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Sherlock was started awake, the obnoxious buzzing sound filling his room. He groaned quietly, loathe to move, to even turn to slap a hand on the 'off' button, loathe to do anything to disturb Molly who was resting in his arms. But the alarm was so annoying...
Reluctantly he pulled his body from hers and soon the room was filled with the quiet of early morning. He turned his attention back to Molly. Her back arched in a stretch, pushing her head closer to Sherlock's face, allowing him to breathe in the intoxicating scent of her. The movement also pressed her bottom to Sherlock's groin and he had to work to push away that particular want. There wasn't enough time. She soon turned over, a small smile on her mouth, warmth in her eyes, "Good morning," she murmured sleepily.
"Morning."
"I don't want to get out of bed."
Sherlock smirked as her face pulled into a pout, "Nor do I."
Molly moved closer to press a kiss to Sherlock's chest before sitting up. Sherlock's hand went automatically to stroke her back, the flesh so inviting. He watched her head fall back appreciatively as his hands pressed and kneaded, wishing he were positioned so he could kiss her neck as he worked her muscles.
Before long Molly was moving once more, "Okay, enough. If I don't go now I never will and then the camp will get cross."
Sherlock chuckled and swung his legs off the bed.
"Want to go to the field again today?" Molly purred as she dressed.
Sherlock felt his head jerk up – probably too eagerly - but Molly's answering giggle soothed him, "I suppose we could go," he answered casually, "What on Earth did you want to do there?"
Molly grinned and shrugged, "I don't know. I'm sure we can find something to do, though." She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's neck.
His hands gripped her waist as Molly pressed a small kiss to his lips.
"Shall I pick you up at our usual spot?"
Before Molly could answer the bedroom door rattled and opened. Molly jumped away from Sherlock and crossed her arms over her stomach in an attempted casualty.
"Sherlock, it's time to get up," his mother's distracted voice came from the hall, "You've got to be at the field in half an hour and don't you dare – Oh! Hello, Molly!"
"Good morning, Mrs. Holmes," Molly smiled weakly.
"How is the science camp fairing?"
Sherlock groaned, grabbing a shirt from the floor and pulling it on. His head whipped around, searching for an escape for Molly. He dashed to his desk and grabbed a set of slides from the middle drawer, then pushed them into Molly's hand, "Here you are, Molly, extra slides. Really, a science camp without enough slides…"
He watched Molly blink before smiling ad shrugging, "We ordered new ones, but the kids keep dropping them."
"Yes, well…"
"Right, I'll just be off, then."
Sherlock felt his mother's eyes following their conversation and made a fast escape with Molly, his hand pressed to her upper back, guiding her from his room and out the front door.
"Meet me," she whispered, grasping his hand as she turned to leave. He exhaled shortly before closing the door tightly.
"When did Molly get here?" his mother's voice sounded behind him.
"Five minutes ago."
"The door was locked."
Sherlock spun and moved to his room, "Molly is a small-statured young woman attending university in a large city. It is probably habit to lock the front door behind her. Don't worry, Mum, I'll make it to work.
He closed his bedroom door firmly and collapsed against it with a thud, a grin on his face.
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Molly's hand was clasped in his before he even spotted her approaching form. She pulled him from his slouched position and together they made the journey down Penny Lane to the field and her home.
"Your mother definitely knows," Molly sighed.
Sherlock scoffed, "Unless her intelligence level has dramatically increased, you can be assured that she remains completely clueless."
He stumbled slightly as Molly shoved at his shoulder, "Don't be mean, she gave you life."
They walked on, Sherlock's mind buzzing: ways to continue Molly's visits without rise of his parents' knowledge; when he could have her overnight again; how nice it felt to have her hand in his…
As they walked to the field, she spoke again, "So, where are your parents pretending to believe you're going in the afternoons?"
Sherlock felt is face slip into a mocking expression – his parents were completely clueless! But Molly only copied the expression before grinning, "Really though."
"They believe – one-hundred percent believe – that I have gone to a friend's."
"A friend?"
"Well… I could have one. Bill Wiggins still lives in town."
"Uh huh."
Sherlock's' hand moved quickly to swat Molly's arse, pulling a happy squeal from her throat, "Even if they think I'm with you, they do not know that I have been debauching you in an empty field. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to lick your pretty cunt until you're begging."