Molly may be all but lost to her own climax, but she's not too far gone to hear him gasp her name like that before he comes. Her eyes open just in time to catch the look on his face. He appears almost startled by it before letting it sweep over him. Her legs tighten around him again as hips press into her hard. She knows she's going to be sore tomorrow. She hasn't had this much sex in a short period of time since Tom and her muscles will protest, but she looks forward to it. It's the very best kind of sore she can think of.

As Sherlock rides out his orgasm, his face now pressed into her neck, she once again wishes she could wrap her arms around him and slide her hands over feverish flesh as he comes back to himself. The most she can do is turn her head to kiss the top of his through his mop of curls.

"Love you," she whispers.