Sherlolly Oneshots

Satisfaction

A continuation of what happens after the events of the previous chapter because apparently all the people that read this are thirsty af.

Mature but doesn't cross any lines.

Also I'm actually so surprised that this was so long.

Recommended by mainmuffin so you can thank her. 

Enjoy...

•••

How Molly Hooper found herself backed completely up against the morgue wall and suddenly without a lab coat she was unsure.  One moment, she was vaguely aware, she had been near tears and unleashing her anger on Sherlock, and the next, his body was pinning her up against a wall and low threats (promises) were being whispered into her ear.

"I-I thought we were heading to Baker Street," Molly murmured to him, breaking away from his kiss and trying to hide the tremble in her voice.

A small smirk traced on Sherlock's lips, "right."  He, however, made no move to separate himself from the pathologist.  Instead, the detective leaned down, pressing a light kiss on the soft skin beneath Molly's ear.  A shudder ran down her spine.  "For dinner."  He breathed, "however, at the moment I'm feeling more into dessert."

Molly bit her lip as Sherlock planted open-mouthed kisses down her neck, every now and then sucking and making a mark Molly was sure would become visible the next day.  The detective raised his head, stiffening once he realized the pathologists lower lip had once again become situated between her teeth. 

His thumb brushed her bottom lip, pulling it out, and Molly felt his warm breath on her skin as he watched her.  "I have been wanting you for too long now, Molly.  Yet I was patient."  Sherlock's thumb trailed under her chin, his touch gentle until he suddenly pushed up, forcing the pathologists chin upwards. 

Molly exhaled sharply at the gesture, her breath quick as the detective planted a light kiss at the base of her throat.  "You biting your lip sent me over the edge.  You.  You sent me over the edge."

Sherlock's thumb left Molly's chin and the pathologist let her head fall down, a light blush warming her cheeks.  "You should be proud," Sherlock whispered lowly, his gaze sharp in the dim lighting of the lab.

"Should I?"  Molly breathed, so quietly she wasn't sure she heard it herself.  She didn't think she would able to hide the tremble in her voice if she had spoken any louder.

"Not many are able to say they've done so."  Sherlock confirmed, letting his thumb trail the soft skin on Molly's cheek before he leaned back down and kissed the pathologist softly.

"So what does that mean," she asked, breaking away from the kiss.  The corner of the detectives lip curled upward in a smirk.  Molly shuddered.  Or maybe it was a snarl.  She couldn't exactly be sure.

"That means," Sherlock's voice was low in his throat, halfway to a growl.  It was beginning to look like a snarl more and more.  "That you... deserve a prize, shall we say." 

Oh good god, the voice in Molly whimpered as her eyes widened.  She opened her mouth to say something but all words caught in her throat.  Sherlock smirked and let out a breathy chuckle as he pressed himself closer to Molly, his hands resting against the wall on either side of her head.  The dark, hungry look in his eyes practically sent Molly sliding onto the floor due to a sudden lack of function in her knees.  The only thing holding her up was Sherlock and the wall.  Though she supposed that the fact that Sherlock's knee had wedged its way between her legs would also help support-wise...

Trying her absolute hardest to keep her cool, Molly met Sherlock's narrow-eyed gaze, her lips parting slightly and eyelids heavy. 

"Tell me," she murmured lowly to the detective, letting her hands slide around the back of his neck.  Molly managed to push back from the wall a ways, allowing herself the ability to stand on the tips of her toes and bring her face dangerously close to his.  "Tell me what I've won."

Sherlock's nostrils flared and eyebrows furrowed slightly, making him look, in a word, enraged.  His hands resting on the wall curled into fists and Molly swore that at given moment she'd be in for it.  The detective opened his mouth to reply but an idea struck Molly.  Trying not break out into a smile, the pathologist twirled the hair at Sherlock's nape around her finger and bit her lip as she watched him. 

Sherlock didn't finish what he was about to say.  Instead, he growled and pushed Molly back against the wall, in one swift motion dropping his hands from their place resting against the wall and below the pathologists waist.  Sherlock lifted Molly, a small gasp escaping her lips as she felt his hands traveling under her shirt and resting on her lower back once she was firmly situated between him and the wall.

Molly's nimble fingers worked to undo the buttons of Sherlock's rich purple dress shirt as his mouth found the crook of her neck.  The pathologists head lolled back as she felt his tongue slide it's way up her neck and his teeth nip lightly at the skin above her pulse. 

Molly's voice was something between a whisper and a moan, "Sherlock-"

And then they both heard the morgue door open.

"Hey Sherlock," the familiar voice of John Watson echoed through the morgue, "did you get the lab results in yet because I-"

Everybody in the morgue froze.  John froze once he saw the scene about to play out against the wall, Molly froze with her hands tangled in Sherlock's ebony curls, and the detective froze with his fingertips ghosting the bare skin underneath the pathologists shirt.

The tension that lay think in their silence throbbed, only broken when Sherlock let out one cautionary, hoarse, "John."

The silver-haired man's eyes widened and he quickly turned towards the door, "I-I guess I'll leave you to it then."  And he hurried out, the door slamming loudly as it swung shut behind him.

Still frozen and now feeling like she was on fire (with embarrassment and... other things) Molly blinked slowly and angled her watched the door.  She could not watch it for long, however, as Sherlock slowly let the pathologist down.

"I'm so s-sorry," Molly said quickly, "t-that was so stupid of m-me.  You should go."

She turned to walk away when Sherlock's hand suddenly flashed out, grabbing Molly around the waist and yanking her towards him.  The pathologist let out a light gasp as the detective roughly grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.  The look that had been in his dark, icy eyes earlier had not left.  If anything, it burned with an even greater ferocity.

"You will meet me at Baker Street in a separate cab in around five minutes, counting traffic.  I will take the first cab and you will follow.  I will be waiting."  Sherlock then let the pathologist go, grabbing his coat from the floor and opening the door.

Before he could leave, however, Molly called to him, "wait!  Why separate cabs?"

Sherlock looked over his shoulder and the pathologists heart nearly skipped a beat at the ravenous look in his eyes.  "I can't be trusted around you," was all he said in a voice low and husky before closing the door behind him.   Molly stood, dumbfounded as she tried to process the events that had just unfolded.  Her hands still shook as her thoughts returned to the look in the detective's eyes and the commanding tone in his hoarse voice.  She briefly considered not going, just to torture him, but ultimately gulped, snagged her purse, and left.  Besides, Sherlock was waiting...