Alright, this story is already dedicated to the Queen of our fandom, Nocturnias, and she requested I write something involving Sherlock taking Molly on a picnic. Happy Birthday, babe. This chapter is also unbetaed because I took too long writing it and wanted to post it up by Thursday.

Sherlock and Molly had been living together for a couple of months. John was still in 221C but increasingly spent time with Mary, his girlfriend.

Between hectic schedules and work, the couple had barely spent any waking time together in a couple of weeks. If Sherlock had a regret about living with Molly, it was that it was much harder to plan surprises for her.

Molly awoke early on her first Saturday off in 2 weeks and rolled over to find a sleeping Sherlock in bed beside her. He could still take her breath away. Sometimes she actually squealed aloud (when no one was around) that she got to have him in her life and he wanted her there. He was sleeping on his back. The summer weather meant he'd kicked the sheet away, so she had an uninterrupted view of his chest. Musn't touch, she thought. He was a really light sleeper and he didn't rest nearly enough. Molly got out of bed quietly and popped to the bathroom. When she returned, Sherlock had rolled over and she now had a perfect view of his arse. She stood admiring for a moment.

"I thought we had agreed that staring at each other while asleep was creepy," said Sherlock, sleepily turning to face her.

"Clearly, you are not asleep so it is not creepy," she countered.

"Come back to bed."

She didn't need any further enticement. Molly hopped back onto the bed and snuggled into his side.

"I've missed you."

"Really, were you away?" asked Sherlock cheekily, while stroking her hair.

He got a thump.

"We have a whole weekend – I don't want to see anyone else. I'm not sure I want to leave the bed," said Molly.

"Hmm, doubtful, you like to eat and go to the loo. But anyway, you can't have your wish because I have plans for us that involve not only leaving the flat, but London too."

"Where are we going?"

"That would be a surprise. You will like it. Go shower and get dressed."

Molly pouted. "Don't we get lazy Saturday morning sex first?"

"No time for it."

"I can be quick…"

"Stop tempting me…go…"

"What sort of clothes should I wear?"

"Something suitable for outdoors."

Molly smiled. "Does this mean you're not wearing a suit?"

"Yes."

She jumped up and down a bit. "I love it when you dress like a normal person!" said Molly, pulling clothes out of a drawer.

"I know," he said smugly.

Once Molly was safely ensconced in the shower, Sherlock retrieved his phone and sent Mycroft a text, which cryptically said "activate phase I".

When they were both finished their ablutions, Molly made some coffee and toast. Sherlock sat scanning headlines on the laptop.

"What time are we leaving and how are we going?"

"A car will be collecting us in 15 minutes."

"You're really not telling me anything, are you? And you love it!"

"Correct. I'll have marmalade on my toast."

"Get it yourself. What did your last slave die of?"

"I converted her into my live-in girlfriend."

"Oh did you now? I've spent all this time breaking you in and you still think I'm going to make toast for you?"

"You've already made it! I'm just asking for marmalade on it."

"Fine. You're lucky I love you."

"I am."

The car pulled up outside and Sherlock ushered Molly down the stairs, toast in hand.

They got into the back.

"Hey, the windows are blacked out!"

"Very observant."

"How long will the journey take?"

"90 minutes."

"Oh Sherlock – why didn't you say before? I could have brought a book."

"Because I have better ideas."

"Not all your ideas are better."

"So you don't want to live out your secret fantasy of shagging in the back of a car while someone else drives then?"

Molly gulped. She'd never actually elucidated this particular fantasy to Sherlock.

"How do you know that?"

"Please…"

"No, I want to know."

"The times Mycroft has collected us in cars like this – you spent a lot of time stroking the seat, looking around, memorising…and you seemed unexpectedly aroused. Once I got over the fleeting revolting thought that you might be attracted to my brother, I realised the real issue."

"Sherlock…it may be a fantasy but that doesn't mean I want it to be a reality. I couldn't….there's a guy driving us up there."

"And he can't hear or see us," Sherlock's hand snaked up her inner thigh, briefly stroking her through her jeans and then withdrew to the other side of the car. Molly jumped at his touch, her eyes widening to silently admonish him.

She scooted over in the seat, cuddling into his side and reaching up, kissed him on the cheek.

"You're very sweet but I really couldn't…" her words were cut off by Sherlock's hand touching her again and she closed her eyes succumbing to the sensation. Part of her wished she wasn't so easily aroused by him: at times it was inconvenient. Today however, there really wasn't anything else to do. He had listened though when Molly said she was too inhibited to actually have sex in the car. He downgraded the activity to just getting her off with his hand. For an extra personal challenge, he decided he wouldn't remove any of her clothes.

She spread her legs to allow his hand better access and gripped his knee with her right hand. He pressed the heel of his own right hand rhythmically against her clitoris knowing that the seam of her jeans would assist in stimulating her.

"Do you like this, Molly?" he whispered, adding aural to the physical experience. She always responded so well to his voice. He was rewarded with incoherent mumbling while she grinded against his hand. Her muscles began to spasm, her pelvis bucking but he held firm and she came hard and fast with a loud sigh. Molly's head sank back against the headrest as her breathing returned to normal.

After a moment's silence, she spoke.

"That was lovely, and unexpected, and a bit naughty of you. Thank you."

He nodded, making some notes on his phone.

"What shall we do for the rest of the journey?"

As it turned out, Sherlock had competitive word games on their linked phones planned for the rest of the journey. Quite a come down from an orgasm but Molly thought it best not to complain.

"What are you typing on your phone?"

"Nothing! It's part of your surprise," he said quickly. It was probably for the best if Molly didn't know he had a spreadsheet of recorded orgasm times for her on his phone.

The rest of the journey passed peacefully. Molly had no idea where she was going. When the car stopped, she asked again where they were.

"The countryside, somewhere quiet," was the unhelpful answer. They alighted from the vehicle, which promptly drove off.

Molly examined her surroundings. They were on the edge of a small wood. A dirt track wound through the trees. Sunlight dappled the ground and shone on wild flowers.

"It's beautiful here. Where are we?" she demanded.

"I told you: the countryside. All you need know is that we have it to ourselves."

Sherlock took Molly's hand and led her down the path through the trees. They strolled for about 10 minutes and then found themselves in a natural grove. A large checked blanket was laid on the ground. A big basket sat at one end of it, beside a pile of cushions.

Molly's eyes lit up. "Did you plan this?"

Sherlock did his best to contain his sarcasm as he replied "of course."

"A picnic?! Oh, I love picnics!"

She raced over to the blanket, knelt down and opened the picnic basket with a squeal of delight.

"Sherlock! There's all sorts of goodies. Cheese! Cake! Bread! Oh, wine?"

"Well, we're not driving…" he knelt down beside her and sat back on his legs, tucking a cushion behind himself.

Molly busied herself taking out plates and forks and was soon very happily enthusing about cheese and whether it was wrong to eat cake first. Sherlock leaned back and watched her, only half listening. He loved surprising her.

After tucking into a lovely lunch, they both lay back to soak up some vitamin D, a rare occurrence with their jobs. Sherlock was dozing when he felt Molly stir and she suddenly atop him. Half a bottle of wine had made her libidinous – exactly as planned.

"Hello."

"You mentioned we were all alone. Are we really?" she asked, her voice hushed.

"Yes. No audience and no cameras. Why?" He knew exactly what she had in mind, and had indeed, planned it, but he wanted her to say it.

She fidgeted with the corner of a cushion and looked away for a second before refocusing on his face.

"Well, I just thought…since we are alone…and it's quite warm…that I could maybe repay the favour you did me in the car..?"

"Is that what we're calling it now? "Favours"?" he grinned.

"If you're too inhibited, we don't have to!"

Sherlock sat up and pulled her t-shirt up over her head before she had time to blink.

"No, it's an excellent plan," he whispered, sucking on her earlobe. Molly's hands went for his waistband and his own shirt followed suit. He sat her on the ground and was soon kissing her. The taste of Victoria sponge and chilled white wine was on both their tongues. Sherlock kissed his way down to her boobs, her nipples had hardened when the air hit them – a natural response – but now exposed to his mouth, grew even more erect as she gasped with delight. Her hands stroked his upper arms – all she could reach in this position but soon it wasn't enough.

"Sherlock, love…get up, take off the rest of your clothes."

He looked up at her, a bit red in the face. "Only if you do too."

She grinned her acquiescence and made short work of the rest of her attire. Molly lay back on the blanket, entirely naked.

"Oooh…I've never been naked outdoors before…it feels quite liberating."

"Imagine how you'll feel once you've had sex al fresco too."

"I was rather hoping I wouldn't have to."

Freed of his clothes, Molly admired his body. It just wasn't fair that someone could look that good with no attention to health or exercise.

"Get down here beside me," she commanded.

He lay down on his side, and kissed her softly. One finger traced a path down her chin, between her breasts and down on to her centre. She squirmed happily at his touch.

"No, it's your turn," she stopped him as he began to lower his head. She pushed him so he was forced on to his back and grabbed him by the balls, none too gently – but she knew what he liked by now. He groaned in response as she leaned over and took him in her mouth.

Sherlock was distracted now but he did manage to suggest; "You know, love, we could both have a turn at the same time…there's this other way." He grinned facetiously at her.

"This is all quite Lady Chatterley's Lover, isn't it?"

"Do you want me to put on a northern accent then? I could do," he said the last in it, just to prove the point. Molly was quite impressed that he even knew the book.

"We won't be doing much talking, but the thought is appreciated."

Molly straddled him, placing her hands on his chest.

"Are you sure you want to do it like this? The last time you got a cramp!" said Sherlock.

"Gosh, I love the way talk so sexily to me when we make love, Sherlock. Shut up and shag me!"

He didn't need to be told twice. Molly guided him inside and he held on to her arse as she began to move. She felt so very good – they really needed to do this more often. It struck him as slightly unfair that she was doing all the work on top…but then he remembered all the planning that had gone into today, and relaxed. Molly leaned down to kiss him and he took the opportunity to roll them over.

"Sherlock!"

"You were too far away – I couldn't touch you properly," he pouted, running his hands over her arms and settling at her waist. She could never resist his puppy dog eyes. Today was no different. Molly threw her arms around his neck, planted her feet wide and held him tight as he sped up their rhythm. Experimentation had taught Sherlock that she'd only need 2-3 more minutes, so he allowed himself to begin to let go. Molly clenched her muscles around him as her climax began to build, making him see stars and cry out a litany of "I love you" and her name. She smiled so prettily. Surely there was no high better than this? Finally, he came with a shudder as Molly cried out in the throes of her own high. She kissed him immediately, a long, deep passionate kiss that sent little aftershocks of pleasure through his body. They lay together on the blanket for a long time, touching gently and talking occasionally.

The sun went behind some clouds and they started to get a little cold, so clothes were reacquired.

"Sherlock, why don't you go take a walk on your own for a bit?"

"Is this your way of telling me you need to pee?"

"Maybe." Damn him being able to read her so well!

"No need for that, we'll go on up to the house."

Molly looked at him in horror.

"But you said we were in the countryside! There's a house?! People could have seen us."

"Relax. The staff have the day off. My parents are away. There's no one here."

"This is your parents' estate?" She stumbled on the word "estate" since most people of her acquaintance didn't have land.

"Of course. Come on then – we'll go up to the house. It's a long time since I had to break in. Leave the picnic stuff – the staff will get it later."

"Sherlock! We can't leave a blanket that we just had sex on for someone else to pick up," she admonished.

"Oh, right, I suppose not."

She beamed at him…finally learning! She picked up the blanket and bundled it under her arm. Sherlock held out his hand to help her off the ground. He led the way to a modest three storey late Georgian period house. Molly imagined it was a bit like the Bennets might have had in Pride & Prejudice and voiced this opinion.

"Maybe a little fancier. We're not the original owners – my great-grandfather bought it after doing well in the intelligence services under Queen Victoria."

"So it runs in the family then?"

"Indeed. There was an uproar when I said I wasn't going into the family business. Daddy didn't speak to me for weeks."

Molly sniggered. She'd never get used to Sherlock and Mycroft's manner of addressing their parents publically.

"So would you like to see inside?"

"Absolutely."

"Do you think you could bear to live in so large a house?" he asked – too cavalierly.

Molly whirled around.

"What?"

"Oh didn't I tell you? It's my house – well, it will be. Mycroft doesn't want it. And since you live with me...obviously, we'd have a place in London too but I quite fancy the idea of living here with you, when we're old. I'll keep bees," he trailed off as he noticed Molly was standing stock still about 5 metres behind him. "Molly?"

She was lost in a world of wonder. Was this the future she wanted? She'd imagined a life with Sherlock – of course – but this was a step up. Sherlock shook her back to reality.

"Molly, nothing has to be decided, ever. I just want you, and if that meant living above a chip shop in Brighton, I'd probably do it!"

She smiled at the "probably". Oh he was exactly what she wanted.

"Come on then, show me the house."

"Excellent. Wait til you see what I've planned for later."