I wrote this scene originally to be at the beginning of Chapter 8, but decided it didn't really fit the flow/tone in the end. However, I had all three of them in a bed together, so... here you go.

John awoke first. He lay on his back, Sherlock and Molly on their sides and facing him, unconsciously mirroring each other in their sleep.

He could have taken a moment to worry about what it all meant for the three of them to be in the same bed, but the more pressing matter of having to pee retained his full focus. He decided on scooting slowly down the center of the bed, taking the coverlet halfway down the bed with him, and then padding over to the bathroom.

"Hmph," Molly complained, fighting wakefulness. Eyes still firmly shut against the day, she reached out for John. One hand found a shirt collar, and she pulled, snuggling in. Her left hand slid down, from shoulder blades to firm back to the curve of arse and settled there.

An arm came around her waist in response.

"Good morning," came a puzzled, dark chocolate voice.

Molly's knew what she'd done before she even dared to open her eyes. Bemused aquamarine eyes glittered back at her.

She blinked. She noticed Sherlock's gaze move up behind her and, of course. Without moving, she knew John was standing right there, at the side of the bed.

"Oh, nice. I go to the loo and the two of you start getting cozy, eh?"

And she could tell from John's voice that he wasn't mad, or even bothered; he simply climbed back into the bed and settled in behind her.

"I swear to God I thought he was you," Molly explained, face red but smiling as she shook her head a bit.

Sherlock was observing John so hard he could hear it.

John giggled and Sherlock allowed himself a smile.

"You gonna move that hand?" John asked.

"I tried," Molly pleaded, "It's quite disobedient."

John sputtered out a laugh and snuggled in closer, his left arm sliding around her waist next to Sherlock's arm, his lips finding the back of her neck and ghosting little kisses there as he laughed softly. Sherlock didn't move, his gaze traveling from Molly's face to John's.

And John got an idea and couldn't help himself. Perhaps he wanted to give Molly a gift, of sorts. Perhaps he just liked to see her blush. Having learned her body and its reactions, John continued his soft kisses along her neck, and Molly let out a surprised sigh. Sherlock's eyes locked on hers.

"John Watson, you are evil," she managed, staring rather helplessly into Sherlock's eyes as John smiled against her nape, and then he began placing proper kisses there, and she was close to lost.

Sherlock quirked his lip a bit and his eyes flicked to John's, and John was fairly sure Molly wouldn't mind so he darted his eyes to the side of Molly's throat, the spot above the hollow of her collarbone that never failed to drive her mad, and then looked up at Sherlock to ensure he got the hint.

John saw the subtle smile pull at the corners of his lips, and then Sherlock focused his laser gaze on Molly's eyes. John pressed against her from behind, tightening his grip around her waist. She could feel Sherlock's hand between her back and John's belly, she could feel Sherlock's breath on her face, John's kisses at the back of her neck. And then, Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips to her throat.

Molly's eyes flew wide open in shock, but almost instantly fluttered shut again because Sherlock, Sherlock!, was, quite gently, sucking on her skin, nuzzling along her jaw with his stubbly beard, breathing against her neck, and suddenly there wasn't enough air between them all for her to catch her breath.

She exhaled in gasps, and her blood was a river of lava, rushing to prepare her body to follow through on the stirrings inside her. Her errant left hand clenched on Sherlock quite of its own accord. His kiss on her throat intensified, and she sank and countersank, her backside pressing further into John, her chest compelled to lift and press against Sherlock's.

And then John moved his hand, softly, but deliberately, in circles on her belly, inching lower.

Her eyes opened.

"Okay, no," she said, and nervous laughter was threatening to spill out of her. John's hand retreated.

"Too much, love?" John asked with a truly impish grin, and Sherlock stopped kissing her neck and was smiling at her.

She narrowed her eyes at both of them and wriggled like a fish between them until they both backed off a little.

"Honestly, you are truly, truly evil," she declared with a huff as she turned herself around, facing them and kneeling up between them, pushing her hair away from her face.

"No, not really," John protested. She narrowed her eyes at him, and grabbed a pillow.

"Yes, really," she confirmed, getting in a good three whacks before he managed to snatch the pillow from her and toss it to the floor. She smacked him on the back of the head for good measure with her hand.

Sherlock laughed outright at that, enjoying seeing John bring his arms up and cower from a five foot four woman, but that got Molly's attention.

"You, too," she admonished, batting at Sherlock a bit as well until he also felt the need to protect his face.

"Hmph," she grumbled, getting up off the bed, leaving them both chuckling like boys who'd pulled a prank on the teacher.

"Devil's spawn, the both of you," she stated. John looked at her, chagrined enough to pause his giggling, and she couldn't help giving him a hint that she wasn't actually all that angry.

"Alright. I'm going to take a cold shower, now, thanks," she said, and she walked off towards the bathroom defiantly. She turned to look as she reached the door, satisfied to see them both looking back at her. She tilted her head down and gave them a smile before disappearing inside.