A/N: Well, here it is, the final chapter of this little smutfest. Thank you for staying for the ride, and extra special thanks to everyone who has taken the time to review, that means so much to me! And thanks to allthebellsinvenice for acting as a wonderful beta!

It had been two years. Two long years since he'd last seen her. She'd graduated and gone on to university, studying medicine, which he knew she'd be brilliant at. Their lives had converged for less than a year before circumstances had torn them apart; he'd resolved to get back in touch with her after only six months had passed, regardless of what society or his elder brother might think of him entering into a public relationship with a woman ten years his junior, but then the Moriarty problem had popped up, and he understood exactly how right he'd been to end things with Molly as he had. It would have been unspeakably selfish of him to insinuate himself back into her life with such a danger hanging over his head. John Watson had nearly suffered fatal consequences due to his friendship with Sherlock; how much worse would it have been for the woman he lo...

No. He stopped that train of thought immediately. They had shared a very special time together and he sometimes wished she were still part of his life, but their chapter had ended. Even though he once again found himself acting the role of 'Professor Holmes', this time at her university as he rooted out the last of Moriarty's minions, that meant absolutely nothing. It wasn't, as John had tried to imply, a sign that he should reintroduce himself to Molly Hooper now that society would no longer condemn their relationship (and now that the main threat to his life had been eliminated); surely she'd long since moved on. He knew she'd dated, even had had a serious boyfriend for almost a year before he deliberately stopped keeping track of her, and those signs held far more weight than the simple coincidence of Sebastian Moran's using her current university as a front for his operations.

With a last glance out the window, trying not to conjure up images of a smiling, shy young woman receiving and giving her first real kiss behind a row of pines, Sherlock returned his attention to the text open before him, once again immersing himself in the role of educator.

A knock at his door interrupted him; he put the book aside and turned back to his desk, plastering on a false expression of cheer. "Come in!"

His fake smile died, and his breath caught at the sight of her; she'd changed very little in two years. Her hair was shorter and colored a deep auburn, but her brown eyes and upturned nose and pink lips were exactly the same. She was still slender, still very much a pocket Venus, and her clothes…He drew in a shaky breath as he realized she was wearing – not her old school uniform as he'd first assumed, but a very close facsimile thereof. Blue-and-grey plaid, thigh-length, pleated skirt; crisp white, short-sleeved blouse; grey knee-socks; but yes, her school tie still hung demurely between her breasts. "Miss Hooper," he said, rising to his feet and folding his hands behind his back. "You look…" he paused, searching for the right word. "Well," he concluded.

"Professor Holmes," she replied with a nod, stepping further into the room before closing – and locking – the door behind her. She smirked before turning to face him again. "You look…good enough to eat."

He blinked rapidly; what had become of his shy schoolgirl? She'd grown into a confident young woman, of course, which was only to be expected, and he felt a slow smile growing on his lips as he contemplated the changes only two years had wrought in her. "I thought you might like my hair in its natural state," he replied with a smirk, moving from behind the desk and brushing a hand against the dark curls tumbling over his forehead. She stepped further from the door, and they met in the middle of the crowded office, standing only a foot or two apart from one another.

"The curls suit you," Molly said, a dimple appearing in her cheek and her brown eyes warming. He reached out finally and gave in to the need to touch her, grazing his fingers across her cheek and feeling his smile deepen as her eyes fluttered shut. "I've missed you," Molly admitted quietly.

"My life is still dangerous," Sherlock replied just as quietly. But he didn't remove his hand from her face, and his other hand had reached out to cup her other cheek. "I still have enemies, and I've been known to be reckless with my own life." He gave a slight grimace even as his fingers moved over the shell of her ear. He didn't miss the shiver that went over her body at that light touch, and his heart sang at yet another sign that she'd not moved on from him as completely as he'd feared. "And the lives of others, on occasion."

"I told myself I was going to slap you silly for just…leaving me like that," Molly admitted. "That I was going to read you the riot act for not giving me a choice in whether we continued on or not." Her chin lifted, and Sherlock found himself utterly entranced by the determination that simple movement spoke of. "But now that I'm here…all I want to do is kiss you. And tell you that, no matter what your life is like, if you still want me, you can have me. Even if it's just as friends."

She wasn't his student, wasn't in his class on criminology, she was twenty years old now, she still wanted him as much as he still wanted her…so many reasons to say yes, but in his mind the voice of caution whispered, there could always be another Moriarty, you've nearly got John killed more than once, you nearly died yourself more than once, your life is too dangerous, she'll be a distraction, you need to focus on the work…

"Sod it," he muttered, banishing the negative voice – sounding suspiciously like his annoying older brother – and lowering his head to capture Molly's lips in a demanding kiss. When it ended, he cradled her head in both hands, pressing his forehead against hers as he growled, "I could never be just your friend, Molly Hooper, get that idea out of your head right now."

Just like that two years melted away. "Yes, Professor," Molly said eagerly, her hands reaching up to caress the lapels of his tweed jacket. "Whatever you say."

He kissed her again, hard, enjoying the urgent tightening in his trousers in a way he hadn't for two long years. Oh, of course he'd had erections, he was human and male, after all, but having to depend only on his hand to ease the discomfort had been barely satisfying at best. And although he'd had the opportunity to ease that ache with others – most notably one Irene Adler, who'd led him a merry chase during the Moriarty situation – somehow the thought of sex had seemed…distasteful. Pointless.

No, not just the thought of sex in general, he admitted to himself as he undid her blouse and unclasped her simple white bra. The idea of sex with anyone but Molly had been unappealing. He would never admit to something so mundane as pining, but he'd certainly missed her. And now here she was, back in his life and in his arms and he couldn't be…happier? Was that the right word?

Yes, he decided as he spun her around so that she was facing his desk, her bum snugly pressed to his erection, that was the right word.

He was happy – and he was about to make the two of them utterly satiated as well.

"Bend over the desk, Miss Hooper," he growled, his hands on her hips as he gave her a little push. "Legs apart. I think you need a reminder about who's in charge of this relationship. Don't think I didn't notice that little smirk you gave when you locked the door behind you. Without my permission, I might add."

"Sorry, Professor, I'll make sure to wait next time," Molly replied, sounding breathless. She was bent over his desk, hands flat on the wooden surface in the clear spot between stacks of books, legs apart just as he'd ordered her. The tightening in his trousers grew almost painful, and he quickly undid belt, button and zip, easing his erection free of the trapping fabric as he walked up behind her. She was looking over her shoulder, lower lip caught between her teeth and a very familiar gleam in her eyes. "Shall I…do you want me to remove my knickers, sir?"

"No," he snapped, although he couldn't help a grin of anticipation as he tugged his trousers and pants down to the tops of his thighs. He reached between her legs and pulled her knickers – white cotton, just like her bra – aside and brushed his fingers over her exposed pussy. "God, I've missed this," he breathed, leaning down to press a kiss to the side of her neck. "Condom?"

She fumbled in her handbag, which she'd set on the stack of books to her left, eventually pulling out the small foil packet. It might not have taken her as long as it did if he hadn't spent the entire time teasing her with the head of his cock, gliding it between her legs and grinding against her backside, his hands never leaving her sweet little breasts. He pinched her nipples lightly and then harder, until she cried out softly, her breathing rapid and shallow and a lovely flush showing on the exposed portions of her skin.

Once he'd opened the packet and rolled the condom on, he reached between her legs, slipping two fingers inside her and brushing her clit with his thumb. She was so wet and ready for him, her folds slippery and swollen and he couldn't wait a single second longer; pulling his fingers out, he grabbed his cock, positioned himself, and thrust into her, groaning at the warmth and wetness and the absolute rightness he felt at being deep, deep inside her after so long.

Molly, it would appear, felt exactly the same way, if the noises she was making and the urgent movements of her body beneath his were anything to go by. He slid one hand up to grasp her breast, teasing the nipple with his thumb until she was gasping and writhing, moaning out his name as he continued to push himself in and out of her at a deliberately slow pace. "Please," she moaned out after he'd lowered himself over her in order to plant a series of sucking kisses to the back of her neck. "Please, Professor…"

"Please what, Miss Hooper?" he breathed against her ear, stopping his movements entirely. God it was agony, but he wasn't going to rush this, their first encounter after two even more agonizing years apart. He placed both hands on her hips, holding tightly and forcing her to stop her movements as well. "Use your words, tell me what you want."

He'd used his most commanding voice, and she responded to it as beautifully as ever. "Please, sir," she cried out, turning her face so that their lips nearly touched. "Please fuck me."

He drew her head closer, his hand on the back of her neck, and kissed her, plunging his tongue into her mouth at the same time he finally began snapping his hips against hers, setting a punishing rhythm that had them both panting and moaning within seconds.

He felt the shivering in her slender form as she tightened around his cock, signaling her imminent orgasm, and smiled against the back of her neck before nipping at the flesh above her carotid artery. He left his mouth there, sucking a dark, owning mark on her throat as she writhed beneath him, crying out her pleasure in a series of soft whimpers punctuated by his name. She'd never called him Sherlock before, and the sound of his name from her lips brought his own orgasm shuddering over him before he realized it; he moaned her name, fingers clamped tightly on her hips as his hot cum gushed into her, hard enough to bring spots to his eyes.

Once the dizzying rush had slowed, heart rate and breathing and vision back to normal, Sherlock carefully pulled Molly up and away from the desk, cradling her in his arms as he steered her around the desk and over to the low sofa sat in front of the curtained windows. He allowed his legs to give out and made sure she landed comfortably in his lap, a giggle escaping her lips as they sank down into the cushions.

He had no idea what he'd done to deserve a second chance with this woman. Hell, he knew he damned well deserved to be slapped silly by her, as she'd admitted to thinking about doing! Well, no doubt he'd fuck up in the future and she'd get her chance. For now, all he wanted to do was hold her, feel the warmth of her body against his as she snuggled her head under his chin and wrapped her arms around him, listen to her breathe and drink in the very scent of her – Molly and sex and a faint whiff of formaldehyde undoubtedly picked up from one of her labs earlier in the day. Smiling contentedly, he grabbed his coat from where he'd carelessly dropped it on the other end of the sofa earlier, and pulled it over the two of them.

Whether he deserved it or not, Molly Hooper was back in his life, and this time he wouldn't be stupid enough to let her go.