This drabble is based on a tumblr prompt: 25 Days of Fics: Hot Chocolate.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, or Christmas, or hot chocolate. Happy Holidays!
"Ah, Molly, I'm glad I caught you before your students showed up. Here."
Sherlock set a to-go cup in front of her, and then pressed a kiss to her cheek. Molly blushed at the contact. Since they had started seeing each other, she'd been trying to grow accustomed to his touch, but it still made her want to giggle like a school girl whenever he put his hand on her hip, or gave her a quick snog.
"And now he's brought me a cuppa," Molly thought to herself. She brought the beverage to her lips and took an exploratory sip. The taste was divine; it was a salted hot chocolate with whipped cream, her favorite; and from her favorite place as well. She gave Sherlock an inquisitive stare.
"Yes Molly, I know it's your favorite. You mentioned a while ago that you and a few of your friends frequent Rococo's and, going based on what I know of your palate, I deduced that this particular beverage would be to your liking. You're due to have interns today, and I know lecturing isn't something you enjoy; the chocolate releases endorphins though, and will hopefully keep your stress level down. I'm not a case, as you are aware, so it was a simple thing for me to pop round the shop and pick it up for you."
As his explanation ended, she couldn't help herself. Molly threw her arms around him and kissed him. Right there in the morgue, where anyone could walk in. Molly knew Sherlock wasn't one for big displays of affection. In private it was a different matter, but in public Sherlock liked to keep things proper. But she couldn't help herself. He just admitted to not only remembering a conversation with her (which, with burst of joy in her heart, meant she was in his head) but he knew what her favorite drink was and where to get it.
It took Sherlock a second to respond. Sherlock had expected a thank you; what he hadn't expected was this. But then his arms locked around her trim frame, pulling her flush against him. He angled his head and gave her just as good as he got. A battle of lips and tongues followed, and they may have even made it to her office or the supply closet (that shelf had turned out to be much sturdier than he'd imagined) had the morgue doors not swished open, the sound of interns voices and feet suddenly coming to stop.
Sherlock and Molly reluctantly drew apart. Molly was flush but had the brightest smile on her face.
She should have been embarrassed but she wasn't. Clearing her throat she directed the still gapping interns towards the back of the morgue where she had a body set up for study. Turning back to Sherlock, she found him smiling, his bow lips slightly red and puffy from her ministrations. Before she could say anything, Sherlock spoke up.
"If that's the response I'm going to get, I'll be sure to bring you hot chocolate more often."
"See that you do. Thank you for the drink and for the kiss."
"Anytime, Dr. Hooper. Go knock 'em dead." With a smirk and wink, Sherlock left her to her students. Turning around, she addressed them in her most authoritative voice.
"Shall we begin?"