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Please Please Please Let Me Get What I Want

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Molly swept a strand of dark hair away from her eyes as she tidied up her workbench in her lab at St Barts. It had been a very long and trying day. She was looking forward to going home, ordering some pizza from Dominos and finishing off a bottle of Cava that was in her fridge. She sighed as she set away unused test tubes and slides. Was that all there was to look forward to? Some fast food and cheap leftover plonk? Oh God. It was a good job she didn’t have a brown sofa as well as her cat Toby as that would really make her seem even more like a lonely old bag than she even was. She looked at her watch. Half past nine. It was all very well doing overtime but it would be nicer to actually have a bloody life.

“Hello Molly.”

She yelped as she thought she was the only person in the building apart from security. She whipped round and jumped back and blushed a little, her heart accelerating.
“What the…I got a fright. What are you doing here? How did you…?”

It was pointless asking Sherlock what he was doing here and how he got past security this late at night. Sherlock was Sherlock and a law unto himself. Where there was a Sherlock, there WAS a way.
Sherlock gave the barest of smiles.

“I had to see you, Molly.”

Molly could feel her heart nearly jump out of her chest and she just knew he was silently scanning her dilated pupils, moistening of lips, sharp breathing and deducing quite correctly that she was Hot For Holmes. Oh God. Ground, just swallow me up right now.

“What’s wrong Sherlock?”

“Nothing’s wrong Molly. I needed to see you. There are things I have to say and do.”

Sherlock stepped towards her, as sinuous as a cat. She could smell his Fahrenheit aftershave. Her tongue flicked her lips. His eyes narrowed to ice green chips and brought his hand up to her face. Her eyes closed at his touch. His fingers brushed her cheek and her hair and then abruptly he snatched his hand away. He turned his back. Molly rubbed her forehead as a headache was beginning to throb. It was too late at night for this and she really didn’t feel like playing games.

“Forget it. It would never work. I have to be in control and when you feel emotions, the other person is playing you like a puppet. I should never have came. I’m sorry Molly” Sherlock spat this out and started towards the door.

“Sherlock, don’t do this.  Please. What would never work? Talk to me?”

God, how she hated sounding so desperate but she had longed for Sherlock to even pay her more than the most cursory bit of attention. She was sick of just getting crumbs from his emotional table. She was more affectionate to Mrs Hudson than to her. He turned back to her and in an instant he was towering over her, bending his face close to hers. He started to laugh harshly which made Molly shrivel inside.

“Why should I? Why should I make myself wide open to a mere WOMAN?”

Molly’s blood started to boil.

“I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s too late for this Sherlock and there’s no need to be so rude to me. I didn’t ask you to come here. It’s late and I need to shut the lab up. Just stop it, Sherlock.”

“Stop what?”

“Being such a fucking…git all  the time. You‘re not big and you‘re not clever.”

Sherlock began to laugh real guffaws that made Molly nervously giggle along with him. Her head was pounding by now. She really couldn’t cope with his mood swinging so wildly.

“Oh Molly, Molly, Molly…you do look sweet when you scowl. I’m sorry. Maybe I am a bit of a git. But I am clever. After all, I did get in here. Being a smartarse is what I do.”

What the fuck? Sherlock just called her sweet? Oh Jesus.

“Sherlock, did you want to say something tonight?”

Sherlock took a deep breath.

“I did. This isn’t easy. I keep people at arm’s length, it keeps it simple. But Molly…you have always been there for me, even when I’ve been beastly to you. I’m a sociopath, you should keep me at arm’s length but you keep coming back for more. So we are. It‘s late and…”

He bent to kiss her. Awkwardly, like a shy teenager. But he tasted so sweet. She made a small sound in her throat. At last. He pulled back and smiled shyly. It was the briefest of salutes but she was shaking and her breath was coming in shallow breaths.

“I’m here because I need your help Molly.”

She felt a sudden stab of cold fury that had the same effect as a bucket of cold water.

“So you kissed me to get me to HELP you Sherlock? Go to Hell. I‘m sick of your stupid games and not knowing what you want.”

She pushed at him and marched over to pick up her black leather jacket and a red hobo bag.

“Let yourself out. You make me sick.”

Sherlock ran and blocked her path to the door.

“Stop Molly, Just stop. I didn‘t kiss you to get something from you…well I do. But it‘s not just that. Please listen to me and calm down.”

He looked genuinely contrite and ran a hand through his tousled hair.  Molly felt herself relenting.

“I like you. A lot. I’m not much good at this. I don’t have relationships. I have only one real friend and that’s John - “

Molly smiled.

“You’ve got me at the end of the day even though you piss me off. You’ve always had me. And Mrs Hudson.”

“Well, yes. Of course. And of course there was The Woman.”

Molly stifled a jealous pang. She knew she couldn’t compete with alabaster skin, red slash lipstick and intelligence that could cut glass. She sighed, the merest whisper of melancholy,  and Sherlock’s perceptions like a bat’s, caught it.

“Molly…I know you’re feeling jealous. Don’t. She is long gone and I am here.”


Molly huffed. God, she hated that nothing escaped him.

“I’m here because I’m going to die and I need your help. You matter….you‘ve always mattered.”

Molly’s eyes widened. Oh my God.

She looked into his eyes and saw…actual regard and at long last real, sincere affection.

“Tell me what you need.”

The room was 4 star expensive, the sheets had a 300 thread count and it was one in the morning. A tray with two plates of abandoned cheese sandwiches was on the floor. One was almost eaten and one was barely touched. The room was lit by one bedside lamp and it was half past one in the morning. The hour where shadows dance in the mind, dangerous possibilities present themselves, inhibitions melt and the world is set to rights with an ice cube chime. Molly’s laptop was on the bed and Molly sat cross legged in marl grey tracksuit bottoms, a hot pink Gap logo t-shirt and bare feet with pale pink nail polish, furiously tapping away, forehead furrowed as she tried up keep up with him. Sherlock padded around the room restlessly in his socks, purple silk shirt half untucked,  alternately barking instructions to Molly and sipping at a hotel cup of tea. His spare hand’s fingers twitched as if playing his violin which was back at the flat with a sleeping John at 221B Baker Street, who thought Sherlock was simply investigating a case. Molly furtively glanced at Sherlock who was mentally far far away, algorithms thrumming through his mind and bursts of electricity firing thoughts faster than bullets. He was firmly in his Mind Palace. He had rewarded her with a slightly longer kiss in the taxi and a rare sweet smile. Although Molly was very tired, she well and truly had her second wind and knew that she could afford the luxury of maybe just maybe daring to believe there might be Something between them. Maybe Something. Anything.. Who knew? It was more than giving a Christmas gift which had been coldly and embarrassingly analysed  in front of an audience.

Sherlock whirled to a stop and gestured to Molly. “Did you get all that?”

“Yes. Do you want the whole lot or a summary?”

“A summary will do, please.”

  • Sherlock looks as if he’s going to jump
  • Push the cadaver with the mask
  • The homeless network in white coats swarm out and attend to the “suicide victim”
  • John upset and wishing to attend  but kept at a careful distance
  • Body whisked away on the gurney
  • Sherlock disappears into taxi and off to Molly’s flat

“That’s the gist. I will put this on a memory stick and clean my hard drive.”

In one gulp Sherlock drained his tea and stared hard at her to empathise the point.

“That’s VERY important. I have to disappear. Completely. The press are going to do a hatchet job on me and expose me as a big fat fraud which I abhor but it will mean that I will survive as well as everyone else and in time, I will come back and prove that I am most certainly NOT. I am not a lie.”

“Will you come back… me?”

She hated asking. But she had to know and dipped her head, staring hard at the laptop screen.

“Molly, Molly, Molly. So heartbreakingly human and emotional. Yes.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she looked up. “When?”

“Give me a fortnight.  I’m not going to tell you where I’m going after I leave your flat so that you know as little as possible beyond what we’ve planned, it’s safer that way then I will come back and well…we shall see what we shall see. If you do need to contact me urgently, speak to  Mycroft. Tomorrow’s headlines will be wrapping fish and chips and the next scandal will come along like the opium for the masses and I will be forgotten.”

Molly Ctrl-S’d and smiled shyly. “Sherlock…it’s late.”


“Shouldn’t we try to get some sleep or…”


Sherlock stood still, staring at the bed and then at his feet. He knew very well what Molly was implying but he didn’t know what to do with it or himself. Oh God - Sherlock felt vulnerable and he really didn‘t like it. There Molly was, looking at him with eyes full of longing and pure want. He could drown in them and in her, he knew. He was scared that if he did drown, he might lose the control he had spent years building up like armour to a world he never felt completely at ease in.

“Sherlock. Do you want to go to bed with me?” It was now or never, Molly knew. She felt terrified asking but…he liked her, there was a bed, there was privacy and for all Sherlock’s arrogance that their plan would definitely work, there was the chance that it might well not. Oh Sherlock…if only you had any idea how I feel about you. I’ve loved you for so long. Please make love to me tonight. There will be enough love in this bed for two of us, I’ll make sure of it.

He looked at her.

“I….don’t  know. I’m not used to so much emotion or someone needing me. I’m not used to feeling desire for anyone. I’m a lone wolf. I‘m sorry.”

Molly put the laptop aside on one of the bedside tables and stood up to face him, putting her arms slowly round him and leaning her head on his chest. Sherlock slowly reciprocated and they stood there mutely for what seemed like forever, not daring to breathe.

“You needed The Woman.” She couldn’t bear to say her name.

“I didn’t. She came into my life, and we were attracted to each other and then I helped her escape.  You might not believe this, but nothing actually happened. Physically, I mean.”

Sherlock could feel her giggling against him. She felt oddly delighted. There was no way she could compete with whips, restraints and high octane sexuality of infinite possibilities and persuasions. High heels and a little black dress were as trussed up as she could manage.

“Pull the other one, it’s got bells on!”

“I’m serious, Molly. I’ll be honest. She wanted it to but…I couldn’t. I didn’t.” She pulled away a little.


Sherlock lifted up her chin so he was looking deeply into her eyes. “I’m…inexperienced. I don’t normally need sex or people. I didn’t want to disappoint her so I let her go.”

Molly thought for a moment.

“Sherlock…are you a virgin? Is that what you mean?”

His eyes blazed, building a defence which twisted into an attack. “Are you?” He barked.

“I asked first!”

“Would it matter if I was? I normally regard relationships to be a trap, a waste of time and  a drain on one’s intellect. Draw your own conclusions.”

“No it wouldn’t matter and you’re standing here with me so….”

“How many sexual partners have you had?”

Molly squirmed and went red. “I don’t know…six, seven, maybe?”

“You’re lying.”

“No I’m not! I’m fucking embarrassed!”

“Yes you are, Molly. You clearly have a misplaced female embarrassment of admitting that you have the right to see whoever you choose as an adult and you automatically deduct some partners, some disappointing, so you won’t be perceived to be a slut, which you are not. Ten.” Sherlock crowed as she flicked a mutinous glance at him and then looked away.

“Okay, ten. You still haven’t answered me.”

“As I said, sexual intercourse is a bodily function that is no use to me whatsoever. It is a meaningless distraction and not necessary for me to function on a day to day basis.” He raised his eyebrows and stared at her. Hard.

“You are! Oh my God! Oh Sherlock. It’s alright, really. It’s just me you’re talking to. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Are you scared?”

“What possibly could I be scared of?”

“I don’t know. Getting too involved. Getting hurt. Sherlock…has someone harmed you in that way?”


“Then what? I’m not going to hurt you. I…I think too much of you to do that. If you don’t fancy me that much  then fine.  I’m not Irene bloody Alder. I’ll just put my big girl panties on and I‘ll help you tomorrow and I‘ll be your friend or whatever but as far as I’m concerned  tonight never happened, okay?”

Sherlock then leaned in and as Molly breathed an O of surprise, he kissed her, properly. It was the type of kiss that can change one’s universe, stop time and  Molly felt like the world was spinning off its axis. His hands deftly loosened her hair and she dug her fingers into his back, pulling him closer. Molly felt another layer of confusion. He might technically be a virgin but he sure didn’t kiss like one and he definitely wasn’t the type that would practice on his arm. She felt her body responding and it was all she could do not to grab him and pull him onto the bed but realised that might be a step too far. The feel of those lips and his tongue on hers made her groan involuntary and he whispered Molly. A whisper of intent and claim.

He drew back, eyes sparkling. His cheekbones actually had colour and he had lost his normal deathly pallor. “Is that sufficient proof that I do find you attractive Molly Hooper? I do, very much so.” He looked up at the ceiling then back at her. “I have never had sexual intercourse because I hate losing control and being totally open to another person’s will. It’s simpler not to. People don’t stay in my life for very long because apparently my behaviour pushes them away.” He frowned. “I didn’t think I was that bad but John assures me I’m impossible.”

Molly started to laugh. “He’s right. I think cadavers in the fridge, firing your gun at the wall because you’re bored and having no social niceties whatsoever are just the start, Sherlock.”

He pulled a face. “But behaving in a manner to fit so called social norms is so boring and pedestrian, don’t you think? I think people more people would behave like me if they could get away with it.” He grinned like a naughty child. “Being a highly functioning sociopath is more fun than I care to admit.” Molly smiled but only a little. “Sherlock, it’s what makes you so you but it also pushes people away and hurts them. I know you can’t help it but it’s true.  Maybe it’s time to let your guard down and be a bit more…human. Please try.” Molly’s words came out in a blurt. “What if it goes wrong tomorrow and you do die Sherlock? We’d have never at least tried. That’s all I want…a chance to see what would happen. To give US a chance.” Molly felt the sting of tears and blinked them away. Stupid, stubborn man!

Molly eyes fluttered open the next morning at 8:14am, groggily took in her surroundings then she shot bolt upright, looking immediately to her left. The wine and cream coverlet was immaculately straight and unwrinked. She held it to herself to cover herself up (pointless as no-one else was in the room but still) and with her other hand stroked it. How long had she been asleep? How long, more to the point, had she been by herself? She patted her hair which stuck up crazily, sighed and then picked up her phone on the bedside table. No texts or messages. She got out of bed and padded into the bathroom then used the toilet. Apart from a toothbrush, a roller of deodorant and a  tube of toothpaste she had hurriedly picked up  en route to the hotel, it was empty. She went to the hotel’s welcome tray and felt the kettle and her forehead wrinkled. She could play detective too! It was cold. There was no trace whatsoever that Sherlock had been in the room with her apart from one other used white cup. So clearly he had left without as much as making himself a cup of tea or even leaving a note. She sat on the bed, pushing out thoughts of being late for work. At that moment, she really couldn’t give a shit. She stared into space for a few moments then despite a sinking feeling that last night had been for nothing she couldn’t help grinning ear to ear.

Sherlock had kissed her into silence  and seizing the moment, she took his hand and led him to the bed, pushing him down to it. She paused, looking into his eyes which were oddly innocent. Suddenly they were kissing and she could feel his hands slipping beneath her t-shirt. He flipped her onto her back, kissing her with a ferocity that she matched. At last. He deftly undid her bra and she sat up, whisking off her t-shirt and bra, throwing them. His eyes widened and he smiled. “Beautiful.” he breathed. She bent to kiss him but he gently stopped her with his hand. “Let me look at you.” She shook back her hair and he traced his hands over her breasts delicately, eyes full of genuine wonder. “Have you never touched a woman?” Sherlock sat up so that he could kiss and lick them. “Not a live one…not like this.” Molly half gasped and giggled and started to undo his shirt. “Molly, you will have to show me what to do. I’ve never been in this situation before.“ Molly’s heart twisted. “Just be gentle, you’ll be fine.”

“May I undress you?”

Molly moved onto her back and Sherlock bent over her, nuzzling at her neck and breasts, flicking his tongue over them. He worked his way down, trailing his tongue down round the swell of her belly. He then tugged down her tracksuit bottoms and kissed along the top of her pants and her hips. This alone made her moan loudly. “Do you like that darling?” he whispered, his voice low and throaty. “Yes, oh Sher - “ He quickly pulled off her tracksuit bottoms and socks and gently parted her legs. “Such smooth skin” he murmured and kissed the inside of her thighs. “Please Sherlock…” Quickly he moved to kiss her, fingers rubbing her through the soft material. He could feel she was very wet already and was trembling with desire and he was quietly reassured. She gently guided his fingers so that he was rubbing her clitoris and she shut her eyes, throwing her head back. “Tell me what you want me to do.” Her arousal was making him very hard and she could feel this against her. “You should get undressed, I need to see you.” Sherlock whipped off his trousers, boxers and socks and Molly smiled. Oh, he was just as she thought he would be. Elegantly made all over, not so big to make her feel overwhelmed but enough to make her bite her lip. He got back on the bed and kissed her again. She reached for him and he groaned at her touch. He had to recite the Periodic Table in his head to stop himself coming there and then.

“Please lick me” Molly whispered.

 And just then Sherlock thought of something rather important.

“I suppose we should get some condoms?”

Molly  sat up and pulled her knees up to her chest.

“Oh God, I didn’t think of that. Sherlock, I didn’t plan this, what an idiot I am, I hope you don’t think - “

She blushed bright red and Sherlock laughed, moving to kiss her nose.

“I know you don’t. But still, I will have to get some. Where on earth would I buy some at this time of night?”

“There might be a vending machine in the Gents downstairs. Or there was a 24 hour grocers on the way here?”


Sherlock went to the wardrobe and pulled out a white bathrobe, tying it round himself. He found his trousers and pulled out some change and the room‘s swipe card.

“How much are these things normally?”

“I would take 3 or 4 pound coins in case. I’ve never bought them from a vending machine so I’m not sure. Do you have enough? I can get you some change?”
“No, it’s fine. I’ll just be a minute or two. And when I get back, I will lick you.”

Molly nodded quickly and stood up to kiss him. “You’re not going out like that are you?”

“Watch me.” He winked and was gone.

He reappeared 5 minutes later, waving a packet of Durex.

“I missed you!”

He flung off the bathrobe and in a trice he was beside Molly, stroking her slowly and said between kisses “I don’t think I’ve ran up and down stairs quite so quickly in my life. Now. Tell me again what you would like me to do.”

“Sher, I think it would be more interesting if you told me what I want.”

Molly knew it would be a massive turn on just listening to him.


His voice dropped to a low seductive purr.

“You want me to take your pants off and slip my fingers inside you. I want to feel how wet and ready you are, what a woman feels like. I want to hear you begging me to lick you. I’m going to watch you beg. And then I will kneel before you, kiss you, taste your wetness, plunge my tongue into you and then lick your clitoris until you climax. I will then put a condom on and make love to you.”

Molly couldn’t stop trembling. She had never wanted a man this badly.

Afterwards she had cradled his head on her breasts, stroked his hair, glowing, happy, completely sated, trying not to think of tomorrow and eventually fell asleep.

Sherlock meanwhile had quietly waited until he heard her regular deep breathing,  gently unwound himself and lay on his back, hands behind his head, thinking. He had not planned any of this. Going to the hotel seemed to be the safest option away from Molly’s flat and 221B Baker Street and was pretty handy for St Barts. Molly had been only too happy to go along with him and had asked to go back to her flat just to collect some clothes and feed Toby the cat and then asked the taxi to stop at a 24 hour grocers. He knew she had some feelings for him and admittedly he knew he was exploiting this  - but if it saved lives including his he would do it with no twinge of conscience- but he had been taken aback by realising that he genuinely did feel for her, more than he had ever admitted. And it had been triggered by her calling him a git. In a second,  she had turned from a nice enough girl who was useful in her own way at St Barts into something more. HOW? Was it that she had stood up to him? That she was willing to put herself in genuine danger tomorrow? That she was brave, funny, intelligent…(Sherlock closed his eyes), had a  rather beautiful body underneath her t-shirt and sweats and had called his name as she climaxed?  Oh shit…he didn’t plan to go to bed with her and he had no idea that she would initiate it either. He could feel himself go hard again and he glanced down at her sleeping form. Would she…no, he would leave her to sleep. He admitted to himself that he had enjoyed every minute and had no idea that a woman could be so warm, giving, passionate and demanding all at once which made him only too happy to ensure that she was satisfied…God she had been a revelation. Why had he waited this long to lose his virginity?! His eyes flew open. Fuck - did this make him no better than anyone else, a slave to emotions, needs and other people? He swore under his breath. He needed nicotine patches to think properly but he didn’t have any. He looked at her again and could only see a mop of dark hair peeking out of the covers. He remembered the citrus tang on her skin, the cinnamon scent of her soft hair, the musky scent of her juices which had driven him wild…how he had yelled her name as he climaxed, burying his face into the pillow. Beautiful Molly…He got up, used the bathroom and got dressed. He would just quietly slip out so that he didn’t have to endure an emotional parting in the morning. He couldn’t face Molly clinging to him. He needed some space to think and process everything that had happened…shit he NEEDED those patches!  After he put his coat on, he padded softly to the bed. The covers had slipped and he could see a patch of deliciously smooth shoulder. He bent to kiss it  and then quietly left. Molly shifted and turned over.

Molly decided she would have a cup of tea before she got dressed. She felt absolutely knackered beyond belief. She switched on the kettle,  put the only remaining tea bag in a cup and opened a pot of milk. She would have this, get dressed then head off to St Barts. As it was brewing she found a dressing gown in the wardrobe and wrapped herself in it, sat on the bed and sipped her tea.  She had so much to do later to ensure Sherlock would live that her head spun with it all, but it was doable. And after a fortnight of lying low, he would come back. And then what? Did this mean that they were now an item? Was she allowed to change her Facebook status to In a Relationship? Maybe not…people would invariably ask who with and as Sherlock would be technically dead for a fortnight, that would be rather tricky. She might be a pathologist but necrophilia was just not a good look More images from last night whirled into her head and she let out a long sigh of pleasure. Her 10 previous sexual partners were mostly one night stands at Uni which were firmly blamed on beer goggles and very brief relationships. But Sherlock was in a league of his own - a brain the size of a planet, beautiful in an almost preternatural way - and this point made her rub her hand over her eyes in frustration - Not Quite Right In The Head. How the HELL was she supposed to go out with a man who thought nothing of sitting almost stark naked in Buckingham Palace, for instance? She had laughed her head off when she was told by a still chuckling John and would have given anything to see THAT.


Her mind galloped on in time honoured female over thinking fashion. What about taking him home to meet her parents? She pictured Dad extending his hand to shake Sherlock’s and Sherlock scanning the awkward looking pair up and down, saying something like “You’ve been married 30 years but unhappily for 15;  your body language is strained and there is no mirroring of posture, possibly still together out of a misplaced sense of duty, too much shared history, an over attachment to routine and fear of upsetting your Bridge playing circle if you do. From the photos on the walls I deduce that Molly’s sister Lucy is the preferred sibling which does Molly a injustice although you can’t understand why Molly can’t just get married and give you some grandchildren like Lucy has. I assure you that will not happen, as although Molly and I are very happy, I am devoted to my work and our arrangement of living separately, spending time together when it pleases us and having extremely satisfying sex exclusive of any other party suits us both perfectly. I’m Sherlock Holmes, Consultant Detective. Pleased to meet you, do shake my hand.  Mrs Hooper, could I have a cup of tea please?” Oh Christ. And following on from that she couldn’t really see him being the weekly-shop-at Sainsbury’s-and-Buying-Billy-Bookcases-At-IKEA type either.  But really…did that matter? Molly rolled her eyes. It hit her with another whammy that she had too many mediocre relationships with mediocre people which involved mediocre sex…Sherlock had done her a real favour by telling  her that Jim was gay, even though she had been angry at the time. It was just his disarmingly honesty and inability to understand boundaries, not from a desire to wound or to deliberately cause embarrassment. And Sherlock was anything but mediocre and oh God that sex…if it was that good with Sherlock having been a virgin God only knew what it would be like when he was more experienced.

She drained the last dregs of her tea and set her cup down. She had a lot to do and a lot to get through over the next few days. Oh bollocks - Sherlock wasn’t joking when he said she would have to go to his funeral and pretend to be upset along with everyone else. The thought of seeing everyone - especially John - be heartbroken when she knew that he was actually fine overwhelmed her and she batted the thought away. ENOUGH! She would worry about that when she had to. Yawning, she used the toilet,  switched on the power shower and washed. She stepped out and dried herself and it was then that she saw something written on the steamed up mirror.