A/N: Hey guys, I'm feeling particularly happy today so here's a (hopefully) sweet Sherlolly story. By the way, for those who are still in the dark, BBC is going to release new Sherlock footage tmr at 9am! Yay!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

RELEASE

Sherlock Holmes was finding it very difficult to fall asleep.

He was staring blankly at his boring wall, going through the entire periodic table in his head, hoping that his mind would slow down soon to let him get some much needed rest.

But his thoughts kept straying to something else.

Or rather, someone else.

Her.

Her light brown hair, her warm eyes – eyes that did unexplainable things to him, her small (yet surprisingly curvy) body, her delicate hands…

Sherlock groaned inwardly. It was pretty obvious by now that he couldn't focus on the matter at hand. This was certainly a new experience for him. He never did have any problems concentrating on anything before – it had always been his forte.

Until now.

He needed her desperately. If he didn't do anything about it, he wasn't going to be able to get his rest. She was a constant image in his mind, and he needed to force her out. He needed her gone before she started to permeate every aspect of his life, making him unable to engage in other tasks.

He grabbed his coat and whisked out of 221B.

He never knew how they managed to reach this stage in their relationship.

Perhaps it had started sometime after the fall, when he was living with her. They had shared a bed then, since Molly only had one. It was stupid for one of them to sleep on the sofa since her bed was large enough for the both of them.

Somewhere along the way, their sleeping positions started to change and Sherlock would sometimes wake up in the middle of the night to find her body curled up against him, or worse, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, as if she was his.

Initially, he would push her aside gently or move away from her when he realised that they were getting too close physically. But as the months dragged on to years (two years and five months, to be exact), he found himself craving for the warmth her body provided.

He would stumble back into her flat sometimes, completely exhausted after chasing down another person from Moriarty's criminal network. It was during those nights especially that he would silently (and secretly) place his arms on her abdomen or wrap his arms around her waist while she was sleeping.

He figured that she didn't mind his actions, since she would always unconsciously snuggle closer to him whenever he did that.

When the time came for him to move back to 221B, he was surprised that he had been extremely unwilling to leave Molly and her bed behind. Well, not so much her bed, but more of Molly herself.

Sleeping beside her had become a habit and he found himself needing her beside him before he could fall asleep peacefully.

So on nights when he particularly had trouble sleeping, he would pick her lock and enter her flat quietly, laying down on the bed beside her and gently moving his body closer to hers, sharing her warmth.

But naturally, he would always frighten her when he came over unannounced in the middle of the night, and one day, out of pure exasperation, Molly gave him her spare set of keys so that he could stop prowling around her house like a common criminal.

Sherlock slipped the key into Molly's lock and entered her flat as silently as he could. As he had expected, all the lights were out, safe for a floor lamp near Molly's bedroom. She usually slept early since there was nothing much she could do alone at home, with only her cat for company.

He removed his coat and scarf, placing them on her ugly (but comfortable) sofa before making his way to her bedroom, pausing at the door to take in her sleeping form.

Her chest was rising and falling gently, her breathing deep and measured. Her lips were slightly parted and her face looked serene and peaceful. Her knees were tucked under her chin and her small hands clasped the duvet tightly. Some light from the floor lamp nearby fell over her face, making her seem angelic and innocent. Sherlock couldn't stop a small smile from appearing on his usually impassive face.

He stood there for a few more minutes, cataloguing everything he possibly could about her sleeping position.

Molly suddenly stirred and opened her eyes groggily. She looked up towards the door and started, afraid of the tall, lean figure that was obviously staring down at her.

"Sherlock?" She asked tentatively.

"Yes, Molly," he replied, stepping into the bedroom and removing his shoes.

He could hear Molly breathe a sigh of relief that it wasn't some unknown pervert spying on her while she was sleeping.

"I thought I specifically told you not to stand by the door. It scares me," she mumbled sleepily, sliding deeper under the duvet. "Can't sleep again?"

"Yes."

"Come here then," she patted the side of the bed.

Sherlock gladly slipped under the duvet beside her. He lay still for a while, not taking the initiative to move. Molly just waited patiently, knowing that he would come to her in his own time.

After a moment, he shifted his body closer to hers and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he buried his face in her hair, breathing in her heady scent. He immediately felt his mind calming down and a soothing sensation chorusing through his body.

"Molly?"

"Hmm?" He could hear that she was getting a bit sleepy again. He wondered if he should ask this of her right now, when she was tired. But he needed to, he definitely needed to. Or he wasn't going to be able to focus on anything else for a long time.

"What is it, Sherlock? What do you need?"

He took a deep breath. "You."

"You already have me, silly," she smiled, turning her body so that her head rested on his chest, a contented sigh escaping her lips.

"No, Molly. I need you. You."

It took a while for this information to sink in. "Oh…oh."

He sensed her hesitation, and for a moment, he started to worry. Maybe he shouldn't have come here asking her for this. Was he crossing the line? Was she going to get angry?

"Not good?" he asked, frowning.

"No, it's not that. It's just…what caused a change of heart? I thought you didn't engage in such acts."

"I can't stop thinking about you. I need a release to force you out of my mind so that I will be able to concentrate on my work and other things."

To other people, this may have seemed rather rude and crude. But Molly was extremely well-versed with his odd way of expressing himself. "Is this the Sherlock Holmes way of telling me that you're actually aroused by me?" she teased.

Sherlock was slightly taken aback by her boldness but was careful not to show it. "Perhaps," he answered cryptically.

Molly just laughed, the sound sweet and soft to his ears. She propped herself on one elbow and looked at him, a mischievous twinkle in her dark eyes. Sherlock guessed that something in the night air seemed to make her more upfront and playful, and he realised that he rather enjoyed this side of her.

"Let's try something then, shall we?" she murmured, gently placing her lips on his.

Sherlock's mind went blank. He tried to formulate a coherent thought but failed miserably. Her lips parted slightly and he immediately pushed his tongue in, exploring every contour of her mouth, cataloguing everything in his mind palace for future reference. Her fingers found their way among his curls and she tugged at his hair softly, causing a moan to escape from his lips, something that startled them both.

She pulled away and stared at him. Both of them were breathing heavily and Sherlock wondered why he had never tried this before. The experience was positively addictive.

"How was it?" she asked quietly, her shyness returning once more when she noticed his dilated pupils.

"Good," he replied truthfully. No point hiding it from her since she could see the state he was in, with the heavy breathing and whatnot.

"Better than everybody else?"

"Everybody else? What everybody else?"

Molly's eyes widened slightly at this news. "Sherlock…you never kissed anyone else before?"

"No."

"So I'm safe to assume that you haven't…you haven't done it before either?"

It took Sherlock a while to understand that it referred to sex. "No," he said, turning away from her, suddenly feeling a bit hot. He had been teased a few times (courtesy of Mycroft) about his sexual life, or lack thereof.

"Does it bother you?" he asked her, his eyebrows burrowing deeper. I shouldn't have come. She's going to laugh at me too.

But Molly surprised him.

She cupped his cheek with her palm and pressed a light kiss to his forehead, running her thumb along his jawline. "No, of course not."

She saw the relief on his face and wrapped her arms around his neck, placing a few kisses along his cheek and jaw to help him relax. He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her closer to his chest.

"I take it that you consent then," Sherlock asked, even though her actions right now were pretty telling of her stand.

"Mmm," she nodded, continuing to place kisses on that glorious neck of his.

He tried his best to breathe steadily as her lips touched his skin, burning him. "You don't have to worry. I'm a very fast learner, you know," he smirked, his confidence retuning.

"Oh really? Let's see exactly how fast of a learner you are then, shall we?" she smiled mischievously as she bent down to kiss him on the lips again.

Sherlock sighed contentedly and gave in to his instincts as he returned her kiss, his slim fingers trailing along her back, tracing invisible circles down her spine.

It wasn't as if he was doing anything wrong - he needed to do this so that he would finally be able to concentrate on other things later.

A week after the incident, Sherlock was painfully aware of the fact that Molly was still ever present in his mind.

To make matters worse, he found himself thinking about her more often than he used to before that night. He had discovered a lot of new things about her body and it was absolutely enthralling. He wanted - no, needed - more.

Perhaps he shouldn't have gone to her flat. But it had felt so good - much better than anything he had ever tried before. Sometimes, he wondered if he enjoyed it better than his cases.

Sighing, he came to a decision. He took out his handphone and fired off a quick text.

Molly jumped at the sound of her phone vibrating. She hastily took it out of her lab pocket, wondering who it might be.

Her lips curved into a smile when she saw her screen.

Can we do it again? - SH

Hope you all liked it! :) Happy weekend!