So not my kink, she thought to herself as she scrolled down.
But then it hit her.
The half-smoked cigarette, the vain flick of fingers over hair, the tension of the garter belt holding up the silky black mesh, the decidedly masculine scattering of hair across lean thighs, and the lover's possessive, quietly demanding hand.
Molly closes her eyes for a moment and imagines two very differant looking men in the picture.
John gently runs his hand across Sherlock's side to close possessively on Sherlock's hip. He presses tiny kisses to Sherlock's throat, not caring in the least about Sherlock's studied indifferance to his charms.
Sherlock looks amazing in women's undergarments, all long-legged sinewy grace, and he knows it too. It shows in the way he casually flaunts himself in front of the mirror idly flicking a curl out of his face as he brings the cigarette to his painted lips. As he exhales he turns his head and gives his lover an amused smirk.
"John..." he murmurs coyly.
John moves to stand between Sherlock and the mirror, making it easier to pull his taller lover (made even taller by the three inch heels he's wearing) down into a steamy kiss...
There's a slam down the hallway and Molly pulls out of her fantasy with a gasp.
Shameless! she thinks to herself.
Why, anyone could have come in and seen her with her hand down her pants like some slut who just can't wait until she gets home. She adjusts her clothes and shuts down the internet (after furtively looking around and saving that picture for later viewing) on her laptop.
She washes her hands and gets back to work.
She can't help blushing redder than usual around Sherlock but he just mentions that it is flu season and that she shouldn't be at work if she's sick. She doesn't point out that she doesn't have to worry about her patients catching anything from her as they're all dead.
Molly's courage fails her utterly when she comes face to face with John. There's just this inherent decency about him that makes her embarrassed on his behalf for having such dirty thoughts about him without his knowledge. So she just mumbles something that might be a "Hello" and scurries out of the lab as fast as she can.
Much later she finally makes her way home. She goes through her usualy routine but when she gets to the part where she usually reads or watches t.v. she can't find anything interesting. Even her favorites are tossed aside after only a few minutes.
Her eyes restlessly glance around the room only to catch on her laptop. An idea starts to form, a plan of continueing what she'd started hours before.
Molly opens the laptop and quickly pulls up the only image saved in her security-locked file.
She glances furtively around the room, as though someone would leap out at her at any moment and mock her fantasy. Staring at the picture again she decides to start somewhere far more risque than the kiss they were interrupted at.
John is behind Sherlock, using his view of the mirror over Sherlock's shoulder to watch the pleasure spread across Sherlock's face as John slides a hand beneath the silky black panties.
The gentle grip he has on Sherlock's cock is at odds with the harsh nips he's placing along Sherlock's shoulders and throat. There will be bruises tommorow and the thought makes him smile.
Sherlock opens his eyes just in time to see John's self-satisfied smile and smirks back. He grinds his hips back against his lover and...
Molly's right on the edge when she hears Sherlock's voice calling her name. She moans loudly as her orgasm washes over her.
The afterglow would be pleasant if someone wasn't bangiing on her door she muses. The sound of lockpicks barely registers.
"Molly? Are you alright?"
Then John is there in front of her and she belatedly tries to pull her dressing gown down in an attempt at modesty.
He blushes when he realizes that her moan was not a sound of distress and averts his eyes so that she can pretend he didn't see that her hair colour was all natural.
Sherlock is looking at the image on her screen and when he looks at her she turns bright red. She's glad when he doesn't say anything about it.
Sherlock explains why they need her to come down to the morgue in the middle of her off shift while she's in her bedroom getting dressed.
Sherlock takes her up to her door later that day when they (finally) take her home.
"It's hard to find heels in a man's size." He says blandly as they wait in the elevator.
She knows he's got to be talking about a case but she feels like she's being given a reward for something. A small hint about what he might be into to help fuel her fantasies.
She smiles to herself and locks the door behind her. She crawls into bed and closes her eyes...
"Touch him Sherlock." She says directing the man in black silk panties and high heels towards the man tied to the bed. "John loves it, don't you John?"
Her answer is a mufffled whimper and the way John's back arches as Sherlock drags his long fingers along John's hips.