"Oh come off, Molly, stop fussing." Sherlock slapped away her hands.
She simply ignored him and went right back to taming his unruly curls.
"Now behave, Sherlock. I know you hate Anderson…"
He gave her a withering glance.
"…but it's his wedding, so be nice."
"His wedding won't last a week. Those two have only one thing in common as I'm sure you may guess by the state of Sally's knees," he bared his teeth in disgust, flopping down on the couch, ignoring Molly's protests about he mustn't crinkle his suit.
Molly was about to answer back when her phone rang. Contenting herself with giving him a warning glance, she picked up her cell.
"Yes, Mary, of course we'll be there on time! Don't worry, I've got Sherlock all sorted."
He snorted.
"Yes, go with the blue one, that one looks great on you."
"The pink one!" Sherlock yelled out.
"Great! I'll see you then!" Molly hung up.
"Now, come on, Sherlock. If you behave, I'll make you a cuppa when we get back, alright?" she coaxed him like she would a five year old child.
He grumbled but sat up nevertheless, allowing her to straighten his tie.
"Ready?" she asked, glancing down at her phone. When he didn't reply, she looked up.
Oh yes. She almost forgot. Getting up on her tiptoes, she quickly pecked his lips. It was their ritual: he would never leave the flat without a kiss.
He finally smiled, a genuine grin, and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he guided them out the door.
"I'm bored," Sherlock uttered for the fifteenth time that night, "Bored, bored, bored."
"Sherlock, do behave," Mrs. Hudson tutted at him as Molly poked him in the side.
"They're giving their vows. Be quiet, Sherlock Holmes!" she furiously whispered in his ear.
"What will you give me in exchange?" his breath caressed her earlobe, and she shivered despite herself.
"Anything," she whispered back, her voice breathier than she had intended, and she was sure Mary would be glancing at her and waggling her eyebrows secretively now.
Sherlock smirked, pulling the collar to his Belstaff coat up (Molly had not been able to pry it out of his hands to get him to put on more than a tie over his purple shirt), ready to wait out the tedious event. Looks like Anderson was good for something after all.
As the dancing began, Sherlock dragged Molly into the center. She glanced at him in surprise.
"I thought you don't dance."
"I don't," he replied simply as his hands began to wander lower and lower from her waist, "but I couldn't give this opportunity up, could I?"
She dragged his hands back up, glancing around to see if anyone saw. Forget about other people, she was scandalized. If she'd known what a devil Sherlock would become, she never would have had sex with him. He was simply insatiable. Always searching for an opportunity to feel her up. It was a wonder no one called the cops every time he came to her apartment.
"Stop it," she hissed.
He leaned in close, stole a kiss, biting her lower lip and sucking on it gently.
"Make. Me."
The next thing she knew, they were in the women's bathroom (the women's bathroom, what would her dear mother say?!), him peppering her neck with kisses and her furiously tried to unzip his pants.
When they finally collapsed against the stall door, Molly could barely breathe, and Sherlock was grinning like a cat who had just batted down a bird from its nest.
The creak of the bathroom door made Molly's breath catch in her throat, and she froze in place.
"Um…Molly?" the voice, stifling back laughter, called out.
Molly groaned.
"Hi, Mary."
Mary coughed, still struggling to choke back her mirth.
"Say hello to Sherlock for me even though I'm sure he doesn't feel awkward. After all, it's not the first time you two have done this. First was our wedding, then you guys couldn't even wait for your honeymoon and now Anderson's…" she finally broke down against the bathroom door, chortling uncontrollably.
Molly simply glared at Sherlock. This is all your fault. He only looked back at her innocently.
He couldn't wait to attend another wedding.
