Sherlock brushed up against her from behind, hands on her shoulders, "Dr. Hooper," he whispered into her ear, trying to play innocent.

She closed her eyes and shivered; he knew that she couldn't ignore him when he was being like this with her. "Mr. Holmes?" she replied, trying to present irritation in her voice, but it was not with the utmost confidence she was hoping for. If there was one thing Molly was still terrible with, it was letting Sherlock get away with everything.

He stepped around her and was face to face with her now, holding her arms delicately. A new kind of tension was building as he lifted her chin up with his forefinger and caressed her cheek with his thumb; their faces were so close, lips almost touching.

Molly sucked in a quiet but sharp breath, trying to resist the cruelty of the consulting detective. The problem was that she didn't want to resist, she wanted to close the distance between their mouths, but that would not teach him a thing about the unneeded necessity of her always giving in to the emotionally spoiled detective.

Her stare moved from his lips to meet his cool, blue eyes, and she saw sincerity in his face before he even spoke. "You know that I do not purposely try to hurt your feelings." He said softly, gently caressing his thumb up and down her cheek, awaiting an acceptance.

She couldn't hold on to her frustration anymore, and she finally let her breath go, her eyes melting into his. "Mr. Holmes, if you forget again, you will die for real this time, and I will assure that myself. You say that you remove things from your memory to grant a spot for things that are necessary to remember. This is one of those things, so I suggest you make room," she said, tapping a finger to his temple, still holding her face close to his, not moving her head in the slightest.

Sherlock Holmes was not good with apologies, but Molly had gotten accustomed to his style of apologies. Sherlock's partner in crime, or should we say crime-solving, Dr. John Watson, had never heard words of apology escape his lips until a Christmas night that felt so long ago when he hurt poor Molly with his blunt deductions. That was an important moment that had changed their relationship, but nothing could compare to the change after the incidence with his Reichenbach fall.

Molly Hooper was the only one he could confide in when his arch enemy, James Moriarty, threatened him with an overdue fall; what Jim had called the "solution to the final problem." He spent almost two months taking shelter in Dr. Hooper's flat, hiding from the world to save the people closest to him. Although their relationship had grown much closer, his breaking point was when Moriarty's assistant had assaulted Molly once, and kidnapped her during a second assault, which she had willingly walked into to protect Sherlock. It was the first time Sherlock did not want something to deduce; he would have been perfectly fine being bored. Nothing could compare with the frustration he experienced trying to get her back, especially since the only purpose of this new assistant, was to make his presence known, placing himself as the new arch enemy of Sherlock.

Sherlock removed the small, painful distance between them to give her an innocent and, frankly, insufficient peck on the lips, pulling away quickly. "This is what people do on anniversaries, isn't it?"

He pulled out a carnation from behind his back and held it out to her. The mousy pathologist couldn't help but smile from ear to ear.

Molly took it and sniffed it. "It's wonderful," she admired, examining the beautiful floral sentiment.

After a moment she raised her head up, officially ready to disregard the argument he had made up for, "thank you, Sherlock."

As they walked out of the morgue, Sherlock hailed a cab for them. They both got in and were on their way home, contentedly silent.

Sherlock was looking out the window of his side while Molly silently admired the flower Sherlock brought her. It was so strange of her to think that over two years ago, he had been hiding out in her flat, and her self-conscious mind convinced her that the Sherlock "asexual married to his work" Holmes could find room in his heart for sentiment, especially sentiment for her. She was finally at a place in her life where she felt that she deserved it. Then again, she had done a lot for Sherlock, and she couldn't ask for more now that he was making her feel so happy.

She looked over at the detective and smiled, appreciating the qualities in his face that had attracted her from day one. The beautiful bone structure in his face, especially the prominent cheekbones, the pale skin, and the curly, dark hair that she loved to entangle her fingers in. As she remembered the intense times she had pulled his hair, she started to get a feeling besides admiration that settled deep into the pit of her stomach. She wanted him now.

She told herself to be patient, so she placed her hand on top of his and laced her small fingers with his long, boney ones, smiling at him when he turned his head to meet her gaze.

As they walked into the door of their flat, 221B Baker Street, she was trying to sort out a plan of action. She wanted tonight to be special between the two of them, she thought she deserved that since she had put up with being in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes for two years now, and felt he deserved it too, for making her happy.

She carefully watched him take off his jacket and new scarf she had given him as an anniversary gift, and waited for him to sit down, but he turned towards her and gave her a look. "You have not taken your eyes off of me since we were in the cab."

"And?" she said, smirking at him and trying to stifle a giggle.

He stared at her skeptically, trying to deduce what was running through her head. "You are up to something, Molly Hooper, I hope you don't think you can fool me," he said still questioning her; he tried to present a stern facade, hoping that would get him an answer quicker, but Molly still wanted to toy with him. It was strange how comfortable she had become with him, but she loved it and definitely did not question it; Sherlock loved it too, and it made it a lot easier for their relationship to flourish.

Molly wasn't shy anymore, with Sherlock at least; they had been through so much and she was very well passed that. She had waited so long for Sherlock, had done everything he had always asked for, and even let him take advantage of her access in Bart's morgue; but, this somehow made Sherlock realize how much she meant to him, and the not-so-sociopath married to his work found himself engaged to a pathologist and crime-solving had been demoted to just life work.

She walked up to him, her body very close, and she picked up one of his hands in hers, tracing her fingers along his boney knuckles, pulling his hand up and gently pressing her lips against his cool fingers. Then, she put his hand down gently by his side, but he laced his fingers with her, not letting her hand go. He looked at her, waiting, still unsure of what she was doing. The impatience was starting to edge out from him, "Molly," he said, expecting an answer. He didn't like surprises, but one of Molly's favourite things was to mess with him like this.

Molly lifted his hand up again and pressed it against her pulse on her neck, pressing her body close against his. He was looking at her hand pressing down his as things started to click; he could feel her pulse start to speed up and when his eyes met hers he could see they were dilated as she finally pressed her lips against his, looking for a more sufficient kiss than she had received at the morgue.

She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around his neck as he crushed his lips against her now for a more passionate kiss, void of all innocence this time around. He gently pushed her up against the wall, kissing just below her ear, waiting for the expected shiver to come from her. It hadn't taken long for Sherlock to find the spots of contact she loved the most. He brushed his lips gently against her skin as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck.

He began pushing Molly's shirt up when there was a knock at the door. "Sherlock dear!" yelled Mrs. Hudson through the door. "I was wondering if I could borrow some-"

"Not now, Mrs. Hudson, you can clean the flat tomorrow!" he said smirking. Sherlock didn't even bother to move closer to the door; his lips momentarily away from Molly's skin, and he was hoping that his comment would be enough to get her to scurry away.

"But, I'm not here to clean. I'm not your housekeeper!" she sighed. "Is Molly there with you?" she tried to ask, hoping she would receive a kinder response from her. This same conversation went on all of the time, and Molly had always been kind enough to open the door and give Mrs. Hudson whatever it was she needed.

Sherlock tried to ignore all she was saying, placing kisses along Molly's collarbone. Molly was giggling, trying to keep silent; she felt a little guilty that he was being inconsiderate to her, but it was not enough for her to want his attention diverted. He had moved down onto his knees, pushing her shirt up and trailing kisses up her stomach.

"Not now, Mrs. Hudson!" the usual Sherlock speech fell from Molly's mouth as she was trying not to laugh. "The flat doesn't need cleaning today," she giggled.

"Oh dear, no one ever listens to me!" Mrs. Hudson trailed off disconcerted.

Sherlock had stopped what he was doing, looking up at his fiancée. "Dr. Hooper," he said, unable to hide the shameless grin spread across his face; she could see him beaming with pride.

"I learned from the best," she whispered into his ear.

"I knew there was a reason that I am making you Dr. Holmes," he said, grinning.

Before Sherlock could return his lips to Molly's eager skin, she giggled again, and pushed Sherlock down onto his back on the floor, climbing on top of him and running her hands through his hair as she explored her mouth onto his, pressing kisses all over his face and neck, constantly returning to his lips.

He sat up with her straddling his waist, pushing her shirt further up and off of her while she worked her way down the buttons of his shirt, pushing his blazer and shirt off his shoulders as they fell to the ground. She let her hands explore the hard planes of his bright, pale chest, and then moved her attention back to his neck as she pushed her body closer up against his.

As they stood up, she undid his belt and rubbed her hand over his pants, smiling wide deviously when Sherlock let a quiet but uncontrollable groan escape from his lips. He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him, moving her lips intensely against his, and biting his lower lip. He made his way into the bedroom and placed her so she was sitting on the edge of the bed.

She finally undid his pants, sliding them down to his feet as he stepped out of them, still standing in front of her. She put her mouth around his hardness as she heard him inhale a sharp breath, beginning to breathe so unevenly. She let her mouth venture and pursed her lips tighter against him until he was breathing a lot heavier. He was getting lost in the amazing feeling she was giving him as she pulled her mouth away from his body.

He pushed her down onto her back and climbed up the bed so he was hovering over her, placing open mouthed kisses to her neck, making her whimper ever so softly. He kissed his way up to her mouth and then stopped, looking at her more gently now, enwrapping her in his blue-eyed gaze.

"My beautiful Molly Hooper," he said, finally breaking their gaze to place a soft kiss to her forehead, "it is your turn," he said, grinning wide as he quickly unclasped her bra with one hand, pulling it off, and pushing it onto the floor.

He kissed down her chest until he reached her breasts, sliding his tongue against her nipple and gently nibbling down on it, making Molly whimper frantically, already grabbing onto the bed sheets as he repeated the act with her other nipple. He continued by kissing down her stomach, making his way to her hip bone, placing gentle kisses along it as he placed her fingers around either side of the band of her pants and knickers and slid them down when she lifted her hips up, finally revealing her pure body to him.

She pulled him towards her as she crushed her lips on his again; he was lying on his side now as she wrapped one leg around his waist, rolling her hips against him, and making her breathe heavy when she realized how hard he was up against her thighs. He rubbed his hand on her thigh, slowly tracing his finger along her hip bone, inching it lower until he was rubbing his fingers against her most sensitive spot. She gasped as his fingers moved in a quicker motion, making her dig her nails into his skin as he took in the moans she made against his open mouth on hers.

As he rolled on top of her, she immediately locked her legs around his waist, impatiently waiting for him to enter her. She needed him now. He smirked as he rubbed the tip around her opening, making her moan, frustrated and frantic.

She has wrapped her hand around him, moving her hand in long, slow strokes to even the field. She couldn't let him torture her without giving a little payback. He gained the same level of impatient, waiting for her to move her hand away and when she did, he entered her, letting his whole length fill her with one single thrust, as she moved her hands into his hair, tugging gently as she kissed him passionately now, bucking her hips against him as they found a common rhythm. He sped up the pace as her moans became louder, getting into dangerous neighbor-hearing territory. She was not alone in her noises through, his thrusts became deeper and harder into her; she became wetter and tighter around him, making him grunt and groan, his breathing heavy and out of control.

As his pace quickened, Molly was on the brink of orgasm, pulling his hair tight as she moaned his name. She became so tight that only a few more thrusts were enough to send him over the edge, collapsing next to her on the bed.

She left her hands tangled in his hair, shivering and shaking as they both stared into each other's eyes. He kept his hand on her waist as he continued to remain close to her, placing gentle, tired kisses along her neck and found his way to her lips.

She kissed him mindlessly, but lovingly, her brain turned into mush, and fatigue was beginning to overtake her. She cuddled up against his chest and tangled her legs in his as he held her against him. "I love you, Dr. Hooper," he whispered, kissing the top of her head as she was dozing off.

"I love you too, Mr. Holmes," she replied, nestling her face against the crook of his neck as they fell asleep together.