MIDNIGHT SNACK

15 March 2017

A/N: I saw a post the other day about fighting ship/fandom wank with, well, wank!lock. It was also Pi Day yesterday, so there's pie in this fic.

This is really just kinda smutty crack that my brain just won't let go until I've written it.

This is dedicated to all Sherlollians on the second monthsary of the 'I love you' scene. Hope y'all like this one!

I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.

Molly's stomach rumbled as she left her bedroom. She glanced at her floral dressing gown, which hung loosely over her nude body, and, after half a moment's thought, chose not to wrap the robe around her for the sake of modesty. I'm home alone, she reasoned. The blinds are pulled down and the curtains are drawn. Nobody's gonna see me naked. Sauntering towards the stairs, she rolled her eyes at the voice in her head reminding her that Sherlock considered her bedroom his favourite bolthole. Sherlock is in Rome for a case. Even if he were here, he'd text me first if he needed his bolthole and he would have gone straight to my bedroom. She smirked. Though I'd have loved to see the look on his face if he did and saw what I was up to in bed.

Upon reaching the bottom step, she began singing the Ed Sheeran song that had been stuck in her head for the past 24 hours. She was pretty sure that she mangled the lyrics and the tune, but she just did not care. She enjoyed singing, and she was not disturbing her neighbours. Sherlock, who had heard her sing a few times, even told her once that she had a fine voice. And nobody had ever complained about her occasional late-night singing. "Perks of being single and owning a detached house," she muttered to herself as she switched the light on and then pulled the refrigerator door open.

Taking the Tupperware container with the green lid out of the fridge, she pushed the door closed with her elbow and brought it to the worktop. She plated a slice of key lime pie, put the container back in the fridge, and took a fork from the drawer before walking out of the kitchen.

But, as she reached for the light switch, she glanced at the sitting room and froze. Her eyes widened and her heart raced at the sight of the figure sitting on her two-seater sofa with their back on her. Shit.

The dark curls, sharp cheekbones, and pale neck were unmistakeable though. Her guest sat stock-still, probably in buffering mode as he was wont to do when he freaked out about emotions. He flexed his long fingers as he raised them to his Cupid's bow lips. He quickly lowered them and took a deep breath, as if he sensed that she was standing behind him and he was waiting for her to make a move.

Her cheeks burning, she set her plate down on the breakfast bar and wrapped her dressing gown around her naked body. She tied the belt as tightly as she could to make sure that her robe properly covered her breasts and genitals. Clearing her throat, she picked up her plate again and approached him.

"That was a quick case." She was proud of herself for keeping her voice steady despite her red cheeks and elevated pulse. She was sure, though, that he could hear her heartbeat and feel the spike in her body heat. "Didn't you leave for Rome just two days ago?"

He blinked and turned to look up at her. She would have giggled at his wide eyes and flushed cheeks, but she did not want to upset him.

"You…" He swallowed hard. "Y-you were… masturbating," he whispered, as if it were something that he would rather not share with the shadows around her sitting room.

She immediately squashed the embarrassment and shame that had risen up in her. I am a beautiful, accomplished single woman. And it's my house. Why should I be ashamed that he caught me wanking? "Heard the vibrator, did you?" she replied with a small smirk.

"Y-you…" His Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "You… screamed… my name."

Of course he heard that. She was fantasising about him—like she usually did—as she thrust three fingers in and out of her and increased the vibration on her clit. In her mind, he was gazing up at her with so much love and lust in his eyes while he sucked on her clit and crooked his long fingers inside her. The exquisite sensations of his talented tongue on her engorged nub, his fingers pressing deeply into her G spot, and his other fingers tugging at her taut nipples in her fantasy finally triggered her climax. The orgasm was so intense that she could not help but shout his name. She was thankful that her house was detached from her neighbours' homes, or Mrs Bradley would slut-shame her with a look when they saw each other at Tesco later.

"It was a mind-blowing orgasm. Thanks for that, by the way." Her stomach rumbled again, which prompted her to look down. Oh. She let out a soft gasp when her gaze landed on the prominent bulge in his bespoke trousers.

She felt a surge of pride in her chest at the sight of his bulge. Unlike their male friends, she had never believed the rumours that he was a virgin. Judging from the number of porn sites bookmarked on his laptop (which she accidentally found when he asked her to work a case with him right after Mary gave birth) and the fact that he identified Ms Adler from her body instead of her face, she suspected that either he repressed his sexual urges to be a better detective or he was incredibly selective when it came to his sexual partners. Regardless, if he arrived while she was masturbating, then he must have heard the sounds she made, her vibrator, or both. He was probably imagining how she pleasured herself. And it made him hard, which aroused her as well. But she only smirked to herself and waited for him to say or do something. Although it was difficult to ignore the stirrings of desire in her belly, she would rather not scare him off by pushing him before he was ready.

He blinked again. "No problem?" he replied in an uncertain tone, which nearly made her laugh. He glanced at the plate in her hand. "That made you hungry?"

"Super intense orgasms usually do."

He said nothing and just stared up at her.

She took a deep breath. Oh, what the hell. "Look, I'm bringing this up to my room. You're welcome to join me if you want me to help you with that," she offered, tilting her head towards his groin. "Or you can stay here and buffer or have a wank yourself. I'm not going to hold it against you. If you don't follow me upstairs within the next two minutes, I'm eating this and then I'm going to bed. So please decide quickly." She turned round and made her way towards the stairs. "Oh, don't forget to switch off the light if you do choose to follow me."

She had just sat down on her bed when she heard his hurrying footsteps on the stairs. Laughing, she shrugged off her dressing gown and flung it onto the bench at the foot of her bed before setting the plate on her naked lap. She grinned at him when he burst into her room a few seconds later. "Hi."

The buffering face was gone, and his lustful gaze fuelled her desire. He gave her a smug smile and began unbuttoning his purple shirt. "Hi." His voice was thick with arousal.

She took a bite of her midnight snack and watched him undress. "Want some pie?"

"Later," he replied, shaking his head. "When we're done." He slid his silk boxers down his legs and threw it to the floor before stalking towards her, his long and thick erection making her salivate. He took the plate from her lap, inhaling sharply when he saw her bare vulva, and set it on the bedside table. "I want to taste you first," he said, his voice dropping several octaves, before he kissed her. "Then I'm going to give you more intense orgasms."

Sherlock did text Molly, but her mobile was on silent and she was too focused on her fantasy to see it.

I hope Molly doesn't seem too OOC. *shrugs*

So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?