The Decoy Wife - Part 5

[darnedchild]

Summary: Sherlock needs a decoy wife for a case; and Molly is more willing to help than she wants to admit. It might have something to do with his chosen disguise.

Rating: M

A/N - I don't even know.

The Decoy Wife

Part Five

Her hair caught on something when she tried to roll over, causing Molly to grimace in her sleep. No matter how many times she’d tried to discourage Toby from curling up on her pillow, the cuddly cat insisted on getting tangled in her hair.

“Bugger off,” Molly mumbled, reaching up to try to nudge her cat away.

“Rude,” came the answer in a drowsy, sleep roughened version of Sherlock’s voice.

Molly’s eyes snapped open. She turned her head, hissing as she pulled her hair free, to find the consulting detective spread out, face down, across two-thirds of the queen-sized bed. His arm was tucked under the edge of her pillows, yet he’d somehow managed to weigh down several locks of her hair while she’d slept.

Last night hadn’t been a dream.

Almost as if he could hear her thoughts, Sherlock lifted his head. “Good morning.”

“Is it?” she couldn’t help asking. What if he changed his mind in the harsh light of day? What if he decided last night was a mistake?

Sherlock blinked, visibly confused. He rolled onto his side to face her. “I thought it was. Did something happen after I fell asleep?”

Molly shook her head. “No. It’s stupid, but I just wasn’t sure . . .” she trailed off.

“I am.”

Just like that, two simple words soothed her doubts.

The alarm clock began to bleat and Molly quickly fumbled for the nightstand to shut it off. It took her two tries because Sherlock’s arm snaking around her waist was incredibly distracting.

“Six A.M., time to get up,” she squeaked as he pulled himself closer.

He began to inch the hand that had been at her waist up her side. “Not yet. We don’t have to be downstairs for breakfast for at least an hour. It shouldn’t take you more than thirty minutes to get ready if you pull your hair back into a ponytail and don’t bother with makeup. That gives us thirty minutes to spend however we want.”

Sherlock pressed a kiss against her shoulder. She could feel his warm breath through the thin cotton of her vest. His hand finished its slow journey upward, ending with his thumb brushing against her nipple. “I’ve got a few ideas on how we can spend the time.”

Molly caught her breath, then let it out in a soft moan. “I’m sure you do, but it’s going to take longer than that. My hair was still wet when we fell asleep last night and I can already tell it’s turned into a tangled rat’s nest. I didn’t bring my straightener, so the quickest fix is going to be another shower.”

She felt him smile against her shoulder. “Not what I was thinking of, but I’m flexible.”

She giggled. “That would definitely take more than thirty minutes.”

His thumb stilled as he lifted his head, obviously intrigued. “Really?”

“You can’t just jump into something like that. There should be some lead up and if you want to actually bathe afterward . . . If you want to do it properly, then yes, really. Assuming the hot water holds out.”

He blinked, then gave her a slow grin. “I’ll pay to have Mrs Hudson install a larger boiler at Baker Street as soon as we get back.”

Molly blushed, but she couldn’t help smiling. “How will you explain the sudden need for more hot water? Tell her it’s for a case?”

“Why lie? I’ll tell her it’s for sex. Trust me, she’ll understand.”

“Sherlock!” She slapped her hand against his bicep.

“Not good?”

“I don’t know?” Although if he was already talking about informing his landlady as to the change in their relationship—in his own, extremely blunt, way—why should she argue? “Actually, it’s fine. You’re right, if anyone would approve of shower sex, I’m pretty sure it would be Mrs Hudson. You wouldn’t believe some of the stories she’s told me.”

“Excellent. Now that we’ve finished discussing the proposed improvements to the plumbing at Baker Street, where were we?” He moved his thumb, lightly circling her nipple again.

She shivered and tried to hold on to her rapidly fading resolve. “We need to get up. Don’t forget that Scott Hooper doesn’t have your curls. You’re going to have to deal with all this.” Molly ran her fingers through his hair, thrilled that she finally had free rein to do so.

Sherlock groaned. “Don’t remind me. Fifteen minutes?”

“Nope. Sorry.”

Rather than giving up completely, he raised up on one elbow and leaned over her. “I could put on those glasses you seem to like.”

“Oh, God. You noticed?” Molly covered her face with her hand, then spread her fingers to peek up at him.

He nodded and his lips curled upward in a smug smile. “I noticed. Why do you think I already had them on when I met you at the train station?”

“You needed to get into character ahead of time?” she guessed. Even as the words passed her lips, she realized how naive she’d been to think he wouldn’t have deduced her unexpected fascination with his eyewear. They made him look scholarly, almost academic, like a naughty university professor who was contemplating bending the teacher’s pet over his desk.

Sherlock arched an eyebrow, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He shook his head. “I needed to see if your reaction in the lab was an aberration, or if you were going to get hot and bothered every time I put them on.”

Molly reached up and lightly smacked him in the arm. His bicep flexed under her hand. She couldn’t resist trying to wrap her fingers around his arm. God, he was fit. He leaned down to nuzzle against her neck in retaliation, the barest brush of his lips felt like a white-hot brand against her skin.

“At one point, I thought you were about to crawl into my lap on the train,” he whispered.

“You, ah—“ Molly broke off with a gasp when the tip of his tongue flicked against her pulse point. “You noticed that, too?”

“Mmmhmm,” Sherlock hummed against her before lifting his head to look at her. “I can’t say I’d object if you wanted to give it a try on the train home. I would be more than happy to arrange for a private compartment.”

His hair was a rumpled mass of inviting curls, his eyes were intently studying her face, and he smelled better than she’d ever imagined. For a long moment Molly couldn’t remember why she was denying them both. “What do you want, Sherlock?”

His smile turned soft. The arm not supporting him rose so that he could trail his fingers along her jaw. “I want your hands on me. I want to touch you. Kiss you. Taste you. I want anything you’ll give me. Everything.” He slowly leaned closer until she felt his breath against her lips. “I want you.”

Her eyes dropped to his mouth just as the alarm went off once more. She must have turned on the snooze function when she’d shut it off earlier.

Sherlock groaned and closed the tiny bit of distance between them to press a disappointingly chaste kiss to her lips. He pushed himself up and rolled to his side of the bed, glaring at the offending alarm as he went. “I really hate that thing.”

இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—

Breakfast was an elaborate buffet that Sherlock had absolutely no interest in. He wanted to spend the hour before their first session walking the grounds.

They had discussed Anna’s case as they prepared for the day. Sherlock was nearly positive they wouldn’t find her hidden away somewhere at Happy Hearts, but he wanted to have a look around regardless. Molly had suggested waiting until the scheduled hike that afternoon, but he’d only rolled his eyes and said he doubted Simon and Michelle would appreciate him wandering off trail to have a “looksee” in the outbuilding.

While he impatiently waited in the dining room doorway, Molly grabbed a bagel and made their excuses to a few of the other guests who had issued an invitation to sit with them. “Scott’s not really a morning person, so we thought we’d take a walk and explore a bit.”

The man from the hot tub the night before winked as she walked past. Molly’s polite smile was a bit strained as she joined Sherlock.

As soon as they were out of view of the others, Sherlock took her hand and dragged her out the front door. There was a bit of a nip to the air, enough to cause Molly to lament that their coats were up in their room. He hesitated for a moment, then lifted his arm and drew her to his side so she could huddle against him for warmth.

Molly hid her surprised smile behind her bagel, but he seemed to know what she was thinking anyway.

“Don’t make a fuss. You were cold. If anyone looks out a window and sees us, it will appear as if we’re out on some sort of romantic stroll like a pair of love-struck idiots. The staff here are desperate to witness any shred of evidence that their vapid relationship counselling works, and will automatically assume that-“

“Yep, got it. A smart man might have just left it at ‘you were cold’.”

He pulled them to a halt and looked down at her, frowning. “A smart man? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “For future reference, not everyone considers romantic walks to be a waste of time. Some people like that sort of thing. Luckily for you, I understand Sherlock speak and recognize that the point of all of that was that anyone who looks outside will see what they want to see.”

Sherlock’s eyes clouded for a moment, then he nodded. “Shall we, then?”

A quick glance through most of the windows give them disappointingly little useful information. They found what was most likely Michelle’s office (Victorian era furniture refurbished in pastels and peaches, everything arranged just so, several framed photos of a grinning Michelle and Simon) situated near the front half of the building. Oddly, Simon’s office (modern chrome and leather couch, sleek glass topped desk, not a single photo of Michelle or the couple anywhere in sight) was at the back, near the staff quarters and as far away from Michelle’s as one could get.

They walked in silence for several minutes, which Molly didn’t mind. She finished her breakfast, then snaked her arm around Sherlock’s waist and simply enjoyed the fact that she could do it without worrying that she was crossing a line.

“Do you? Like all that romantic drivel?” he asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

She considered it, not wanting to give a flippant answer to the question. Sherlock wasn’t one for small talk, if he’d bothered to ask then he truly wanted to know. “I don’t dislike it. In moderation.” Molly shrugged. “I like flowers once in a while, who wouldn’t?”

He started to open his mouth and she quickly continued, “Candy is nice, but I’d much rather have a home cooked meal and quiet evening on the sofa, with a cuddle or two thrown in. I quite like getting dressed up and going somewhere romantic for a special occasion, but I wouldn’t want to do it on the regular.”

“Noted.”

She wondered what he meant by that. Was it a good thing? A bad thing? His tone gave her no indication one way or the other. Did he think it would be more effort than he wanted to put into a relationship?

“Molly.” He tightened his arm around her shoulders to pull her out of her spiralling thoughts. “I find nothing objectionable in anything you mentioned. I like quiet evenings in, and I imagine I might appreciate the odd cuddle from time to time. I know of several nice restaurants we could visit if I’m in-between cases. As Mrs Hudson can attest, I do have a slight sweet tooth; but I believe I would prefer something new to experiment on to candy or flowers. Should you ever wish to present me with a gift.” He looked down at her with a small smile on his lips.

Molly smiled back. “Noted.”

Sherlock led them toward the trees near the large outbuilding they had spotted during their search of the staff rooms the night before. As they walked across the browning lawn it became obvious the building must have been a garage of some sort. There was a gravel drive leading up to the far side of it, out of view of the main building.

He pulled her to a stop just inside the treeline not far from the garage. “I’m going to have a look inside. You keep watch and let me know if anyone comes this way.”

“And how am I supposed to do that from over here, without being extremely obvious?” As far as plans went, it wasn’t a terribly good one, she thought.

“You’ll think of something.” He disappeared around the back of the building. Molly was certain that she would not, in fact, be able to think of something. She crossed her fingers and hoped for the best.

Five minutes later, she spotted Sherlock striding back toward her. “Anything?”

He frowned and tossed an annoyed glare toward the outbuilding. “Nothing that leads toward Anna’s current location. The bus is in there, along with an SUV and a sports car that is clearly unsuited to being driven out here. Mid-life crisis car, most likely Simon’s, indicating he’s restless and dissatisfied with his current circumstances.” He stared into the distance, his eyes focused on something she couldn’t see as he processed the small amount of new information he’d received. “It was a long shot anyway.”

“I’m sorry.”

Sherlock blinked and looked down at her. “Why? You had nothing to do with it.”

“Yes, but . . . Never mind.” Molly shook her head and glanced at her watch. “There’s still twenty minutes before our first session. What do you want to do now?”

His expression turned from confused to lascivious in a heartbeat. Sherlock stepped forward and put his hands on her waist. He pulled her flush against him. “I can think of a few suggestions.”

Molly laughed and lifted her face to him when he leaned down. Kissing Sherlock while he was wearing his glasses felt a little different than before, naughtier, almost as if they were roleplaying. For a moment she could almost picture herself behind an opulent desk admiring her hot, bespectacled PA as he pulled off his tie and started to pop open the buttons of his sinfully tight shirt.

Her hands skimmed over his biceps on the way up to wrap her arms around his neck. Sherlock grinned against her mouth, then kissed her even harder. He sucked her lower lip between his, then closed his teeth around the flesh with just the barest amount of pressure. Molly’s knees threatened to buckle. She felt him begin to grow restless, felt his arousal becoming firmer where he pressed against her stomach.

By the time he trailed a string of biting kisses to her ear, they were both breathing hard. “Let’s go to our room,” he rasped.

“Not enough time,” Molly whimpered in response. She pulled away, barely avoiding his grabbing hands as they tried to yank her back. She glanced around, then took one of his hands and led him deeper into the trees.

Sherlock looked as if he were about to argue, but ended up following her with barely a grumble. As soon as Molly could no longer see the villa, she turned and said, “Kiss me?”

He was on her in less than a moment, his mouth hot and eager against hers. She might have grinned at his enthusiasm if she wasn’t feeling so desperate herself. Sherlock slipped his hand under her jumper, and violin calloused fingers ghosted against her lower back. Molly voiced her approval with a breathy, “Don’t stop.”

His hand moved up her side. Sherlock grunted in annoyance when he encountered the band of her bra. Molly’s giggles turned into a gasp as he shoved the bra cup out of the way so that he could palm her breast. She felt him smirk at her reaction. She lowered her head to his throat and nipped the skin there, just over the spot where she could feel his pulse racing, biting hard enough to make him jerk against her.

His free hand grabbed her hip, holding her still so he could grind his erection against her. He lightly pinched her nipple, causing the sensitive bud to tighten and pebble. Molly sunk her hands into his hair, uncaring that she was destroying all his earlier efforts to tame his curls that morning. She scratched her nails against scalp and he groaned her name.

Molly slid a hand down his chest and stomach until she could cup his erection.

“Christ, you’re going to kill me.” Even as he complained, he continued to rock his cock against her hand, instinctively seeking friction. “How do you expect me to walk back in there like this?”

She grinned and pushed him back against the closest tree. “I don’t.”

“Wha-“ His word cut off in a sharp gasp as she yanked his perfectly serviceable and annoyingly baggy button up from his waistband and shoved it into his hands. “Open.”

Sherlock hesitated for a second, then started yanking shirt buttons free from their respective holes. In the meantime, Molly popped open the button at his fly and lowered the zip. She could see his erection straining against the dark grey material of his underwear, and she ached to hold his length in her hand. Molly lowered herself to her knees.

“Oh, fuck, you can’t be serious?” He quickly scanned the area around them, confirming that they couldn’t be seen by anyone who might look out one of the Happy Hearts villa windows.

“Unless you don’t want to?” Molly bit her lower lip and waited.

“Believe me, I want.” He reached down to brush his hand over her hair in a soft caress. “Are you sure this is something you want? We’re in the damn woods, anybody could hear us.”

“Then don’t make any noise.” Problem solved as far as Molly was concerned. He seemed to agree because when she moved to push his jeans and boxer briefs down his muscular thighs, Sherlock rushed to help. He hissed when his erection sprang free and met the chilly air.

She had seen him naked the night before, beautiful in the dim light from the fireplace; but in the morning sunlight, looking aroused and thoroughly debauched, he was glorious. She wrapped one hand around his cock; the other found his hip before slipping across his taut stomach.

He whined when she took him in her mouth, his abdominal muscles rippled under her hand. She moved slowly at first; sinking down on his length and then pulling back until only the head of his cock was still between her lips. Every other stroke she swirled her tongue across his glans. The rhythm changed when Sherlock’s hips began to move toward her, silently urging her to take him just a little deeper.

Molly looked up at him as she continued to suck his cock. His eyes were nearly dark, the pupils blown wide with desire, as he watched her. She could see his lips moving, silently repeating the same word over and over.

Her name.

Given more time, she would have loved to draw the moment out, drag him to the brink of orgasm and hold him there until he begged for mercy; but they were expected in the villa shortly. Quick and dirty, then.

She released him with an obscenely wet pop and licked her lips, delighted with the way he was so intently focused on her mouth. Molly reached for his hand and brought it to her lips to drop an open-mouthed kiss to the centre of his palm, before guiding him to use that hand to cup the back of her head. Her hot breath ghosted across the glistening tip of his erection. She could feel him vibrate under the strain of trying to hold still, to keep from thrusting forward that tiny bit of distance separating his arousal from her mouth.

“How do you like it? Fast? Deep?” Her lower lip caught and dragged against his flesh. Sherlock groaned something incoherent. “Show me what you need.”

She leaned closer and took only the head of his cock between her parted lips. He twitched. His hand flexed, the long fingers tangled in strands from her ponytail. Molly held perfectly still, waiting.

Suddenly, Sherlock’s control broke. He bit out her name just as his hand tightened against the back of her head. His hips began to rock. Slow and shallow at first, as he eased toward Molly’s limits; then picking up speed and depth when she slid a hand between his legs to fondle his scrotum.

“Molly?” he breathed, packing so many questions into that single, barely audible word.

She hummed her consent around his length. She felt him tense, felt his bollocks draw tighter, heard his breath hitch, and then he was coming in long bursts against her tongue.

Sherlock slumped against the tree for support, gently cradling Molly’s head between his hands as he caught his breath. “That-that was . . . I can’t think of the words. Why can’t I think of words?”

Molly laughed, delighted that she’d managed to—temporarily, of course—short circuit the mind of the great Sherlock Holmes. “Why are we whispering?”

He held out his hands to help her stand, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “You told me not to make any noise.”




Part 1 / Part 6