A Maddening Experiment

By Chinesemoon

A/N: Thank you to all the VERY dedicated followers who waited patiently for me to upload. This is dedicated to you all!

Chapter 3

Molly unlocked the laboratory door and turned the knob, as gingerly as she could manage. The door creaked and she cringed. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and even that made a maddening squeak. She reached her arm into the darkened room and groped around for the light switch.

"Oh for heaven's sake," Sherlock breathed, exasperated. He pushed past her. He clicked on the light and strode into the lab, making a significant amount of noise. Molly scowled and shuffled in behind him.

"You told me to be quiet," she complained. "I know it's late, but security can still –"

"I disabled the security camera," Sherlock said, pulling out a lab stool and stilling at the white counter-top. He pulled a laptop out of his bag. "And also, in my experience, the guards aren't too perceptive here. I don't place much stock by the employees here."

"I suppose that includes me?" she said, hand on hips. He either didn't hear her or chose to completely ignore her. His eyes stared intently at his screen. She was sort of used to that by now. She wondered why she bothered to speak at all.

Molly took off her bag and tossed it onto the counter. She stared at him for a few silent moments and finally cleared her throat.

"Are you going to tell me what you're doing?" she said impatiently.

"No."

"You seem awfully sure," Molly said timidly. "Could I help in some way?"

"No."

"Right then…" she trailed off and plunked herself down on a lab stool. She felt incredibly frustrated and confused. He asked her to bring him here, to the lab, in the middle of the night – no explanation, no please or thank you, just a cold demand. She had obeyed, as he surely knew she would. Whenever he had a ridiculous request (demand) she tried – really, really tried – to look him in the eye and say no. But then, she had to admit, he had the most marvelous green eyes… it was rather hard not to get lost in them.

She suddenly felt very hot indeed. She struggled to pull her sweater over her head. She temporarily lost her balance on the lab stool but quickly recovered. She pulled the cumbersome garment over her head, ruffling her ponytail in the process. When she was free, she noticed Sherlock had paused in all his movement and was staring intently at her.

"What?" she demanded, half incredulous, half self-conscious.

He flipped his laptop closed with a satisfying snap. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes at her. After a moment of intense examination – she never broke his gaze – he pressed his fingertips together and arched an eyebrow at her. She could practically see the wheels spinning in his brain. Suddenly a look came over him which she had trouble identifying.

"Perhaps I was too hasty in rejecting your assistance," he said thoughtfully.

"Oh?" Molly perked up slightly. She pushed up her sleeves. "Right, perfect! What do you need?"

He stood and walked up to her. He stood directly in front of her, very close. She tried not to notice the positioning of his belt to her mouth. She was sitting, after all. She struggled to ignore all the thoughts which were flooding her head. Surely not, she thought. He already said that was over.

"Get up," he ordered. She rose to her feet shakily. "Take your top off."

"E-excuse me?" she started nervously. Her face grew hot, betraying her damned arousal.

"You heard me, take your top off or I'll do it myself," he breathed in a low voice. "And I can't guarantee I won't rip it to shreds."

Molly gulped as quietly as she could. Her heart was pounding terribly in her chest. "I-I'm not your toy," she spat. "I'm not just going to drop my panties any time you decide it suits you!"

He stepped closer and breathed in her scent. "Are you wearing panties?" he asked inquisitively. He smiled slightly and dug his nose into her hair. He whispered in her ear, "Good girl."

"Sherlock," she pushed him back from her. "I can't do this. It's not fair. Either we do it or we don't do it, but you can't walk all over my feelings. It's…it's not right."

Sherlock ran the back side of his hand down her arm. He tisked. "Molly," he said, shaking his head. "You can really be such a prude sometimes."

He pulled her to him again. She was barely able to breathe. She wanted to reach up and run her fingers through his wonderful, curly hair. She'd wanted to do that since she'd first met him.

"You're fascinating," he whispered roughly in her ear, once again. "Just when I think I've had enough of you, you turn me on."

He pulled back and looked at her. She couldn't stand it any longer. She leaned in and kissed him, quickly, deeply, as if it might be the last damn thing she did in her life. Their hands were all over each other, wondering, searching, trying desperately to fulfill an aching void. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She was fumbling with the bottoms of his shirt. She helped him shrug out of his shirt. Their movements were almost blurs in her eyes. She could barely process the information. She had never felt she dizzy.

He picked her up easily and set her down on the white table-top of the lab. Her skin connected with the cool surface as he gently pushed her down onto her back. Her sensible pants were off in a flash. He pulled her back up for a moment and easily removed her bra. He pushed her back into the table and stood examining her, taking in every inch of her, admiring, speculating, planning something.

Sherlock placed his two hands on the edge of the table, as if steadying himself. He ran a hand through his dark locks, ruffling his hair even more than it already was. Molly wanted to sit up and grab his hair and (she was started to realize) pull. She dared not move though. Sherlock smiled devilishly. He leaned over and placed his lips on her stomach. He kissed lightly. He kissed again…and again…and again. His mouth was damp and each time he lifted his face, she felt the cool air hit that patch of damp skin. Molly let out a rather pathetic whimper. She was absolutely prepared to do whatever he asked. That was rather maddening, as just five minutes before, she was resolute on denying all his advances. He was terribly wonderful at getting his way.

Sherlock grabbed her legs and pulled her to the edge of the table. She was practically ready to die by now. His finger hooked around the hem of her panties.

"I should investigate further," he said wickedly, grinning at her. He slowly pulled the panties down. God, she could scream at the top of her lungs.

"Sherlock," she breathed at long last. "Didn't know you were in the business of torture…"

"Dear girl," he said, kissing the inside of her leg slowly and seductively. "There's so much you don't know about me."

"I can see that," Molly gasped.

"Can you, now?" he growled. "Maybe you need a demonstration…to, shall we say, clarify?"

"Perhaps I do," she said, grasping the side of the table tightly.

His mouth, no – oh, dear Lord, his tongue – was working its way up her thigh. Higher, higher, his hands were moving in all the right places…

There was a loud buzzing suddenly. It was terribly annoying and distracting. Molly tried to ignore it, but it become louder, louder—

Molly shot up in her bed and groped for her alarm clock. Bleary eyed, she shut the damn thing off. She took an extremely deep breath and slowly lowered herself back down into the bed. She felt as if she'd just run a marathon.

Without a doubt, it was time for a very cold shower.