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It was always you…


Sherlock opened his eyes, the first thing he noticed was that he was feeling weird, maybe he should tell John and take an aspirin or two to prevent getting sick. He stood up, enjoying the still sleepy feeling and went straight to the bathroom, were he proceeded to take care of his morning rituals. Once freshly bathed he dressed up and went to the kitchen to make some coffee.

When he was about to finish his cup, feeling more awake now than a few minutes earlier he noticed his surroundings, he was not at Baker Street, how odd, all his things were here… The strange feeling hit him again after emptying his cup, it was a as if he wasn’t being himself, and that feeling proved to be true when suddenly his body started to move, on its own, no matter how much he tried to stay still and keep from walking his body wouldn’t stop.

He wondered if he had the same problem with talking, and sure enough he wasn’t able to say a word, it was like being hostage inside his own body, he was just able to observe, but not to act. Well at least he now knew how it would feel to be paralyzed. … Ok, maybe that was not at all the way he should be thinking right now, but for some reason he felt as if he didn’t have to panic.

In that state, he paid attention to what was going on, he (well, his body at least) had grabbed a bag and had just exited the flat where he had been in, he watched his clock, it was unusually early for him to be outside, his feet walked him towards the bus station, and once on it he told the driver to take him to St. Bart’s… at least it was a familiar place. The ride was short and at arriving he walked a bit hurriedly to the building, he entered and walked the direction of the morgue, good, another well known place.

A few steps before he could push the doors open he turned, and walked into the employees area, interesting, maybe he was looking for Molly there… No, he checked a card, with his name, well he didn’t remember asking for a formal way to be there, but it could be helpful. Once he had done that he walked straight to the lockers room, he opened one and saw his reflection in the mirror, with surprise he noticed the way he had dressed, it was not his usual attire, although he was wearing his black dress trousers and shoes he was also using a jumper, a boring and horrendous one, it looked more like something John would use than him, but he couldn’t take it off anyway, so… He placed the bag inside the locker and grabbed a white lab coat and his mobile, and then he walked back towards the morgue.

For some odd reason, instead of looking for Molly, or enjoy this new freedom to move around making experiments with any body part he could put his hands on, he found himself filling paperwork for a few hours, after that he went to the lab and did some test to various samples, not interesting tests, common tests, when he finished those he went back to the morgue, performed some autopsies and filled more paperwork… Up until now there was nothing really alluring about this “job”.

And then it happened, Lestrade walked in and asked him to fetch a body, something really weird since it was often Molly who did that. Once the body was settled over the examination table he heard voices coming from the hall, for no reason at all his heart rate started to race, and he rubbed his hands over the lab coat to get rid of the sweat on his palms.

It was something amazing how the moment seemed to freeze, the doors opening in slow motion pushed by a pair of small and delicate hands, and followed by her, she was saying something, and somehow she looked different, her pony tail was moving behind her, the new attire made wonders for her figure, she was wearing a suit, trousers, white blouse, jacket and a rather familiar coat and a red scarf… Molly?

Behind her was John, arguing with her about something. She walked toward the body and greeted Lestrade… in the way he usually did, using a different name and she even seemed to enjoy the way the DI seemed annoyed by it. She smiled at him and he felt his stomach do a flip… how weird, and then she took a good look to the corpse on the table, she made a few questions and gave a quick glance to the postmortem report. He had already made his own deductions about the cause of death, and had he be able to tell them he would have already solved the case.

To his surprise Molly turned around a few seconds later, and gave them a complete and excellent speech, her deductions were flawless. Lestrade took note of what she said and then walked out, followed by John who thanked him. Molly looked at him for a second or two and then left without other word. The feeling of disappointment that he felt after that made him notice the loneliness around him.

He actually went out for lunch at some point; he ate alone at the canteen and then returned to the lab. He was now having a headache, seems like being in this state was not good at all. He had the centrifuge machine on, and was leaning over the table when he heard the door open. He opened his eyes and felt the blood rush to his cheeks when he saw it was Molly, she had taken off the scarf and for some unknown reason had unbuttoned the first two buttons of her blouse, she stood in front of him, what was the word for that… casual? No, … well the way she was standing was distracting, she even passed her fingers slowly over her neck, he couldn’t help himself from looking at her, especially since her cleavage was so exposed, only hidden a bit under the third button that was conveniently closed and she was smiling, he knew he was making a fool of himself, blushing and nervous at her sole presence, but his body was still not cooperating with him.

She was asking him for body parts… of all people... And then the centrifuge stopped, beeping loudly, he turned around happy to have an excuse to stop looking but he felt dizzy for a moment, he leaned on the table for balance and was about to open the top to get the samples in there when she caught his wrist.

She was not looking at him now in that flirty way… that was the word: flirty; no, she was looking at him with a serious expression, she moved her hand again and placed it over his forehead, and he was surprised that his heart was still in his chest seeing how it was hammering against his ribs… she then told him that it was not good to be working in this stated of sickness, that he should go home and take the rest of the day off, her experiment could wait for another day, she even offered to tell Mike about him leaving early!

He had long ago deduced that this interaction was some sort of dream, where he was the pathologist, but seeing Molly acting the way he usually did was completely mind blowing. After another hour of working (he would have stayed until the end of the shift, but Mike actually told him to leave), he went back to the flat where he had woken up that morning. Why hadn’t he noticed? Molly’s building in this ‘dream’ was where he was living; well at least there was no cat.

He entered the flat, feeling tired, the need to take a cup of tea was almost too much with the soreness in his throat and the shivers he was now experiencing, but instead of doing that he went straight to the couch and stretched over it. With a hand on his forehead he felt like he was falling asleep… the top of the entire weird things one could feel while dreaming. But then a sound made him open his eyes again, only to sigh a moment later, unsurprised by the sudden guest.

She dropped her coat and scarf over a chair and asked him if he had tea… why was Molly at his flat now? Relaxing again over the couch he told her where the tea bags where, a few minutes later she made him sit up and placed a steamy cup in front of him, she sat down next to him, sipping her own cup of coffee. He thanked her and took the tea, the warm feeling of the cup on his fingers made him aware of how cold his hands were.

Molly placed her hand again over his forehead, then stood up and took something from the pocket of her coat, giving him a good look of her body in that very fitting suit, was she swaying her hips that way on purpose? She returned and placed a pair of pills on his hands, telling him that John had made a prescription for him. With a nod he proceeded to swallow the pills, leaning back over the couch right after.

Molly looked at him, with worry in her eyes. He smiled and told her he was going to be ok, he looked away a bit frustrated at not being able to get used to the fast beating of his heart every time she was around him, but she reached once more to him, placing a hand over his shoulder, for the first time since being in this… what ever it was, he perceived how nervous she was, she then told him how important it was for her what he did… or what he did in this ‘dream’ anyway and he cursed his heart once again for beating that fast and making him blush again. She also told him how much she appreciated his willingness to help, and, blushing a little at this statement, that she had been worried about him and his wellbeing.

He thanked her, and was about to dismiss his work as ‘nothing at all’ when she lifted her hand, placing it around his neck and kissed him… when had she gotten so close? It was a short and chaste kiss, enough to make him quiet. She reached for the pills on the table, took one and swallowed it quickly, he asked why had she done that for, and she said that this way she was not going to get sick, and then she pulled him by the collar of the jumper and kissed him again, this time deepening the kiss, and moving until she was on his lap, straddling him, her tongue making it’s way through his lips.

When they pulled back for air he looked at her and the blush on her cheeks, her hands still on his neck, then she did it again, this time her hands making their way to his hair, pulling at the strands and making him moan, and he had never felt so happy, his heart was still beating fast and judging by her heavy breathing, hers too. She managed to make him open his mouth for her again, and their tongues met in a frantic battle for dominance. His hands had already made their way to her hips, pulling her closer to him, her warm body moving over him, arousing him.

She broke the kiss and smiled, her hands now looking for the hem of the jumper, which she quickly pulled up and off of him, giving it a disgust look before throwing it somewhere behind her. He did the same with her jacket, sliding it down her shoulders while she kissed him again, moving her hips a little and making him groan. She started kissing his jaw, stopping to lick and bit his earlobe while working the buttons of the shirt he was wearing, his hands moving along her back, and over her butt, fingers wondering under the fabric of her blouse and over her warm skin. With his shirt open she ran her hands up and down his torso, her cold fingertips brushing against his nipples.

About to help her out of her blouse she stopped him, she smiled and then stood up, pulling him with her and heading to his bedroom, the cold air in the room making him shiver. He pushed her against the door of his room after she closed it, kissing her again and starting to unbutton her blouse with one hand, using the other to pull at her hair band to free her hair. He worked the buttons fast, moving the fabric aside to reveal a purple bra… he smirked internally at this version of his purple shirt, not stopping for more than two seconds he leaned downwards and kissed her breasts over the bra, making her moan loudly for the first time, enjoying the feeling of her soft skin in his mouth.

She pushed him towards the bed, making him fall on his back, with a devious smile she climbed over him, looking with appreciation at the bulge in his trousers, sitting on his lap again she worked the button and the zipper, making him moan when she worked the zipper slowly over his erection. She didn’t stop there, pulling his boxers down and freeing him, her smile widening at the sight. She then helped him to remove them, taking extra time with his shoes, hers already kicked out somewhere in the way from the living room to the bed.

Molly climbed once again over him, sliding her hands over him, until her face was at his level, her body hovering over him, her belly barely touching the tip of his painfully hard member in that position, her hair falling from her shoulders tickling his chest, and her breast visible under her bra. She kissed him again, this time moving her body so that she was over his lap again, but not pressing herself over him, and he panted in frustration. This time he took his time caressing her skin, running his hands over her back relishing on the texture of her skin and the soft sounds she made when his hands pressed over her still covered breasts and over her bottom, pressing her down in an attempt to feel her, he’s naked under her, and she still had some clothes on… so unfair.

Rolling around he managed to be over her, positioning himself in a more satisfying way, rubbing himself over her, his lips now moving down her neck and towards her breasts, he moved the fabric out of the way and took one hardened nipple in his mouth, running his tongue over it and making her moan again, he repeated the action with the other, all the while grinding against her, the signs of her own arousal going through the fabric, she was so wet, he hurried his hands working the clasp of the bra on her back.

He threw it before continuing to tease her, she was now panting and muttering his name in a low voice, with a hand he looked for the button of her trousers, undoing the button quickly and pulling down the zipper, dipping his hand under the fabric and feeling her over her knickers, which were soaked, and when he looked at her triumphantly he found a lustful gaze in her eyes, without warning she pulled at her own trousers, kicking them off and making him chuckle, she rolled them again, this time being her the one grinding over him.

She took him in her hands, stroking him slowly, before standing on her knees and telling him that she’s clean and on the pill, he had enough conscience to nod his approval, she positioned him and then… bliss, he was sliding inside her, guided by her hand, both moaning at the contact. She moved over him, kissing him again before moving her hips, up and down, making them moan again. She rode him for a while, placing a steady pace that’s too slow or too fast at times; her breasts bouncing with every move, his hips following her with every thrust; her hands wondering his chest while his gripped her hips, in a sudden motion he moved his hand to the place where they were joined and made his thumb press over her clit, making her almost scream. When she leaned again over him for another kiss he rolled them again, taking control over the motions and pushing himself inside her, she lifted her legs around his waist, his hands working on her breasts again, he quickened the pace, making her whimper and moan, her legs tightening around him and her hands pulling at his hair, their motions becoming erratic as they approached their peak, her panting breath, the way she moved underneath him and her now constant moaning told him she was very close, they kissed once more time and then she arched her back, shouting his name while he used her orgasm to move quickly in between waves of her inner walls pulsing around him, looking again for her clit with his thumb to extend her pleasure. She shuddered under him, he kissed her and caressed her, never slowing down, and then he came, groaning, placing his head next to her neck, placing kisses over her skin…

His body was trembling, and suddenly she was not in the bed with him, lifting his head he noticed where he was now, a bit embarrassed he removed the covers from the mess on the sheets. He’s sweating, his pulse racing and breathing still heavy, there was something different though: a change in the way he felt about Molly.


He spent the whole morning reviewing the dream, he blushed, he cursed, and he grew hard again, and felt embarrassed again. He knew what he was feeling; he couldn’t deny it any longer, but why now? Why like that? He had saw it all from her perspective, he saw himself, from the smile on her greeting, the concern in her eyes, the sincerity of her confession, the passion in her kisses, to the lustful gaze and the frantic pace of her moving below him.

It was not her who wanted to do all those things. It had been his dream, his subconscious, not hers who had created that dream. His most hidden desires haunting him all in a dream. The way he had acted towards her was a reflection of what he had saw her do, the way she felt about him was probably different, but his mind had created very accurate versions of what he had observed so it couldn’t be far from reality.

A while later Lestrade called him, a simple case, not really interesting, but he went anyway welcoming the distraction, John joined him, noticing his mood but bothering him with his chitchat, telling him he needed something more to do, that he wouldn’t be bored that way, that he would be able to focus with cases like this if his mind was distracted from a useful hobbie. Annoyed he told him to shut up, pushing the doors to the morgue open and striding inside, the déjà vu amazed him.

There she was, standing next to the body, discreetly wiping her hands on her lab coat. This was so weird. But this wasn’t his dream so he walked towards the corpse and proceeded to deduce, trying to ignore the voice inside his head telling him that it couldn’t possibly be the same, but it was, pushing the thought out of his head even when he gave Lestrade the same data that Molly had given him in the dream.

Then they left to the crime scene, at least this part he hadn’t dreamed, the distraction was very good for his mind, and he stopped thinking about the dream at all later. He should have known that it was not going to last.

His curiosity gave him the idea of experimenting on the effects of certain chemicals on the liver, he had the substances but he needed a liver. He entered the lab, this time completely ignoring the familiar sensation; Molly looked tired, her cheeks were red and she still hadn’t seen him. Of course she smiled during the time he used his best smile to ask her for the liver; however the sudden beep of the machine brought back the dream, and he saw Molly sway when she turned around. To confirm his suspicions he stopped her, not surprised to find that she had fever, almost panicking when he lowered his hand from her forehead.

By pure instinct he said the same words that he knew had been said during this part of the dream. He did thought of escaping, run away from his own feelings and stay away from her, but his mind would probably give him more of those dreams… and he wasn’t sure he could handle the frustration it was surely going to make him feel around her. He walked outside the hospital, sighing at the way the day was developing, if he was going to live this day the same way that in the dream, then he wasn’t going to complain, not knowing what it had promised for the end of the day.

He called John, suddenly thinking that maybe he could change the speech that he could plan his confession for when the moment arrived. He then felt as if all the time he had spent trying to ignore his own feelings had been wasted, she had give him enough cues and signs before, but he had stood behind it, shielding himself in the friend status trying to stay behind the proverbial line to stop himself from hurting her, convincing himself that neither of them was good for the other. Looking back she had always managed to get what she wanted from him, apologies, smiles, attention, and the truth. Yes, because he was able to lie, he was a master at it, but he had found more than once that she often got to know the truth shortly after he had lied, unconsciously he had never wanted to disappoint her, that’s why when she had done that drugs test of him he hadn’t denied being high, not to her, and though he hated to say something hurtful, that day his mind wouldn’t stand being seen as weak by his best friend either.

Letting himself inside her apartment had always been easy, there she was, lying on the couch and hugging a cushion, with her hair a little messy, face flushed with fever, soft pink lips and hideous jumper. And he knew what was about to happen, if he hadn’t had that dream he would have know anyway. How could he not see it? After all this time. It had been always her.