This is a really fun one to write, I've got other chapters almost ready to go! I hope you enjoy it - don't forget to leave a review!

The cool breeze from the open window made the sheer curtains flutter gently. It danced lightly across Molly's cheek and disturbed her sleep just enough for her to open her eyes. She was laying on her right side, her right leg extended, her left knee resting on the mattress in front of her. Her right hand hung over the side of the bed and her left was tucked daintily under her cheek.

She waited for her eyes to completely focus and checked the clock, it was just about 6:15. She didn't ever need to set an alarm. Her grey tabby cat Oliver would be coming to rouse her asking for his breakfast soon but for the time being, she could stay warm under the duvet. Oliver was still curled up in a ball on his own bed across the room, his paw resting possessively on his new catnip mouse.

She balled up a fist and stretched out the fingers of her right hand and wiggled slightly as she tucked it under her left arm, sighing contentedly.

Silently and very suddenly, his hand came to rest on the dip of her waist. She audibly sucked in a breath in surprise.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" she asked quietly without lifting her head from the pillow.

"I'm never that asleep, Molly."

Where her voice was soft and slightly groggy from just waking up, his was fully awake; which she found slightly unnerving. She felt the mattress shift as he moved in behind her, his hand running from her waist down her bare thigh and back up again. She felt his breath on her neck as he snaked his right arm under her head.

He softly kissed the back of her neck and she felt his fingertip begin tracing the outline of the butterfly tattoo on her shoulder blade. He smirked with surprise the first time he saw it (she didn't seem he type) and she shyly rolled her eyes and a blush pinked up her cheeks.

"It's a long story. Involving my friends from uni, a hen night and far too much tequila." She'd explained.

"Don't go in to work today." He whispered to her. It sent a shiver of arousal down her spine. She felt the very tip of his tongue behind her ear.

"I have to go." She said simply, pretending she'd need to be convinced.

She didn't need to see his face to know that his lips had curled into a serpentine grin. If she needed more convincing, he'd be happy to oblige.

He moved his hand to trace up her inner thigh and he pushed his pelvis against her arse. Through the thin fabric of his pants, she could feel how badly he wanted her to stay in bed. He pulled her hip backward and slowly rubbed his erection against her.

"Again?" She asked, slightly surprised. "Twice last night wasn't enough?"

He chuckled coldly. "I can't get enough of you."

His right hand that had been immobile underneath her came to life as he bent his elbow and held her across her throat, pulling her into him. His other hand had begun slowly teasing between her legs. One of his long, thin fingers glanced against her pleasure center. The sweet friction was clouding the edges of her vision.

"Come on, Molly Hooper…be a good girl…"

Her breath caught in her throat. As badly as she wanted to give in and let him take her, she continued to hold her composure, though her resolve was faltering.

"Mine…" He whispered as he sucked on her ear lobe. Molly moaned softly and he knew he was winning.

He didn't know it could be like this. A soft, delicate, warm body in a luxuriously comfortable bed wasn't exactly something he'd been looking for. He seen her as an opportunity and seized it but now it was getting complicated.

He'd find himself distracted by thoughts of her during the day as he worked; her long brown hair and the way she tucked it behind her ear and smiled shyly at him in the lab when he asked if he could buy her a drink. He thought about the touch of her perpetually cold hand on his arm and the way her eyes went squinty when she laughed. Being at the pub with her later that night was alright. She could keep up a conversation, unlike most of the people he interacted with on a daily basis. She flirted but he found it stimulating rather than gag-inducing. He even liked that she was always slightly cold; it made cuddling with her much easier. Too much body heat would make him uncomfortable, it seemed deeply unsanitary.

He remembered every detail of the first night they spent together at her flat. He pulled her into his chest for a cuddle while they watched some stupid reality competition programme on television together. It was about group of strangers thrown together in a house, forced to interact and argue based on their personal views which the show's producers knew would cause conflict, as if those strange circumstances could ever be considered reality. He was dreading this part all night. The mundane insipidity of normal, boring people doing normal, boring things. He didn't anticipate what the coconut scent of her hair and her airy lilac body lotion would do to him. He was enjoying her company far too much. He even liked her cat, in spite of himself. Dogs didn't like him as a rule and cats kept their distance. Oliver was a lazy, slightly spoiled housecat. When he leapt up on the sofa next to them and wedged his head under Molly's hand, demanding attention, she cooed at him.

"Aw, Ollie are you jealous?" He watched her fingers scratch the cat behind his ears and under his chin. Oliver set his eyes on his rival for Molly's affection and started kneading on his leg.

"You can push him down. Go on, Ollie, shoo!" Molly said waving her hand at the cat.

"No, it's…it's fine." He held his hand out and clicked his tongue several rapid times calling the cat over. Oliver walked across his lap and sat on the sofa next to him. He pushed his fingers into the indentation at the base of the animal's skull and Oliver leaned into it, purring. Just as he was beginning to enjoy the silky fur in between his fingers Oliver got spooked, swatted a paw at him and leapt off the sofa.

"He does that sometimes but he can't scratch you." His previous owner had him declawed before abandoning him, Molly explained. She had rescued him from a shelter two years ago. As she talked about Oliver, he realized he hadn't once had to suppress an eye-roll. It wasn't a deeply interesting topic of conversation but she was so sincere about her love for her animal companion, he had to admit that it was endearing. When he realized he was staring into her eyes and twirling her hair around his fingers, he started to shift uncomfortably in his seat. He swallowed a lump in his throat, his façade dropped and his glare hardened momentarily.

"Are you ok? He didn't bite you, did he?" Molly started to jerk away but he gently pulled her back into his chest.

"No, it's nothing. Nothing at all."

Snap out of it. The voice in his head commanded him. It jolted him out of the reverie.

There is one, and only one objective here. Get Sherlock Holmes.