A/N: This is for the birthday of the wonderful Nocturnias/sherlolly. You are an inspiration and an awesome writer and I want to thank you this way for everything you do for the sherlolly-fandom. You make this a wonderful place and your stories let my dreams run wild. Also a big thank you for all your hard work for the SAMFA's, which brings our little community together even more.

I tried to write something deep and meaningful for you. Language barrier and pre-adolescent Disney-overload made it suck, so I gave up on that. Next thing I tried was smut, but that wasn't good enough, eitherl. In the end, this is the only thing I could finish. I dearly hope you like it. In any case, I meant well. ;) Anyway, happy birthday! :)

„Aren't you warm in your coat, Sherlock?"

The great consulting detective only threw Molly a glance and raised his eyebrow as they walked down the street, she happily licking her ice cream. Sherlock quickly averted his eyes as her tongue darted out and caught a running droplet of vanilla ice cream, his mind torturing him with images of a very sexual nature.

He cleared his throat and placed a hand on the small of her back, guiding her into the right direction, pointing at the cute little restaurant.

"'Angelo's'? Isn't that your all time favorite place? Wow, I feel so honored."

She grinned up at him before she licked off a bit of ice cream from the corner of her lips and Sherlock looked away again. It was like she was doing this on purpose, he thought angrily as he walked next to her across the street.

Gone was the shy woman with the big eyes and the annyoing stammer. Ever since the fall, more precisely since the day he had officially returned to the world, Molly had brushed off her shyness and had shown him how she really was, clever, attentive, caring, loyal and with a morbid sense of humor. Of course Sherlock had known all that, but he had misjudged the intensity of these characteristics.

In this year and a half Sherlock had been back, things between them had changed. He couldn't put a finger on the exact moment his feelings for the pathologist had changed, but they definitely had. Their weekly dinners most probably had something to do with it.

Originally, it had meant to be a onetime thing, a thank you for everything she had done for him. But she had had so much fun – well, both of them did– that he had found himself in a restaurant the very next week, sitting opposite of her and watching her eat.
After those first couple of dinners, the 43 muscles that Sherlock needed to smile always had been sore the next day. But it got easier over time and when he had heard himself laugh for the first time in months during one of those evenings, he hadn't been too shocked by it.

Yes, Molly Hooper had managed to sneak into his heart. Since a couple of weeks, he could hardly think of anything else when he wasn't on a case.

Oh, he had tried to fight it at first.

He had stopped answering her texts and hadn't opened the door when he knew she was standing behind it. The hardest thing had been to stay away from St. Bart's. Seeing her work or working next to her in silence had always calmed in down and without that he had been a wreck within the two weeks, annoying everyone around him.

When Molly had stopped trying to get in contact with him, things had gotten even worse.

Sherlock had forced John to examine him, because he had been convinced that something had been wrong with his heart, having and unpleasent tight feeling in his chest constantly.

After some debating, John had agreed with an unnerved sigh and had listened to his heart for a minute before he had pulled out his pad, wrote him a prescription and handed it to Sherlock:

- Find Molly

- Beg her forgiveness

- Confess your LOVE

- Snog her senseless. Three times a day

Sherlock had reread the doctor's orders multiple times and when he had finally looked up, thinking he had mastered enough strength to insist that he was indeed NOT in love with Molly Hooper, John had been gone.

After some contemplation – two days straight thinking, sorting his mind palace and finding traces of her everywhere – he had come to the conclusion that John had been right and had finally accepted that he indeed loved Molly, that being away from her was what had caused the pain in his chest.

If John hadn't stopped him that day, Sherlock would have run out on the street only wearing his pyjamas.

He had taken a cab to Molly's flat and had rushed up the stairs, banging against her door. She had opened a minute later and – to his utter surprise – had smiled at him.

"You're still alive, then."

His heart had fluttered at her light tone.

"Yes."

"Good. Would you like to come in? I'm making dinner."

"Yes!"

He had almost shouted that second yes and Molly had giggled as she had stepped to the side to let him in. He had sat at her kitchen table and had watched how she moved around the kitchen, smiling over to him once in a while and Sherlock had thought that – with her hair open and only wearing black sweatpants and an oversized shirt of her uni – she had never looked more beautiful.

Still, he hadn't confessed his feelings for her that day. Her not being mad at all had thrown him off so much that he had been too confused to go through with it.

But he had tried to do it every week since then, always failing. Sometimes it was fear of rejection (yes, Sherlock was insecure when it came to being loved. It wasn't like he was a very loveable person. At least he didn't think so), sometimes it was an unfriendly waiter who ruined the mood or spilled wine over Molly's dress. One time it had been a former boyfriend who had chatted her up, shamelessly flirting even though Sherlock had been standing beside her. To Sherlock's dismay, Molly had flirted just as much (in his opinion), all joking and touching his lower arm (he had wanted to kill that man for a second).

So it clearly wasn't Sherlock's fault that he hadn't told her yet, even though John accused him of using these incidents merely as an excuse not to tell her.

Today, he wanted to get it over with.

The need to be close to her was too overwhelming to be ignored any longer. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to kiss her. Gosh, how badly he wanted to kiss her, especially now, with her licking that ice cream.
It really drove him crazy and as they stood in front of the restaurant, he finally lost it and ripped the cone out of her hand. Her mouth hung open for a second (she had been about to lick at the vanilla flavored ice cream again).

"Hey!"

"You can't take that inside."

"Then let me finish it."
"No time. I've made reservations."

"There's hardly anyone in there, Sherlock, I'm sure its…"

Aaand the cone landed on the sidewalk.

"…fine", Molly finished, looking at the remains of her delicious treat.

"Hasn't your mother taught you not to waste food?"

"I hardly eat, so I guess that even things out. Now, inside."

She protested, but he pushed her through the door anyway. The little bell rang and Angelo instantly came rushing over to them.

"Ah, Mr. Sherlock. So lovely to see you and your beautiful woman."

Molly threw him a side glance, waiting for Sherlock to correct him, but he simply nodded and began pulling the light summer jacket down her shoulders. Molly, still mad about the ice cream, tried to turn and get his hands off of her, but his grab was tight and he continued to rip the sandy colored jacket off of her.

"What the heck?" Molly complained as he twisted her arm to get it out of the sleeve. When he finally held the jacket in his hand, Molly glared at him. Sherlock simply smiled and handed it to Angelo, followed by his coat. The elder Italian guy just winked at him.

"A little eager, are we?" he commented on this ridiculous scene and was silenced by a glare from Sherlock.

"Your table is ready. Just sit down and I'll bring you the menus."

Again, Sherlock placed his hand on the small of Molly's back and guided her to his usual table by the window. As they sat down, Sherlock felt her eyes on him.

"What?"

"I wanted to finish that ice cream."

"You can order ice cream here."

"And I hate waste."

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"I don't think a waffle and vanilla ice cream will stop world hunger, Molly."

"It's still waste, Sherlock!"

They were about to get into a serious argument when Angelo saved the day by popping up and handing them the menus before lighting the candle in the middle of the table.

For the first time, Sherlock was glad that Angelo had the overwhelming need to tell everyone how he had saved him and with that was distracting Molly from that blasted ice cream.

When Angelo left them to choose their meals, Molly smiled again.

"He's sweet. I can see why you like him."

"I never said I did."

"Of course you do. This is the only place beside your flat, Bart's and Scotland Yard, you deliberately visit on a regular basis. Don't try to play the ice block with me, Sherlock. I know you better than anyone else. Maybe with the exception of your mother and Mycroft, who sends his regards, by the way."

"What makes you think that you know me better…wait. Did you talk to Mycroft?"

"He did most of the talking, but in a nutshell, yes."

All the while, Molly never stopped scanning the menu.

"What did he want from you?"

"He didn't want anything. He made me an offer."

Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes.

"To spy on me. Typical. I hope at least you were smart enough to take the money."

"No."

"Why didn't you take it? We could have split it."

Molly laughed, checking out the wine card.

"No, he didn't want me to spy on you."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow.

"What else could he want from you?"

"Gosh, that chicken sounds fantastic", Molly uttered, ignoring him.

"Molly! What did my brother want you to do?"

"Are you ready to order?" Angelo interrupted.

"No!" – "Yes!"

Molly placed her order, ignoring the glare Sherlock threw her until it was his turn to order. Without stopping to look at her, Sherlock ordered the Greek Salad and whatever wine that Angelo recommended.

"Oh, actual food? You must be starving", Molly joked and Sherlock twisted the napkin in his hands.

"What. Did. My. Bother. Want?"

"Do you really want to talk about your brother now?" Molly asked with a challenging glint in her eyes.

Sherlock let out a breath and Molly giggled.

"I'd really like to know what happened between the two of you. He doesn't seem that horrible."

"This is none of your business. Just tell me what the hell he wants."

"Cursing. Interesting", she mocked him and imposed his typical deducing expression, raising an eyebrow and scanning his face and body.

Sherlock seriously thought about shaking the truth out of her.

Molly saw how he was about to lose his temper and giggled. Then she folded her hands on the table and looked him straight in the eyes.

"He offered me half a million Pounds if I'd stay away from you."

Sherlock froze. Did Mycroft know?

"When?"

"In the few weeks you haven't spoken to me."

"Oh."

Yup, his nosy brother knew. Darn!

Sherlock didn't know what to say.

"Don't worry. He was very polite about it. And I declined just as politely. We finished our teas and then he just left. Very civil."

"You went out for drinks?"

She giggled.

"No, silly. He visited me at home Thank God I wore something presentable that day."

Sherlock didn't know exactly why, but the thought that Mycroft spent time at Molly's, drinking tea and chatting, made his blood boil.

"Why didn't you take the money?" he couldn't help but asked after a while.

She smiled at him again.

"You're a lot more worth than 500 grant, Sherlock."

His heart fluttered and his lips twitched into a smile for a second.

"Why was he offering me the money, anyway?"

"I often fail to see the reason in my brother's doings", Sherlock commented dryly, looking out of the window.

"Ah", was Molly's only comment and he saw her smile out of the corner of his eye.

Angelo brought their meals soon enough and they ate in silence for most of the time. Sherlock was busy trying to come up with a plan to confrontate Mycroft with his impertinent behaviour and at the same time get him off his back.

"Are you okay?" Molly asked after a long time of silence.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. You just seem a little tense. Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, Molly. I don't need to talk about my emotions all the time like all the other ordinary people out there who can't deal with their own problems."

Molly sighed.

"Sorry for asking. Won't happen again."

Crap. He had made her mad now. That wasn't the way to win her heart. His stupid brother had managed to ruin the mood without being present. Damn him.

After they had finished their meals, Sherlock waved Angelo over to pay.

"Don't you want desert? We have self-made gelato."

Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"No, thanks. Just the bill, please."

"Very well, Mr. Sherlock."

Molly silently watched Sherlock pay the bill and hurried after him as soon as he stood up, jerked the coat out of Angelo's hand and stormed out of the restaurant.

"Was something not good?" Angelo asked worriedly.

"No, it was lovely. Thank you. Sherlock is just nervous. He was about to tell me he loves me but then I ruined the mood with bringing up a topic he doesn't like to discuss."

Angelo looked at her for a moment, stunned.

"You know he loves you?"

"For quite some time now, yes."

"Why didn't you give him a sign? It's not nice to let a man suffer, madam."

Molly only giggled and slipped into her jacket.

"Believe me, I suffered more. But I should probably stop torturing him and just tell him that I know. He's really not good at romance."

"Yes, you do that. Sherlock is a good man who deserves a lovely lady like yourself by his side."

The door to the restaurant burst open.

"Molly! Let's go!"

Molly sighed, turned around to Angelo and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you."

With a smile, she walked over to Sherlock who impatiently grabbed her hand and pulled her out on the street, not caring to say goodbye to Angelo.

Sherlock held on to Molly's hand while he briskly walked around, searching for a cab.

She didn't mind the handholding at all, but she did very much minded to be dragged like a child.

"Sherlock, you're hurting me. Just calm down, would you?"

Finally, Sherlock spotted a cab and lifted his hand to wave it over to them.

"I don't need to calm down, I'm fine."

He pushed her into the cab and jumped in after her, telling the cabbie Molly's address.

"Could you please tell me why you are so upset?"

Molly tried again after a few minutes of silence.

"I'm not..."

"Sherlock!"

They glared at each other, then Sherlock whirled his head around and his lovely curls bounced up and down.

"You shouldn't talk to my brother. In fact, I forbid you to talk to him. He has nothing good on his mind, his nose buried in my business, always trying to find a way to control my life."

"He's really not that bad. He's just worried about you, that's all. I admit he goes to far in his attemps to make sure you're okay, but he only does it because he loves you, Sherlock."

The consulting detective only snorted at that. Molly sighed and interlaced her fingers with his, causing Sherlock's head to snap around and look down at their hands holding each other. Then his eyed darted up to her and she smiled reasuringly.

"If it really makes you uncomfortable, I'll text you immediately when Mycroft pops up at my flat next time."

"There will be no next time. I will talk to him and tell him to piss off. He has gone to far in trying to make you leave me."

Molly smiled, not knowing if Sherlock had meant to sound it like that.

"I will never leave you, Sherlock. Not even your mighty brother can tear me away from you."

His eyes darted to her again and he swallowed hard as she looked at him that certain way which never failed to make his heart beat faster.

"What if he offers you a Million?"

"Not interested."

"How about two Million?"

"Of course not."

Sherlock leaned forward, his voice dead serious.

"Everyone has a price, Molly. What is yours?"

Molly's eyes widened in shock at these words. She couldn't speak for a moment, totally offened by him thinking something like this.

In the meantime, the cab had reached its destination and stopped in front of Molly's building.

"You know what, Sherlock Holmes? Mycroft doesn't have to waste money to get me to stay away from you. You just managed to do that all by yourself. And you didn't have to pay so much as a penny!"

With that, Molly threw open the door and climbed out of the cab, rushing up the stairs and slipping into the house with throwing the door shut again.

Sherlock cursed, threw some money at the cabbie and dashed after her. Reaching her door, he banged against it.

"Open up, Molly!"

"No! Go away!"

He was about to pick her lock when she shouted again.

"Don't you dare pick the lock, Sherlock!"

He did it, anyway, and burst into her flat.

"How dare you!"

Her complaint was drowned out by the noise of Sherlock banging the door shut. She rushed over to him and started pushing him back into the hall to make him leave.

"I didn't insult you, Molly! I just stated facts. Everyone can be bought."

"Mrs. Hudson couldn't be bought! John couldn't be bought! What the hell makes you think that I could be! I risked my career for you! I lied for you. I would do everything for you and you dare to think that all it takes to make me stop caring for you is a load of printed paper?"

Having enough of her fingernails digging into his chest, he grabbed her little hands and pushed her back into the living room.

"It wouldn't be the first time for this to happen! Throughout the years, Mycroft had bought several people that were close to me. That's why I stopped having friendships."

"I'm not those other people! If you don't trust me than there is no reason for us being together."

"I told you I trust you! I've always trusted you the most!"

Both of them were shouting now, going back and forth in the living room, her trying to push him out of the flat, him trying to stay.

"Obviously not! Now get out!"

She pushed him again.

"For heaven's sake, Molly!"

He freed himself and walked round the coffee table to get some distance between them. His hand worked through his hair furiously while pacing around.

"I'm scared, okay?! I'm scared that he will find away to take you away from me! Somehow he has found out how I feel for you and now he's obviously trying to hurt me by taking what I want most! I can't let him do that! I won't let him do that! If he ever talks to you again, I will punch him, no matter how mad Mummy will be. No one takes my Molly and gets away with it!"

Molly, already calmed down and beaming with joy, stepped into his way. Ignoring the confused Sherlock, she cupped his cheeks with her hands and without further ado, pulled him down for that long overdue kiss.

As soon as Molly's lips were on his, Sherlock forgot Mycroft and his schemes. His arms locked around her small frame and he pulled her against him roughly. As their lips and tongues were dancing, Molly buried her hands in his hair and Sherlock let his hands roam over her body, exploring every curve of her back, hips and bottom. The need for each other, having built up for such a long time, took over and his shirt was ripped of and her top was pulled over her head quickly, followed by her bra.

Sherlock moaned when he pulled her close again, the sensation of feeling her soft skin and her hot breasts on his skin overwhelming.

"Oh, Molly. Molly, Molly..."

He couldn't stop breathing her name while he placed fearthery kisses on her neck and her shoulder, one hand taking posession of her breast.

Molly moaned his name as he bent down and covered her hardened nipple with his mouth, doing amazing things to it with his tongue.
This was what she had been waiting for all these years, she thought under the thick cover of lust. She had been patient with him, had waited for him to realize his feelings and had given him time to find a way to deal with his affection for her. She had never failed to believe that this would happen, she had known that they belong to each other for years. Now, all the patience and hope were rewarded as Sherlock lifted her up and carried her into her bedroom, making love to her like there was no tomorrow...

~oOo~

They made love all through the night, neither of them getting enough of tasting and feeling the other, and they only stopped because their bodies were exhausted, their lungs gasping for air, their limbs heavy and certain places being sore.

So now they were forced to just lay there, still breathing heavily and cuddling. Molly smiled into Sherlock's bare chest, pressing a kiss on the love bite she had left on his skin earlier. Said man hummed with pleasure and let his fingertips graze up and down her spine, causing her to get goose bumps.

Feeling totally relaxed, Sherlock let the events of the evening pass his mind. Even though he tried to stop it, his brother came into his mind again.

"Did Mycroft give any reason why he wanted you to stay away from me?"

Molly snuggled closer into him and placed her head further on his chest. She loved how his voice vibrated in his chest.

"He didn't have to. As soon as he had made the offer, I knew."

Sherlock opened his eyes. His heart skipped a beat and his mouth went dry.

"Knew what?"

"You know what. Just as your brother knows. But I guess you're aware of that. I was so worried when you stopped coming to Bart's, thinking I had done something wrong. I was a mess, really. Just ask Mike. But when Mycroft came to me all of a sudden and offered me money to make me stay away from you, I finally realized why you were pushing me away."

She looked up at him now, seeing how he stared at the wall, blinking several times.

"You already knew that I love you", he put the pieces together.

Molly grinned.

"Yep."

"But...that was three months ago."

"I'm aware. Believe me."

Sherlock still didn't look at her.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"It was hard not to. Most of the times I just wanted to pounce at you when you picked me up, always looking gorgeous with your tight shirts and your ridiculous sexy hair."

He glanced down at her for a second, grinning.

"But I restrained myself and I think I should get a bloody award for that."

Sherlock chuckled.

"I just thought it was important for you to make the first move, to declare yourself. You know, be the man and all that stuff. And I didn't want to give you a reason to regret it all afterwards, accusing me to have seduced you or something like that."

"What made you think I would do that?"

"Oh, come on. It took you three months to say something. When it comes to feelings, you're not exactly an expert."

Sherlock pouted, but Molly's kisses and her teasing tongue on his nipple made him give in quickly.

"Fine, I'll give you that."

"Thank you."

He finally looked down properly, capturing her lips for a long, tender kiss.

"Now all there is left is Mycroft to be put in his place", Sherlock said, evil plans already forming in his minds.

"I already took care of that."

He looked at doubtfully. Molly pulled herself up until she was towering over him. With a loving smile on her face she brushed a curl out of his face and cupped his cheek to let her thumb graze over his prominent cheekbone.

"I told your dear brother that there wasn't enough money in this world to make me stay away from you, or stop loving you. I told him that I would be there for you whenever you need me and if he ever tried to separate us, I would hunt him down and kick his ass."

Sherlock couldn't help but laugh.

"What did he say? How did he look?"

"He looked quite shocked for a moment, then amused and the next thing I knew, he took my hand and kissed it, telling me that you're a lucky man. And then he left."

Sherlock smiled up at her, his hand stroking her cheek.

"I don't know many people who would have the guts to talk to him like that. I'm a lucky man, indeed."

That being said, Sherlock's hand wandered into her neck and he pulled her down for another, savouring kiss.

Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper stopped talking after that and spent the next few hours doing what they could do best: Making love to each other.