. His only chance now rested with Molly herself.

He started yelling "Molly! Molly! Please I need to talk to you."

"Shut up," the guard said, with his knee planted firmly on Sherlock's back, holding him down. Then he heard the main door of the building open and the two outside guards coming in to help subdue and remove the man they saw entering a few seconds ago.

"Molly!" Sherlock yelled again.

She opened the door and saw Sherlock being pinned to the landing. "Malcolm, let him up. Don't hurt him."

"Ma'am, he rushed in."

"He's no threat to me, Malcolm. Let him up."

Malcolm didn't seem to want to, but he finally let Sherlock stand. "Molly," the detective said, wasting no time, "I need to talk to you. Please."

"Sherlock," Molly said wearily.

"Please give me five minutes. Five minutes."

"I don't think . . . "

"Molly, if I have ever meant anything to you, anything at all, please let me in. Five minutes."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Fine. Five minutes. Malcolm, it's ok."

"Yell if you need me, ma'am," the guard told her. She nodded her agreement.

Once both were inside the flat and the door closed, Molly asked Sherlock if he was hurt. "I don't know, I have so much adrenaline running through me, I can't feel anything but my chest beating." He removed the baseball cap and reading glasses and deposited them on one of Molly's end tables.

"Ok, Sherlock. You asked for five minutes. You have them." Now that he had his moment on stage, he found himself tongue-tied. All his planning had been centered on getting himself into the flat, not on what he was actually going to say once inside it. "Sherlock, you've gone through a lot of trouble getting in here. What do you want to say?" Molly asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Molly was very confused.

"I'm tired of talking. I'm tired of over-thinking everything. But most of all, I'm tired of being scared."

"Scared of what?"

"Of losing you without telling you how I feel."

"How . . . how do you feel, Sherlock?"

"Like this," he said and then walked toward her, grabbed her, and began kissing her. At first, Molly seemed resistant, but soon her breathing quickened and she opened her mouth to let him in. Unlike their first kiss, there would be no running off for Sherlock, not tonight. Their tongues met and a seemingly simultaneous moan escaped from them both.

A second later came a knock upon her door and a concerned Malcolm asked, "Are you alright in there, Molly?"

Sherlock broke off the kiss and yelled back, "Sod off, Martin."

"Malcolm," she corrected him, breathless.

"Sod off, Malcolm," he said then.

"Molly, do you need assistance?" Malcolm asked.

"No, Malcolm, I'm fine," Molly yelled, right before Sherlock took her mouth again. Then he moved on to her ears and neck, eliciting more moans from her. Sherlock thought those moans the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard.

"I need you Molly. I need to be inside you." This caused Molly to make a quick intake of breath. She stared at Sherlock for several seconds before she dropped to her knees in front of him, undoing his belt and trousers and lowering them to the floor, followed by his shorts. Sherlock let out a sound of utter relief at his erection being released from its binding. Then Molly leaned in took the head of his cock into her mouth and Sherlock thought it was the most extraordinary feeling he'd ever experienced. But he immediately realized that, if he allowed Molly to continue, he wouldn't last long at all.

So he leaned down to cup her chin. "Molly, I need to be inside you now." She stood up and he kissed her, tasting a little of himself on her mouth and getting—unbelievably, he thought—even more turned on. He lifted her shirt off to reveal her bra and kissed and licked her cleavage, eliciting even more achingly wonderful sounds from her. She reached around her back to unhook the bra, freeing them and causing Sherlock, in turn, to moan as he kissed and sucked at her breasts.

Molly reached up and removed Sherlock's borrowed t-shit. For her part, she was only wearing sweatpants, so Sherlock was able to just hook his thumbs inside the waistband and pull them down. She stepped out of them and then the two of them just stood naked for a few seconds, taking in each other's bodies and breathing heavily. Molly reached up with her hands and pulled Sherlock's face down to her level to kiss him. Then she sat down on the sofa and spread her legs, beckoning him.

"Umm, Molly, I think I should tell you, so that you're prepared. I, um . . . I've never done this before."

She furrowed her brow and said through heavy breaths, "What do you mean? Done what?"

Sherlock, embarrassed, said, "I've never had sex before. You will be my first."

Molly couldn't hide her shock. "Oh my God, Sherlock, I had no idea."

"I don't exactly try to advertise it."

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Oh yes. Absolutely yes. It's just that I might not be . . . I'm not sure."

"Ok," she said tenderly and and stood up from the sofa. "Sit down, Sherlock."

"But I really, really want to do this. I know it's not actually, technically possible, but I feel like I might die if I don't do this."

Molly laughed. "Sit down, Sherlock." He complied. Once seated, Molly moved to assume a straddling position on top of Sherlock's cock, kissing him as she lowered herself onto him gently and slowly, only taking in a little of him at first. Then, after a few times letting herself adjust to him, she took the whole of him. Both of them made a loud groan of pleasure once he was fully inside.

"Molly? Are you sure you're alright? I thought I heard something," came the voice from the hallway outside.

Molly struggled to gain a voice. "Go away, Marcus."

"Martin," Sherlock said.

"No . . . um, Malcolm," Molly said to Sherlock. Then she called out loudly, "I mean, Malcolm. Really, no problem here."

Then she settled into a rhythm on top of Sherlock. Luckily for Sherlock, Molly came fairly quickly because he certainly couldn't last very long himself. When he finally did achieve his own release, only seconds after Molly sounded out her own orgasm, he smiled and said, "Oh, that's infinitely better than my own hand."

Molly laughed and then kissed him gently. "Oh Sherlock."

Sherlock stirred in his sleep. When he placed his arm over the space where Molly should be sleeping herself and found her gone, he startled awake. He cried out in panic. "Molly? Molly?"

She came round the corner back into the bedroom, wearing nothing but the Ramones shirt she'd removed from him earlier in the evening. Sherlock, relieved at the sight of her, made a mental note to apologize to Dr. Doyle that he wouldn't be getting his shirt back: Molly looked just too damn hot in it.

"Sherlock? I just had to go to the bathroom for a minute."

"Well, leave a note next time." She just shook her head at his silliness and climbed back into bed. "So . . . Molly Hooper," Sherlock said with a smirk.

"So . . . Sherlock Holmes," she said, smiling devilishly back at him.

"Would you amenable to doing that again?"

"Now? How can you have anything left after doing it three times already tonight?"

"I've been waiting a long time. That's a lot of frustration built up over the years. But, no, I didn't mean right this minute. I mean again, as in, again tomorrow night and the next night, and, well, at selected times throughout the days to follow?"

She looked at him sadly. "Sherlock, I'm scheduled to be extracted and moved within a week." Sherlock sat back against the headboard, suddenly jolted back to reality after several hours of bliss. Tears started to well up in Molly's eyes.

Sherlock sat there for a few seconds and then turned to her, looking serious and determined. "I'll come with you."

"What good will that do? It'll just mean a day or two more together and then you'll have to leave me wherever I am."

"No, I don't mean accompany you just for the journey. I mean go with you into hiding."

"Are you crazy?"

"No, I'm just in love."

"Sherlock," she said gently and kissed him.

"No, I mean it. I already have numerous fake identity documents. Very few additional preparations would need be done on my account."

"But your family and John and Rosie."

"My family and John would both want me to be happy and when I explain to them—they'll understand. John will especially understand. He would have done this for Mary."

"Sherlock," Molly explained with kindness in her voice, "I don't think you understand what's involved here. What would you do in a new country? If we're in hiding, you couldn't be a detective. You'd risk making news."

"I've been undercover before. I hid my identity."

"But Sherlock, that's when everyone thought you were dead. No one thought to be on the look-out for you. No one's going to believe it if we both go missing at the same time."

"I have advanced degrees in chemistry. I can work in a lab or perhaps get a position as a chemical engineer."

"Sherlock, can you really imagine yourself an anonymous chemist somewhere dithering around in a lab coat?"

"Now don't put down lab coats, you wouldn't believe the sexual fantasies I've had that involved you in your lab coat."

Molly laughed, but said, "Sherlock, be serious."

"I am. I'm completely serious."

"You yourself said not so long ago that you didn't think you could ever be happy being anything other than a detective."

"That was before I had you."

"It's one thing to say that now; it's another when you have to live year after year doing work you think is beneath you."

"It's no use, Molly Hooper. I've quite made up my mind and you know better than anyone how stubborn and unmovable I can be when once I've made up my mind."

"Yes, yes, I do," she said sadly.

"It'll be an adjustment, but I'll have you."

"Ok, if you say so, Sherlock." She seemed unconvinced.

"Good, so it's settled?"

"I know better than to argue with Sherlock Holmes."

"Excellent. I'll let Mycroft know first thing in the morning. I should make plans to visit my parents, John and Rosie, of course, and Mrs. Hudson, Greg. And my sister. In the condition Euros is in mentally, she might not even comprehend what I'm telling her, but she deserves to hear it from me that I may never be able to visit her again. I'm actually set to fly to Sherrinford later today, but I can reschedule it . . . "

"No, keep the appointment," she interrupted him. I actually have a trip planned for today and tomorrow to visit my mum and my brother and sister in Portsmouth to say my goodbyes to them."

"So I won't see you tonight?"

"No," Molly said and swallowed, frowning.

"It's fine," Sherlock said cheerfully. "We have years and years to be together."

"Yes, of course."

"So . . . since we'll not be together tonight, it might be good if we . . . " He trailed off and started kissing her neck.

"Sherlock!"

"I've years and years of sexual frustration to unload, Molly. Work with me here." Molly relented.

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