A/N: Rated T, heavy on the innuendo and, um, no actual bedsharing lol. Many thanks to vertual for reading this over on the sherlolly discord!

Day 1: Only One Bed

Six months. They'd been romantically involved for six bloody months and they'd been going slow because she'd told herself she'd let him set the pace even if she'd never actually said that aloud to him but honestly...six months and nothing more than kisses and cuddles?

It just wouldn't do.

Molly was comfortable with sex. She liked sex, to be honest, and she missed it when she wasn't having any - and she hadn't been having any aside from her own hands and Mr. Vibey since she'd broken up with Tom (and since she was being totally honest today, if not a bit devious, the sex with Tom has been adequate at best and frustrating at worst and Mr. Vibey had been very stealthily applied more than once after Tom was snoring or gone back to his own flat).

It wasn't as if Sherlock wasn't interested; she could tell when a man was enjoying himself and he was definitely enjoying himself...right up until he made his excuses and left or sent her back to her own flat or declared it a night when he wouldn't be sleeping and spent it pacing or playing the violin while she lay on his bed in frustrated annoyance before eventually falling into sleep plagued by Those Types Of Dreams.

No, it just wouldn't do. Molly Hooper was a patient woman - lord knew she was a patient woman, having waited eight long years for Sherlock to finally get his head out of his arse - but her patience was at an end.

So she laid her plans, and ignored the sensible (panicky) part of her mind that was whisper-screaming at her this is a terrible idea, you'll ruin everything you daft woman, you know he's still probably recovering from all that family trauma he suffered because of his sister even if he's out running around as usual with John on cases and taking you to romantic dinners in between but that doesn't mean he's ready to Do It...ignored it, stifled it, stomped it into submission as she made a few phone calls and got everything arranged to her satisfaction for the coming weekend.

oOo

Something was different. Sherlock paused on Molly's doorstep, head raised like a hunting hound sniffing the wind, eyes darting back and forth, taking in the signs that anyone else would have missed.

Scuff marks on the doorframe. Fresh scratch on the lip of the third step. Half a workman's boot print beneath the railing to the left, clearly missed when the rest of the porch had been washed earlier - not just washed, scrubbed, faint scent of the pine cleaning fluid Molly favored still lingering…

Interesting! Molly's had some furniture moving done. Why?

Raising his hand, Sherlock knocked on the door, eager to deduce more of Molly's entirely unexpected activities this evening.

oOo

The door opened and there Molly stood, hair and makeup showing extra care - a bit too much around the eyes and not enough on the lips, but the hair loose and wavy with nary a naff bow or barrette in sight - and wearing a brand new frock in the bold colors she favored. Blue and green this time, vaguely evoking the scent and sounds of the sea to his mind, with kitten-heeled blue pumps and an eager, nervous smile on her lips.

He leaned forward and kissed those lips. "You look lovely," he murmured against her lips after the kiss had come to a most satisfactory end. "Special occasion?"

"Just you coming," she said, and was that a small smirk on her lips now? Interesting.

In fact, this whole evening was turning out to be even more interesting than anticipated. His heart quickened as he followed her inside, eager to see just what she had in mind besides dinner and - he paused, sniffing the air appreciatively - mmm, ginger nuts, home made and still cooling, oh it was Christmas!

Then he focused once again on this other senses and stopped dead in his tracks.

"Molly Hooper, what have you done with your sofa?"

"Sent it out to be reupholstered," she replied without hesitation, but her expression gave her nervousness away. Her eyes, darting around the room to rest anywhere but on his face. Her teeth, nibbling at her lower lip.

Her hands, fidgeting with the bright blue sash of her dress.

"Dinner?" she asked brightly, moving toward her open, airy kitchen from which not only the heavenly smell of fresh-baked ginger nuts was emanating, but also the subtler smell of homemade meatballs in a light wine sauce and either cauliflower or broccoli, lightly roasted.

Both especial favorites of his.

"Molly."

She stopped her headlong rush for the other room. Stood, shoulders slightly hunched for a moment before squaring them and turning to face him. To look him dead in the eye for the first time since opening her front door to his knock.

"Should I deduce the state of your guest bedroom?"

"The mattress needed replacing," she said in a low voice. "New one won't be here till tomorrow but I had them take the old one away."

Sherlock took a step forward, then another. "So you're telling me that, should I desire to stay here tonight as I so often do, there's only one bed and nowhere else to sleep? That we'll have to share a bed together?"

She swallowed. Nodded. Started to lower her gaze, then thinned her lips and straightened her posture to one of pure defiance. "Yes."

He took one last step, so that he was stood directly in front of her. Touching distance. "Is this your way of saying you'd like to sleep with me?"

"It can just be sleeping," she rushed to assure him, as nerves clearly overtook her attempt at bravado. "It doesn't have to be anything else."

"Anything else meaning sex?" He quirked an inquisitive eyebrow at her, and she blushed. Becomingly.

"Well, yes," she mumbled. "I just thought, well, I was hoping - well, not hoping, exactly...Shit!" she suddenly exclaimed. "I can't believe I went to all this ridiculous trouble instead of just asking you when you'd be ready for sex!"

Instead of welling up with tears, as he feared, she shook her head and began laughing at herself. "I'm such an idiot, Sherlock! Forgive me, I wasn't actually trying to, to trap you into sex. I promise! I guess it was more of a -"

"Test," they said together, then both fell into laughter - and one another's arms.

"Molly," Sherlock said once he'd caught his breath, "you never fail to surprise me. In the best possible way," he added reassuringly. "So after we eat the dinner you've gone to such careful lengths to prepare, and after I've had a few of those delicious ginger nuts you've been sure to leave out so I could smell, perhaps we could adjourn to the bedroom and see just how comfortable your bed is when we're both in it at the same time."

As she started to nod, some devil prompted him to add, "And I trust after tonight you won't be needing Mr. Vibey for a good long time, eh?"

He laughed the entire time she chased him into the kitchen.

A/N: I've read (and written) fics where Sherlock manipulates things so there's only one bed but none where Molly does it. Hopefully this works!