I was instigated by WeLoveSherlolly to write a smutty version of my 'Jumper Removal' fic ... where they DON'T get interrupted by the second client ... hehe ... it really didn't take much instigation, I quickly complied ;)

Anyway, this is going to have some similarities to the original version, but not much, and this one is going to go way out of context from the show.

Oh and I'm not entirely sure what happened with this ... it just kind of ran away from me and it turned into a lot more than I expected, but I honestly don't think any of you will mind!

Enjoy the naughtiness that ensues! :D

Doff that Jumper!

Molly had just gotten off of the phone with her bodyguard Tom, a faint smile upon her lips, when she was alerted by an incoming text. She swiped the screen and saw that it was a message from Sherlock.

Baker Street.
Come at 12. – SH

A second later another one followed.

Please. – SH

She hesitated for a couple of moments, tapping the edge of her phone against her bottom lip. After slowly letting out a breath she typed back a reply.

Ok. – Mx

A minute later she was startled out of a pleasant daydream when she received another text.

Thank you. – SH

Molly stared down at her phone, certain that Sherlock had never thanked her before. Not once. She swallowed. Wellllll that wasn't entirely true. He did thank her, quite often in fact, in more ways than one. He just had never verbally said the words. She giggled as she moved towards the kitchen, to make herself a cuppa, wondering what the Consulting Detective was up to. She absent-mindedly twisted her engagement ring around her finger as she waited for the kettle to boil. When she realized what she was doing, she stopped and stared down at the diamond ring.

Ahh yes, Tom. Her fiancé. The snort that erupted from her caused her to blush; it had been rather embarrassingly loud. Toby, who had been eating his food when she had let out the disruptive sound, stared up at her wondering to himself what madness had consumed his human. She smiled down at the feline then returned her gaze to the ring.

Tom, her fiancé. What a fantastic lie that was! She couldn't believe how easily everyone had fallen for it; neither Greg, nor Mrs. Hudson, or John, and not even Mary had seen through it! None of them had at all considered the fact that there was more to Tom than met the eye. Not only was he a brilliant bodyguard, he was also a talented actor. She let out another giggle as she continued to twist and twirl her engagement ring around her finger; her thoughts no longer on Tom, but now on her true fiancé, Sherlock Holmes. Yes, she, Doctor Molly Hooper, was marrying Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes!

The shrill cry of the kettle caused her to jump. After pouring the water into her cup she returned her thoughts back to the man she was going to marry. They had been engaged now for a little over three months, ever since his return from the dead. It had all happened rather suddenly.

She carried her cuppa back to her settee, thinking back to the day when he had shown up in the locker room at Bart's. She now couldn't enter that room without a blush coming to her cheeks.

For several weeks prior to his return she had been wearing a fake engagement ring, having had a discussion with both Mycroft and Tom that it would be a smart move to make. It would be yet another nail in the proverbial coffin to show that she was no longer infatuated with Sherlock Holmes; and thus confirming that she would not be a target if anyone were to try and hurt those that were close to the Consulting Detective.

It had been an elaborate plan all along; everything was done in order to keep her safe. His heart. Moriarty had threatened Sherlock that he would burn the heart out of him, and Sherlock was not going to take any chances. Not when he couldn't be in London, to protect her himself.

They had secretly been in a relationship for three years, before Moriarty had first reared his ugly head. Prior to his appearance Sherlock had told Molly that she should make an attempt to date other men; to help keep up the front of their not-relationship. He of course had not intended nor did he mean for her to date the Criminal Mastermind. That of course had been entirely unexpected by both of them.

The night that Moriarty had nearly succeeded in blowing up John Watson, ended with Sherlock arriving at her door looking both pale and shaken. He clung to her, desperate for her warmth and comfort. She didn't ask him any questions, far too frightened to do so; never having seen him so raw and open to her. They lay together in her bed, their limbs entwined. She ran her fingers through his hair, whispering soothing words to him as she pressed her lips, again and again, upon his brow.

The next morning he appeared to be much more like himself and from then on Sherlock was determined to keep their relationship as private as possible. He had suggested putting an end to their relationship, but she quickly shot that thought down. It would break her to no longer be able to be with him, and she knew deep down that it would destroy him as well.

When Sherlock knew that the only way to put a stop Moriarty was to fake his own death, he went straight to Molly. He knew, oh he knew that he was asking too much of her, that he was potentially putting her at risk as well. But he also knew that he could trust her, depend on her; that she would never stop believing in him, and that she would keep his secret safe. And also, that she would wait for him. She was stubbornly determined in that fact.

His two years away had been a miserable time for her. Not only did she have to pretend that she was mourning Sherlock's death, but she also had to silently watch his other friends grieve, keeping to herself the truth. Only twice in his two years away did he come back to London, under the feint of a disguise. Those two times together were full of desperation and hungry passion. Upon his second return trip, after they had sated their lusts for each other (at least for the moment), he presented to her a plan. He wanted to give her a bodyguard, a man that would act as if he were her boyfriend. At first she didn't want to agree with it, but eventually Sherlock convinced her that it was the wisest thing to do.

Tom was a nice man, but she couldn't help but feel like she was cheating on Sherlock in some way. It wasn't like they slept together or anything, goodness no! But he would, from time to time, spend the night at her flat, kipping on the settee; all for the sake of keeping up appearances. When they became engaged she felt the tiniest little twinge in her heart, foolishly wishing that the engagement was real, but that it was to Sherlock and not to Tom.

She had been kept duly informed by both Tom and Mycroft of Sherlock's whereabouts and condition. They conveniently though, did not tell her that Sherlock had returned to London, for good. Thus she was pleasantly surprised by his appearance in the locker room at St. Bart's. He looked very much so like himself, his curls at their usual length and back to his natural colour (the first time he had come to her his hair was dyed blond!). He was also wearing his Belstaff.

"You're - you're back?" she had stammered out, annoyed by her flustered state.

He smiled. Oh how good it felt to see him smile! He then pulled her to him, drowning her in a passionate kiss. There was a frantic flurry of a removal of clothing, and once they were both naked he spread out his Belstaff upon the floor before pressing her down onto it. He made love to her slowly, knowing that there was no need to rush (he had also made sure to lock the door - so that there wouldn't be any unwanted interruptions). Once they had both reached their fruition he fell bonelessly beside her, his body thrumming with the pleasure they had just created together.

When they had both regained their breath he began to cover her skin in kisses. She chuckled softly, reveling in his ministrations as his hands began to wander.

"Do you like the ring?" he had asked her, his thumb brushing over the diamond. "It was my grandmother's."

She raised her head. "You knew? You knew all about it?"

He smiled. "Of course I did."

She sniffed, it all becoming clear to her. "Git. Only you would propose in such a round about way!"

He chuckled as he pulled her closer up against him, so that her breasts pressed delightfully to his side. "Well, you did say yes!" He silenced her grumbling with a kiss.

After a few more minutes they moved into the showers to clean themselves up. But first he gave her a good, solid fucking against the wall; he had to continually kiss her to drown out her cries of pleasure.

Much later that evening he arrived outside her flat with a bloody nose. She had warned him that John would not be happy to see him, and he hadn't believed her. He now was giving her a sheepish smile. With a shake of her head she led him into her flat and tended to his nose.

All of that seemed so long ago now. They were still keeping their relationship a secret, thus the reason for why Tom was still in the picture. If Sherlock could have his way they would stay a secret for forever; he had too many enemies, he didn't want to put her at further risk.

But meeting up for secret trysts was appearing to be harder than ever. In spite of the fact that John still wanted nothing to do with Sherlock, there were Mrs. Hudson's prying eyes and listening ears. It was unfeasible for Molly to keep quiet, whether she was above him or below him; he just felt so good inside of her, touching her. This made it nigh impossible for her to stay over at Baker Street, which meant he was spending more and more time at her flat.

And now he was asking her to come over, without any explanation as for what. It had been nearly a week since they had last been together, and her body was practically aching for him.

Two hours later she was standing outside of Baker Street. Just as she was about to ring the bell, Mrs. Hudson opened the door.

"Oh hello, Molly dear! I was just about to nip down to the corner shop, go right on up, Sherlock is waiting for you. He was muttering something about an experiment when I brought him his morning tea."

Molly stepped inside and undid her coat as she climbed the stairs. Upon entering the flat she spotted that Sherlock was stood at the window, wearing a maroon dressing gown. His back was to her. "You wanted to see me?" there was a slight desperate lilt to her voice as she asked this, causing a blush to rise to her cheeks.

He turned, facing her, their eyes meeting. He smiled. "Yes." He took a step towards her, and another. "Molly?

"Yes?"

What was the infuriating git up to? He knew Mrs. Hudson had gone out, why hadn't he pounced on Molly the moment she entered the flat (as he was often wont to do)?

Sherlock continued to slowly move closer to her. "Would you …" He stopped walking, hesitating, before taking another step towards her. "Would you like to …" He appeared to be nervous, making her wonder what it was that he was trying to ask her.

The words left her lips before she could stop them, "… have sex?"

"… solve crimes?"

They had spoken simultaneously.

"Ohhh …" Her cheeks were now burning. The berk wanted to work on cases instead of fuck her senseless?

He coughed, and blinked rapidly a few times. Swallowing her annoyance she gave him a small smile; if he was going to taunt her than she was going to do the same.

"I'd love to."

He looked at her. "Good." He then swept passed her, moving towards his bedroom. "Our first client will be here in ten minutes."

She slipped off her gloves, tucking them into her coat pocket. Just as she was about to take off her coat she felt Sherlock's hands on her shoulders, helping her to remove it. "Oh! Ahh – thank you," she murmured.

He said not a word as he hung it up beside his Belstaff, then stepped back up behind her, pressing his body against hers. He brushed the tip of his nose along the shell of her ear, his breath ghosting across her cheek before his lips met her skin. He suckled for moment before saying in a hoarse whisper, "I want to have my way with you in my chair. I want my head between your spread legs and my tongue in your tight, sweet cunt."

She let out a squeak as his hands came to rest on her hips, holding her against him so that she could feel his arousal.

"I want to fuck your pussy with my mouth," he continued in the same hoarse whisper. "And take your hard, little clit between my lips. You'll be calling out my name before I bury my cock inside of you."

Molly was practically trembling now, leaning back in to him, panting slightly. Damn the man and his dirty talk! He had moved one of his hands until he had her cupped perfectly between her legs; he pressed the heel of his palm directly where she needed it. She rocked against him, moaning softly. She could feel him smirking against her skin as he began to trail kisses down the length of her neck as her pleasure began to build.

She wanted nothing more than for him to open her trousers and slip his hand inside so that he would touch her directly, but Sherlock seemed determined not do so. A whimper escaped her then she cried out as her orgasm washed over her. He pulled his hand away, slipping his arm around her to hold her up, seeing as she seemed to have momentarily lost her ability to stand. He chuckled, giving her neck another dose of kisses.

"You might want to clean yourself up, before the clients arrive." He told her, before he let go of her and stepped away.

Still gasping for breath she spun around, looking at him with flushed cheeks and dilated eyes. "What are you playing at?" she asked him.

He adopted a wide-eyed innocent expression as if to say, 'who me?'

Her eyes narrowed at him, but his expression didn't falter. With a great huff she flounced passed him and made her way into the loo, she could hear him chuckling again. Damn the man!

Once she had tidied herself she returned to the sitting room. Sherlock walked passed her once again, allowing her to notice for the first time that he had replaced his dressing gown with a suit jacket. He picked up a chair that had been by the table and placed it directly beside his own. He silently gestured towards it and she sat down, glaring at him. He cheekily smirked as he sank into his chair and steepled his fingers. She turned herself slightly and looked at him; unable to stop the words from repeating in her head of what he intended to do to her. In the very chair that he was now sat in.

He pressed the tips of his fingers against his chin. "The first two clients are dismal, boring, but needs must." He gave a dramatic sigh as if it were a cross he often had to bear then his eyes briefly flitted towards her.

He may have brought her to climax but she was still, very much so, desperate for him. Did he honestly expect her to just sit there and listen to some sob story, when all she wanted to do was mount him and ride his thick cock until they both were screaming?

Before she could put her feelings into words the sound of the doorbell made him jump to his feet. The first client had arrived. Molly stayed seated as a tall, well-dressed man with a rather matronly looking woman beside him entered the flat.

"Mr. Holmes?" the man asked, holding out his hand.

"Yes. And you are Mr. and Mrs. Harcourt." This was a statement, not a question. Sherlock beckoned towards John's old chair. The woman sat, the man stayed stood beside her.

Sherlock turned to Molly. "This is Molly Hooper, my …" he stopped, not finishing the sentence; the couple taking no notice.

But Molly did. She swallowed hard. Sherlock turned back to face the couple, giving Molly a frustrating view of his glorious arse. She would have loved nothing more than to sink her teeth into it.

She swallowed again, forcing herself to get her thoughts into check, barely listening to the conversation that Sherlock was having with Mr. Harcourt.

Sherlock was moving about the room now, and she could just make out that he wasn't wearing any pants; mainly due to the fact that he was facing his wall of clues. Her eyes became unfocused. Oh yes, she knew exactly what she was going to do to Sherlock as soon as these people left.

"Monkey glands!" he suddenly exclaimed a bit too loudly.

Molly nearly choked out a laugh, silently cursing and yet also thanking Sherlock for breaking her out of her daydream. He turned around and walked back over to them.

"But enough about Professor Presbury. Tell us more about your case, Mr. Harcourt."

Molly looked up at Sherlock as he moved passed her. She asked quietly, "Are you sure about this?"

He looked down at her, his eyes revealing nothing. "Absolutely."

"Should I be making notes?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed the tiniest bit. "If it makes you feel better."

"It's just that -" her voice trailed off as she watched Sherlock drop slowly down into his chair. "- that's what John said he does, so if I'm being John -"

"You're not being John – you're being yourself," he cut in, giving her a determined look.

She couldn't stop a smile from coming to her lips, her heart beating heavily once more. She needed him, and she needed him now! She felt as if she might burst!

Minutes later the case was solved; a sad, sordid affair, ending with Sherlock handing the woman a card for a divorce lawyer. Once they were gone he was back on his feet, moving about the room.

Molly, having become a bit warmer, mainly due to the fact that her mind kept wandering, stood up to take off her jumper. She grabbed the hem and slowly tugged upwards, lifting it off. Once she had cleared it passed her head she folded it and draped it across the back of the chair. As she smoothed a few tendrils that had come loose from her ponytail she took notice of the fact that Sherlock's pacing had stopped. She looked at him, noting that he was staring at her with a funny expression.

"Who is the next client?" she asked him, rolling up the sleeves of her blouse.

He continued to stare at her, not blinking. She held back a smile, silently cheering in her head.

Molly: One. Sherlock: Nil.

"Are you all right?" she enquired, widening her eyes slightly.

He still didn't blink.

Molly took a step closer to him. "Are you in your Mind Palace?" She waved her hand slightly in front of his face, letting out a small squeak as he grabbed her wrist. His gaze was far too intense to be inside of his mind. She licked her bottom lip, and suddenly he snapped out of it. She leaned back slightly, looking more directly up at him. His gaze dropped briefly downwards before shooting back up to meet her confused gaze.

He swallowed. "You took off your jumper."

She smiled slightly. "Excellent deduction," she teased.

He frowned.

"So who is the next client?"

He let out a low, long breath. "There isn't another client," he bit out.

"No?"

"No," and with that said, he pounced.

He enveloped her in his arms and kissed her hungrily, passionately. He gave her blouse a tug, slipping it out from her trousers. She mewled against his lips as his fingers moved beneath the fabric, brushing against her skin.

"Mrs. - Mrs. Hudson!" Molly gasped out, between Sherlock's desperate kisses.

"She's gone out for the night, to visit with her new beau. She won't be returning until tomorrow," Sherlock explained as he began to nudge Molly backwards.

"Oh? Ohhhhhhhhh!" The back of her knees bumped against something, causing her to lose her footing. Sherlock caught her and lowered her down into what she quickly realized was his chair. She chuckled against his lips. "You're such a twat!"

He hummed in agreement, settling himself onto his knees in front of her. He spread her legs apart and moved between them, her thighs coming to rest on either side of his hips. She smiled as he kissed her once more, running her fingers through his hair, scraping ever so slightly at his scalp just the way that he liked. He groaned, beginning to unbutton her blouse. She dropped her hands away from his hair and moved them downwards so that she could begin to unbutton his shirt. Their fingers moved frantically as he nipped and suckled at her jaw line.

She pressed her palms to his chest as he spread open her blouse. He pushed the cups of her bra out of the way so that he could take first one pebbled nipple between his lips, before moving onto the other; circling his tongue around her dusty pink areola. Molly whimpered and gasped as he continued to suckle her breasts. When both were a rosy red he pulled away and reached behind to unclasp her bra. Both her blouse and bra were tossed to the floor before she helped him out of his suit jacket and shirt.

He dropped his head back down and nibbled at the tender underside of each of her breasts as his fingers deftly undid the button and zip of her trousers. A loud groan escaped him when he discovered that she wasn't wearing any knickers. The smell of her arousal washed over him, causing his aching cock to twitch against the barrier of his own trousers.

He gave her trousers a tug and Molly lifted up her bum to help. He dropped the fabric to the floor and looked down at her spread before him. She was now entirely naked, her sweet, glistening pinkness on full display.

"God Molly, you're always so wet for me, aren't you?" he gasped out, his hands coming to rest on her thighs.

"Only for you…"

He slipped his hands beneath her legs and lifted first one, and then the other so that they dangled over the arms of the chair; spreading her open for him even further. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss directly above her Mons Pubis. Molly whimpered as she returned her hands to his hair. He briefly glanced up at her, her eyes were closed and her head was tilted back. Her lips parted in anticipation of what was to come.

He dipped his head further downwards, allowing his breath to ghost over her most sensitive of areas. He watched as her body clenched slightly, a fresh wave of juices coating her. She smelled positively delicious. He moved his hands back to her inner thighs and slid inwards, until his thumbs reached her slick labia. He slowly moved his thumbs up and down, glancing back upwards to watch her reaction. His cock gave another twitch as their gaze met. Keeping his eyes locked on hers he held his mouth directly above her before plunging his tongue directly into her wet, beckoning centre.

Molly cried out before swearing loudly. Her back arched as she threw her head back, her fingers clutching at the back of his head. He began to fuck her with his tongue, reveling in the taste and the feel of her. Once he had had his fill of her juices he slid out his tongue and moved upwards to wrap his lips around her clit. She nearly screamed as he flicked at her bud with the tip of his tongue, before giving it a tender nibble. He slowly slipped first one, then two, then three fingers into her core, curling them slightly so that they pressed against her g-spot as he fucked her with them. As he continued to ravage her clit with his tongue and mouth she began to rock her hips in rhythm with the movement of his fingers. She was moaning loudly now, there was no stopping her.

He could feel her beginning to clench around him as her noises grew louder in pitch. He gave her clit a final hard suck and her climax struck; she screamed his name just as he had predicted, her nails digging into his scalp. He held his fingers inside of her, massaging her g-spot as her walls continued to shudder around him. As her body grew limp against the leather of the chair he slowly pulled his fingers from her and gave her clit a final, gentle kiss before sitting back on his heels.

She was looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes. Her breasts were rising and falling in a delicious motion as she struggled to catch her breath. He met her gaze as he licked each of his fingers clean before wiping his mouth and chin free of her juices with the back of his hand. He then leaned forward and kissed her. She hummed into the kiss, slipping her hands over his shoulders, her breasts brushing against his chest. She lifted up her bum, trying to press herself against him, desperate to feel his cock.

"I need you inside of me Sherlock!" she gasped out against his lips.

With a low growl he leaned back and moved to stand. He struggled out of his trousers, a faint whimper coming from her as his cock sprang free, the tip glistening with his pre-cum. He wrapped his hand around his length and gave himself a few pumps, unable to stop himself from groaning as he did so. He then stepped closer to the chair and placed his knees on either side of her hips, giving himself just enough leverage.

He moved her legs until they came to rest on his shoulders, the head of his cock rubbing against her drenched labia as he did so. She moved her hands to cup his face, pulling him down to her to kiss him. He had one hand placed on the chair, to steady himself. The other he wrapped around his length again and circled her clit with his cock head. She mewled against his lips as they continued to kiss, her noises then turned into a happy moan as he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, entered her. He didn't stop until he was fully seated inside of her. Molly dropped her hands down to his arse, cupping the cheeks of his bum before sliding one hand further downward to tease and stroke his bollocks.

Sherlock swore against her lips before pulling himself out of her, only to plunge back in with one solid thrust. He quickly settled into a rapid pace, his hips snapping against hers. Molly was now clinging to his biceps, moaning loudly between kisses, her breasts bouncing with every thrust.

He couldn't stop babbling, telling her how good she felt around him, so tight, and wet, and warm. When she moved one of her hands to swirl her fingers over her clit he watched. He was transfixed by the sight of her touching herself as his cock slid in and out of her glistening pinkness. A shudder ran through his body as her fingertips brushed against him.

She was chanting his name now, over and over. He began to thrust into her harder, dropping his head down to suckle first one breast and then the other. Molly came with a sharp, shrill cry.

"Sherlock, oh Sherlock," she moaned as he continued to pound into her, desperate for his own release. Her hand had dropped away from her clit, and she clutched tightly onto the sides of the chair; the waves of her orgasm still washing over her.

With one final, solid thrust his hips grew still, pressing against hers as his cock pulsed inside of her. Her name fell sweetly from his lips, followed by a low moan. A shiver ran through his body as she slipped her hands up and down his torso. He kissed her gently before leaning back just enough to allow her to lower her legs. He then laid his head against her shoulder, breathing heavily. A few moments later they tilted their bodies just enough so that they both fit comfortably in the chair. Molly was so slight that she easily curled around him.

They shared several lazy kisses as he ran his hands over her flushed skin, teasing her nipples with his thumbs.

"Damn you and your jumper," he groused before beginning another bout of kisses.

She giggled against his lips, tucking away the thought to keep for later perusal. Oh, she was determined to have fun with this!

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hehehe, hope you enjoyed the naughtiness!

Be sure to let me know what you think and don't forget to follow me on tumblr at sherlockian87