winter
“Oh, dating. Romance. Ridiculous,” Sherlock snapped. “Asking you to have coffee,” he spat the word, “would have been pure prevarication, given my intentions. Massive waste of time. I’m not interested in playing out some meaningless script of conventional courtship.” Sherlock drew even closer, too close, until his voice grated in Molly’s ear. “I am interested in holding you down and doing incredibly filthy things to you. And making you enjoy every moment of it.”