This one is written for my bestest friend Lilsherlockian1975. I asked her to prompt me so I could write a one shot (which I haven't managed as this will be at least three chapters...I'm a bit rubbish at keeping to one chapter) and she asked for smut in an enclosed space.

It based a couple of weeks after the end of the last season and it's probably the most I've written about Molly's response to that phone call. So, Lil, I hope you like it and that it fits with the brief.

Chapter 1

Molly couldn't help it, she knew she was being unfair to Sherlock but she had been devastated after that phone call and she just hadn't been able to bring herself to talk to him about it. He had tried, she gave him that much. He'd come round to her flat the day after but when she'd looked through the spyhole and seen him on the other side of the door she had just felt sick. She wasn't quite sure if she'd burst into tears or slap him but either way she just didn't want to confront it. She wanted to hide, to curl up and forget it ever happened.

As she'd said those words to him, finally, after all these years he'd just hung up. He hadn't even given her an ounce more of his time than necessary, and some of his words had been so cruel, an experiment...say it anyway...

Of course since then she'd understood more about what happened and why he'd asked this of her. When she had refused to answer his calls or the door he had finally sent John in his place and Molly had silently listened as he had explained the circumstances surrounding the call, pleading on Sherlock's behalf for her understanding and forgiveness.

Her feelings after that were two-fold. Even more humiliation that it hadn't just been a conversation between herself and Sherlock but had instead been listened to by at least three other people, including his frankly crazy sister and sadness that Sherlock had had to go through it. So yes, she told John that she could forgive Sherlock, he'd been put in an impossible situation and he had been trying to save her life. But she couldn't forget it and that meant she needed time; time and separation from him.

The only occasion she relented on this was when it came to work. If Sherlock came in about a case, needing information on a body or help with tests then she was there as she always had been. But for anything else, or if he tried to deviate the conversation towards more personal matters, she just walked away.

Eventually, thankfully he gave up and Molly was able to relax just that little bit more; outside of work though her feelings just felt so raw and exposed. It was as though this woman had given Sherlock a knife and he'd cut her open, pulled out her heart, examined it and then thrown it back in. Worse still her dreams were haunted by him saying those words she'd always longed to hear from him. She had to hand it to him he was a consummate actor. When she'd thrown the challenge back at him and told him to say it...say it like he meant it...she would never have expected it to feel so real but it had and it had broken her heart to know it was all a lie.

That had all happened over a month ago and if anything the pain was getting worse; to the point that she was contemplating actually selling up, getting a job somewhere else and removing Sherlock from her life all together. She'd even gone so far as to discuss it with John a few days before and even though he had begged her not to do it it was becoming more and more appealing.

She glanced at the clock in the lab, glad of the fact that she would soon be able to go home. It had been one of those difficult days where Sherlock was in the lab with her. Greg had confirmed by text that Sherlock was there on legitimate business and so she had suffered his presence. It didn't help that it was a hot day, the sort you get at the end of the summer, and he'd been sat at his microscope in just a pair of black trousers and a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

As she had stood with him for a moment discussing the results of his test she could see the individual hairs on his arm and she'd had to jam her hands in her pocket to stop herself from physically reaching out to stroke them.

As the clock struck six she'd packed up her work and hung up her lab coat, before picking up her bag. She automatically turned to say goodbye to Sherlock before biting her lips and shaking her head, turning away from him and leaving the room. It wouldn't do to start slipping back into old habits, she needed to keep her distance and protect what little was left of her heart.

It took a moment for the old lift to make its way down to pick her up and she contemplated what she might want to make for tea when she got home. She wasn't really paying much attention as she got in and pressed the button to go up the three floors to street level so she jumped with shock when Sherlock suddenly put his hand on the doors to stop them from closing, sliding in just before they did.

Her stomach dropped at the thought of being alone with him but it was too late. The only saving grace was the fact that he was busy texting on his phone. Not that it would work for much longer as the signal always cut off when the lift started moving.

As the lift started its ascent he slid his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket and leant against the opposite wall to the one Molly was stood against. She knew he was looking at her, she could feel it across her whole body, making the nerves on her body feel hyper-sensitive, but she refused to even acknowledge him. She just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible.

It was for that reason that she swore loudly when the lift juddered to a halt before making it to the next floor.

She looked at the control panel as though it might actually tell her what was wrong before jabbing at the buttons and looking up as though she could will the machinery to start moving again.

'Damn it...come on!' She tapped the ground floor button repeatedly praying for the lift to start up again.

'I'm not sure that's going to help.'

Molly sucked in a deep breath at the sound of Sherlock's voice. This couldn't be happening to her, it wasn't fair, she couldn't be trapped in this enclosed space with him...she just couldn't.

'Well, I have to do something.' She snapped back.

'Why not press the help button then?'

She could have kicked herself for not thinking of that but her mind seemed to be tying itself in knots over her predicament.

She pressed the button and bent down a little so she was closer to the little speaker and microphone that linked them through to god knows where.

'Hello...hello...is there anyone there? Can you help us?'

There was a crackling noise and when she finally heard a voice she breathed a sigh of relief...maybe this could all be sorted and they could be out of there in a matter of minutes.

'Hello, can you state your name and the number of the lift...you should be able to see it on the bottom of the panel?'

Molly's eyes moved down and she saw what he was referring to. 'Yes, I'm Doctor Hooper from Pathology and the lift number is E43790.'

'OK! We've had problems with that one before. Are you alone?'

Molly's eyes flicked to Sherlock who was lounging against the wall seemingly disinterested.

'No...no, there's one other person here with me. How long will this take?'

'Hang on; we're ringing the lift maintenance company now...I'll be back in a minute.'

There was another crackle and he was gone.

Molly stood back up and adjusted her bag before smiling briefly at Sherlock. Once again he'd taken his phone from his pocket and he was holding it up, obviously trying to get a signal.

'There's no point, they don't work in the lifts. Are you...umm...worried about the case?'

He frowned at his phone but returned it to his pocket before looking back at Molly and she wished he wouldn't. His gaze hurt. It made her want to look away because looking at him was just too painful but she forced herself to maintain eye contact at least for a little bit.

'No, I'd just solved it and texted Greg before leaving. He can pick up the rest.'

The comms system crackled back into life. 'Doctor Hooper?'

Molly bent down again. 'Yes...yes I'm here.'

'OK we've spoken to the company and they should be out with us in the next hour or so.'

Molly couldn't help the outright horror in her voice. 'An hour! I...we can't be stuck in here for an hour.'

'Sorry Miss, not a lot else we can do. I'll let you know if it's going to be longer.'

'Longer...but...' it was too late though, there was another crackle and she knew he'd gone.

She closed her eyes briefly and then straightened back up before turning to Sherlock. 'Yes, well...umm...you heard all that obviously...'

He was smirking at her now and she wanted to slap it off his face as he just replied with 'obviously'.

'So, it...ahh...looks like we're stuck here.'

Sherlock looked around at the floor before unbuttoning his jacket (did he have to make such a simple act look so damn sexy). Then he slid down the wall until he was sitting there looking up at her, his hand resting loosely in his knees.

'Well, we may as well make ourselves comfy Molly if we're going to be here a while.'

When Molly sat down opposite him their legs were side by side. This wasn't one of the main elevators where patients were transported. Those had to be big enough to take full trolleys; no this was just a normal service elevator, designed for people and not much else. It was...cosy to say the least. Molly could have leant forward and just about touched his face.

She was already feeling a little warm in the enclosed space and it was clear that Sherlock was feeling the same as he soon removed his jacket and undid an extra button on his shirt. It was late August and the weather had been regularly hitting the mid-thirties, which for Molly was too hot. She preferred Spring and Autumn over the extreme heats of summer.

'So...Molly, what do you want to talk about.'

'I don't.' She knew she'd snapped that answer out too fast when she saw him raise an eyebrow and she tried to ignore it by rummaging in her bag for some kind of fan. It was then that she spotted the bottle of water that she'd put in that morning but forgotten about.

She pulled it out feeling almost triumphant as she held it up so Sherlock could see it. 'Want some?'

He gave a quick nod of his head, 'wouldn't mind.'

She passed it to him and then watched in outright fascination as he undid the lid and tipped his head back whilst he drank. She could see him swallowing, her eyes travelling down the length of his neck and she felt a rush of adrenaline and arousal sweep over her. She almost didn't notice when he held the bottle back out for her and when she put her own lips to the rim she couldn't help but think about the fact that his mouth had been where hers was mere seconds before.

This was going to be harder than she realised.

I bet it's not the only thing that will be hard! Sorry, sorry I couldn't resist. Anyway, let me know what you think so far and for those in the U.K. I hope you're having a relaxed bank holiday weekend.