How to Play a Game Called Murder

Chapter 18: The Heart of the Matter

They exited the pub out into the cold night air.

After goodbyes, (during which Greg hugged Molly a little too long and John ‘accidentally’ elbowed him in the ribs while winking at Sherlock,) John and Greg elected to share a cab, as they had further to go than Sherlock and Molly.

Sherlock had to talk himself out of punching the detective inspector; thankfully, he was buzzed but not that far gone. This had nothing on stag night. He’d purposefully stopped drinking before the others, not wanting to repeat that night’s events. He hated loss of control, especially when he lost control over his mind. If he couldn’t be brilliant, what good was he? Besides, he didn’t want to become too aggressive in front of Molly. He knew from experience that he could be rather belligerent when highly intoxicated and he’d rather not kill anyone with Molly standing nearby.

Molly waved goodbye at the cab and turned to Sherlock with a crooked grin. Her eyes were bright and Sherlock was pleased to see the flush that began in her cheeks and spread down her neck to her chest. Looking away self-consciously, she tugged her coat around her, and began to trudge down the sidewalk in the direction of Baker Street. Sherlock followed her, supporting her with a hand on her back when she stumbled while wondering exactly how to get from point A to point B; those points being A, Molly being attracted to him, and B, him being able to act on that attraction and her being receptive to it.

He was contemplating how to bring his plans to fruition, when they passed a dimly lit side street and he was struck with sudden inspiration. He reached out and grabbed her hand, stopping her and causing her glance back at him, puzzled. He grinned at her mischievously, putting a finger to his lips in the ‘shhh’ motion, and was rewarded with the sight of her pupils dilating after a quick peek at the obscure street. He led her down into the alley, intertwining his fingers with hers. He could still feel the alcohol coursing through him a sly glance at her told him that she was still feeling its effects as well.

Sherlock stopped sharply and yanked on her hand, drawing her close. He noted with pride that she didn’t cry out, merely gasping in surprise at the sudden movement, her eyes as big a saucers. He crushed her to him, staring down at her; their panted breath visible in the cold night air, the playful mood from moments ago, vanishing. His gaze flicked over her face; pupils dilated, lips parted, cheeks flushed, before he leaned over, slowly, deliberately, and met her lips with his own. She froze for a moment but he didn’t stop, feeling her uncertainty through the movements of her hands in the air by his side. Abruptly, she broke away and glared up at him, attempting to push him away.

“Sherlock, what are you doing?!” He didn’t respond, simply lowering his lips to her neck and kissing the soft skin there, praying to every deity that he didn’t believe in that she would give in to the desire that was coursing through his veins, stronger than any drug.

He felt her tiny but strong hands on his chest, pushing harder now, and he let go of her, taking a step back but staying close to her warmth. His brow furrowed in confusion.

“What’s wrong? You are exhibiting several signs of arousal and have each time I have kissed you. What are you so afraid of?”

She shook her head at him, her breath still quick. “You. I’m afraid of you, Sherlock.”

He inhaled sharply, the cold air cutting his lungs. A feeling of misery and guilt churned in his gut as he gaped at her, a wounded expression etched on his face.

“Molly, how could you fear me? I would never hurt you.”

Molly frowned at him, tears in her eyes. “You would never hurt me?” she cried out, incredulously. “You hurt me all the time. I’ve loved you for so long and you are always so cruel. Always.”

Sherlock watched her helplessly as she put a hand to her mouth, trapping in a sob.

“I know you, Sherlock. You’ll get tired of me. You’ll get bored. I’m scared to give you my heart because you’ll damage it.”

He reached for her, wiping a tear from her cheek with his thumb and settling his hand on her jaw. She didn’t push him away and he took a deep breath, (sparing a moment of gratitude for the alcohol that made her bold enough to finally have this conversation,) before answering her.

“I might. I might hurt you, Molly. But so could any other man. I can only promise you that I will do my very best not to. The last thing I want to do is hurt you. I want to protect you. I want to keep you safe, here with me.”  

She let out a bitter laugh, pulling away, casting her eyes to the ground as she wrapped her arms around herself in a defensive maneuver. “The thing I need protection from is you.”

He spontaneously recoiled as if she had struck him. “No, Molly, no. Don’t ever say that. Please, don’t ever say that.” Sherlock trapped her jaw with his index finger and thumb, pulling her face up to meet his gaze, imploring her with everything in him to see how much he cared for her. “Look at me. Molly, you want this as much as I do.”

She shook her head at him, breaking his hold, angry tears in her eyes. “No, no, I’m over you. I’ve moved on. You,” her lip trembled and he had to resist the urge to grab her and kiss her to stop the quivering. “You don’t own me anymore, Sherlock.”

He stared at her a moment with fire in his eyes before the decision was made and he grabbed her again, shoving her against the wall and pinning her there with his body. He growled softly.

“Yes, I do.”

He captured her mouth with his, claiming her with his kiss. She feebly pushed at him but he was insistent, his tongue darting out to lick at her bottom lip, seeking entrance.

She finally broke and opened for him, reciprocating his intoxicating kiss.

His hands went down to clasp her hips tight enough to leave fingerprints.

“Say it, Molly,” he growled out, breaking the kiss and leaning his forehead against hers. She stared up at him with a puzzled expression, her eyes dazed with lust. “Say it!” he snapped and saw understanding dawn on her.

“I’m yours,” Molly mumbled softly, sounding very conflicted and a little ashamed of herself.

“Louder.” Sherlock started nipping the skin of her neck just above her pulse point. Molly gasped and repeated herself, with a bit more volume but it wasn’t enough for Sherlock. “Louder, Molly!” he commanded. He dipped his hands down to just under where her skirt ended and stroked the soft flesh of her inner thigh, still kissing on the junction of her neck and shoulder.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head so Sherlock retaliated by moving his hand under her skirt and sucking a mark into her neck. She swayed and he steadied her before pulling back completely letting go of her.

“Say it, Molly. Say that you are mine,” he insisted vehemently. She chewed on her bottom lip, unsure, and turned to walk away. Sherlock caught up with her in two strides and grabbed her hand, pulling her forcibly back into his embrace. He kissed her roughly, biting her lips and plundering her mouth with his tongue.

Before he knew it, Sherlock had Molly held against the wall again, his hands grabbing at the backs of her thighs as she wrapped her legs around him, their lips still locked. He ground his growing erection against her core, eliciting a moan of pleasure from the petite woman. He could feel the dam she had built up breaking as she eagerly clutched him to her. He pulled back and latched onto the mark he had previously left on her neck, making it darker.

“Say it!” He demanded and she finally acquiesced. “I’m yours, Sherlock! Only yours! Please!” Her voice was low and hoarse with need. He grinned against her skin triumphantly.

“Yes,” he breathed, still peppering her neck with soft caresses.

 And I’m yours.

He didn’t say it out loud but that didn’t make it any less true. Sherlock melted into Molly, devouring her with hungry kisses. He pressed against her, feeling her warm body molding against his.

She whimpered covetously against his mouth and the sound jolted him back to reality. The ache for her was overwhelming him. Sherlock drew back, noting her dazed expression with pride. He held his hand out to her and Molly took it after a moment, letting him lead her out the other side of the alley and quickly down the block towards the flat.