#Sherlolly + two

[miz-joelys-sherlollilists]

Hi! Thank you so much for including my story (a little potterlock story) here in the Sherlollilist. It’s truly an honor! ☺️

Just wanted to clarify that I’m not Althea_Snape (though we do share the same interest in developing the potterlock stories😆) And my short story is actually from the universe of my one-shot collection (The Adventure of the Holmes Problem) on AO3.

I haven’t been in this fandom for long, but I really wanted to say thank you for your amazing works and your list! It’s helped me discover so many incredible stories and made me fall even more in love with Sherlolly🥰

Face palming for being an idiot! I'll correct that immediately!! Welcome to our little corner of fandom!

[sherlollyandspoilers]

I have been wondering: Most read the scene in the Empty Hearse where Molly presents Tom at 221b as Molly so in love with Sherlock that she made Tom wear Sherlock-style outfit or got engaged to a look-alike (which, no). But what if Molly and Tom deliberately dressed Tom like that to sort of mess with Sherlock, Tom being in on the joke. Molly knows Sherlock deducing anybody will be uncomfortable and would have prepped Tom. Look at Mollys reaction to Sherlock's reaction. Similar to TSo3 lab scene.

I think this scene could be the result of two scenarios:

On one side of things, I could totally see Molly asking Tom to deliberately dress like Sherlock. This would mean that she would've had to tell Tom about her long term feelings for Sherlock but I do think that Molly's confidence level had grown by the time we got to season 3 and that she was in a place to be like, yeah, I used to like this guy, but now I am with you, want to play a joke on him?

On the other side, Molly's friends (she says that they met through friends in TEH) obviously know what her type is, tall, dark curly hair, etc. So maybe Tom really does dress that way - maybe her friends saw him and went, yeah, she'll be in to that one. And then upon arriving to the flat Molly was judging to see how Sherlock would respond as she could tell he was more emotionally mature/grown up after they spent the day together solving crimes. In this scenario, I could see Molly probably resisting dating Tom for awhile since she didn't want to look like she was going for a "look-a-like".

Either way, I don't personally read that scene as Molly being "so in love" with Sherlock...I think she genuinely tried to move on.

[writingwife-83]

I’m so sad to say, in an effort to keep AI away I’ve officially made my fics on AO3 visible to registered users only. 😩 I currently have 3 invite codes that allow someone to make an account and I’d like to share them with readers of mine who don’t want to lose access to my fics. If you’re interested, send me a message or let me know on this post and I’ll message you.

[musicprincess1990]

Sherlolly Appreciation Week - Day 4

For today, I went with the Sleeping Beauty AU, because ADORABLE. ‘Nuff said. It’s pretty short, but plenty sweet and fluffy. Enjoy!

~*~

Once Upon a Dream

Sherlock’s breath came in laboured gasps as he raced toward the castle. By some miracle, he had come out of battling the dragon unscathed, and with that obstacle gone, now nothing stood between him and his goal. He sheathed his sword as he entered the bailey through the open portcullis, shocked at the scene he found.

Everyone, from the poorest peasant to the wealthiest merchant, was asleep. Some were comfortably reclined in their seats, some bent over wagons or shields, others lying in a heap on the ground. He even spied a dog curled up against its master, who was snoring softly. Not a soul, human or otherwise, so much as stirred as he approached, confirming his suspicion. It was magic that brought about their slumber, just as it had their princess.

Reminded of his objective, Sherlock let the sleeping villagers lie, and continued on his way. The castle was likewise filled with slumbering nobles, and even the king and queen, seated on their thrones, were utterly oblivious to the scene around them. He paused only a moment to observe, then carried on.

Onward and upward, he climbed, following the directions given him by the good fairies, until he found the tall, winding staircase that lead to the top of the highest tower. His body ached and groaned from the exertion of both the battle and the climb, but his pace never faltered. At long last, after seventy-two steps, he reached the top. There stood a door, and he took but a moment to catch his breath before pushing it open…

And there she lay, looking almost too beautiful to be real. The blue silk of her gown shone in the fading light, and he smiled at the white rose resting just beneath her folded hands. Her hair, golden brown and luscious, was fanned out over the downy cushion tucked under her head, and a hint of rouge painted her pretty, perfect lips. All that the image before him lacked was a blush to her cheeks, and her wide brown eyes smiling at him. Memories of their first meeting, of their subsequent evenings spent together in secret, of the love that had soon blossomed between them, came to the forefront of his mind and urged him forward. This was not the scenario he had envisioned for their first kiss, but he hoped to share many more in the future to make up for the less-than-perfect beginning.

Sherlock knelt beside the bed, his eyes roving over her face, marvelling once again in her beauty, before finally bending his head and pressing a feather-light kiss to her lips…

And she awoke.

He straightened and watched with baited breath as colour bloomed beneath her cheeks, and she drew a slow breath through her nose before her eyes fluttered open. She gazed unseeing for a moment, then he was granted the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “You saved me,” she whispered.

Sherlock took one of her hands and brought it to her lips. “Did you ever doubt I would?”

[muffin-n-waffle]

And tonight, when I closed that door, I wanted to turn back

But when I see a shooting star, I stay out of its path

And that's what you are, you're so bright

You burn my eyes, and you move too fast

So I say "Goodnight, make it home" like I'm making a wish

On you, from afar

You, my shooting star

Molly feeling this way about Sherlock, but unbeknownst to her Sherlock feels like she’s someone too shiny and bright to touch too 🥺

[fluorescentmortem]

slumps in my chair as I scroll through the endless amount of Sherlolly art,,, art.bylexie is so good at them and I am blessed with so MUCH CONTENT

[sherlollycounts]

🤣😂🤣😂

Not funny, guys! 🤭😅🤣

JOKE for @sherlockchallenge

[sillygirlsmindpalace]

Day 10 : Kitten 🐱

Intro: Sherlock is on a case and goes to the first bolthole he can think of - Molly's house. He finds her asleep on the couch.

----------------------------------------------------------

I find her curled into the couch

Her knees drawn close to her chest

A blanket wrapped carelessly,

But dropped carefully by the merciless wind

She sleeps like a kitten -

Not timid, not small

In a place we both trust.

Is it still a bolthole, or my home now?

Her breath rises high and low

A gentle rhythm that makes me drowsy in an instant,

Her paw - half open, as delicate as a lullaby

I want to hold her, but my work simply won't

Will it hurt, if my heart reigns over my brain?

If I were to get engulfed in your warmth,

Just this once?

Her hair spills like precious silk threads,

Shimmering against the dullness of my presence

I have to remind myself

She's a beautiful puzzle

Eons aren't enough to solve her

"Hello, dear kitten", I muse, barely audible

Quite and fierce, fragile and certain

Ever so giving, I'm ever so selfish

I want to keep her forever.

----------------------------------------------------------

Wanted to try something with these two characters.

A small gift for my fellow sherlolly enthusiast @lovingsherlockmolly 💚

Thanks to @notjustamumj for the prompts, as always 🩷

[mathilde-with-an-e]

My lovelies, I am still alive and kicking!! No promises but I have no less than three videos currently in progress. Hopefully they will be published over the summer if all goes to plan.

A Sherlolly/Jane Eyre mashup! Yes, that one!! Mentioned many moons ago but that is well under way! Using the music from a show Louise Brealey appeared in: A Discovery of Witches. A brilliant show that everyone should watch.

A Siegfried/Audrey tribute. The music has been chosen (but keeping it a secret because it would be giving too much away) and I am enjoying every second I’ve figured out so far. They are such a delight.

A Ted/Rebecca tribute. Combined with another one of Cumberbatch’s finest. I found that a scene from The Electrical Life of Louis Wain captured the essence of who Ted and Rebecca are to each other very nicely. I can’t change what the show did, but I can honour the love that these two shared.

Stay tuned! 💛

- Mathilde

youtube channel

[miz-joelys-sherlollilists]

I've never liked ff.net. I was a wattpad baby, then I discovered Ao3. And ff.net was always too old-school for me anyway, especially in filtering. BUT, I may or may not have read some wonderful pieces there recently. Again, I may or may not be looking for some Sherlolly stories that only on ff.net. Any suggestions?

There are tons of authors who only can be found on ff. net, including Emma2021, sillythings and Flaignhan (some of my personal faves)

To make it easier to find such stories, I've created a new "by website" sherlolly list. The stories highlighted in red on the ff. net page are by authors who also have stories on AO3. And just to keep things fun (by fun, of course, I mean "evil"), not all of an author's stories may be on both sites! Have fun! :)

In addition, one of my other favorite writers is thedragonaunt. Most but not all of her series "The Sherlolly Saga" is only on ff. net and even though it's thoroughly AU at this point regarding Mycroft and Sherlock's background (being that it was written before Sherlock's return in S3), the entire thing is an excellent read, every story, from start to finish. From her bio on that site:

...if you want to read them in the right order, the sequence for my Sherlolly Saga is:

Life After Death - A Post-Reichenbach Trilogy: Part One - Aftermath; Part Two - Consequences; Part Three - Unfinished Business

Demon

Mother Love

The Other Woman

Loose Ends

Gold

Stolen

Fatal Breath

Holmes for Christmas

Until Death

Grounded

Quiet Sunday

Juror Number Twelve

Hive Minded

Boy Wonder

My Kidlock fic, Genesis, is also set in this AU: the events of my Adlock fic, The End of the World, are referred to in The Other Woman and Loose Ends, so it is sort of part of the Saga, too.

[writingwife-83]

I say yes they would eventually get married. They would both understand the benefit of marriage in terms of medical and legal situations, so that no one could override their spouse’s decisions in important matters. It can save a lot of trouble and simplify things down the line. And they’d both know this is a forever situation, so why not?

And no it’s not all practicality… sentiment would absolutely play a part as well.

Sherlolly, Questions, Part 4

Do you think that Sherlock and Molly are the type of couple to get married or are they life long partners?

[sherlollyandspoilers]

Undercover

Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2024, Day 3 Trope : Fake Dating Barely proof read this, so sorry for any mistakes lol, enjoy!

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Sherlock, I said no.”

“Molly, you agreed to this.”

She stared at the man sitting across from her, annoyance radiating through her body as she stared at him. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “I am not dancing with you.”

Clearing his throat, he stood up and straightened his jacket before walking around the table to extend his hand out to her. “Yes, my dear, you are.” He stared down at her, a mask of control. “Molly,” he dropped to a whisper, “this is the best chance for us to be close to the masterminds…it’s for the case.”

She huffed out a sigh through her nose and dramatically slapped her hand into his, rising to her feet.

“Fine. But only for the case.” She fixed a soft smile on her lips and allowed herself to be led to the hotel dance floor.

“Remember, you’re in love with me,” he whispered, letting his lips graze her ear. “We need people to believe that.”

She shook her head as she gave a disbelieving laugh, her fake smile selling the “love” façade. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“How so?” He kept his voice low and face close to hers, but his eyes remained locked on their targets.

“I told you I was done with this fake relationship stuff for cases…yet here we are.” She knew her anger towards him was only partially justified – she should have backed out as soon as he said the word fiancé – but being angry at him was easier than admitting to herself why she kept saying yes to him.

“You’ve enjoyed helping me with previous cases," he said as he continued to gently move them around the dance area. “I am not sure why this case is any different.”

She shook her head before resting her temple on his shoulder, looking away from him. “You know why,” she muttered, feeling tired.

Sherlock’s swaying stopped for a moment before he started moving again. “I assure you, I do not.”

She pressed her eyes tightly together and took a deep breath. Centering herself, she lifted her head, this time a genuine smile, although sad, sat on her lips. He looked at her, slightly taken a back by the abrupt change in demeaner. “What did you say the masterminds were looking for? Happy couples?”

“Delirious with infatuation and out of touch with reality, specifically,” he responded.

“Well then, happy we shall be.”

...

“My goodness!” The woman slapped the table as she giggled. “You two are just the most delightful creatures! Do you think we’ve met any other couples as delightful, honey?” she asked as she turned to the man on her right.

“No, you are right my dear. These two are some of the best people we’ve yet to meet here.” The couple shared a look that was not missed by Sherlock or Molly. “I say, we would love to have you two join us tomorrow night for a special gathering we are having.” He slid a card across the table to Sherlock. “9pm.”

“We’ll be there!” Sherlock took the card and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

“Sounds lovely!” Molly nodded in agreement.

“Well, looks like we should be turning in.” The man gestured to the clock on the wall. “Honey?” He held his hand out as he stood and she took it.

“Oh, yes.” She smiled brightly at Sherlock and Molly. “I look forward to seeing you both there tomorrow.”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” Molly said, only letting the smile drop from her face after they were out of sight.

“Come on.” Sherlock stood and ushered Molly back to their master suite.

“I think that went well,” Molly said once they were back in the room as she started to take off her heels.

“What did you mean when you said, you know why?” Sherlock’s question caught her off guard and she struggled to not slip as she worked her heels off.

“Sherlock…” she trailed off, not sure what to say as he stared at her. Finally, she shrugged and sat on the end of the bed. “You know, I just had a long week and this case was kind of bad timing.”

“No.”

She gave him a questioning look.

“Last case…I kissed you while we were undercover.” He took a couple of steps closer to her.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“But I’d done that before.”

“Yes.” She shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

“And those didn’t bother you.” He moved so he was standing directly in front of her and she had to tilt her head up to look at him.

“Sherlock?” She was unsure where his line of questioning was going.

“This kiss was different because…” this time he trailed off and she could tell he was replaying that night in his mind.

They had been colleagues turned friends for a long time, but Sherlock didn’t often open up about his private life and on that case he had. She had then shared back and something had shifted between them. And while she had always enjoyed kissing Sherlock, even just for pretend, this kiss felt different. The next week she told him she could no longer be his undercover dating partner.

Dropping to his knees, he took her hands in his. “It was different because…I was different?”

She nodded silently. He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off. “It wasn’t that you were actually different – you were still Sherlock. But you were Sherlock who let me in…which you so rarely do.”

His eyes flicked to her lips and he hesitated a moment, before leaning in and kissing her. It was soft and gentle but still made her head rush and when he pulled back, she smiled brightly at him. “I’ve always liked kissing you,” he admitted. “When you told me you couldn’t be my undercover dating partner anymore, I am ashamed to admit the disappointment I felt at the idea of no longer having an excuse to kiss you.”

He captured her lips again and kissed her soundly until both their hands were tangled in each other’s hair. Breaking apart, Sherlock slid into the spot on the bed next to her before kissing her again. And again…and again.

When they finally broke apart, Molly spoke, “Maybe we don’t have to pretend to be together anymore.”

[afteriwake]

First Kiss - Sherlolly

This fic is part of two series! The Sherlolly series is "Fresh Start," which will be exploring the Sherlock/Molly relationship after the phone call in series 4's finale. The other series it's a part of is "Domesticity," which features stories of a modern AU Mary Bennet from "Pride and Prejudice (2025)" and her OC husband, author Leland Arnold. @dreaminonao3 created Leland, but she's invited me to join the series and write more Leland/Mary fic, which I shall do later.

Dedications - Sherlock deduces that Leland is the author behind the Kathleen Fenwick pseudonym, and he has a favour to ask.

READ @ AO3 | DOMESTICITY | FRESH START

Leland looked up at his guest this evening. He knew who Sherlock Holmes was by reputation only, but as he had a secret to keep, he’d never expected to get a professional visit from the man. “So, you know my secret,” he said.

“I would never use it for personal gain, under normal circumstances, but...a friend of mine is a huge admirer of yours,” Sherlock said. “I have hurt her badly, and I want to make it up to her.”

“So you’re going to tell her that you know the true identity of Kathleen Fenwick,” Leland said, steepling his fingers together.

“What?” Sherlock asked, his eyes wide. “Not unless you gave me permission to. I have too much respect for you as an author to do that. Not that she would tell anyone, I’d trust her with the secret.”

“Sherlock Holmes, are you a fan of mine as well?” Leland asked, his turn to be surprised.

“I read a few of your novels to see what appealed to my friend,” he said. “You have a way with words, the way a craftsman knows his tools and the ways of his craft.”

“I’ll take that as the highest tier compliment it was meant as,” Leland said with a smile, causing Sherlock to smile softly as well. “So, what is it I can do for you?”

“I would love a dedication to her in your newest book, if it’s not too much to ask,” Sherlock said.

“I don’t think my wife would mind sharing the dedication space. Tell me about your friend so I can figure out the best dedication for her.”

Sherlock’s grin widened. “Molly is...unique. She has helped me in ways I can never repay her for. She is a bright jewel in my life, a friend who I cherish very much.”

“You love her,” Leland said.

“Perhaps,” Sherlock admitted. “But she deserves more than just the life I can offer her. She deserves the world, frankly.”

“Well, I’d still like to hear more. Why don’t I have Mary come in? She’s got a way with words herself, and perhaps between the three of us can figure out a proper dedication over dinner?”

“I would be honored,” Sherlock said with the most heartfelt gratitude.

---

“Sherlock, what are we doing here?” Molly asked, clutching his arm. Leland had said he’d like to meet this lovely, fantastic, charming woman he had talked on and on about over the first night, and he would reveal the secret he was keeping as well as the dedication of his next novel.

“I’m going to introduce you to your favorite author,” Sherlock said, patting her hand as Leland stood up. “Molly, this is Leland Arnold, also known as Kathleen Fenwick professionally.”

Molly’s eyes widened and she held out her hand to Leland as he approached. “You write the most amazing romance novels, Mr. Arnold,” she said, shaking his hand when he got to her.

“Leland, please, Ms. Hooper,” he said with a smile.

“Then by all means, call me Molly.” Sherlock realized her smile was brighter than the sun, and it suited her. Then she turned to him, that same smile on her face as she stared at him. “Sherlock…”

“He’s a wonderful man, and he wanted to meet you,” Sherlock said as Mary came over. “This is Mary Arnold, Leland’s wife. They have a surprise for you.”

“Sherlock asked me to dedicate my next novel to you, and I wanted to see if you liked the dedication I wrote for you.” He handed Sherlock a book, and Sherlock handed it to her. She tucked some of her hair behind her ear, and took the book from him.

“To Molly Hooper, the dearest friend and most cherished person in the life of a dear friend. May you be blessed with a long and happy life together.” Molly looked at Sherlock. “Oh my, this is...Sherlock…”

“I told you I loved you, Molly. I meant it,” Sherlock said softly.

She shut the book and stepped closer to him. “I meant it when I said it too,” she said, using her free hand to caress his cheek. She leaned up and kissed him softly, and Sherlock had to do everything in his power not to sweep her in his embrace. When she was done she smiled up at him, the smile that lit up her entire face, and he watched her turn to Leland, wrapping an arm around Sherlock’s waist. Sherlock turned to face Leland and Mary and saw Mary had happy tears in her eyes and Leland was looking at them fondly, and arm around Mary’s waist. “Thank you for everything,” she said.

“No, thank you,” Leland said. “I may base my next fictional couple on the two of you.”

“Oh, that would be lovely!” Molly said happily. Sherlock nodded, tightening his hold on her. They still had dinner with Leland and Mary to get through, but right now nothing could top this moment he’d just had with Molly. They would, hopefully, have that long and happy life together that Leland had blessed them with.

[ukthxbye]

Confession

(new fic from me. Very much wanted to write some solid Sherlolly smut for my friend. I think someone else requested some recently? This is how it is done then. )

He’ll probably not notice.

Molly knows the risk, and how to hurt her own feelings. An old unconscious practice. Akin to the knife’s first slice into a cadaver’s chest. Molly’s therapist told her so, a mundane habit she could do in her sleep. 

“I don’t know what you expect. We’ve gone over this and I remind—” 

“You’re so good at reminding me… Like I don't know what to do.”

 And her therapist would sigh and move on. Talk about her mother or her job or… but no they haven’t talked about her and Sherlock’s past in a long time. 

It’s more familiar than what we are now. 

Her therapist was clueless Molly, and Sherlock slept together. Any of the times. Dinners. Overnights. Tea and then lunch. More than work and one step ahead even if it feels the same.  

“I’ve only got twenty,” he checks his watch. “Actually forty minutes, I’ll be honest. This case needs another intelligent mind. John has none, so you’re it.”

“Always,” she says, her fingers running down the edge of the tie like a stim. Black, dull silk, fine in its quality even if plain. She couldn’t say now why she stole the tie at the moment. It’s end sticking out of a drawer. But it cleared in her head a day ago, an image she can’t push aside. 

A breath between them, his squint unyielding. 

“That's my tie.”

“Hmm?” He likes me innocent at first. 

“Why are you wearing… it.” His voice drops lower, his stare on her chest and she pulls air sharply through her nose to counteract the instant heat and pressure under her sternum. Should’ve skipped breakfast. 

“Hmm?” She stares down, shuffling a paper, looking at anything but his eyes. “Oh this. I had a staff meeting, and I needed to look more professional. I saw it there the other day and —”

“No.”

“I’m sorry?” She dares a glance up, swallowing her thickened spit in a slow gulp. Why do I forget his effect every time until it's too late? “What are you—”

“That's not why you wore it.” His voice bounces in her head, direct… with no hint of confusion. 

She snickers while her insides contort, knowing it's a game he’ll win. “Contrary to your ego, I do things that have nothing to do with you.”

“But it's… my… tie.” He speaks each word softer than the next as he steps beside her. “And I said nothing other than that, which is true. In fact. But… that’s not a clue. The Molly I know would always ask, not take… like a thief… but that circumstance is irrelevant to the reasoning. Now…” his gloved fingers tap on the table near her hand. “I need you to tell me what it is… you want or … is that the game?”

She shakes her head slightly. “What?”

He sighs out as he flexes his chest, glancing down at the table, “The game… Your game. Please own this… it's much sexier. You’re of like mind, but that means…” his eyes travel up her form and meet her stare, “We must use words. Is that not what we discussed, my darling?”

Blank. Her thoughts slip away with that “my darling” dripping in the sweetness, almost like begging that he whispered in her ear only two days ago… when she stole the tie.

I have two options… keep playing or play with him. 

“So what?” Okay so I play. 

“So what what?” The tiniest growl under his tone sets her spine alight. 

She sniffs and shrugs, looking away at her paperwork. Perfect. “So I stole your tie.” Her index finger and thumb stroke down the tie.

“Yes, we’ve established this… move on.”

“I’m wearing it.” She loosens it at the top. She spies his eyes on her throat. 

“Are we in the mood for the obvious?”

“Does it bother you?” She holds his stare. He also likes me like this. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” 

He flinches, and she smirks. 

“So, what are you going to do about it?” She only offers a raised eyebrow. 

“Why should I do anything?” he snickers low as he leans back against the counter, folding his leather gloves hands across in front and his face drops back into flat serious. “You made your decisions. You want me to do something about it… but…”

He sighs so faintly, and she matches. So maybe this was silly. It was fun but … is this us? 

He leans to her, without a word, and she waits wide eyed as he gets closer, stepping around the counter running his fingers lightly on it. His eyes stay on the tie and she holds her breath, waiting, each scuff of his step ringing in her head. 

So much of what she imagines never comes true. Even now, this all seems like a dream. Did she imagine his hands on it this morning as she tied the knot? Yes. God, yes. 

His hand brushes her breast as he slides it up the tie and grips, tugging her to him in one hard snatch.

“Tell me what you want with this,” Sherlock says. His eyes betray him, darkened now. 

“Beg me,” she says, letting the fire settle in her chest. Her own voice is unfamiliar to her. Low and clear like his. 

“Ah… well,” Sherlock says with a click of his tongue, his fingers wrapping the tie around his hand. One turn, then another over his hand. “Let me do what you need… what you want…what fantasy has played in your head…and to this end… please. Rid me of this riddle. Give me the answers.”

She closes her eyes, the heat of his face so near hers now. “I could leave you stiff and cold.” She heard the tremor in her voice, the pressure hard at the back of her neck. 

“You can…you have before.”

“I’m glad you remember that.”

“Yes… I remember everything.”

Molly’s memories flash like lightning, dropping into her body, and her eyes flutter closed. 

“Tell me what you need… tell me the game.”

She licks her lips meeting his dark gaze. The animal inside him growling under his teeth set, his hum low as he slips his gloved finger down her jaw, gentle and rough in his grip, the leather soft but with pressure. “What… do… you… want?”

“Turn and go into my office and wait. Sit in the chair that is uncomfortable, the old chair you complained about when I made you sit an hour in it… you’ll sit and wait… gotta throw off suspicion…yes?”

“Good girl.” He says low, his fingertips falling from her face, down and across the tie and her breasts, somehow finding her nipple. She stifles a gasp. 

And he’s gone, pulling his coat close around him and his steps increasing as she watches him sneak into her office and close the door with no noise. 

“That's right… I am. But I’m bored of that.”

His eyes spoke of curiosity before he left her… It looks a lot like lust. She’s always seen that in his drive for answers. Passion in bed is better used in a case, he’d all but said. Others never spotted it, but she did. 

But I’ll make him too tired to care about the case. You can thank me later, John. 

“You will…” her fingers lightly travelled up the tie to her throat, a glitter painted nail tracing along the collar and he doesn’t blink, “Do exactly what I tell you. I’m gonna take my tie off… oh sorry… your tie.”

He licks his lips, his blue eyes darker, steadily staring at her fingers.

She counts breaths between each pull. 5…4…3…2…1

The tug is unyielding at the nape as she arches it up, throat exposure that shifts him in his seat, mirroring her with his own neck. 

The knot slides out, and she grabs both sides. God that pull feels like his hand the other night... But focus…

 “I need you to stand.”

He wordlessly complies. 

“You will tie me to the chair.”

“We could do this somewhere more enjoyable—” 

“Did I say speak?”

He shakes his head. The slight lift at the corner of those perfect lips strikes her core, blood pooling. She knows each tic and gesture like a well-worn textbook. Years and she uses it to her advantage now. 

She sits slowly, not releasing his gaze, letting him see down her shirt before she leans back.

“You like it when I tell you what to do? Nod… but if you have any pretty words as you tie, then say them… make me ache if you can.”

“I don’t have to speak… in fact my words are worthless. But my hands do valuable work… and my tongue… if you want them, they will serve you better.” 

“Shut up then and get to work.”

His leather hands, like a criminal tying her up, crosses her mind, and tingles in her skin. He’s no angel, as he said before. But serene in his steps behind her taking her arm’s weight into his hand, the leather thumb softly tracing the vein down her wrist, tugging her arms back. 

And he binds hard, with speed and she whimpers at the pressure just before dangerous. So precise it almost makes her come. 

“Kiss me… my lips, my eyes, and my jaw.”

He lingers his gaze before beginning his set path and she squints at its tenderness. Has she seen it before? Before now, many years ago, his lingering glance, so happy that she’d moved on like he instructed strictly her on the night he left to be “dead”. 

But I tired of doing what I was told to…

Everyone told her to never look back, never settle, never sleep in his bed and never think he could…

His lips’ caress so faint, she almost wishes her hands could slap him. He knows, oh he knows, and it's worse. 

“Stop being so docile,” she says, irritation creeping into her tone and settling in her tightening chest. 

“May I speak?” he says in a low whisper, resonating in her jaw more than her ear. 

She nods, and he persists for kisses on the same path before leaning back and securing her stare with his.

“Reverence is not as foreign to me as it would seem. An object of desire before me. A game and a case all her own. So speak.” He pulls in a ragged breath, her eyes falling to his chest, watching it rise and fall before his words snap her attention to his mouth. “Tell me your desires. Your requirements for this sacrament… it is not any less worthy than any other rite.”

Her lungs betray her. But she builds fire from it, “Unbutton my shirt, slowly, and kiss anywhere you want. But only if… you tell me what you are sorry for.”

“Hmm?” A pinch of confusion tightens on his brow. 

“Say your apologies.”

“A confession?” 

She nods with a heavy breath out her nose, the fantasy now real washing over her. And he blinks slower as his mouth crooks up.  

He sneaks a kiss below her jaw and she allows it only because the distinct sound of his glove pulled off and hitting the floor strikes her to her core. Oh god he’s going to do this… all of it I ask. His hand to the buttons of her shirt and she counts each one in her head, mapping his path and the seconds turn into minutes. Her body drops into a state of awareness and surprises her. 

Her eyes flutter closed, his breath dancing along her sternum, and his hands plant on the chair’s edges, not touching her thighs but so close she senses their heat. Is he being careful or is he… god just grab me… but no. She rights her mind, reminding this is the fantasy she wants. She says, “Yes, like a confession… if you want to bring religious kink into this.”

A joke to lighten the mood. 

He sighs, and she turns her attention to watch his lips as he says with his usual grin. “I can’t argue with its power.”

“Can’t imagine you in church.”

He sighs into her skin and she can’t breathe. Why am I feeling this way now? She’s had sex with him. Though mostly more passionately, fast, or angry. Scratching an itch. But this is like surgery. 

“You go to church often?”

“Well, no—”

“Except that night.”

She leans back, and he obliges and mirrors, each looking fully at the other. 

His eyes say what he doesn’t. He was there the night she slipped in the church to pray in desperation for his safety. A god she can’t believe in but she needed any help she could get. 

“If I could I’d slap you.” It’s worked in the past. 

“Oh… but you can’t.”

“Wipe that smile off or you get nothing.”

“My apologies.”

“Then get on your knees.”

She catches the flash of the shape of his cock in his pants as he steps half a step back and falls to his knees before her with a dull thud and a grimace. 

“Molly… if I’m allowed, I will confess my sins… while I commit others.”

“As long as you do as I say, absolution is yours.” Her smile grows as she speaks, a new fire building in her core with the words she’d only heard in her head before. 

“Beautiful words but…” His darkened stare on her chest and she knows he cheats, counting breaths and rise and fall to know his effect. 

“Some things are involuntary, Sherlock. I’m exposed in my office. That's why my heart is up and my breath—”

“OH… of course.”

“Moving on. You’re confessing… not me. I need no forgiveness.”

“Then please forgive me…” he licks the corner of his lip, his gaze straying down. “I forget my place. May I lay kisses on your chest as an offering with my confessions?”

“Yes.”

Her thighs in his hands as he leans over, his hot breath on her skin now so close as his lips caress just below her collarbone. “Forgive me, Molly, I have sinned.”

The kiss moves over to her clavicle and he speaks low into her throat, “I knew of your affections…” Trailing down her sternum and she knows her breath informs him of her want to him. But she can’t control them now. Her arms ache now tied back 

 “I confess I thought all affection dull… but not yours…” He smiles into the kiss over her heart, the pressure of it and the organ reaching for each other through her sternum.  

Wait… what?

But his lips trail over the swell and his nose nuzzles the edge of her bra, the heat of his breath sneaking through the black lace, finding her nipple and she gasp as he says “I confess I saw advantage at first… then it turned to fascination and then guilt… but nothing would rid me of it… not until you let me find my own.”

Get back under control. She lets the images of him breaking because of her wash over and give her ammunition. What could he say now? Was he even serious? She can’t decide if she wants him to be or not, but she’ll test it.  

“What is your confession, then…that you loved me all along?” she says with a light snicker. Does he think I’m dumb? Is it to make me feel better? 

The air shifts, and she swallows hard as he leans back and lifts his eyes. Their stares meet, his eyes steady where hers search. He licks his lips. “Yes… though I confess I was confused. But genuine confusion never stays long with me.”

Every nerve sends fire to her spine as she sits still in shock… hopes long dead racing through her mind and the look in his eyes… she recalls each memory, each time she said to herself, “no… do not believe.”

She squints, her mouth screwing up. “Then why did—”

“Why did I do anything?” His face lifts, looking to the ceiling as if I appeal to heaven but returns his darken stare to hers. “I’m selfish, Molly. Seeking the ends to the means. I’m ill equipped at human emotion out of the abstract… you deserve more… so much—”

“Shut up.”

And he does, his face falling into a kind of serenity. 

She expects him to argue after she says it. It's his favourite defence mechanism she’d indulged until now. It made for some amazing foreplay recently. But he surprises her again as he pulls his lips tight closed and only nods with a slow blink.

“My trousers…” she sighs as his long fingers find the button immediately, and with precision he drags the zipper down. “Prove what I deserve.”

She shivers as his fingers slide inside her waistband, one hand gloved and the other not mixing sensations along her hips. How many times she’d seen those gloves hold evidence. Now tracing the lines of her bones like reading religious text, reverent. Much slower study than the previous times, none of the fervent pawing. Has he had his fill before, so now he’s patient? Her mind settles with his calmness, and she knows what to say.

“Meet it once more, but now worship as it was meant to be… in—OH,” she says soft but yelps out he lifts her, grips her trousers and knickers in one snatch down to her knees and then looks her in the eyes as he pulls the rest of the way down slow and off.

Bit of both then. 

She should have more thoughts. This is her fantasy, after all. What a time to tell him what she wants, he so perfectly compliant. The cool air of her office floats across her exposed skin. His hands cover her knees, and he pushes them apart and her breath catches. 

“Just touch me,” she blurts out, everything in her core aching.

“I’m but a humble servant…,” he smirks as he says it, but it doesn’t make her want him less. “You must tell me what you desire most of all… what you need… my hands or my lips.” He slips the gloved hand roughly up her thigh, his thumb ghosting the crease of her thigh and her cunt. 

“I… your hand first. You can kiss me everywhere else.”

He grabs her bum with his gloved hand, the leather tightening with his grip into her flesh, and she sighs into the building pain. But it only builds her hunger and impassioned fervour overwhelming her and she hears the hitch in his breath, a consecration declaring her power and his want.

His lips and teeth pull at her bra and her nipple slips out with coaxing. His lips and tongue work and she forgets where his hands are until the ungloved one slips up, gripping her rib cage tight as it slips over the other breast. 

He moans, sucking her nipple and half her breast into his mouth until she arches, the tie tightening on her wrist and she matches his moan. Her mind clears with the perfect combination. Nothing else in the world but these sensations. Wetness spreads across her hard seat as she shifts. For a moment, the discomfort grounds her in the reality of her fantasy coming true. The smells of chemical mixing with their own scents, and the sterile hospital air.

Spoken low into her chest, his voice and her heart skipping along with the words. “Intercede for me, my beloved Molly. Let your grace pour out for me, but also your mercy. I do not deserve this honour… I denied myself it because of that truth… yet you bless me. Let me bless you too.”

He put his fingers in his mouth, wet them with a glisten and then found her cunt, slipping in with ease as she bites her tongue not to cry out. It wasn’t new to her; she knows the fingers well, but the scene set overwhelming and she slides in the chair to allow him more and the tie pulls on her wrist to a deep ache. 

Two fingers in pulling and curving calling her to come as she gasps, a small orgasm pulls from her. God that was fast. 

“This is but the beginning of my confession. Let my tongue speak the rest.”

“Oh god—”

The words gone, his kiss on her lips hard, then soft and tongue disorientating her, his gloved hand still kneading her bum and the fingers inside her spread, his thumb finding her clit now. 

She sighs and whispers into his mouth, “yes” and he laps it up. 

But then he is gone and she can’t catch her breath before he pushes her thighs apart and both hands grip her ass, bringing her to his hungry mouth. 

He devours her. The word “fuck” leaves her lips between heaved breaths. The growing ache in her lower belly matching the pull on her arms and shoulder. 

Tongue wide laid flat licks up and finds her swollen clit and she cries out, biting her lip to keep from a loud moan. 

Between licks, he whispers to her, “I confess I could drink this sacrament forever, drown if it—oh yes it has blessed me.”

His tongue laps more up and she moans her eyes closing in ecstasy. But the air cools and she senses his pause… like asking permission and she glances down to see him looking up in begging reverence. It breaks her and puts her back together. 

She sighs through her heightened breath to a shudder. “Drink then, drink your fill if you can.”

“Thank you…oh bless you,” he says, a murmur only as he continues his worship. 

He sucks and pulls, consuming all she releases. His tongue playing with her clit with a perfect speed her mind goes deliciously blank. Only the rolling sensation in her body, his touch and mouth and nothing else.  

“Drown me, my darling.” His shudder, the pitch rising, and she knows his want, sensing it in her core. 

“Like that yes god please yes” she wishes she could pull his hair, but the tug of her requested restriction like reverse psychology and in her frustration her want grows.

The groans come deep from him, echoing into her cunt, and she shudders as he whispers, “I love you.”

And the orgasms wash over her, long sustains and staccato his tongue plays as his fingers enter her again. Playing her like a new piece of music. “My conversion is complete. This religion I only knew in the abstract will now be my only devotion.”

He lifts himself up, his fingers slipping inside her deeper. And he kisses her hard again. She tastes herself mixed with him, a scent mixed with his spicy cologne and she aches clinching his fingers, riding out the last of the climax. He slips out, and she drifts back into reality with her breathing. 

He places his forehead against hers. “May I release your bondage now?”

She nods and kisses his cheek, still wet from her. “Only you can… my love.”

They both smile, searching in their stare for ease once again. She sighs as he wraps his arms around and kisses his neck, and he loosens the tie’s hold and rubs her arms, helping her wrap them around him.

He pulls her onto the floor with him, cradling her, and stroking her hair, pulling its sweaty strands of hair away from her neck. She lays her head on his chest, his heart’s thump a comfort. How many times she’d considered when it might stop on her. She’s seen his dead body in her mind and in a lie… and that reality will still happen one day. It's a toss up who’ll be first but she wants the living one as much as possible. Death is inevitable. So is life. 

Then let’s live. 

“Let me get your clothes and let's go back to… yours? You have the most comfortable bed. No ties to steal,” he says matter-of-factly but with a growing smirk. That snarky boyish charm his face always shows. He’ll always have that and she grins, grabbing his cheeks with both hands and kissing him until he moans in her mouth. 

She releases him to admire his soft gaze, the only worship she’ll ever need. 

[mizjoely]

"Who is the mysterious Lady In White who haunts Musgrave Hall? Sherlock Holmes is determined to come to the bottom of a family mystery."

“2020 Sherlolly Halloween”

Theme: Gothic Mystery

[sherlollysecretsanta]

The 2024 round of Sherlolly Secret Santa is open for sign-ups! The form will remain open until November 25th. Please spread this far and wide in the Sherlock fandom!

We had four sign-ups, which is enough to run a proper Secret Santa, but I would like at least two to three more people, so if you're at all interested, sign up! It's a lot of fun!