For Lisape:
(I also just have to say, this girl is one of my dearest friends and I love her to death. Even though we live hundreds of miles apart, she's one of my biggest supporters and I can talk to her about anything. I'm blessed to have a friend as good as she is.)

Sherlock and Molly are living together and Sherlock come home to 221b one day and hears molly making some suspicious sounds so he rushes up the stairs assuming molly is cheating (of course in the time it takes to get u there he has already thought of the speech he will give and has tormented himself with the images of her in compromising positions with different people.) He bursts in the door only to find her working out and that's why she is making these sounds he's so relieved and desperate for her it ends up with them having some shower smut :)

Sherlock hummed a little tune to himself as he hopped out of the cab in front of 221 Baker Street. He paid the cabbie and smiled up at the building.

It had only been a week since he'd persuaded his girlfriend of several months, Molly Hooper, to move in. She'd fought him on it for weeks, apparently convinced that their relationship wasn't serious enough to call for a change in living arraignments, especially since they hadn't told anyone about the new dynamic in their relationship. Sherlock grinned as he fingered the box in his pocket. Oh yes, it was definitely serious enough.

He opened the door quietly. It was her day off so she was home. He was home a couple hours earlier than he said he would be. He'd told Molly he was out on a case, when in fact, he'd gone shopping for the perfect ring. He had everything planned about how he would propose to her and was very much looking forward to taking her out that night and putting his plans into action.

As he pulled the door to, he stopped dead. Odd noises were coming from the flat above and his brow furrowed. He looked up, dread and anger etched on his face. It sounded like, well, like vigorous sex.

Involuntarily, his mind replayed various scenarios he'd thought of each time a man flirted with Molly.

She'd told him once that she was having quite a lot of sex with her then fiancé. Sherlock shuddered, thinking of the man who looked vaguely like himself, pushing into her delicate body, sucking on her perfectly pink nipples. He doubted meat dagger would be forceful enough with Molly. The man was a bloody idiot and Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he thought of Molly perhaps faking an orgasm because the imbecile didn't know how to touch her. How to bring her to the heights of ecstasy like Sherlock did.

Or it could be that new pathologist that had been hired in the past couple of months. Sherlock knew for a fact that the man was interested in Molly. He'd even asked her out for coffee, which, to Sherlock's amusement, she'd replied that she took it white with three sugars and that she'd be in the lab. He'd had to hide a chuckle when he heard that, remembering how he'd replied similarly to her so many years ago. The man was obviously a porn addict, and he'd try some things he'd seen in videos in the bedroom. While there was no doubt Molly enjoyed a good spanking, (Sherlock's mind lit up with images of her bent over the desk with her hands behind her back and her arse in the air, flushed pink and hot from his heavy slaps,) he doubted she'd like some of the more overtly pornish ideas the man would attempt to employ.

Then there was Lestrade. That damn man wanted Molly, and Sherlock knew it. He'd seen the way the Detective Inspector oogled her when her back was turned. Now that he was divorced, and no one knew of Sherlock and Molly's involvement, would he have made a move on her? Sherlock's mind raced with images of his girlfriend under the older man, writhing in pleasure, making those pretty noises that Sherlock loved. Her face flushed, lips swollen from the nips and kisses bestowed on her by the silver-haired man. Sherlock wondered if she'd beg for his cock the way she did for his own. If she would cry out when he entered her, eyes full of love and lust. His jaw clenched as the noises upstairs continued. He wouldn't be held responsible for his actions if he found Lestrade, or any man, upstairs with his pathologist.

He began to storm of the stairs, but slowed halfway up.

What am I thinking? he asked himself. Molly has loved me for years, she'd never do that to me. She couldn't, wouldn't hurt a fly, much less me, even though I've hurt her too many times to count. He sighed, willing his hands to stop shaking and his heart rate to slow. He looked at up at the door to 221B, wondering what on Earth was causing the noises behind it.

He got a brief mental image of Molly fucking herself with the vibrator he'd discovered while moving her things into the flat. His cock twitched in his trousers and he licked his lips.

Slowly, stealthily, Sherlock crept up the last few stairs and turned the doorknob, opening the door just enough to see inside, but hopefully not enough to attract attention.

Molly jumped at the sudden, loud laughter behind her and dropped the hand weights she was holding. She paused her exercise dvd, frowning at the appearance of her boyfriend and the state of herself. She was in short shorts, and a vest, with trainers on her feet and a sweat band around her head, with her long hair pulled up in a ponytail. She was sweaty, now more than halfway through the dvd and she was sure she didn't look or smell that good.

Sherlock leaned against the wall, one hand around his stomach and the other on his knees as he fought to remain upright. Loud guffaws filled the room and tears streamed from his eyes.

Molly was confused, but seeing Sherlock in that state made her mouth turn up in an amused smirk.

"Sherlock, what on Earth?" she asked, and he waved a hand at her, still unable to speak.

Finally, he stopped laughing and wiped his eyes. He crossed the room and held her. She protested a bit, knowing she couldn't smell good at all, but he just held her more tightly. After a few moments, he let go enough to cup her jaw in one hand and tilt her head up.

"Molly, my Molly," he sighed, shaking his head. "What am I going to do with you?"

She grinned and shook her head as well.

"Let go, Sherlock, let me go shower. You're back early." She made to move out of his embrace but gasped when his expression changed to one of absolute hunger.

"Yes, let's shower," he said, easily picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder, heading off to the bathroom.

"Sherlock!" she shrieked, "Stop it this instant!"

He set her down next to the shower and reached in to turn on the water and let it heat up before he divested her of her clothing, letting it fall into a pile on the floor. He undressed himself after, winking at her as she bit her lip, her eyes raking over his strong body.

Ducking his head down, he caught a rosy nipple between his teeth and smiled wickedly against her body when she gasped, her hands flying up to twist in his curls.

"No Molly, I won't stop. Not until your legs are shaking and you can't take any more. I'm going to make you scream so loud that the neighbors know my name," he said, grinning ferally as he looked up at her from where was nuzzling her breast.

A sharp intake of breath and the darkening of her eyes told him that she was more than pleased with his statement, but first, Sherlock had something to do.

He let go of her, ignoring her whimper of disappointment and reached down to fumble in the pocket of his trousers. When his fingers closed over the little velvet box, he dropped to one knee and looked up at her, delighting in the look of shock on her sweet face. Opening the box to reveal a gorgeous ring, a half carat center stone with a cushion of smaller diamonds surrounding it, he sucked in a deep breath.

"Molly Hooper, I love you more than I'll ever be able to express. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

Tears formed in her eyes as she nodded enthusiastically, throwing her arms around him, their naked bodies pressing together. He slipped the ring on her finger, where it shone proudly. After a second admiring the way it caught the light, Sherlock's gaze darkened again.

"Now, Miss Hooper, I believe I have a promise to make good on," he growled as he dragged his fiancé into the shower.