Work Text:
“Seven times a night on Baker Street,” she chuckled hard, trying to stifle her giggles.
“I told you not to read that,” Sherlock’s irritated voice called from her bathroom. Molly rolled her eyes and scanned the article, failing to stop her growing giggles.
“He made…m-me wear the h-hat!” Molly was clutching her sides and rolling around on the bed in uncontrollable laughter when Sherlock entered; his messy curls hung over his forehead dazzlingly. He raised his eyebrows at the sight, folding his arms.
“And just what is so funny?”
“Seven times! Bloody amateur,” she scoffed, wiping her eyes and chucking the paper aside, smirking as she tapped the bed eagerly, “…come on, then, before someone figures out your ‘secret bolt-hole’.”
Sherlock smirked and practically jumped onto the bed, kissing her neck fervently as his fingers slowly popped open the purple shirt she had commandeered. Molly carded her hands through his hair when he reached her ear.
“Where’s the hat?”
She caught his raised eyebrow and devilish smirk, not to mention his hopeful tone. Unable to tear her eyes from his, Molly reached blindly into the top drawer of her bedside table and loosely placed the deerstalker on her tangled hair.
“It’s quite naughty, you know,” she sighed as Sherlock’s lips descended from their position on her throat. He nodded eagerly, grinning cheekily.
“Oh, yes…now, I believe our record stands at twelve?”
Molly bit hard into her lip, Sherlock's deep, husky voice coursing through her body like the most addictive drug. Needless to say, they were both late for work the next day…