Stranger: Molly then pecked his lips, she got up and went into the lounge. Before she picked up her laptop and brought it through into her room, sitting down beside him and logging into her user, going onto the internet.
You: "How isn't she feeling pain from that?" Sherlock's eyes widened in horror as Molly showed him what could have been described as the essence of the Internet, "these gentleman are making me feel rather inadequate, I can't believe how- my goodness how is she managing to fit that entire cucumber into her mouth that easily?" "It comes with experience," Molly replied, her face reddening as he raised an amused eyebrow of inquiry. "I can certainly see the appeal of being able to eat your vegetables that quickly," he remarked, watching another women shoving an assortment of phallic agricultural goods down her oesophagus, "I could never stand the taste of sprouts for very long."
Stranger: Molly giggled and shook her head. She then cleared her throat. "We should erm...probably get onto the more serious stuff. What do you want to look up?"
You: "The prevention of sexually transmitted diseases," Sherlock replied automatically, "it was always the main topic of sexual education of school and I always left when they started putting condoms on bananas."
Stranger: She smirked and closed her laptop. "Well, the way to stop STD's is to just put a condom on" Molly explained. "That way it doesn't actually go into the woman, and cause any STD's"
You: "Oh," Sherlock had the epiphany he should have had several years ago, "I see." He looked around uncomfortably. "I'd hate to be rude and insinuate something you're not... but I don't have one myself. Would you happen to have...?" He trailed off fumblingly, turning his attention to the list of STD's that Molly had opened a website to.
Stranger: Molly raised an eyebrow, watching him as he started to look at the website, nervously chewing on her bottom lip. "Happen to have what?"
You: Sherlock tapped quickly onto the search bar and opened up a video of someone rolling on a condom onto a banana. "I knew there had to be a video of it somewhere," he suddenly laughed, "it's such an unspoken universal method of teaching children how to apply them I would've been surprised if there wasn't a thousand variations of it."
Stranger: She smirked and shook her head. Molly then leant back against her headboard. "So, do you want to know how to put a condom on? Is that it?"
You: "I know how to use a sock," Sherlock looked nervously away, "I wouldn't expect it to have any different mechanics than that.”
Stranger: Molly nodded slowly. "Well, socks aren't exactly the same thing...but I suppose that they are similar"
You: 'The idea of putting on socks has been ruined entirely for me with that analogy,' thought Sherlock, grimacing as he realised what he had said. Usually his thought processes were a lot more coordinated, but he supposed he did have quite a bit of a distraction looming over his lateral mind. He definitely didn't have contraceptives, for he never foresaw the possibility of needing them anymore than one would need an emergency balloon for a surprise children's party. Molly may have kept them around when she was in her speed-dating phase, but he didn't want to offend her by asking if she maintain possession over such vulgar material. He cleared his throat, "I don't think people have used prophylactics made out of fibrous material since the medieval period though."
Stranger: She chuckled and smiled, looking down at her feet. "Yeah, probably not. I don't think they really had any form of contraception or protection back then" Molly replied. Before she shook her head, as this conversation seemed to be getting weird. She then checked the time on her clock on the beside table. "Anyways erm, we should...probably try and sleep" she said with a small smile. "Unless there's anything you have in mind that you want to do?"
You: "Nothing that I would try without your consent," Sherlock wondered if Molly's extensive age had finally caused her unusually active libido to finally be exhausted, "though some of the Internet videos seemed to be a little more open-minded on that front." Molly's desire to sleep at nine in the evening was but after all only a stronger indication of her approach to middle-agedness. Surely with their similar ages he shouldn't be more eager to fulfil his desires than she was, especially with his lack of knowing what fulfilling his desires actually felt like. He wondered how he could put it in a more delicate way, an unnecessary action for a person who may have already had an impressive lexicon of suggestive language in her mind. "I wasn't completely honest with you earlier," Sherlock sat on the bed, removing his jacket, "I do sleep naked. Much more liberating for REM cycles." Molly giggled, "So I suppose your story about the exploding eyeballs wasn't true then?" Sherlock began undoing his top shirt button, "oh no, every word of that is utter truth. I remember because the shower couldn't completely rinse the seared oblique muscles of that corpse's pupils out of my hair."
Stranger: Molly cringed and made a face, before she giggled again and shook her head. "Mmm, sounds delightful" she teased, tucking some of her hair behind some of her ears. She then put her laptop on the floor, and sat up properly, turning to face. "But really, what do you want to try in this relationship? I'm open to most things...but there are some things that I am against doing"
You: "Oh? Like what?" Sherlock paused on the third button, "I was only inferring from the generally unclothed nature of the people in the videos that convention had it that I remove my own before attempting the same activity." He shifted closer to Molly. "Was I wrong to assume such brash behaviour was acceptable in your presence?" He grinned, playfully fidgeting with the dangling threads of her gradually unravelling blouse.
Stranger: She smiled a little, blushing as she looked down at his hand. "Well erm..." Molly paused to clear her throat. "I'm against bondage kind of things. Like blindfolding one another, and tying each other up. But that's it really"
You: "Fair enough," Sherlock nodded, "I suppose years of forcing lifeless bodies to contort themselves into impossible positions and undressing them against their will must add something to that." He realised he'd run out of buttons to unfasten and paused hesitantly, clasping his hands across his stomach and leaning back against the headrest of the bed. "Would be against your will to disrobe yourself as well? I'd just feel a little self-conscious if I were the only one getting undressed in another's bed," he looked up at the bemused Molly who had been watching his movements throughout the unbuttoning process.
Stranger: Molly's eyes widened a little. She then shifted a little, hugging her knees to her chest. "If you want me too. But you really don't want to see my body, like you've said about me before...I've got small breasts. And I'm kind of...actually a bit self conscious about myself" she told him with a nervous smile.
You: "That's fine, I've got small breasts as well," Sherlock joked, attempting to ease Molly's state of mind, "if you like, we could turn off the lights and we wouldn't have to see each other's bodies. I know you'd be calling up the hospital for weight gaining medication if you saw the stick-like silhouette that I have as a physical embodiment."
Stranger: She giggled and smiled. "No, its okay. We're going to end up seeing each others bodies at some point, anyways aren't we?" Molly asked as she got up off the bed, undoing the tie on her blouse.
You: "Unless one of them develops some form of early on-set cataracts," Sherlock pointed out unhelpfully, oblivious to Molly's facial expression of exasperated affection that lasted briefly. He undid the buckle on his trousers, timing his process along with hers so they removed each larger article of clothing at the same time. Molly broke eye contact shyly as she bared her chest, sidling into the bed next to him and holding the sheets up to her neck. "Uhm," an accidental noise escaped Sherlock's throat as he suddenly felt his blood rush in the opposite direction as he usually expected it to, slowly crossing his legs and angling himself in such a way that Molly was only noticing his discomfort more.
Stranger: Molly smirked and looked over at him. "Have I made you have an erection?" she asked softly as she rolled over onto her side, shifting the duvet so that it was bit lower down, but still covered up her chest. Before she propped herself up on her elbow, watching him.
You: "N-no," Sherlock no longer had any blood left in his system to blush from embarrassment. He attempted to hide the bulge under the duvet by drawing his knees closer to himself, slouching forwards to hide the evidence.
Stranger: She giggled and grinned. "It doesn't matter if you have". Molly then moved part of the duvet away from him and cuddled up. "I'm sure that it'll die down soon. Or if it gets too painful then one of us can sort it out"
You: "Painful? Is it supposed to hurt? Does it usually hurt?" Sherlock let forth a torrent of worried questions as his member was abruptly cast into the light by Molly's rearranging of the sheets. He scratched the back of his neck nervously as Molly wrapped her arms around his chest, feeling her bosom press against his skin. 'Anti-viagra could not be invented sooner,' he thought, feeling Molly's leg briefly rub against his crotch as she held him closer. He made a mental note to jot that idea down some time later as it might become a useful alternative to duct taping a urethra to the nearest thigh bone.
Stranger: Molly rolled her eyes and kissed her cheek. "Well, apparently it can hurt if you leave it erect for too long" she explained. "Then you have to relieve it some way, so that it stops hurting" she said in answer to his question. She then nuzzled her face into his neck, kissing his cheek. "Anyways, hold me please so that we can go to sleep" she requested.
You: Sherlock put his arm around Molly's shoulder, keeping the other rigidly by his side and hoping that 'it' would go away as long as he didn't touch it. 'This is the spooning problem again,' he couldn't help thinking as Molly caressed his face gently while lying on his outstretched arm, 'in about fifteen minutes my hand is going to get pins and needles and I can’t do anything about it because there's no blood flow anywhere else.' He shimmied his arm under Molly's head and held her against his collarbone correctively, turning his body away from her as he understood most women would dislike being poked by erect male genitalia in the middle of the night. "I hope I'm holding you in a comfortable enough manner to lull you into a slumber," Sherlock patted her shoulder twice, stiffening as she suddenly brought her body towards his back and nuzzled his scruff.
Stranger: She giggled and hummed, closing her eyes. "Mmm, you are". Molly then paused when he tensed up and moved her hand a little, trying to find somewhere to put it which they would both be comfortable with. "But if you want me to move or something, then just tell me" she said honestly as she moved her other hand, brushing an errant curl out of his face. "Goodnight Sherlock"
You: "Good night Molly," Sherlock settled down into the bed, decidedly folding his legs over each other to lessen any distractions for a night of REM sleep.
Stranger: When Molly woke up the next morning, she rolled over onto her front, pulling one of the pillows closer to her head. She then looked over at Sherlock and moved onto her right side to face him, gently brushing her fingers over his cheek.
You: "AHH!" yelled Sherlock, waking up with a start and twisting around in the sheets with his outstretched fists. Clearly he was expecting the mattress to be longer than it was, as he promptly fell off the edge in a tangled heap. "What's hap- where am I?" He continued tussling with the sheets on the carpeted floor, leaving Molly to shield herself with a couple of pillows as the sheet's coverage had been abruptly snatched for her. "Molly?" Sherlock appeared from the pile of cloth, his hair strewn across his face which was permanently arranged into a state of shock.
Stranger: She blushed and managed to cover most of her body up. Molly then smiled faintly, giving him a small wave, holding the cushions with her other hand. "Hey. Are you...are you okay?" she asked as she flicked her eyes over him, carefully shuffling over towards the edge of the bed, trying her best not to flash too much skin.
You: A floodgate of last night's events opened and Sherlock suddenly snapped out of his sleep-induced confusion. "Uh, yes." He became conscious of his indecency and slowly draped the bedsheets over himself in a manner he consider more modest. "Apologies for my outburst. I don't tend to expect waking up next to anyone, let alone in the same bed," he started hunting for his clothes on the untidy floor, taking great care to not let his bed sheet toga fall at any cost.
Stranger: Molly smiled and moved back onto the bed properly. She then sat the cushions in her lap, deciding to let her long hair cover her chest up instead. "Sherlock, you know...you don't have to cover up. I've seen most of your body before...well...your chest" she stammered, her cheeks slowly going scarlet.
You: Sherlock cocked an eyebrow, remembering the time Molly had been part of the medical team who helped nurse him back to health after his torturous stint in Russia carrying out Mycroft's unwanted 'legwork'. Even then she had been nothing but professional, tending to his wounds from running through the barbed forests (and being whipped mercilessly by the wardens in prisoner holding cells) deftly. She hadn't really seen his chest, because there were so many blood clots and wadded up foliage that it would have been near impossible to have gained any sort of pleasing mental picture from remembering it. Sherlock shrugged and continued elusively obscuring his torso, "I prefer to maintain a wise man sort of look whenever I'm not dressed. It helps reassure my intelligence," he flamboyantly threw the sheet over his shoulder and tossed the bottom half around his waist, recreating his crude attire during his attendance at Buckingham Palace.
Stranger: She giggled and rolled her eyes fondly. Molly the licked her lips, before biting down on her bottom lip. Once she'd flicked her eyes over the part of his body that was exposed to her, she moved to sit on the end of the bed. "Drop it completely and I'll remove the pillows that are covering my body. Deal?"
You: Sherlock fixed her with a look of incredulity at her unexpected friskiness, using his apparent bewilderment as an excuse to quickly check that he bore no evidence of the predicament he found his nether regions in the previous night. He shifted his legs momentarily, breathing an internal sigh of relief as his hopes had been fulfilled. "I don't see why I have to be the one making the transaction first," he allowed the sheets to slide off his shoulders and swiftly turned on his heel just as they disappeared past his waist. "Your turn," he said cheekily.
Stranger: Molly smiled and then moved the pillows off of her body, putting them back in their normal place. She then turned to face him and raised an eyebrow as she waited for him to say something, her eyes briefly roaming over her body, which made her heart beat a little bit faster.
You: "I can hear your pulse through the carpet," laughed Sherlock, brushing past Molly as he opened her bedroom door, "shall I put breakfast on? You must be starving since you haven't had anything to eat in ten hours." He made his way through the hallway, taking care to inspect every crack in the window blinds and curtains just in case her darkened apartment wasn't quite opaque to the outside. "I believe they call this the morning after," he called from kitchen, boiling kettle sounds and a toaster being set at a time emanating along with his voice, "though it's not quite as unpleasant as the Internet seems to believe it to be."
Stranger: She pouted and sat up. "The morning after? We haven't even had sex yet!" Molly called as he made his way into the kitchen. The pathologist then pouted and got off the bed, pulling the sheet back onto it. She then wrapped herself up in it, and nuzzled her nose into the soft fabric, inhaling Sherlock's heavenly scent.
You: "We slept together naked in the same bed, and are continuing our dress code even after the night's rest," Sherlock's amused reply came along with the sounds of sizzling bacon fat, "surely that must count for something?"
Stranger: Molly hummed. "I suppose so. But usually, they call it 'the morning after', because the previous night was when sex occurred. So then the couple wake up naked, after having sex" she explained.
You: Sherlock's dishevelled head popped around the doorframe. "Well what we did was much better. Imagine the potential mess we would have to clean up if we did end up spewing bodily fluids over your sheets," he retreated back to the kitchen, leaving Molly in a state of humoured stupefaction as she realised Sherlock had put on a flowery apron the wrong way round, draping it across his back like a cape. "Tea or coffee?" asked Sherlock loudly as the kettle came to a boil.
Stranger: She rubbed at her face and giggled. "Coffee please" Molly called. Before she got up and put her dressing gown on. She then went into the kitchen and took the apron off of him. "Turn around to face me so that I can put it on you properly"
You: Sherlock rolled his eyes as she dressed him in the apron snugly, turning around to attend to the bacon and eggs. "You do realise it doesn't help because my arse is still fully exposed?" He reached over for some utensils in the dish rack, giving Molly an even better view of the parts that he had just called her attention to.
Stranger: Molly politely flicked her eyes away, pulling her dressing gown tighter around herself. "I do realise that, yes. But its a very nice bum" she complimented with a cheeky grin.
You: Sherlock amusedly bobbed up and down as he wiped the dishes clean, ladling out a generous helping of a full English breakfast onto the plates. "I hope you don't mind the bum print I'll leave on your seats then," he said, folding over the bottom half of the apron under his posterior just in case she did. Being semi-nude wasn't uncomfortable for him; after all, he'd been choppered into a highly-secured household of royalty dressed in his sheets. However, this was a different consciousness he was experiencing, thinly-dressed people enjoying a private meal together after having spent a revealing, but otherwise inexplicit night together.
Stranger: She shook her head and sat down at the table after pecking his lips. Molly then pulled her chair in, and rubbed her foot against his leg. "I don't mind at all. I have a very gorgeous boyfriend, so I'm not fazed at all" she told him honestly, before she teasingly winked at him and started to eat her breakfast.
You: Sherlock made a face of disbelief at being called gorgeous, quickly dismissing it and hastening his breakfast consumption. The quicker he got dressed the better, he felt. Always good to leave some mystery in a relationship, rather than settling into the fluffy dressing gowns and flowery aprons of a long-term marriage. "Do you have to be anywhere today?" He asked, rhythmically chattering into a strip of bacon.
Stranger: Molly swallowed the food in her mouth, before she smiled and shook her head. "No, not at all. I've got the day off today, as Mike is sick. So I'm not working tonight either" she replied as she cut up some of her bacon as well. "What about you?"
You: "I was planning to revisit some of the homeless network to get an update on the various newspaper hawkers situated around London," Sherlock gulped down a fried egg and polished his plate off with the remaining slice of bread, "I suspect one of them might be closely related to the disappearance of a young child three years ago." However, his overall serious tone was shattered the moment he stood up in the apron and walked bare-buttocked back to Molly's bedroom, amusing the pathologist greatly. Sherlock cast aside the apron, re-dressing himself in the previous day's outfit of a now slightly crumpled suit. He hadn't really planned to refresh his knowledge on the occurrences around London; he was just anxious to leave the increasing homely flat of Molly Hooper. "I never realised how great a view my bedroom had," Molly voice startled him just as he found his trousers, causing him to trip over the legs and present his shorts-covered behind once more. "Molly, for goodness' sakes," Sherlock struggled with the rest of his clothes, "I will be quite busy today and the last thing I need is the distraction of knowing someone will be picturing my rear end during their entire day off."
Stranger: She tensed up and bit her lip. Molly then sighed and flicked her eyes away, before she moved over to her bedside drawer to get some underwear out. "I'm sorry" she apologised as she laid her underwear out on the bed. The pathologist then fell quiet as she proceeded to get some clothes out of the wardrobe. "I guess I...might see you later or something, when you're not busy" she said sadly.
You: Sherlock hesitated. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep his 'normal-person' facade for any longer, but he didn't want to upset Molly and dash their newly-conceived relationship on the rocks of his apparent apathy. He must do something dramatic, something that would most undoubtedly convey his unyielding affection for her, something that would cause him to spend days rocking back and forth in a corner of his flat having traumatic visions about until Mrs Hudson called the local police department to break down his door and force feed him some bread and water (again). He took a deep breath, stepped forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Molly, holding her shell-shocked body for a full seven seconds before breaking apart. Sherlock teetered on his heels nervously, hoping he had managed to explain his situation without the use of verbal expression.
Stranger: Molly furrowed her brow, not sure what to say. She then just sighed and shook her head. "Right, well erm...I'll let you go and let you get on with your work. I don't want to get in your way" she replied, before she picked up her underwear and headed into the bathroom to go and have a shower.
You: Letting out a deep exhale of resignation, Sherlock knew he hadn't been entirely successful in his attempt. He decided to assume his general air of false indifference once more, though there was just one little thing he wanted to do before he did:
"Let's have lunch - SH" Molly read off the little rectangular card buried under weeks of junk mail several months later.