In the Name of Science

Molly stood in her kitchen, refilling the water in her kettle. She glanced into her sitting room, her eyes scanning over to Sherlock, who currently sat on her sofa reading her favorite dirty novel. She shook her head. Of all the books he could have picked up (and she had plenty of medical journals, encyclopedias and even a real mystery novel lying around), it had to be her guilty pleasure pick. Sure, Shane (the sexy rogue detective from Atlanta) had little in common with Sherlock, but the thought of a naughty detective fucking her with his big cock sure got Molly going.

She pulled two new cups out and sighed. She really was pathetic. And now she and Sherlock were going to wank together? This was not how she expected her Thursday evening to go. A few reruns on the telly, maybe some Netflix, a good wank after a long bath and off to bed.

Not… Sherlock.

Sherlock peered away from the novel, his eyes zeroing in on the pathologist.

She's nervous. Clearly neither of us want tea.

He returned to the book.

Shane grinded against Michelle, his hands gripping her smooth thighs. "You want me to fuck you with my fingers? Make you cum like the naughty girl you are?"

Michelle let out a desperate cry and pressed her aching center to the outline of his hard cock. After one taste, she was absolutely addicted. She needed Shane like she needed oxygen.

"Good, princess, because now I'm going to fuck that tight—"

Sherlock's reading was interrupted by Molly setting a tray down on the coffee table. He grabbed the cup and took a sip of the tea to be polite.

"You know, this book is rather dull. No murder, no mysterious disappearance, nothing."

Molly flushed and grabbed it from him. "I told you to stop reading it!"

He shrugged. "I was bored."

The brunette sighed and sipped her tea, her foot tapping anxiously against the wood floor of her flat.

Most definitely nervous.

"Well, as fun as this is, when are we getting to my experiment?"

Molly let out a sound of distress, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Right. The experiment."

"In the name of science."

"In the name of science," Molly repeated.

Sherlock set the tea cup down and jumped off the sofa. "Excellent. Shall we?"

Molly couldn't help but let out a pathetic squeak. "Shall we what?"

Sherlock gave her a look of hesitation, for once seeming unsure of himself. "Well, don't we take this to the bedroom? Shouldn't you be the one leading the trial since you have more experience?"

Molly mumbled to herself before standing. "Right. The bedroom. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I'm quite sure. I'm looking forward to proving you and John wrong."

The pathologist couldn't help but laugh, her gaze trained on a very adamant Sherlock. "You really think you're going to have a wank with me and not leave completely satiated?"

He gave her an intense look. "Perhaps."

"Oh Sherlock," Molly said softly, "You are going to be in for the experience of your life."

Sherlock gave her a pointed look. "Well then. Let the games begin."

With that, he sauntered into the bedroom, Molly hot on his heels. He looked around the room.

Limited clutter. Lots of pillows. Always prepared for guests.

His gaze shifted to a black, silk dressing gown, which hung off the back of a sitting chair beside her window. He looked to Molly.

"Your dressing gown is new. What happened to the blue one?"

Molly gave him a look. "I still have it. Now I don't have to come home and find you in my dressing gown. You may use the blue one."

"Very well. But I think I prefer the silk one."

Molly narrowed her eyes at Sherlock and shook her head. She tried to remind herself not to smack him, especially since the evening was going to fulfill one of her ultimate fantasies—Sherlock naked and on her bed. She managed a deep breath and began to shakily unbutton her baby blue cardigan.

Sherlock watched as she shrugged the cotton jumper off and moved to follow with her blouse. He flinched.

"Hold on. Why are you getting undressed?"

Molly paused, the hem of her black blouse hovering above her navel. She gave the consulting detective a curious look.

"How else am I supposed to wank?"

The detective froze, his mind clearly moving faster than it could process his thoughts. Molly recognized the look. He was buffering. Whenever this happened, she always wanted to cop a feel. She always assumed he'd never notice in the state.

Naked. Wanking. I'm going to get naked and wank. In front of Molly. She's going to get naked and wank. In front of me.

Sherlock blinked.

"Very well. For science."

In his ever-dramatic fashion, he unbuttoned his blue shirt and neatly placed it to the side. As he began to work on his belt, he noticed Molly staring at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

The pathologist blushed and shook her head. She pulled her blouse off and went to work on her trousers. As she kicked them off, her eyes drifted back over to Sherlock, who now stood admiring—analyzing, she corrected herself with a sad sigh, her barely covered body. Had she known she was going to be stripping for Sherlock, she would have picked a sexier bra and knickers set than the white cotton with pink ribbon one she was currently wearing.

Sherlock continued to analyze Molly, his eyes starting from her disheveled braid all the way down to her pink-coated toes.

Tan lines on shoulder. Darker lower legs than thighs. Burned from cycling excursion.

Plain bra and knickers. Two years old. Owns eight pairs of same set in various colors.

Pink toes suggest feminine interests. Finger nails kept unpainted for work. Would be pink if they could be.

Molly cleared her throat and forced herself to keep her hands by her sides, and to not give into the strong temptation to cover her exposed body. She had never been the subject of a male gaze that felt so… clinical. She shifted her weight to her other foot and took the chance to admire Sherlock's form. His thin but strong frame, muscled thighs, firm butt, and just delicious curls falling into his eyes.

She couldn't help but let out a groan.

Sherlock tilted his head, watching her curiously. "Well? Show me."

Molly swallowed and nodded. She moved towards the bed, but halted. With a quick glance towards Sherlock, she tossed her bra and dropped her knickers. Once naked, she climbed onto the bed, falling rather gracefully until her gaze met the ceiling. The shy mouse in her wanted to stare at the white canvas the entire time. Her inner vixen yelled to keep his gaze and drive him wild. She groaned.

As her internal struggle waged on, Sherlock stared at her bare form. His eyes found her small, but pert chest with rose petal tips, before continuing down her flat and unexpectedly tan midsection.

Her breasts aren't as small as expected. Of adequate size. Should one want to touch and hold them in his hands.

Sherlock blinked.

Why would I want to hold her chest?

Shaking himself out of his bizarre thoughts, he hesitantly moved towards the bed. He watched as Molly grabbed her vibrator…

She calls him Indigo.

And laid back expectantly, waiting for Sherlock. Upon noticing her attention, he just blinked.

"Um… Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Get on the bed. I thought we were doing this together?"

Sherlock shifted and took a step towards the bed. He paused, his eyes shifting from the room, to the bed, to Molly, to his own pants.

"Well… Yes. We are. But. I was hoping you'd demonstrate first."

Molly just nodded, deciding right then and there that she was going to have a good wank, regardless of what Sherlock did. She didn't normally consider herself an exhibitionist, but she supposed she didn't mind doing things if it was Sherlock who was watching.

Forcing herself to begin before her anxious thoughts convinced her to stop, jump off the bed, run into the bathroom and not come out, Molly pressed Indigo's button. She met Sherlock's gaze as she pressed it three more times, finding her favorite setting on the toy.

Four. Intense vibrations with sporadic pulsing.

With one final, fleeting thought of what the fuck am I doing? Molly pressed the toy to her already aching core. Letting out a soft cry from the contact, she threw her legs open and fell deeper into her plush mattress. She began to move the pulsing blue toy through her damp folds before settling its attention on her clit. Her eyes practically rolled into her own head as she kept the toy centered.

Standing at the corner of the bed, Sherlock watched his naked pathologist press the vibrating toy into her most private parts. He shifted from one foot to the next, uncomfortably aware of how warm the room had gotten as well as the unfamiliar tightening sensation in his groin.

Well, perhaps unfamiliar was unfair. Sure, Sherlock had gotten hard before. He was human. He had wanked. It just didn't happen frequently. And normally, when the sensation began, Sherlock could will the blood to flow in another direction. Preferably to his brain, being his best and most used asset and all.

Molly opened her eyes and met Sherlock's watchful gaze. Feeling his piercing blue gaze on her bare skin was too much. Before she could slow down her ministrations or convince herself to hold on, even for just a bit longer, she felt the telltale sign of a pending orgasm. The sensation overtook her body, flooding her form with pure, unadulterated bliss.

She couldn't help but laugh as she turned Indigo off and dropped him to the side. With a satisfied smile, she ran her hands up to her chest, and gave her tender breasts a squeeze, causing her to let out another delightful moan.

From the end of the bed, Sherlock stared at his pathologist with wide eyes.

What in the bloody hell was that?

He opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it once he realized his brain had short circuited. His cock was now fully hard and ready to go, pressing against the dark silk of his pants. Completely and utterly dumbfounded, he continued to stare at Molly.

"What was that?" He managed to choke out, his eyes looking over her flushed body frantically.

Molly blushed and pushed herself up on her elbows. She bit her lip and let her eyes travel over Sherlock once more, admiring what appeared to be a rather generous bulge in his pants.

"Isn't it obvious?" She couldn't help but tease the genius.

He swallowed. "I just… Well I…"

"Clearly you've never seen a woman orgasm before. I admit, that happened must faster than it normally does," She laughed and squeezed her chest again, enjoying the afterglow of a good orgasm.

Sherlock just blinked. "Well… I… How?"

Molly smirked and sat up fully, her eyes trained on Sherlock. "I'll explain. But first, on the bed. And take those bloody pants off."

The detective nodded hesitantly before finally dropping his pants. While he normally didn't care who saw him naked, he couldn't help but feel a bit of hesitation around his pathologist.

Nudity is natural. We were born nude. There is nothing special about the naked form.

Molly raked her eyes over his completely naked body, zeroing in on his rather impressive cock. She let out a soft moan, and couldn't help but slide one of the hands that had been fondling her breast to between her legs. Her hand began a soft fondling of her wet folds, her eyes staring at Sherlock's engorged cock.

"Perfect," She choked out, biting down on her lip to stay focused, "Now sit on the bed. Close your eyes. Think of something that excites you. And just touch yourself."

Sherlock swallowed and took a seat on the bed, his eyes moving from Molly's chest to the hand that was now playing peek-a-boo between her legs. His mouth opened, as if to say something, but closed with a soft swallow.

After taking a deep breath, he finally wrapped his hand around his cock. He shut his eyes for a moment and began to stroke his engorged member. He tried to keep his mind on his usual wanking material—

Compose another piece. Play the violin. Sip tea. Outwit Mycroft.

But something wasn't working. His usual peaceful thoughts did nothing to relieve his ache. In anger, he opened his eyes and glared at Molly, the movement of his hand stilling.

"Molly! I knew it. None of this wanking actually—"

His complaint fizzled away as his eyes landed on Molly, who had taken to lying back, her face red and her body shaking. With her gaze centered on what had been Sherlock touching himself, she caressed her breasts with one hand, and furiously fucked herself with the other. Her soft cries continued to permeate through the room, her eyes still glued to Sherlock.

My god…

Suddenly, the detective was captivated. His brain and his cock couldn't decide on which place to focus—her breathy moans and beautiful face contorting in pleasure, her small hands grasping at her pert breasts, or the furious movements on two fingers moving in and out of her pink, glistening sex.

His cock made the decision for him. His brain, now without any blood and oxygen, was left to rot inside its own mind palace. With his eyes exploring every inch of her body, his hand returned to his cock and began a renewed vigor.

Oh god…

His eyes shifted to the movements of Molly's hand, watching in fascination as she added another finger into her quivering body, her moans growing in frequency and volume. He squeezed himself and began to pump faster, his own body shaking.

What is happening to me?

His pace increased, and his movements began a furious stride on his lap. His eyes moved back up to Molly's face, watching as she threw her head back and let out a desperate cry, before stopping her movements completely, a content smile taking over her face.

Sherlock let out an identical cry, his movements wild. Then his world went white.

Xxx

Sherlock walked along an empty corridor, wearing a rather fashionable white suit. He looked around the empty walls, desperate for an explanation of where he was.

"Oh, this is absolutely ridiculous! Someone explain to me what is going on!" Sherlock stomped his foot like a petulant child.

Silence.

Sherlock growled and continued to storm through the empty corridor, before discovering a single door. A name plate rested in the center.

"IA?" Sherlock shook his head and stepped inside.

Laying on a large, circular bed, in nothing but a white dressing gown, was Irene Adler. She sat up and gave Sherlock a knowing look.

"Oh, Sherlock! My god! I thought I'd never see you," she cried out excitedly.

Sherlock looked at the female curiously. "Why are you here? Where am I?"

Irene just laughed. "Oh Sherlock… You're the detective. You tell me where we are."

Sherlock growled in annoyance and looked around the white room, empty sans the bed that Irene laid across. "I don't know. Obviously. Otherwise I would not be asking."

Irene laughed again. "Oh darling… We're in your mind palace."

Sherlock blinked and looked around again. "Impossible. There is not a section of my mind palace that is this bleak and empty."

Irene smirked. "I believe there is Sherlock. And you're standing in it."

The detective crossed his arms and glared at the woman. "Explain."

"This," she began, before rising to her feet, "is where you store your knowledge of sex and pleasure. All that existed before today was that hideous thing."

She pointed to a small, rather old filing cabinet in the corner of the room. The single drawer was adorned with a tattered label reading "human reproduction".

Sherlock groaned and started to pace. "Wonderful, splendid, except not. You're boring me. Why am I here?"

Irene rolled her eyes and began to primp her hair. "Because, Sherlock. You've just discovered how wonderful sex and pleasure is. Once you leave this room, you're going to walk into another one. Except that one is going to be far naughtier."

The detective narrowed his eyes. "Right. Why exactly are you here then?"

The woman conjured a tube of lipstick out of thin air and began reapplying it to her lips. "Isn't it obvious? You associated me with sex. Not because you were physically attracted to me," she gave him a rude look, "Because you made it rather clear that you weren't," she sighed and capped the lipstick, "but because I had a lot of wonderful sex. I quite enjoy a good shag."

Sherlock shifted and looked around the room, this time startled to find another door. Contrary to the previous one, this door was a dark shade of bluish purple…

Indigo.

He swallowed and stood up straighter before turning to look back at the woman.

"Well, go on ahead. She'll be expecting you back shortly. Any longer and she may call John," Irene laughed and dropped back down to the bed.

Too stunned to speak, Sherlock just nodded and moved towards the indigo door. As he reached for the handle, the woman called out his name. He turned to look at her.

"Just know I'm always here for you. In case you need an extra… push." She smirked and let the edge of her dressing gown fall to expose her pale shoulder.

Sherlock made a noise of disgust before storming through the indigo door. A flushed Molly laid across her own bed, a pair of white cotton knickers with a pink bow wrapped around her ankle.

"Sherlock? Come back. We're not done," the brunette giggled and bit her lip.

Sherlock grunted. He needed no further incentive to return. He strolled over to the bed and fell onto the soft surface. Then his world went black.

Xxx

Sherlock gasped and opened his eyes. He looked up from the bed, startled to find Molly staring at him with wide eyes.

"Um… Sherlock… Are you okay?" she managed to squeak out.

Sherlock swallowed and nodded quickly. "Very much so. Quite alright actually."

Molly flushed and raised herself to shaky legs. She crossed the room and reached for her dressing gown.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock managed to get out.

The pathologist turned to look at him. "I'm putting my dressing gown on."

Sherlock swallowed and sat up straighter. "No."

Molly gave him a confused look. "No?"

He rose to his feet and sauntered over to her. "No. My experiment isn't finished."

The pathologist swallowed before squeaking out, "What else do you need?"

Sherlock looked over her nude body and ran a shaky hand through his curly locks. "You previously said this evening, and I quote, that wanking is 'not as wonderful as shagging a good partner'. I will need to test that claim."

Molly's mouth fell open.

"Great. So. Shall we begin?"

Molly remained staring at him, mouth agape.

"Okay. I suppose this is when I kiss you."

Sherlock leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Molly's lips. His hands dropped to her hips.

Think, Sherlock. How does John kiss Mary? What does kissing look like?

As he desperately searched his mind palace for images of kissing, Molly awoke from her stupor and took the task into her own hands. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed the detective as hard as she could.

With a groan, Sherlock pulled them to the bed, collapsing onto the soft surface. Molly bit his lip and maneuvered her tongue into his mouth, surprised to feel Sherlock kissing her back with just as much intensity.

As the pair continued to kiss, Molly moved her hand between their bodies and wrapped her shaking hand around Sherlock's newly awaking member.

My god… what is this? Is this what it feels like when someone else touches you?

Molly moaned into his mouth and began to move her hand, her tongue and fingers working vigorously on different parts of the detective's body. Sherlock kissed her harder, his own hands taking a crash course of the female form, exploring her soft chest, flat stomach, and toned thighs.

"Molly…" Sherlock choked out, his hands squeezing her delicate chest, "I must admit... I've never done this before."

The brunette captured his lips in another harsh kiss and continued to work his hard member in her hand. She dropped her lips to his neck, leaving kisses and bite marks down the usually pale skin.

"Good. Then it's time for me to finally teach you something," she moaned out.

Molly climbed onto his body, grinding her hips against his hard member. She let out a soft curse before taking him in her hands again. Sherlock leaned up to capture her lips in another kiss, his hands still moving all over her smooth skin.

"My fantasies are so happy that you have a big cock," Molly moaned out. She moved over him, rubbing the tip of his engorged length against her own swollen flesh.

Sherlock only managed a grunt before moving his mouth down to her chest. He paid particular attention to her rosy nipples, enjoying the feel of the tips in his mouth.

At her own tipping point, Molly grabbed his chin and forced his face to her own, capturing his lips in another harsh kiss. With one last desperate moan, she lowered herself onto his hard flesh, tossing her head back as her body struggled to stretch to accommodate him.

By god… is this why John is always so bloody happy?

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Molly began to move her hips, releasing strings of curses and delightful moans every time her hips slammed against Sherlock's. Her detective just stared at the brunette, his eyes wide, his mouth agape, and his fingers practically digging holes into her hips from holding onto her so tightly.

"You see Sherlock," Molly managed to gasp out, her body continuing to slap against his, "this is why people shag."

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

Molly leaned down and captured his lips in another rough kiss before moving her ministrations to his neck, sucking on his pulse point in a desperate attempt to leave a mark (mainly to prove to herself tomorrow that yes, this did really happen).

Sherlock, on the other hand, remained completely entranced, his eyes and mouth wide, the only proof of life being his desperate hands roaming her body, and the way his hips came off the bed and met hers with every movement.

With one last long draw of her hips, Molly's body tensed. With a loud string of profanities and desperate cries of "Sherlock", Molly lost control and collapsed onto his body in quivering mess.

Her own orgasm and clenching insides triggered the same in Sherlock.

What's happening to me?

What is this?

Is this…

Oh fuck.

Oh fuck.

The consulting detective let out an uncharacteristically loud and passionate cry, his entire body shaking as he wrapped his arms around Molly. He buried his face in her neck, desperately trying to catch his breath.

For once John wasn't an idiot.

Molly moaned softly and pressed a kiss to Sherlock's damp curls. She wrapped her hands around his cheeks, bringing his face to her own.

"Well?" She whispered, a soft smile playing on her face.

Sherlock swallowed. "It appears that I was mistaken on the benefits of sex."

Molly laughed softly and kissed him again. She snuggled into his body, enjoying the messy kisses they shared, basking in their own post-shag bliss.

That was until Sherlock tensed up and pulled away, his eyes blank. Molly frowned.

That's it.

"Sherlock?"

The consulting detective immediately leapt out of bed and proceeded to dress himself as quickly as possible. Molly sat up and dragged the sheet to cover herself, suddenly feeling sick.

"You're leaving?"

As he buttoned up his shirt, he looked towards the pathologist. "Oh, don't give me that look! I'll be back. I just solved the case."

Molly blushed and dropped the blanket, the air refilling her lungs. "What? How?"

Sherlock waved his hand as if the answer was obvious. "The sex cleared my head. And the sexual position we engaged in helped me realize where the intruder would have entered their bedroom. Ergo, the pool boy did it. With the help of his swinging, older lover."

Molly just blinked. "You'll be back?"

The consulting detective smiled softly and walked back to the bed. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips and forehead before moving towards the door.

"Of course. There's still so much to learn."

With that, Sherlock offered Molly a rare smile and hurried out of her flat.

Back in the bedroom, Molly collapsed onto her bed, wanting to laugh, cry, scream, and shout all at once.

Xxx

Sherlock and John stood outside of a large home in Essex, both watching the pool boy and older lover be escorted out of the house by Lestrade and his men.

Graham? George? Greg? Yes, Greg.

John looked over at the detective expectantly. Sherlock turned to look at his partner, raising his eyebrow at the look John was sending his way.

"Yes?"

"You haven't explained to me how you figured this one out. Especially since you were so confused not even four hours ago."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and took out his phone, furiously texting away.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm a genius."

John narrowed his eyes. "Sherlock."

Sherlock pocketed his phone and narrowed his eyes. "John."

John took a step away from Sherlock and gave him the once over. He laughed.

The consulting detective narrowed his eyes. "Is something funny?"

John smirked. "Obviously." He had always wanted to use the detective's retort to his own face.

Before Sherlock could offer a response, John closed the space between them, pulling Sherlock's scarf away from his neck. Now in the London moonlight, his love bites and scratch marks were completely visible.

John just laughed. "My god! It happened!"

Sherlock growled and ripped the scarf out of his partner's hands. "Oh, fuck off John!"

John stumbled away, phone in hand, laughing and desperately trying to draft a text to Mary.

Sherlock growled and fixed his scarf. John took a shaky breath and shoved his phone in his trousers. He turned to look at Sherlock.

"Well? Was I right?"

Sherlock swallowed and looked away. With a curt nod, he was on his way.

John laughed and yelled after him, "Go home! Have a shag! You have some twenty years to catch up on!"

Xxx

Across the city, Molly laid in bed, wrapped in her new silk dressing gown, Toby keeping her feet warm. As she drifted in and out of sleep, her phone buzzed.

Reaching over, she grabbed the device to see a text from Sherlock. She smiled softly and opened it.

I'd be happy to punish you tonight, Princess.

SH

Molly turned red and set her phone back down.

She was going to have to burn that book.

The End