A/N - Ok, this is my first post ever of fanfic, so be gentle. I own nothing but the gut-wrenching anxiety and indecision of posting this. Thanks.
Chapter 1
Molly woke lying on her side, she stretched tentatively feeling the stiffness in her muscles. She moved her head slightly and was answered by a dull pain somewhere in the back of her head. Way too much to drink last night. She didn't even dare open her eyes, she could tell there was entirely too much sunlight streaming in the window. She stretched a little more and was startled when her hand brushed against something behind her in the bed. Her eyes flew open, yes it was her bed. And she wasn't alone.
Oh, God, what have I done?
She lay absolutely still listening to the deep regular breathing coming from behind her and quickly took stock of the situation. She was naked, completely naked. Her clothes were strewn about the floor and there were others, dark colors mixed in with her brights. She wracked her brain trying to remember what had happened last night. The last thing she could remember clearly was ordering another round of drinks at the pub. She had gone with friends, but she remembered talking to a man. Maybe dancing? The rest was a blank.
Molly tried frantically to figure out what to do. This had never happened before. She had never brought home someone she had just met, and she had never slept with a stranger before. Shame washed over her and her face and body burned with it. How could she have been so stupid? She needed to get out of this bed and get dressed. But she had to move very slowly because she didn't want to wake him.
Molly rolled onto her back and steeled herself, she looked over at the man beside her and recognition struck her as a physical pain, a sharp blow to her chest that took her breath away. Involuntarily she gasped aloud, her hand flying to her mouth to silence any further sound. There beside her, his dark curls mussed, his face smooth and peaceful in sleep, lay Sherlock Holmes. And he was naked. Molly's eyes traveled down the length of his pale chest to his waist where the blanket covered the rest of him from sight. Did she dare peek? Molly slowly lifted the edge of the blanket up and stole a look at what lay beneath. Her face flushed and she dropped the blanket back down. Molly's face burned, she couldn't catch her breath and she lay there trying desperately to calm her breathing. She was beginning to hyperventilate.
Sherlock started to stir. He opened those glorious blue green eyes and looked into hers. She felt like he could see right through her soul, read every one of her thoughts in her eyes. She didn't know how this had happened, but she couldn't let him know that. It was getting harder to fill her lungs with air.
Sherlock sat up immediately concerned, "Molly are you ok? What's wrong?"
She couldn't answer, just managed to shake her head. He watched her a moment, struggling for breath, clutching the sheet to her chest, her knuckles white then jumped out of bed and rushed from the room. Molly could only stare at his incredible body as he left, she was beginning to think that this was an hallucination. There were white shooting lights along the edges of her vision and darkness was starting to close in. She felt her consciousness beginning to slip away when she was aware of something being pressed over her face. She was pulled to a sitting position and she felt Sherlock slide onto the bed behind her propping her up and holding her in his arms.
"Breathe Molly. Try and take a deep breath. It's going to be ok." That deep baritone whispered in her ear. She could feel his breath on her neck.
The fact that she was here naked in his arms did not help decrease her anxiety. It only increased it. It was a few minutes before her gasping began to slow and she was finally able to fill her lungs deeply. That was when she realized that Sherlock was holding a paper bag over her nose and mouth. Once her breathing was regulated and her vision cleared she pushed the bag away.
"Better?"
Molly nodded but sat there with her head bowed and her hair down across her face trying to hide the clash of emotions raging inside of her. She felt embarrassed, humiliated. She had no memory of how she had ended up here with Sherlock, something she had always dreamed of, but she knew she was making a fool of herself.
Sherlock ran his hands up her arms, she shuddered. "Are you sure you're ok? What happened?" He started to rub her back.
"I…I" Molly couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone speak. A new thought struck her dumb. Sex. It somehow hadn't occurred to her before. She had been stunned just trying to wrap her head around the present moment. Did we, did I…? Her stomach lurched and Molly jumped from the bed running for the bathroom. She slammed the door, locked it and was immediately sick. She huddled over the toilet until her stomach was empty.
Sherlock listened to her being sick and slowly started to dress. Probably the alcohol, but maybe she was having second thoughts. Perhaps she regretted her behavior the night before. He decided he would be the gentleman and give her an out.
"Molly, do you want me to go?" Sherlock asked through the door sounding concerned and confused.
Shame and embarrassment burned anew, burned her from the inside out. She was getting everything she had ever wanted and in a horrible twist of fate, she couldn't remember. Now she was making a complete fool of herself in front of the one person whose opinion mattered to her the most. She needed to pull herself together and figure out what to do next. She didn't want him to know that she couldn't remember whatever had happened between them. She didn't want to hurt his feelings. And she didn't want him to leave. She never wanted him to leave.
"No…No. I just…too much to drink last night. I'll be right out." Molly splashed some water on her face, brushed her teeth and hair and looked frantically around for something to cover herself. She grabbed a bath towel and wrapped it around herself, took a quick look in the mirror and headed back to the bedroom.
Sherlock was nowhere to be found and his clothes were gone, she started to panic, but then she heard sounds from the kitchen. Thankful for the privacy Molly looked around for some clothes, but Sherlock was back before she could change.
"Well, that was not quite the reaction I had been hoping for." Sherlock stood in the doorway drinking a cup of coffee, he offered her a second one and a couple of aspirin. She took the cup and just looked at it not trusting her stomach.
"I'm sorry. I really am. It…It was wonderful," Molly stumbled over her words and looked away embarrassed. She hoped to God that he didn't know she was lying.
"Yeah, well…" Sherlock's eyes narrowed and he looked her over suspiciously.
Molly popped the pills into her mouth and took a small sip of coffee to wash them down.
A mischievous little smile touched the corner of his mouth. "What was your favorite part?"
Molly choked on the coffee, "What?!"
"What was your favorite part of the night?"
Molly took another gulp of coffee to avoid answering and her stomach threatened to return it. "I…It was all so…," her voice trailed off.
"You don't remember do you?" Molly looked up at him sharply. She was afraid he would be hurt, but he just stood there grinning at her. She quickly figured that she could play this one of two ways, she could get upset, and what would that serve, or she could join him in the humor of the situation. She chose the latter.
"Oh God, Sherlock, I'm so sorry. I didn't want to tell you. I just, I can't… definitely too much to drink." She smiled tentatively back at him and was surprised when he began to laugh.
"I suppose my feelings should be hurt, but honestly Molly Hooper, it's not often that we get a second chance to make a first impression." Sherlock set his coffee cup down and approached her. He took her cup and set it aside. Then he took her face in his hands and brought his lips down to hers, never breaking eye contact. He was so slow and so gentle. He ran his tongue along her mouth and she immediately granted him entrance. She felt his hands in her hair as he kissed her deeply. She tried to memorize every sensation, the feel of his hands on her face, the scent of him, the taste of him. She raised her hands, almost afraid to touch him, she slid the fingers of one hand through his curls, holding his mouth to hers. The other hand went to his shoulder feeling his body beneath the taught shirt. A small moan escaped her lips and he pulled back to look into her eyes.
"Ah, but if I'm to get a second chance, I intend to make the most of it. And I want you feeling your best." He let go of her and stepped away. Molly was left kiss stung and wanting. She put her fingers to her mouth, where his had been moments before.
"I'll be happy to fill in the blanks, but not now. I have somewhere I need to be and you need to get ready for work." He gave her another quick kiss on the cheek and left, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be in touch."
When he was gone Molly just stood there in her bedroom, wrapped in a towel drinking her cup of coffee. In what universe could this be reality, because it certainly wasn't her universe.
