Well, here we are everyone, the final chapter. I just wanted to say THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for your reviews and feedback and support on this story. I'm glad it's gone over so well, YAY! Anyway,

I don't own much, and by 'much', I mean anything...I don't own anything.

Lust

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Lust: n. /ləst/ 1. Very strong sexual desire.

v. Have a very strong sexual desire for someone.

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He awoke to the muffled sound of thunder outside his window. A very aching Sherlock Holmes glanced over through the dimply lit room, to see the rain pounding against the glass. He looked around a bit. 'How did I get in here?' he wondered to himself. A glance at his wristwatch told him it was around 7:00 am, though the blurred vision didn't give him precise details. As he moved to roll over, however, the detective discovered he had a different issue to be aware of now, one that also affected his vision, so to speak. The 'issue' only made itself more evident as he rolled to one side and saw her lying there. They were both fully clothed, (much to his dismay) and he could make out the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept.

Sherlock had leaned on an elbow, and took to gazing at her. She had shed her cardigan sometime in the night, and was now revealing much more skin in her tank top. He looked at her pale shoulders, and followed the curve of them over her collarbones. His eyes gazed down to the creamy skin on her chest, just above the swooped neckline of her top. As she breathed, her petite breasts moved, creating a tantalizing show for his viewing pleasure. 'Good God, man, pull yourself together.' Molly stirred in her sleep, and let out a soft sigh as she rolled over onto her side. The sigh sent a jolt directly down his spine, and localized to the growing problem. He withheld a groan of need as he went back to watching her.

A slip of her hand from its place under her head caused her arm to limply fall away. Molly's fingers lazily dragged over the side of his thigh, and Sherlock gasped in wanton frustration for more. The audible noise woke her, and she sprang up in the bed. Her hair was tangled a bit, and her sleepy eyes finally focused on him.

"Sherlock, is everything alright?" she asked, reaching out to him. A nervous Sherlock scooted away from her quickly. A bit too quickly, as he fell off the side of the bed and onto the floor. He let out a groan of pain. Molly gasped as she moved to help him up.

"Oh my gosh! Are you..." she asked after him, her hands inching closer to help him sit up. Sherlock moved away again, and this time stood quickly.

"Don't touch me. I'm fine." He snapped out. Molly went rigid with the harsh tone of his voice, and nodded her head.

"Oh..oh..okay. I'm sorry." She murmured quietly. Sherlock instantly felt bad, and felt another pebble drop onto the collecting weight in his lower stomach. He bit back a groan of need, and quickly turned to exit the room.

"I'm just going to go and shower." He said, leaving through the door and closing it behind him. Molly sighed out, her hand wiping over her face a bit.

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The cold water hadn't seemed to help him any as the desperate detective would have liked. 'What is that matter with me?' He pondered as he scrubbed the night out of his hair. The dull and throbbing ache between his legs hadn't let up any, and it became quite obvious what he was going to have to do. 'How utterly predictable.' He scolded his body as he reached down, already feeling a sense of relief with the first touch. A low growl left his lips as he tugged, his breathing becoming more labored in the warm shower. The detective had always hated this, and rarely ever found it necessary, so he wasn't entirely shocked as his body fueled an unnecessary desire to be touched, after having consumed so much alcohol. What did shock him, surprising him entirely, was the fact that, as he touched himself underneath the shower stream, images of Molly flashed to mind. Not images he had seen either, but rather unsavory in nature. 'Her nails digging into my skin. Those small, yet ample breasts, her sighs of ecstasy. Oh God, Molly.' In a final move of pure bliss, he released his pent up frustration. A heavy breath later, and he began to clean himself up.

As he left the shower, he had expected the rest of the day to be perfectly alright. After all, he hardly ever felt this way, and one moment of indulgence was more than enough for another decade.

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However, this thought couldn't be further from the truth. As Sherlock made his way to the bedroom, he passed by a quiet Molly. She looked up to him, giving him a small smile. Sherlock felt an instant jolt.

"Um, do you mind if I borrow your shower?" She asked in her meek voice. Another jolt shot to his stomach, stronger and harder than the morning's collected want. He felt his breath hitch immediately, and he tried to answer back in a husky tone.

"That...that's fine." He gruffed out, before walking briskly back to his bedroom. Molly watched him go, her confused expression deepening.

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The shower felt absolutely wonderful, and Molly felt more refreshed than she had in what felt like ages. Not for lack of bathing, but the water pressure of 221B was significantly higher than the dull strum of her own shower at home. The water pelted her skin hard, slowly beating out the pains and aches in her muscles. Molly let out a soft sigh and a moan of relaxed state, unknowingly driving a nearby eavesdropping detective insane.

'My God, it's like she's trying to kill me. Alright, just stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about her.' Sherlock was pacing the living room floor frantically, as he attempted not to steer his mind back to the fact that there was a naked 'beautifully naked' woman in his shower. Another sigh resounded in the echoing shower, which bounced off the walls and slipped under the crack of the shut door. It floated into the air, and whizzed into Sherlock's ears. Another sharp stab of unfulfilled desire dropped onto his accumulating need for her, and the genius felt his resolve slipping again. He wanted to fix this issue, however, the sound of the water stopping left that desire incomplete as well.

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Molly exited the bathroom, her damp hair hanging loosely over her shoulder. As she made her way to the living room, she discovered it was empty. 'He must still be in his room. I'd better make sure he's okay.' She told herself. She made her way down the long hall, and knocked on his bedroom door.

"Sherlock?" She asked.

"Go away." Came the stoic, yet cranky response. Molly grinned a bit, wondering if he was supremely hung over. She cracked the door open a little bit, her head poking through. She saw him standing by the window, watching the rain roll off the glass. As she went to him, she saw him visibly go rigid, and she knew something was wrong.

"Are you sure you're alright, Sherlock?" She asked.

"I said go away, Molly." He answered, not looking at her. Molly huffed out a frustrated sigh, her hand moving to the front of his chest to turn him to face her. His eyes widened, and he looked at her, almost in fear. The simple graze sent a shock wave barreling through him, and Sherlock, for all of his usual control and discipline, simply couldn't hold back any longer. His need far outmatched his logical head this time, and he moved so quickly. In a swift move, he pulled her to him, his lips crashing down and attaching themselves to hers. He felt Molly gasp against his mouth, and a small groan of surprise.

"Sher...mmm...what are y...ou...oh! What are you do..ing?" She managed between his fierce assault on her lips. She had moved against him, trying to move away, to get a bit of clarity between them and what was happening. However, a well placed shifting of her hips, and she instantly felt and knew what had caused his sudden outburst of affection.

"Sherlock, are you..."

"Turned on, enamored...aroused? Mmm, yes Molly, I believe I am. Now, if you would kindly stop talking so I can act on these sudden urges, that would be...mmmmost helpful." Sherlock managed to speak almost as quickly as when he wasn't distracted. He moved them back into the room, and onto the bed, kissing her manically the entire time. The better part of Molly's judgment told her to stop him. 'There's something off about him, this...isn't like him..oh.' The rest of her, the part that belonged to him already, was convinced she couldn't stop him now anyway, even if she wanted to, which she didn't. It's moments later, when she is topless beneath him. She doesn't remember his strong muscles flexing as he ripped the cotton fabric from around her smooth skin. She's barely noticed that she's down to her knickers, while he's completely naked on top of her. What she does focus on is the way his large hands grope her small breasts, roughly squeezing them, yet she can only moan out in delight. What she does manage to register is that she can feel the wetness building up between her legs as he kisses all over her stomach.

"Oh, Sherlock." She moaned into the air. Another crash of thunder went ignored, as Sherlock removed the thin bit of material that separated him from his destination. Molly panted as she felt his tongue sweep over her teasingly. She felt him growl against her, the vibration causing her to grind against him.

"You...divine creature." Sherlock said in an airy breath. A few swiped of his tongue again, and Molly practically leaped off the mattress. He moved up her body again, no longer able to resist or stall himself.

"I need you, Molly. I need to possess you. Now." His dark voice huskily swam through her ears. She couldn't resist him even if she'd tried. She nodded to him, and he wasted no time in entering her. They both groaned out in ecstatic relief as he slowly, and altogether too quickly, filled her.

"Molly, I don't know what's...I...oh God, I..." The man struggled with keeping his pace and finishing his thought. Molly, bless her, was blissfully unaware of his less than eloquent moment. 'I don't know what's come over me, but I don't want it to end. You're gorgeous and I need you always.'

"Sherlock, keep going, please!" Her voice had moved up in pitch, her whimpers of desire high in their refrain. Sherlock, ever the musician, had a final passing thought. 'I want to make her sing like this over and over again.' He shut out his mind completely then, as he sped up. Soon, too soon for either of them, the tether snapped, and they flew away from reality as they came together. She whispered and sighed his name, he breathed hers. The exhausted pair lay on his bed, curled together under the sheets. Molly looked out the window at the storm, and then up to his face.

"And how are you feeling now?" She asked with a smile. He looked down to her, grinning mischievously.

"I feel much better. Quite tired, for some odd reason. And my head hurts a bit." he said, his witty response turning into genuine confusion.

"Ah, about that, did you hit your head on something? You've got a knot, right here." Molly reached up and gently prodded his head where the bump was. Sherlock winced at the tender spot. He felt it for himself, and it all clicked.

"The poster, of course." He looked over, remembering the picture still seated by the wall. Molly looked over, and back up to him.

"So you did hit your head. Sherlock, you probably have had a concussion. Were you aware that you'd been acting odd this whole week? I mean...odder than usual, that is." She asked, propping herself up on his chest a bit.

"I honestly hadn't noticed, apart from wanting to sleep much more than I usually do...and then today, of course." He grinned, until he felt her body stiffen underneath his. He tilted her chin up to face him, and leaned over to kiss her.

"Do not mistaken that for regret, Molly Hooper. I am very glad to have had this time with you. It's something, I think, I would like to experience again." He said with a chuckle. Molly joined him in laughter, being relieved at that fact herself. He leaned in and kissed her once more, quite passionately this time. When they pulled away for air, Molly smiled.

"I thought you said your head hurt." She accused with a smirk.

"Yes, well, I think if I take something for it, it'll help. What's your opinion, doctor?" Sherlock replied with a grin, before kissing further down her body. He slipped from under her, and rolled over so that he was now kissing down the front of her skin. As he slipped further down her, Molly watched his head disappear underneath the sheets. She gasped at the sensations of his touch over her flesh, the stimulation only enhanced by the fact that she couldn't see him at all. As he settled to his desired spot, Molly moaned out loud, her head dropping back onto the pillows.

"Oh, Sherlock. You're positively sinful."

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The End.

So, that would conclude this lovely little story. :D I hope you all enjoyed it, as I had SO MUCH FUN writing it. This idea, I must say, was seriously one of the better ones I think I've had. So, I'm super glad that you all did enjoy it, and thank you so much for letting me know that you liked it. I would be nowhere without my lovely readers, BIG HUGS FOR ALL OF YOU! :D