Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: This is a repost from fanfiction.net. I wrote this originally in 2014 and finished it in 2018

It all started when Sherlock had gotten bored again. He'd invited Mycroft over for board games in hopes of pestering him into handing him some intelligence work just to relieve him from his boredom. Mycroft had simply refused him adding a few comments on secrecy and his lack of subtlety. Sherlock in revenge had lifted Mycroft's phone just to annoy him, with the first step Mycroft took on the stairs he was already going through his texts.

It took Mycroft exactly thirteen steps to realize what had just transgressed and hurried back up the stairs shouting "Sherlock!" as he went. He got no response, but found his brother standing on top of the table holding his phone above his head, quickly scrolling through his messages. "Give that back immediately!" He urged his brother a little bit more out of breath than he deemed healthy.

"Nope" was Sherlock's reply. "You're getting sloooow, brother mine." He added while he kept scrolling. Sherlock expression went from a concerned frown to a devilish grin. Mycroft contemplated sweeping his little brother off the table with his umbrella when he got his phone handed back to him. "You very well know this could be considered an act of treason." He said sternly while quickly pocketing his phone. Wearily he eyed his brother who still hadn't stopped grinning. "It was rather childish of you."

Elegantly Sherlock jumped off the table. "And here I was thinking you would never be able to get your own goldfish, but those texts to Anthea tell a rather different story, don't they? I thought caring wasn't an advantage and all hearts are broken. But apparently you'd rather see her come apart in a very different way. Good for you."

"Those were encoded messages; it's a very simple and effective way to fool most people, apparently even you." Mycroft spoke sternly; his cheeks still red with embarrassment. The way Sherlock was intensively staring at him through narrowed eyes didn't help with that.

"Code? Really?"

"Yes, really." Mycroft replied, his mouth becoming a thin straight line, as he clenched his jaw.

"No."

"You see how easy it is to even fool you with these sorts of things."

"No, all of your lines are secure, so you have no need for coded messages. There is absolutely no pattern in the words, sentences, or text in general. However it does give a rare insight in how you let sentiment get the better of you and a rather elaboration of your sexual needs."

Sherlock shuddered. "If I don't delete those texts instantly I'm going to be sick. So much for being the 'ice-man'. It seems you weren't so immune to sentiment after all. Luckily for me I don't have that problem." He energetically swooped up his violin and strode over to the window.

"Mother will be so happy that you will be able to provide her with some grandchildren. She's been badgering me about it for ages. It was bad enough I had to explain that despite the articles in the tabloids my state of virginity had not been tampered with. She was rather disappointed."

Mycroft looked as if he was about to explode, something which didn't go unnoticed by Sherlock.

"You may try and convince the world of your asexuality, but I'm your brother and unfortunately for you, I'm the smart one."

"Oh please." Sherlock sneered. "Because shagging your PA, is so very smart."

Through clenched teeth Mycroft tried to contain his seeding rage.

"Despite what many think, you're a straight male, who's sexually interested in women but such feelings you put aside. You think most of them not smart enough to be your equal, but Ms. Adler outsmarted you. This only confirmed your suspicion that women only use their looks and wit to deceive. You're convinced no woman will ever be trustworthy enough and understanding of your methods to be worthy of you."

"Nonsense, there is one woman I've always…" The words had escaped his mouth before he realized his mistake.

Mycroft pursed his lips into a sarcastic smile. "Indeed little brother, and now that you're aware of this small fact it will be a lot harder not to act on it, won't it?"

Sherlock scoffed at his words and threw his violin on his chair, and turned to face his brother.

"Love is just a chemical defect on the losing side, wasn't that what you told Ms. Adler?"

His comment earned him an intense glare from his younger sibling.

"I said sentiment, not love. Its nonsense however, just because I'm aware of certain chemical reactions doesn't mean I need to let them rule me. That would be rather silly and not so smart. I'm not you Mycroft, now leave. "

His older brother made his way over to the door. "I sincerely doubt you would be able to remain impassive now that you're aware of it, I just hope you don't get carried away."

"I never let myself get carried away."

Mycroft was already making his down the stairs, but Sherlock was still able to hear his last words before leaving the flat. "Keep telling yourself that, little brother."

As he heard the door downstairs being closed he let himself sink down in his chair. He cursed his brother for having the audacity to point out such things. He realized that, even if he had been aware of his feelings on some level, being fully aware could prove to be a problem. He contemplated deleting the conversation he'd just had, but opted out because Mycroft would surely find a way to repeat this line of inquiry only to trap him into another game of wordplay. One he was sure to lose, because no matter how hard he consciously tried to ignore it, his subconscious was very much aware and if he wouldn't be able to contain himself he would surely act on his sentiment by pure instinct. A mistake he couldn't afford to make.

Downstairs his brother stepped into a sleek Jaguar talking into his phone. "Yes, he took the bait. You know what to do."

Chapter Text

Sherlock was still pondering his brother's words when the ringing of his mobile phone shook him out of his reverie.

"Lestrade, tell me you have something interesting for me!" He jumped up and hurried to get his coat. "Ah, excellent! I'll meet you there in ten!" He shouted while hurrying out the door.

"Molly! Where is Lestrade and why are you wearing a mouth cap?"

Molly's quickly turned her head to him and immediately pointed to a stack of caps seated on the chair next to the door.

"Put one on, right now," she ordered.

"Why?" He questioned rather annoyed that Molly felt it necessary to command him, still hearing his brother's words in the back of his head.

"No, not why! Just put the bloody thing on. You know damn well why and when we wear masks in this room."

She kept a narrow eye on him as he grumbling put on the mask and switched his Bellstaff for a lab coat, making sure he followed procedure.

"Suspected infectious disease then?"

"Of course."

"Which one?"

"Yet to be determined"

"Just got in then?"

"About fifteen minutes ago."

"That's about the time I spoke to Lestrade."

"Yes, well he was the one who brought in the body, but he left as soon as I mentioned the possibility of infectious disease."

"He said something about the body being found in a bathtub full of green slimy stuff."

"He also said that you would be able to handle this on your own."

"Did he now? Why would he say such a thing, he knows my skills to be…"

"Yes he knows, Sherlock. He just didn't want to be here. So, would you like to take a closer look before I take out his organs?"

"Yes, please." He was sniffing up the cadaver through his mask. "What is that awful smell?"

"I suspect its jell-o, lime flavored maybe?"

"Hmm, I think you might be right, also about the infection, but that's not what killed him."

"Nope, asphyxiation, so maybe autoerotic ritual gone wrong?"

"Looks like it. But then why would he exhibit symptoms of a tropical disease, while showing no signs of a recent visit to the tropics." Sherlock took out his magnifying glass, and started studying the corpse' red dots.

Molly smiled behind her mask, shrugging her shoulders. "Well we should know soon enough, the new lab technician is specialized in tropical diseases, he just came back from Indonesia after spending four years there getting his PhD. He thinks himself to be quite an expert."

Sherlock looked up and managed to see the amusement in her eyes. "Don't they all?"

He sighed and got upright again. "This fellow does look a bit bloated though, hope he doesn't explode, looks like a beer drinker probably his last meal, so there will be some gas to leave his body as soon as you cut him open."

Molly waved absently with her scalpel. "Oh, don't worry about it, it's doubtful he would explode, would be the first. A little gas is to be expected with these sorts of men, his dietary habits weren't very favorable."

"Still you might want to be careful when you make the inc…"

One moment Molly had skillfully put her scalpel into the man's chest, the next they were both completely covered in decomposing organ tissue. Both stood frozen looking at each other in utter horror. Sherlock's hair was covered in leftovers of what Molly suspected once belonged to a heart. For a few seconds neither was able to respond to their predicament, that was until it dawned on Molly what could be the outcome of this unfortunate event.

"We don't know how the virus spreads and whether it is deadly, we need to be decontaminated!"

She saw the alarm grow in his eyes as he pointed to the glass bottles of 70% ethanol. "Grab one of those and follow me!" She obeyed and followed Sherlock, who took a bottle of bleach out of the cabinet and marched towards the showers. She stepped out of her ballerina's as her consulting detective was struggling to open the buttons of his not so white shirt. He failed horribly as his buttons were sodden with grease. Molly had shaken off her lab coat when she noticed him violently tugging at his buttons.

"Come on, Sherlock. Hurry!"

"I just can't seem to get these buttons…"

It took her only a small step to stand front of him and immediately she ripped his shirt open, tearing all the buttons off. He was out of the shirt before his brain had managed to register what was happening. With a single move she flicked open his belt and dragged down his pants to his ankles. "Clearly you've done this before." He said loosening his mouth cap and discarding it on the floor. He stepped out of his trousers still keeping his eyes on the tiny woman in front of him.

"Shut up and help me get out of this dress." Molly snapped and turned her back to him towards him.

"My pleasure." He said sarcastically and with a tearing sound he ripped apart the seams from her zipper, ruining her dress.

"Oh you…" Molly clenched her teeth and then giving in and sighing deeply. The water from the showers was drenching them both, washing away the remains of the overweight forty something male. "Sorry, I just don't want the world's only consulting detective to die of a ridiculous infectious disease, the world needs you."

A little bit defeated she opened the bleach bottle and started soaking him with it. He did the same with the alcohol she brought, but didn't stop looking at her. "It's not your fault, you know. And I'm the one to say sorry because since you're the only pathologist who'll work with me, neither are you allowed to die. I couldn't possibly do my work properly without you." The bottle of bleach hung in the air as she stopped and sought his eyes. She swallowed and went to say something, but stopped and let out a deep breath. She brought up a smile he knew to be only halfhearted, mainly used to hide her true emotions, but refrained from commenting.

"Well then." She said, resting her eyes on his torso. "Let's get us cleaned up quickly then."

The alcohol bit and the bleach stung, but frantically they scrubbed one another until Sherlock arrived at her chest, at which point he slowed down his cleaning pace and started to work more tenderly. Suddenly realizing the predicament they were in, soaking wet left in only their undergarments, and while he wasn't much of a prude he was very grateful his black boxers weren't see through. His body reacted at his minds realization as he was staring at the upper curves of her breasts. Because she was preoccupied with his torso she didn't seem to notice his change, but as she was moving her washing down his abdomen the sensation in his lower belly grew as she rubbed just above the band of his boxers. He noticed he stopped breathing, any second now she would look further down and…

The scraping of a men's throat brought both of them back to reality.

"Uhm, Dr. Hooper?"

"Hi,… Arthur. I was, you know, we were…" Molly stuttered, not knowing how to deal with the situation.

"Yeah, you know what you don't have to explain. I can just come back later; I just had the results you wanted ASAP?"

"What sort of virus was it?" Sherlock questioned.

"Do we need to be treated?" Molly added hastily. "The body it exploded, so are we exposed to any…"

"Exploded?! What…how…" Arthur was obviously very confused.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "None of that is important, now what sort of infectious disease was it and what treatment would be recommended?"

Arthur remained uncomfortable at the door, not knowing where to look. "Well, those specks you found on the dead guy were actually just caused by a mild reaction to a vaccination. Some people get these mild symptoms due to…"

"Yes, we're aware, you're excused; now please go back to your own lab." Sherlock remarked coldly, eager to get the technician out of the room. Arthur hurried out through the doors, and they were left alone, still dripping wet and not entirely clean.

"Soooo, not deadly then." Molly finally remarked, feeling very awkward.

"Nope, but being covered in the remains of an unidentified corpse is never to be recommended."

She shook her head. "No, it isn't."

"Do you perhaps have a clean lab coat for me to wear? It would seem rather odd to just wear my coat. "

She let out a small chuckle. "Why don't you go wash up further, I'll sneak to the locker room and see if I can steal some of Arthurs clothes, he's about your height and it would be better than just the lab coat and the Bellstaff. In the mean time I could get my own spare clothes, you know; still got a mess to clean up and lots of bodies to cut open." Absently she tugged a strand of wet hair behind her ear.

"Why would you steal clothes for me, that doesn't really sound like Molly."

Leaving a pool of water she tiptoed her way to the doors. "I know, but they would assume you were the culprit anyway." And with a cheeky smile she left him standing there shivering, but smiling.

Mycroft sat alone in his dark office when he answered the phone. "Yes?" He dropped down his pen and started listening more carefully. "Send the photos and video footage to my email. Your country thanks you." His last sentence thickly coated with sarcasm and accompanied with a false smile. He rolled his eyes at the eagerness and naivety of the young lab technician. With a sigh he found the right contact in his phone.

"It's me, I'm receiving video and photos as we speak. I'll send them as soon as the Wi-Fi will allow. Damn building has terribly reception, these walls are too thick."

He waited as the other person on the line cheered. "Just as you predicted they were getting comfortable under the shower." He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Remind me again, why are we doing this?"

"Ah yes, you blackmailed me. How could I possibly forget?"

"What I have planned next? Well seeing as Sherlock has something for clever women, it would seem only natural that it's time to reveal her as such. I hope you're in the mood for a game."

"Yes, something she's very good at. I'll have Anthea set up the meet and send the invitations."

He ended the call and put down his mobile. With his hands under his chin the corner of his mouth curled up in amusement. "Well Sherlock, let's see what you can deduce about this."

Chapter Text

It had been a week since the incident and Sherlock had tried every possibility he could think of to stop dreaming about it. Every night Molly would appear in his dreams clad in that navy blue bra with matching thong. He'd kept up not sleeping for three days until he fell into a deep slumber on the couch where he instantly returned to their mutual shower. Where, instead of Arthur interrupting, Molly had looked down, gasped and given him a look of unabashed desire. Since then he'd gone to sleep only because he was too exhausted to stay awake and his brain needed to shed the built up chemicals in his head from thinking so much. He'd awoken every single time with his body in full arousal proving his attraction and it was starting to bother him a lot. He needed his focus; his work and safety, not to mention the safety of those surrounding him depended on it.

"Remind me again, why are we here?" Sherlock asked John sounding very tired an annoyed. "Because it's Mary's birthday party and apparently she misses all the action, so our little one is staying with Mrs. Hudson and we are here playing laser tag."

"Again, why was my presence required?" John just shot him a frown. "Because she's my wife, and you're my best friend and she thought you would like this better than sitting down and mingle."

Sherlock blinked. "I suppose that would have been more of a burden, and I should be thanking her."

John chuckled and shoved him inside. "Come on you git. Let's get inside, Mary's waiting."

They were about to enter when Sherlock's eyes caught Molly approaching, she was dressed completely in black. Tight yoga pants showed off her legs rather elegantly and a black figure hugging tank top completed her outfit.

"Hi guys." She greeted cheerfully. "Sorry I'm late, there was this awfully smelly corpse bugging me at the end of my shift and…"

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked with a rather deep frown and an increasing heart beat. His mind wandered back to their last encounter and he could feel the warmth pool in his cheeks and other places.

"Sherlock." John warned him.

"It's okay John." She smiled warmly her cheeks turning red as well. "Well, Mary invited me, said we were up against the boys."

"But you're the only one of us without fire arm training!"

Now it was Molly's turn to frown. "I thought Mary and I both weren't graced with experience. Would still be fun for you guys though, you can easily beat us unless we play hide and seek in there. Oh look, there's Greg." She waved at Lestrade, who was approaching them.

Sherlock seemed confused at her comment, but when he turned around and saw the inspector strolling towards them.

"So, I hear it's going to be a good old-fashioned boys against girls game." Was his first comment after having greeted them.

"Good old fashioned girls against boys game?" Sherlock scolded. "It can only be immensely boring as the three of us have all the advantage. Well, except for you, you're actually a horrible shot George."

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Greg, as you bloody well know, and I happen to be second best in my class."

"Must have been a small class." Sherlock commented, not even trying to hide his smirk. His remark caused Molly to let out a giggle.

Mary had entered the scene and had managed to catch the last few sentences.

"Oh stop teasing him, Sherlock!"

"Hello love." She greeted John with a kiss on the mouth, Sherlock got one on his cheek, Lestrade on both and gave Molly a friendly hug while receiving congratulations from all.

"So, let's get started!"

As soon as the doors opened Molly and Mary sprinted away like they knew the place as the back of their hands. They sought out the highest part of the area, which could only be entranced through a secret passage leading to their current hideout. It gave them an overview of the entire floor plan.

Mary retrieved a roll of dark duck tape and while she helped Molly put it over her harness she did the same for her.

"Oh, by the way…" Molly remarked "Are you out of your mind?!" Mary shot her a mischievous look.

"Don't give me that look! You know bloody well I love shooting stuff and hard it is for me not to go all out with this."

"Oh come on, it's just a game, why don't you just let yourself go for a bit."

Molly sighed. "Perhaps I should just call you Amanda in front of Sherlock, I'm sure he would catch on just as quickly."

"When was the last time you ran around in high heels waving a gun? It's been ages! You need this and so do I, besides they won't know what's coming to them."

Both of them settled into their position on the ground. "I hope you're right, the consequences of this could be too great."

"Molly, stop thinking. Just for once wouldn't it be nice to beat the shit out of Sherlock. I mean in laser tag of course, he would definitely notice when you would use your Krav Maga on him."

Molly sighed in defeat and shook her head slightly. Mary only observed the sigh, but the sound was lost by the countdown of the first minute and was ended with the start of loud techno music filling the area. Molly's defeat was soon replaced with enthusiasm as she accepted the temptation before her. She focused her gun on the area below where the boys were slowly making their way through the maze of black walls. Lying on the floor like this was rather uncomfortable, but Molly shrugged it off, telling herself she'd been in far more awful situations. Last week came quickly to her mind and immediately she felt blood rush to her cheeks. At Mary's signal they opened their fire on the boys.

The lights on their suits went from green to orange almost instantly. Molly couldn't help but snicker at the sight of Sherlock ducking, John did the same, only Greg still stood there next to them staring like an idiot. Molly took the liberty of taking him out to, it wouldn't have been fair otherwise, but somehow she knew Sherlock and John were going to get hit more often than him. Sherlock seemed to have figured out the shot must have come from above and was wildly pointing his gun in any upper directions frantically searching for them.

Molly and Mary took every possible opportunity to shoot the men running ducked down through the maze. When they had reached the tower across from them, which was still lower than their own positions, the men were out of sight for a bit.

All three men took sniper positions; Sherlock gracefully slid down on the floor, like a soldier John dropped himself at once and Greg tripped over Sherlock's long legs and barely managed to save himself from landing flat on his face.

"But they should have been here!" Sherlock yelled at the other men, trying to be heard above the loudness that was surrounding them. "The angle could have only been shot from above!"

Sherlock was hit again; the lights on his chest blinking orange and an annoying beeping sound came from the suit. He looked ready to throw it off and stomp out of the arena.

"Well clearly they're not here!" John yelled back.

"You should learn how to control that wife of yours! She keeps shooting me!"

"Well this time it's not just you she's after!"

"Yeah, but where the hell are they!?" Lestrade shouted at them "Any brilliant ideas?"

Sherlock dropped his gun and put his hands to both sides of his head, ready to enter his mind palace, but the music was keeping him from entering, so did the annoying sound of his vest getting hit over and over again. "I can't concentrate with this preposterous noise!" He shouted out frustration shaking his fists. "This sort of music is made to torture people, why would they play this!"

John growled "I don't care about the bloody music, Sherlock! We need to know where they are! We can't even see their lights from here. "

Sherlock got hit again and backed up, hiding himself behind a wall that shielded him from Molly and Mary's line of sight. When John and Greg noticed Sherlock's vests stopped making noise, unlike their own they hurried to get behind him.

"Oh crap, they're behind the wall" Molly muttered, ushering Mary to follow her back downstairs signaling that their time left was short. They ran back down the secret passages, removing their duck tape as they went and stuffing it quickly behind a small opening near their exit.

Meanwhile, Sherlock, John and Greg were grateful for the lack of constant noise erupting from their vests. Carefully they tried exposing themselves slowly to see if the ladies were still in position. When they were finally sure they weren't they took back their sniper positions. Sherlock kept scanning every part of the arena for any sort of movement, but John was the first to spot Mary, or at least a part of her. He opened fire, but as nor their vests or guns were visible he was just wasting his ammo.

The girls had trouble finding a spot that would allow them to shoot the guys without getting shot themselves. John was still shooting at her knee when Molly tried to make her way to another black wall, but Sherlock managed to hit her and John did the same for Mary who had followed her. Sherlock focused his gaze on the other side of the black wall, waiting for Molly to emerge again. He was puzzled by her movements, more like a professional than those of a clumsy pathologist. His thoughts proved to be too much of a distraction because she'd managed once more to hit him, as his vests was barely visible it was more likely she'd hit the tiny target on his gun, a very difficult shot from down there. She'd gotten a wall further as John was shooting at Mary and Greg missed her.

The techno stopped and a robotic voice told them it was game over. The normal lights went back on; Sherlock stood up and observed Molly coming from behind the wall and high-fiving Mary happily. He saw something in her, but failed to place it. John slapped him on his shoulder and out of his reverie.

"Come on, mate. We've gotten our behinds kicked, now let's see how bad."

"What?!" All three men exclaimed as Molly was proclaimed as the winner of the game with a score that made the top ten scores of all time.

"You were Godzilla?" Sherlock questioned.

John frowned at Sherlock and shook his head. "Wow, Molly…well congratulations!" He said still a bit surprised. "I wasn't aware you were so good at this sort of thing."

Molly smiled proudly and tried not to be bothered by the intense staring of Sherlock. She shook her shoulders. "I used to do this a lot with my brothers, learned a lot from them." She hoped her smile and her excuse were enough for Sherlock, but she didn't dare look at him, afraid he'd see through her.

"Time for some carting boys, ready to get your asses kicked again?" Mary broke in and let them to another part of the joint. Molly was grabbed by Sherlock and driven into a corner in the dark hallway.

"Since when have you gotten this good at lying?" He kept closing more distance between them, stopping inches from her face looking down on her.

"I wasn't …lying that is" He took her wrist, knowing she would catch his intent.

"You were, I can tell. You moved like you've done this sort of thing in real life, and now I would like you to tell me what you are trying to hide from me."

He saw her swallow and was pleasantly surprised her answer didn't come out in a stutter.

"Nothing, really it's just…"

"Your pulse keeps quickening, Molly" He said still keeping his eyes locked on hers.

"Maybe it's just because you're standing so close to me, Sherlock."

He found her eyes wandering to his lips and mirrored her action. His own heart seemed to have doubled its pace and kept increasing by the second. Tiny sparks of electricity seemed to be hitting him over his entire body; a magnetic force was pulling him towards her lips.

"Sherlock! Leave Molly alone! She won fair and square, just because you're such a sore loser does not mean you can pester her!" Mary took Molly's arm and dragged her away from a flustered Sherlock.

Chapter Text

Mary had prohibited Sherlock from coming anywhere near Molly the entire evening. He had tried to corner her thrice more, but Mary had apparently taken up the role of her protector for this evening and guarded Molly from him in every way, much to his annoyance. He had retreated onto a barstool observing the others, after shooting arrows with bows. At which he had caught Molly professionally shooting an arrow right into the middle after making sure no one would see her. She'd been fumbling with the first two arrows, obviously trying to hide her skills in handling them. Something was amiss, he'd never seen her show such skills before. Clearly he had missed something.

Lestrade got a call and apologized for having to be a spoilsport and ending the evening prematurely.

"I'm going to have to ask you guys to come along, on your scale this has got to be an eight. It's out of town though, we're going to stay there overnight, possible for a bit longer depending on how quickly you'll be able to solve it."

Sherlock's eyes went to Molly, who did her best to keep hers on Lestrade. "I don't think so Greg, I already have a puzzle to solve here."

John shot him a puzzled look. "You're not a case right now, its an eight, and you called Lestrade by his real first name. Are you on some sort of drugs again?"

Sherlock's eyes roamed over Molly's frame, trying to find answers to his questions.

"No, no drugs, wouldn't want Molly to hit me again. Although the effects may be a bit similar to drugs I suppose, uses the same neurological pathways." He realized he'd said all of this out loud and shook his head to rid him of his sentimental state.

He turned his attention to John.

"You're right, we'll take the case, whatever it is, I need a distraction."

Without further comment he marched out of the building. Lestrade hurried after him, while repeating his apologies and thanked them for the evening.

"Is it me, or is Sherlock acting a bit strange again?"John commented while kissing his wife goodbye.

Mary smiled and shrugged. "Sherlock is just a bit blutterbunged by Molly's victory at laser-tag."

John shook his head "Leave it up that git to see something behind her unexpected victory. Watch out Molly, before you know it he'll come up with some outrageous theory about you being a spy or something, just because his brain can't handle him losing a game."

He winked at Mary and left to see whether Lestrade had been successful at stopping Sherlock before getting into a cab without knowing where to go.

The blood had left Molly's face at John's comment and still hadn't returned. She swallowed and turned to a smirking Mary. "If this is your doing, I will make sure you'll pay for it!" she hissed.

Mary held her hands up in defense "I'm completely innocent here. You know how grateful I am for introducing me to John, I would never betray you."

Molly sighed "that's what everyone would say. Luckily he'll be gone for a few days; maybe he won't even remember when he gets back. With this new case to solve, I'm sure he'll lose interest." Mary slapped her shoulder "You know that's wishful thinking, right." Molly groaned "Yeah, I do."

The case proved to be a nine, even for Sherlock's standards, but within two days he was nowhere near solving it. Two women part of a triplet had died under suspicious circumstances and the third was scared out of her mind. She had recalled their mother had been giving a prophecy about them that they would all die when they were 21 within weeks of each other and now that the first two had died within three weeks, the third had called upon the help of Scotland Yard and their consulting detective. While the case had been extremely interesting, Sherlock couldn't keep his mind from wandering to his pathologist in tight yoga pants or her blue lingerie set. He was at wits end, knowing he was sexually en mentally frustrated by her and unable to do anything from here about either.

"So, uhm…Sherlock? Any chance of wrapping this one up anytime soon? Because I would really like to be reunited with my girls, rather sooner than later." John remarked to Sherlock, who was slumped down on the couch of the lobby staring at a blank wall.

He sighed when he received no response. "You know what, you're not in your bloody mind palace, you're not doing anything that could help solve this case, you've been distracted for the entire time we've been here, you haven't insulted anyone yet, not even the local police. Either your sick or…or…I don't know. I have no idea what your problem is, but just go do something about it and then come back to solve this bloody thing."

That got Sherlocks attention and he started sitting upright, stretching his back. "You're right John, as always you're right. We're going back to London, you'll get back to your wife, I'll solve my problem and then I'll just text Lestrade, who to arrest. "

John narrowed his eyes. "Wait a minute, did you just say I was right,…as always?"

Sherlock smirked, "I won't repeat it, John. Now do you want to get back to your wife and daughter or would you rather stand here looking silly all day?"

Molly was finally on her break, she just couldn't get herself to leave the morgue and get something to eat. Her stomach felt like she'd been having bricks for breakfast instead of the plain non-fat yoghurt. She felt so stupid for having giving some of her talents away like this to Sherlock. After all these years of hiding and doing perfectly well in keeping them hidden from him, she went and ruined it all by a bit of laser-tag. She was dreading his return, but kept a tiny bit of hope he would have forgotten his newfound puzzle in her. She should have known such hopes were futile with someone as Sherlock.

She was out of paper towels and had to go to the pantry to retrieve a new roll. The idiot that cleaned their lab kept storing them on the highest shelf, the guy must be a giant she thought as she jumped on the second shelf and maneuvered herself across it to reach for the roll. Paper roll in hand she jumped back down and found Sherlock Holmes standing in front of her, he was is the process of locking the door.

"So, Molly. I believe you have some extensive explaining to do."

Chapter Text

She swallowed and backed up as far as she could. Sherlock kept his intense stare on her as he slowly approached her.

She nervously chuckled, "about what exactly?"

"I'm certain you know exactly about what it is I'm inquiring about."

Keeping her gaze anywhere but on Sherlock, she tucked her hair behind her ear.

"That's your tell."

She looked up at him, brows knit together in slight confusing. "What is?"

"The tucking your hair behind your ear. It's what you do when you're hiding something, normal people do it when they're nervous, you only do it to hide something while pretending to be nervous."

"Why would I need to hide something?"

"Everyone hides stuff, it's what people do. Always trying to hide their flaws from others, only your secret is not so much a flaw as it is a talent. So stop insulting me by pretending to be ignorant and wishing I will get bored. I'm not going to stop until you tell me." He closed the last few inches between them, his arms leaning on the stale construction behind her. "Or, until I find out some other way, you know I certainly have my methods of doing so."

He lowered his gaze to her half open mouth, still wondering what this feeling of energy between them was all about. Her eyes followed his gaze and with the nearly unbearable tension she made a swift decision to capture his lips with a searing kiss while flinging her arms around him. It took Sherlock only a moment to catch on, his tongue trying to gain entrance between her lips after mere seconds.

She took her chance, her tiny hands finding their way between his fourth and fifth lumbar vertebrae and with a precise hit, while snogging the man senseless she rendered him unconscious.

"Oh God, Mycroft is going to have my head." She whispered while gently lowering Sherlock to the ground.

She swiftly made her way out of the supply closet, grabbing her bag and made a sprint out of the hospital. She jogged home, knowing it would be faster than hailing a cab or taking the underground.

She startled Toby with her wild entrance, causing him to immediately hide in an impossibly small space behind her couch, she cursed under her breath knowing that it would take forever to lure him into his travelling carriage.

She broke up floorboards in the small space in the hallway, quickly retrieving her go-bag. Toby's travel basket was found just as fast, but now she needed to get Toby from behind her couch. Because the couch was too heavy to move on her own she got a can of tuna from her kitchen. Normally the sound of her opening it would get him to come running to the kitchen, unfortunately today was not her lucky day, or so it seemed.

She sighed heavily and picked up her go-bag, time was running out but she couldn't possibly leave Toby behind.

"Not sure if you're the best or the worst spy I've ever met." Sherlock's deep voice shook her from her contemplation, causing her to swiftly retrieve her gun from the bag, aimed at him and ready to fire before her bag hit the ground. Time was up.

He circled her, his eyes never leaving her. "You fooled me for years, yet you failed to get away because of your precious feline. Now tell me, how does it feel to fool the great Sherlock Holmes? To make yourself the most important person in my life, the only one the mattered and one of the few people I ever trusted. Why Molly? Why did you betray me so?" His angry words were spoken with disgust and desperation.

"Because I told her to." The sound of an umbrella ticking against the floorboards followed his voice.

"Stand down Agent Hooper." She immediately lowered her gun.

"Didn't you have enough people spying on me already? Why did it have to be her?" He spat out.

Mycroft sighed. "Oh Sherlock, she was never here to spy on you. She was here to protect you and she did! But the falling in love with you part, that is something she did all on her own, because God knows nobody could have forced her to do that."

"How and why?" He spat out, still angry about the fact that she managed to outsmart him for so long.

"She was recruited in uni, because she was going to do an internship in the colonies for which she would be required to travel a lot. She did an excellent job at working alongside operatives from the CIA, among other agencies."

"Mary." Sherlock stated simply.

"Yes, but after two years she wanted to go back and quit the spy life. That's where I came in, I couldn't let such talent go to waste. I offered her a job, but she declined. That was until I explained what exactly I wanted her to do, after that she declined any form of compensation, but still took the job."

"And what exactly did that 'job' entail?" Sherlock asked, his heart starting to up its pace.

"Keeping you busy with experiments, listen to you talk about your cases, discretely dragging you out of drug holes, if necessary. Then she looked at me with the strangest expression, she smiled and declared that if all you would need is a friend I should have said so before. Imagine my confusion, I showed her a picture of you and in detail summed up your faults and how much of a prick you really were."

"Were?" He questioned, his eyebrows slightly risen in amusement. Carefully glancing at Molly, who suppressed a smile, but was still eyeing Sherlock warily.

"Are." Mycroft corrected with an annoyed expression.

"Then she laughed at me and explained how the two of you had been in a chemistry class together. How you were the rudest and most brilliant man she had ever met, how you had insulted everyone who dared to be slower of mind than yourself, but that she had figured you wouldn't have had many friends in your childhood being the prodigy you clearly were and all you would need is a friend. While I imagined your personality would soon cure her of this notion, the years passed and she managed to become just what she figured you needed. A friend."

He sighed. "And as much as I thought you unable to hold enough sentiment to ever reciprocate her feelings, John made me see differently. He was the one to point out to me that Sherlock couldn't function quite properly without his pathologist. It seems that in respect to love I'm still very blind."

He took a few steps towards the door. "Now it is up to you, dear brother."

With those words he left the apartment. Dialing a familiar number as he was descending the stairs.

"Yes John, it is done. Now all we can do is hope and wait, so please burn those photographs and inform Lestrade that the third triplet sister killed her other sisters so she could be the only heir, the murder weapons will be hidden in the well in the garden." He ended the call, still not quickly enough to hear John snicker.

Chapter Text

"So,…" Sherlock began.

Molly dropped the gun on a side table and sat down on her couch. "So…" She repeated.

"You were the one, who used to pull me out of those drug dens?" He asked. Sounding just as exhausted as he looked.

"Yes." She nodded and sighed heavily

"Sherlock, I'm sorry." She said wearily.

"For what, Molly. For serving your country, for keeping state secrets or for being my friend?"

"For none of those."

"Then what for?"

"For making you feel like I betrayed you."

He nodded and carefully set down on the couch next to her. "I'm sorry I doubted you." He chuckled. "Truth is, I was angry there for a second because I felt as if the almost tangible tension between the two of us hadn't been real."

Her eyes shot up at him. "You felt that too?"

He smirked. "Yes, although for a second I thought you were only using my feelings to make a swift getaway. I never imagined a kiss between the two of us ending the way it did."

"You imagined us kissing then?" She asked, a frolic smile forming on her lips.

"After that shower of us in the morgue I imagined a little bit more than kissing." He admits as she watches him turn a little red.

She let out a small chuckle. Both stayed silent after that for a moment.

"Perhaps you could tell me a little bit about your spy life before you tried to become my friend?" He asked quietly, his eyes meeting hers.

And she does. She tells him about meeting Mary, about horrible disguises and her first solo op that went horribly wrong. How she actually loved the shooting part of her job, and how good it felt to not be herself sometimes. But also about the sleepless nights due to going on missions and still maintaining her internship, how all of that exhausted her to the point that she decided to go back and quit. He listens to her with genuine fascination, constantly trying to picture Molly doing all the things she's telling him about.

"And then you decided to take Mycroft up on his offer."

"Sort of, he arranged for me to be working at Bart's and for the rest I just tried be there when you needed me."

"You were already working at Bart's half a year before I started assisting Lestrade on his cases."

"Yes, well Mycroft had already spoken to Lestrade at that point and was putting us in the places he needed us to be to help you when you were ready."

Sherlock frowned. "How could he have…"

"Mycroft loves you, don't you see? He was hoping that once you were done in rehab he could help you walk a better path."

"By bribing everybody and controlling my environment."

"We do silly things for the ones we love, remember?"

"Yes, we do." He took a step closer in her direction. "Molly, I've been a fool for far too long and while it did take Mycroft's handy work for me to realize just how much you mean to me, I don't think I can continue to be your friend." He took another step his eyes fixed on hers.

"Sherlock?" She asked, in fear that he would reject her all over again.

"Yes, Molly?" He answered moving in even closer, kneeling down in front of her.

"Please don't do anything stupid, I know this isn't what you expected of me and…" He was close enough to put a finger to her lips and silence her.

"Oh, but think I will do something very stupid. You see, I still really wish to kiss you." His eyes lowered to her lips. "Hopefully you will let me stay conscious a bit longer this time." Another hand shot up to caress her cheek. "You see I am planning to take you to Baker Street after I am through snogging you silly here on this couch. In the cab on our way over there I will text Mycroft to have all you stuff, including the feline, moved to 221B. Once we get there I will take my time exploring every inch of your body, finding out precisely what was hidden from me before. And in a few weeks when I have finally found the exact ring I know you truly want, I will make some insane spectacle out of proposing to you, because I will never let you run out of my life again Molly Hooper."

Tangled up together they nearly fell into 221B. Sherlock was busy getting Molly's vest off while exploring her neck with his lips as Molly was ripping his shirt open, buttons flying everywhere.

"I see you've already made quite some progress with Molly. So, when's the wedding?" Johns voice made them stop dead in their tracks. Both looked up to see a smirking John emerge from the kitchen, an esthetic Mary in tow carrying Rosamund on her hip.

"This was all your doing, wasn't it?" Sherlock spoke accusingly.

"Of course it was, after Molly was so kind to introduce me to Mary I felt it was time to return the favor."

"I always miss something, don't I?"

"Well, you certainly did this time, you prick." John said as he slapped is friend on the shoulder.

"So what did you have on Mycroft to get him to cooperate? He would never do so without some pressure."

John chuckled. "That was the easy, I just asked Anthea for some leverage, who gave me a few interesting photos and to tell Mycroft I would tell Anthea if he wouldn't cooperate."

"Text me tomorrow to send her some flowers, that woman is a saint for putting up with him for so many years. Which reminds me, I have another saint right here who put up with another idiot for far too long and I am dying to make it up to her. So, if you would be so kind to grand us some time to start creating a playmate for Rosie I would be very grateful." Sherlock started ushering Mary and John out of the door.

"So, should I start writing my best man speech?" John grinned as Sherlock almost shoved him into the hallway.

"No need for pretenses John, you probably finished that weeks ago. Now off you go and text me tomorrow, we'll be out shopping for a ring. Also bring Mary, 'cause you're rubbish at picking out jewelry."

"Am not." John huffed and looked at Mary for help.

"He's kind of right, love." She added apologetically.

"But…"

"Bye John and Mary, cee ya!" Sherlock slammed the door behind him and found that Molly was no longer present in the living room.

Smirking he made his way to his bedroom. Slowly opening the door revealed a stark-naked Molly on his bed.

"Dear God, whatever did I do to deserve this." Molly's grin went from ear to ear. "I believe you said something about creating a playmate for Rosie."

"Absolutely, but before that I might just try and make up for all of my past mistakes by making you cum several times. I am very interested to see which sort of pleasure will make you scream. So, Molly, are you up for some experimenting?"

"You know I will always help you carry out your experiments, don't want you to get bored."

"Oh, believe me, I have several experiments lined up for us to carry out, but I will definitely never get bored with you." Sherlock lowered himself onto his bed next to her. "You're just saying that in hopes of getting more body parts from me, aren't you?" She said teasingly, stroking the hard bulge that his trousers revealed with a with single finger.

He let out a strangled breath. "The only body parts I'm going to be interested in for the foreseeable future are going to be yours."

He was going to say something else, but his phone decided to start ringing.

"Sherlock, please don't answer that." She begged him as he retrieved his phone out of his pocket.

"I'm afraid I have to." He sighed as he watched the caller ID. "It's mummy, and the last time I didn't answer she called Greg and Mycroft and a whole squad of police officers came barging in 5 minutes later." He exchanged a look of pure exhaustion with Molly but answered the phone anyway.

"Yes mother." And endless stream of words filled his ears immediately.

"Yes, Mycroft was right, I do indeed love Molly."

"No, I haven't proposed yet…"

"No, there are no grandchildren on their way just yet."

"Please, if you will just let me…"

Molly couldn't stand this a second longer and grabbed the phone from his hand.

"Mrs. Holmes? Yes, this Molly and if you don't mind we will start working on those grandchildren right now if you let us and also Anthea is already expecting Mycroft's child, so there's at least one on the way."

"Yes, I'm absolutely certain, congratulations and have a great day. Bye!"

She ended the call, put the phone in airplane mode and put it on the nightstand next to her.

"So, where were we?"

A stunned Sherlock stared back at her. "Anthea is pregnant?"

"Yes, I had lunch with her a few weeks ago. After she declined the white wine and barfed up all of her food I was pretty certain."

"But how did you know about her and Mycroft?" He exclaimed. "I only found out not all too long ago."

She frowned her eyebrows in confusion. "They've been shagging since Mycroft recruited me, I thought you knew about them."

"There's always something." He sighed in defeat.

"So, Mr. consulting detective who sometimes misses things, where were we?"

"Hmm, I was thinking you're a genius for telling my mother about Anthea and I was about to ravish you, my dear pathologist."

She whole heartedly conceded to the ravishing and it wasn't until the next morning and several rounds of experimenting in the bedroom that they were disturbed again. This time by a beet red Mycroft looking ready to explode, who came barging into the bedroom, completely ignoring the fact that both Molly and Sherlock were scrambling to cover themselves with the bedsheet.

"I just got kidnapped by my own mother, and after an interrogation and some torture I have agreed, under pressure I must add, to letting her organize a baby shower. I wasn't even aware I was going to be a father! And now thank to you two I just received orders to get grandma's ring from the bank and propose! She wants me to be married before Anthea gives birth!"

Sherlock let out a chuckle. "Oh brother, you were always so slow. You see caring may be only a slight disadvantage." Molly elbowed him in the ribs. "Okay, only an advantage, and look at it from the bright side, it seems you were smarter than me after all seeing as you were the first to discover the value of sentiment." He looked longingly at Molly. "But however nice this visit is, we are working on getting mother a second grandchild so you won't get all the attention. Please leave!" Sherlock threw a pillow at Mycroft for good measure.

Two days later John Watson received a thank you card and a gift basket that could barely fit through the door. "Thank you for listening to my suggestion and getting me those grandchildren. Sincerely, Mrs. Holmes"

A/N: Hoped you liked (re)reading this little piece of ancient fanfiction, I unfortunately had no beta writing this and still don't, so all the mistakes were mine entirely.