All right, here's the last bit of the story. Big thanks for all the reviews, faves and follows. Also, thank you MizJoley for betaing it for me. As with the first part, beware of the smut.

I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

Chapter Two - …That Keeps On Giving

He just needed to knock on the sodding door!

Sherlock shifted the bag from his right hand to his left. It suddenly felt too heavy and… wrong. But he did have Plan B if the gift should prove insufficient. (God, I hope it's insufficient! Plan B had the potential to be infinitely more pleasurable!) Of course if she did like the gift, then Plan B could be easily incorporated into Plan A. But he was getting ahead of himself. There was the gift, then the talking and the inevitable awkwardness (not the fun part, but needs must), after all that she might not be interested in Plan B. What if she doesn't like the gift and it all goes sideways? He was starting to question his choice, but the salesman had said it was top of the line. Besides, he knew that Molly wanted one (hell, he wanted one!).

It had taken twelve days to work through 'the problem' and formulate 'the plan'. Now he was ready to follow through. Well, maybe ready wasn't the correct word. Perhaps resigned? No, that sounded awful! He had to be positive and not an arse. This was about confronting feelings and being an adult. Besides, he had the plan. Believe in the plan! he told himself. It will work! It must.

He knocked.

"Sherlock," Molly said as she answered the door. "You're alive." She sounded somehow relieved, annoyed and unsure all at the same time.

Taking a moment, he looked her over. She was dressed casually in a tee-shirt and trackies. "Was I rumored to be dead again?" He laughed awkwardly.

Evidently she didn't find it amusing. "Well, I haven't seen you in…" her sentence died and her cheeks pinked.

"Twelve days, I'm aware. May I come in?"

After studying him for several seconds, her eyes pausing on the bag in his hand, she said, "Sure" then turned and led him into the flat.

He followed her into the lounge, placing the bag on the coffee table and sitting in his 'spot'. An uncomfortable constriction in his chest reminded him of his recent discovery as she chose to sit as far away possible from him in the ornate, seldom used, chair across from the sofa.

"So, how've you been?" he asked. Small talk? Small talk wasn't part of the plan! Where the hell had that come from?

A confused looking Molly answered, "Ah, fine. And… you?"

"Satisfactory."

"Good." She eyed the bag again. "What's this? Been shopping?" She laughed as if it was an absurd concept.

Sherlock nudged it towards her. "A gift." Molly didn't react so he pushed it closer. "For you. It's a gift for you, Molly."

"What is it?" She looked at it as if it might bite her.

He forced himself not to roll his eyes. "Open it and find out."

Picking it up, she placed it on the floor. After removing the tissue paper and tossing it onto the coffee table, she looked inside. With an adorably confused look on her face, she said, "A coffee maker?"

Sherlock got up and knelt at her feet, then pulled the large box from the bag. "Not just a coffee maker, Molly, a Jura J90. It's fully automatic, bean to cup. It's got a built in grinder! A thermoblock heating system and foam frother!" She sat there, blinking, as Sherlock rapidly regurgitated every detail the sales associate had given in his attempt to make the sale.

He felt like an idiot.

"This must have cost…" she started.

"It doesn't matter what it cost, Molly." Although, 1600 pounds must mean something… right, Molly… right? Come on!

"Why on earth did you buy me such an expensive gift?" she asked, then realisation broke on her face. "Oh… My… God! Are you… are you trying to pay me?"

"NO!" Sort of. "NO!" Well, not really… more like butter you up. And if we happen to have use for it in the morning… "I... I just wanted to say thank you."

"You're thanking me for a oral sex with a… a… coffee maker!?"

"Not just any coffee maker." Oh, she was mad. Abort! Abort! He had anticipated awkwardness, shyness, perhaps a coquettish smile followed by 'I can think of another way that you can thank me, Sherlock'. (If he was honest, that was the outcome he was hoping for.) "I assure you that this was not meant to offend."

"Well, it failed!" She got up and walked to the kitchen. "I don't want it!"

He followed, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation. When he got there he found her wiping her spotless counter with a clean dry cloth. "Molly…"

"No, Sherlock, let's just forget about this whole thing! It happened. Now we need to move on. No coffee makers, no awkward conversations, no…"

"So we're just going to pretend like it didn't happen?"

"Yes. I think that's the best thing we can do." She tossed the cloth down angrily. "Now, if you'll excuse me…"

She started to walk past him, but he stopped her, grabbing her wrist. "No. Not again," he said. This was what had taken him twelve days to work out. He wasn't letting this opportunity pass them by. He'd wasted enough time.

"What do you mean, not again? I'm fairly certain that this hasn't happened before. I'm pretty sure I'd remember."

He just stared at her, trying to work out what to do next. It was all falling apart. Plan A had failed (she was supposed to find the gift endearing and be flattered, allowing him to segue into the 'real' conversation). And they were just about as far away from Plan B as possible (the segue would have happened during the 'afterglow' with that plan).

He owed her so much. But more than anything he owed her the truth and she was going to get it. I should have done this a long time ago. If I hadn't have been so bloody thick! "We need to talk," he said, releasing her.

"No we don't," she answered vehemently.

"Molly…"

Turning her back on him she said, "Sherlock, it was just a blow job! There's no need to discuss it!"

"Of course we need to discuss it. Not to mention…"

She spun around. "No we don't! Haven't you ever had casual sex before?!"

"Not with someone I'm in love with, I haven't!" he exploded. NO! No, no, no! That wasn't the way he was supposed to say it.

Suddenly all the air seemed to leave the room. Several moments passed as the pair just stared at one another waiting to see who would break first. Molly won that round.

"I don't want that either!" she hissed.

"You don't want what?"

"Lies!"

He moved closer, backing further into the kitchen. "How could you possibly think I'd lie about that?"

"You've done it before!" she replied coldly.

Of course, Janine. How long was that going to haunt him? "This is different and you know it!"

She laughed as she turned around, bracing herself on the counter. "Just go, Sherlock. We're too keyed up to talk about this right now."

He wasn't leaving; if he did he was afraid of losing his momentum. They were finally talking about the important things. Not about the rate of decomp in drowning victims. Not about the state of the government or about Rosie's latest accomplishments. And not about fucking sushi! As much as he'd enjoyed talking about all those things, they were a poor substitute for what the two of them had been avoiding for the past three months (even if he hadn't realised it at the time). It would be finished this night, for good or ill. "No, Molly. We need to deal with this." It almost seemed unbelievable that he was the one pressing the issue.

She shook her head, but didn't respond.

Sherlock stepped forward. "I honestly didn't know why the thought of losing you made me violent." With a huff of mirthless laughter, he added. "And nearly violently ill. I didn't know until I said it." He paused. "No, that's not true either. I still hadn't processed it until these past two weeks. But I knew something was… different. You noticed too, didn't you?"

She didn't answer, just kept her back turned to him.

"You wondered why I was here all the time."

Silence.

He sighed. "I've eaten more meals with you in the last three months than I have with my parents since puberty."

Nothing.

"And you were different too. The kisses. Going to bed before I left. You were inviting me in, weren't you, Molly?"

She sniffled, but remained silent.

"After you walked out the other night I was confused, to say the least. Why did you do that? Why did you just leave? Tell me." He was still talking to the back of her head. He couldn't decide if it was making it harder or easier. Moving his hands to her forearms, he gripped them gently. "Molly, please look at me."

With slow deliberate movements, she turned and faced him. Her cheeks were flushed and wet. "I was leaving the option… open," she said, not looking up.

"I didn't work it out until a few days ago. But you'd been trying to guide me all along. And the foot massage..."

With a slow nod, she said, "Well, sort of. I… I really did just want to you relax, hoping that we could talk about everything. I wasn't trying to seduce you. I kept thinking you'd stop me."

"I wouldn't have stopped you even if the flat had caught fire."

Molly laughed at that, wiping her eyes and looking a bit more relaxed.

"You meant it, didn't you?" he asked. He knew that she loved him. He'd always known, even when he didn't want to think about it.

The change in topic seemed to throw her for a moment, then she caught up. "You know I did, Sherlock, that's why it… felt like it was killing me."

"I hate that it happened that way. I hate that I didn't know, that I didn't understand. And I hate how much it hurt you."

She smiled, her blush spreading down her neck, disappearing into her tee-shirt. "You're not lying though, are you? Right now. You meant what you just said about...?"

Now we're getting somewhere. "I did."

She nodded. "'Kay." Then looked around the room.

Ah, this is what I expected, he thought as awkwardness settled between them. Several tense moments passed as Sherlock tried to reformulate his plan. Adjustments had to be made. Emotions were too high and Molly needed comfort and understanding (Plan B would most likely have to wait). He'd researched this. He could deal with it, thought it might be difficult (but the 'experts' had said it was important to 'be there for her'). This was no different than working a case. Often a new development would cause him to have to go in a different direction. Just the other day...

"Um, Sherlock," Molly said nervously. "Why a coffee maker?"

"It does more than make coffee, Molly, it…" At the narrowing of her eyes, his mouth snapped shut. "We can talk about the features later, I suppose." He cleared his throat and explained, "Well, I went to Harrods with the intention of finding you a piece of jewelry."

"You went shopping?" She looked more than shocked; she looked gobsmacked.

"Indeed. But nothing I saw seemed to fit. A ring was out for obvious reasons," he said with a raised eyebrow. "Bracelets are trite. And who would wear a chain on their ankle? It just seems uncomfortable. I couldn't find the right earrings, they were all too garish. A necklace would have worked, but oddly enough they didn't have an anatomically correct heart. I hate those ridiculously shaped…"

He was cut off as Molly suddenly flung herself at him, wrapping her hands around his neck and pulling him down until their lips met. It happened so fast, he couldn't even react at first, but Molly was undeterred. She claimed him covetously, moving her hands into his hair, digging her nails into his scalp as she turned his head for a better angle. The tension broke explosively in a clash of mouths and teeth and tongues. There was no sweet lead up - no shy, chaste pecks - she simply devoured him and he did his best to catch up.

Her lips were so soft, yet commanding. Nothing like he'd expected prior to their time together nearly two weeks before. Since that day, however, his fantasies had taken a drastic turn. Where previously he'd imagined Molly to be yielding, malleable, always doing as he directed, ever since the foot massage of the gods, she'd become a sexy assertive temptress. He's spent a great deal of time 'thinking' about it.

He finally got his bearings, breaking away only long enough for a gasping breath, then he pulled her back to him. This time he took her bottom lip between his teeth, drawing it into his mouth before flicking his tongue over her it. His hands had found her hips all on their own, because he certainly hadn't commanded them to grip her tightly, holding her against him.

Pulling back and robbing him of those kiss plumped lips that he wanted to suck on all night, she said, "You actually went shopping? You left your flat and went to Harrods? Not Mycroft's assistant? Not John or Billy? You went on your own?" Her lips returned but this time to his neck. "You! You! You!" she whispered between nibbles and licks.

After letting out an undignified moan (but really, who could be dignified whilst their neck was being mauled?), Sherlock tried to respond, only to have her lips stop his words (and thoughts and basic brain function). He wasn't sure why she was so turned on by his shopping excursion, but he wasn't one to look a Gift Molly in the mouth. Mmmm, Molly's mouth...

Plan B was in full swing! With a harder than intended thrust, Sherlock nudged Molly back until he felt resistance. He should have been embarrassed by how easily he'd become aroused. A few kisses (although very stimulating, very lovely kisses) and she had him dry-humping her like a teenager in heat. But he was too busy pushing her up against the counter, grinding himself into her belly seeking some kind of relief from his aching erection, to be concerned.

Slow down! he chastised himself. Just because you're up for Plan B doesn't mean she's game! Get your cock out of her her navel!

Molly's lips disappeared. "Have you always been this tall?" she whispered.

"Since I was about nineteen," he said, picking her up and setting her on the counter. "How's that?"

Wrapping her legs around his hips, she pulled him closer and pressed their centres together in the most pleasing manner.

She moaned followed by a breathy, "Brilliant!"

She's game! She's game! his mind shouted as her hands shoved his jacket off of his shoulders.

"I want this, Sherlock. Been waiting for so long." Her lips returned to his neck as she started in on his buttons and his mind wandered back to that night twelve days ago.

He had to slow things down or he'd never get to the actual repayment (whatever followed was just a huge bonus!). "Molly," he said, taking hold of her hands. She looked a little alarmed, he had to dispel her worry, immediately. "It's my turn, don't you think?" It was less about control and more about reciprocation (okay, it was a tiny bit about control).

She smirked. "I didn't realise we were taking turns."

"Yes… we are," he said with what must have been a devilish look on his face. His thoughts had taken a decidedly depraved turn at the possibility of seeing Molly Hooper in all her glory - of tasting her, having her completely - if all things went as planned. "First, as much as I'm enjoying this tee-shirt/trackie combo you're wearing today, it'll have to go."

Without hesitation, Molly moved her hands to the hem of her shirt. Sherlock stopped her. "No- no, that's my job." Slowly he pulled the garment over her head, revealing her sensible white cotton bra. "Sexy."

"Don't get cute. I had no idea you were planning this!"

"I wasn't being cute." Of course he was being cute. He's Sherlock Holmes for God's sake! "It's lovely, I'm just much more interested with what's underneath," he said as he reached around her to find the clasp. With a kiss to her neck then shoulder, he unhooked the closure (with a small snag, but he quickly recovered), pulling the garment from her arms as he drew back. Oh, well, yes. There she is. "Molly…"

She raised an challenging eyebrow and he realised that she was waiting for judgement. But she would get nothing of the sort from him!

Placing his hands on either side of her neck, he drew her back toward him, showing her his approval with his kiss. He grunted as her tongue found his, feeling his stomach lurch. This was what it felt like to kiss the woman he loved. To kiss not because of a case, or a manipulation or a quick shag, but the pure pleasure of it. Her naked breasts were momentarily forgotten in favour of her mouth.

A muffled moan escaped from her and he realised that he had pressed their chests together. He could feel the sharp points of her nipples through his shirt. Kissing across her jaw to her long, smooth neck, he found her pulse point and bit down. Mine, his mind screamed, some throwback to a former incarnation of their species emerging. He suddenly understood the need some men felt to walk with their arm protectively clutching their girl's waist, to hold her hand, to shove their tongue down her throat in a room full of strangers, proclaiming 'this one's taken, boys!'. He wanted to get her a shirt that said 'Property of Sherlock Holmes. Stay twenty meters away at all times!'. The possessiveness of it should have been disgustingly off-putting, but right at that moment Molly squirmed and clutched at his shoulders and he decided she needed more love bites. As he sucked at her skin, drawing it into his mouth, leaving his mark, she called out his name and he smirked around her flesh. That's right, Molly. Tell them who you belong to.

"I need you," she whispered when he started kissing his way down her chest. "Sherlock please. No foreplay. I just need you." Her voice was pleading, nearly desperate.

"Sorry, love. But I came here with a plan and I intend to execute it." His lips found her right nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he palmed the other with his hand. She felt perfect and he felt so powerful. Not like when he was solving a case and he felt drunk on power. Not like when he was high and he felt invincible. He felt like he was in command of her body. Like he would give anything to keep hearing those little pleading cries and moans.

"Oh God, Sherlock, that feels so good!"

He hummed before switching sides. The taste of her skin was not only delicious, but fascinating as well. Salty, sweet and slightly damp with sweat, Molly was like nothing he'd ever tasted before. He looked up from her breast. "Molly, there's more of you I want to put my mouth on."

"Fuck!"

"Your bedroom would be more comfortable."

"No! It's all the way down the hall. Here… do it here." She leant back and started shoving her trackies off.

That didn't seem hygienic, but he couldn't deny it was extremely hot. With a yank, he got the sweats off her legs, but stopped her when she reached for her knickers.

"We have all night," he said calmly. He was anything but calm. Inside he was a ball of hormones, nerves and excitement. "Lie back a little." Thankfully she was sat upon the island section of the counter giving them plenty of room.

She leaned back on her elbows and watched as he pulled off her pants. He kept his eyes on hers the whole time. It wasn't easy, he wanted to look down, see her most hidden places.

"I've been thinking about this," he said quietly, leaning in, stroking her cheek. "I want to give you something you'll never forget."

With a smile she said, "You already did."

"I knew you liked the coffee maker."

"Idiot!" she laughed.

Kissing her again, he cut off her laughter. "Relax and enjoy," he whispered.

He kissed his way down the centre of her chest, not letting himself get distracted by her lovely breasts again, until he found Nirvana.

Pressing her knees up and out, he stared. Oh fuck! Nestled there between reddish-brown, neatly trimmed curls he found the most beautiful cunt he'd ever seen. Had he ever really thought of a woman's vagina as beautiful before? He didn't think he had. Parting her with two fingers, he took in the shine. Visibly wet and glistening, Molly's pussy looked magnificent.

His perusal must have taken too long because Molly spoke up, "What's wrong? What are you looking at?"

He couldn't tear his eyes away. "Haven't you ever looked before? It's… beautiful," he said before he could stop himself.

She giggled. "Is it really? No one's ever said anything."

He ran a finger through her folds, collecting some of her juices. "You're so wet."

"Oh, yeah. I do get really wet sometimes." She sounded embarrassed.

Looking up confirmed his suspicion. "As if that's a bad thing," he said as he brought his finger to his mouth.

Molly opened her mouth as if to speak, but just stared instead.

He closed his eyes as he licked his finger and moaned. He needed more. Dropping his head, he drank from her. First he tongued her juicy cleft, flicking at her clit before moving further down to her entrance where the bounty was even more plentiful. Dipping his tongue into her, he felt her walls undulating slightly as she ground against his face. A constant supply of liquid slowly coming from her and he lapped it up. Drawing a quick breath, he went back to her clit, licking circles around the hard little nub, listening as Molly's breathing changed with each draw of his tongue. She was panting, whimpering, begging for more. He felt her hands on his head, scratching his scalp, rubbing it like an anxious phrenologist.

"Sherlock, please!" she begged, pressing his face into her cunt.

This was it, his big finish. Plan B of 'repay Molly Hooper for the best blow job in history' was about to come to fruition. He slipped a finger into her pussy and looking for the bumpy patch of tissue that he knew would help send her over the edge. After a little bit of searching, he found it and focused his attention there for several seconds before returning his mouth to her clit.

Thankfully he'd had a nice slow wank before his trip to her flat, because the sound, the feeling of Molly's orgasm might have sent him over the edge with her if he'd not prepared himself.

Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling hard, almost painfully (but hell, he liked it!) as she shouted his name. Her internal muscles constricted around his finger and he felt a very small gush of liquid as he continued to press against her g-spot.

"Jesus! Sherlock!" she gasped as he removed his soaked hand. "That was… I mean... I don't… there are no words."

He straightened from his crouched position, wincing at his sore back. Well, I was bent at an unnatural angle. Speaking of bent… He reached down and tried to adjust his erection as discreetly as possible then offered Molly his hand.

As she sat up she asked, "Can we move to the bedroom now? That was lovely, but my bum's cold."

"It was your idea," he said as he picked her up, setting her on the floor.

"I know. Come on."

He followed her lovely little naked arse down the hall into her bedroom. As soon as they got there, she had him backed against the closed door. "I want more."

"Greedy."

She ground her stomach against his hard cock. "I'm not the only one."

Her hands moved to the buttons on his shirt and he let his head fall to the door behind him, happy to let her have her way with him. When she got to his cuffs, she kissed each wrist before pulling his arms free. Taking his hand she led him to the bed and nudged him to sit down.

Kneeling at his feet, Molly removed his shoes and socks, the whole process reminding him so much of their previous night together. When finished, she stood between his knees and ran her fingers through his hair.

"It was a lovely gift, Sherlock, but unnecessary," she said as she cupped his face. "I'd love you even without that talented tongue." Her cheeky grin (or maybe it was hearing those words again, this time under much more pleasant circumstances) was his undoing.

Gripping her by the hips, he spun them both, pinning her to the bed. "I owe you more than a coffee maker and an orgasm," he growled. "And for more than the other night, Molly. I…"

She kissed him, demolishing his thought process and controlling him with her tongue. Molly wrapped her legs around his hips, mashing herself against his still clothed erection. He was overheating. Those trousers had to go, his cock was about to be permanently marred.

Sitting up a little to try to get some distance from her dancing hips, Sherlock reached for his zip. Molly was on him like Mrs. Hudson on a small business owner.

"That must be getting uncomfortable. I was going to take them off before your little flip!" Then finally, finally she was pushing down his trousers. "Do you even own underpants?"

How was he supposed to answer questions at a time like this? "I do," he breathed as he kicked his legs free of the torturous trousers. "But I rarely wear them around you." Lowering his head, he tried to kiss her, but she pulled away.

"What?" she asked with a smile.

"What, what?" Why aren't we fucking yet?

"You don't wear pants around me? Why?"

"You like to look at my arse." And I like knowing that you're looking at my arse. Why are we talking?!

"And pants would impede that?"

"There'd be lines. I was being considerate."

Molly burst out laughing. Okay, this is conducive for coitus…

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry…" she said as tears streamed out of her eyes.

Sherlock moved over and flopped onto his back with a sigh.

After about a minute the laughing died down and Molly draped herself across his chest, wiping her eyes. "Oh goodness. That was wonderful. Like a laughgasm. Okay, I'm better now."

He just stared at the ceiling.

"Don't be mad. It's adorable and so, so you!"

He didn't speak. He couldn't.

"Please don't think I was laughing at you, I…"

"Who exactly were you laughing at, Molly, Benny Hill?"

She got up on her knees and straddled his hips. "Sherlock…."

He looked at her; naked, flushed, her hair a complete mess.

"You have to admit it was funny." She ran her nails down his chest, pausing to pinch his nipples.

A groan escaped his mouth.

"Are you not in the mood anymore?" she asked coquettishly.

Her pseudo-seductive act was amusing and he couldn't stop his lips from quirking up in a half smile.

"How about I admit something that I do and then we'll be even, 'kay?"

He nodded, but he was still slightly miffed.

Biting her lip, she leaned down until she was less than an inch from his ear. "I know you like it when I bite my lip, so I do it more around you. I've had to invest in a shedload of chap-stick because of all the 'lip gnawing', but it's worth it to see your eyes dilate just a fraction." Pulling back, she did it again and winked.

"Why… you little!" He flipped them again, holding her hands above her head. "From now on, that's my job, understand?"

"Yes Sir!"

He caught her lip between his teeth and bit down, then soothed it before slipping his tongue into her mouth. Molly grunted and tried to free her hands. No, not yet. Grinding his cock against her wet core, he regained the little bit of tumidity he'd lost during her chuckle session.

His lips moved to her neck, sucking on one of his marks. She was going to be so mad about that. He couldn't say that he cared; he'd buy her all the scarves at Harrods if she liked!

Letting go of her wrists, he took hold of his cock and dragged it through her folds, it seemed to fill even more. There is no way I have blood left in any of my extremities.

"Oh God yes!" she said with a sigh.

He aimed his cock into her heat. Not pausing, he slowly let her engulf him. She felt exquisite. Once he nudged her cervix, he stilled. "Molly…"

"I know, Sherlock. But you have to move!" she said through clenched teeth.

Pressing his lips to her shoulder, he started to thrust. Molly held onto his back, her nails digging into his skin as he drove into her. She planted her feet into the mattress and met him thrust for thrust. Time seemed to stand still or move forward too rapidly, he was unsure. His mind wasn't at exactly at its sharpest. Grunting with effort to hold off his end, he snapped his hips against hers.

Molly's, "Oh fuck!" was the only warning he got as she came, gripping him and wrenching his orgasm out of him.

His balls drew up, his spine tingled and his vision blurred. "I love you, Molly, I fucking love you so much!" he growled into her neck as he lost himself inside of her.

All his energy, his lifeforce, his very being seemed to have been leached out of him with his climax. He opened his eyes and realised he had basically collapsed on top of her. "Sorry," he said hoarsely as he rolled to the side.

"'S'alright," she replied sleepily.

"I hate to sound like a cliche, but I'm knackered." He actually knew why he was so tired. Besides the mind-blowing sex, he'd not slept well all week and he also suspected it had something to do with relief.

"Hmmm, me too." Molly turned and rested her head on his outstretched arm.

He pulled her closer until she was nestled on his shoulder, his hand drawing lazy patterns on her back. She kissed and nuzzled his pectoral muscle as they lay in silence.

After maybe twenty minutes she said, "Really, Sherlock? A coffee maker?"

"I didn't want to come over empty handed. And it's not just…"

"Yes, I know. Not just any coffee maker." She leaned up and smiled. "Show me how to use it in the morning?"

"All part of the repayment plan, my love," he said with a satisfied smile, kissing her forehead.

There we go! Please review me and let me know if you liked it! Hugs and Love ~Lil~