A/N This story is in response to a challenge by AlessNox : Write a one chapter story about Molly inviting Sherlock over to her flat with the intention to seduce him using obvious techniques, but it goes horribly wrong. Or does it? Thanks Aless!
Molly Attempts Seduction
It was all Mary Morstan's fault. If they hadn't had a girl's night in, two cartons of ice cream, several bottles of wine and a soppy romantic chick flick, it would have never happened:
Molly sighed deeply as the hero finally caressed the girl. Their battle of misunderstood antics over, the couple kissed themselves into the sunset as the final credits began to roll. It was such a shame real life was not as romantic.
"Y-yoou know whut you need?" Mary's voice slurred as she attempted to paint another toenail with hot pink polish, "You need uh good shag. Do yuh good. You're tooo uptie…uptide…uptight!" She peered up at her friend and giggled.
"I am not uptight, and you're drunk." Molly said. "It's a good thing you're staying over; I don't think you could make it home alone." Molly watched as Mary carelessly attacked her feet with the polish. "You do know that stuff goes on the nails don't you?"
Mary stared at her friend and grinned. She peered at her toes for a moment and then snorted. "Paintin' muh whole toe is lots more cheery! It gives muh feet a feeling uv…" She waved her hand holding the brush in the air in circles for a moment as she searched for the correct word. "Panache!" she shouted loudly and both girls collapsed in another fit of giggles.
"Remind me to hide the cutlery." Molly laughed, "You're deadly with that nail brush."
"So, whad yu think of my idea?" Mary slurred happily.
"What?" Molly asked, pretending ignorance in hopes that Mary would change the subject.
Mary closed her eyes for a moment and struggled not to slur her words. "You putting some…serious effort into getting Sherlock's attention" she said carefully. "You two have been skating about each other like," she paused, trying to think up a metaphor. "Like…like water drops on hot Teflon," she continued impatiently. "Really Molly, it's time you put the poor man out of his misery."
Molly frowned. "It's not like that; we're friends, just friends." If her words ended on a sad note, at least she still had a smile on her face.
"Friends?" Mary scoffed in drunken insensitivity. "Please! I've seen the way the man watches you when you are not looking! You just need to be more assertive." She snorted again.
"Been there, done that." Molly said a little grimly. "Did you never hear the saying, Twice bitten, once shy?"
Mary stared at her friend for a moment before grimacing. "Sorry, I forgot. John…John told me about the, the uh, the Christmas thing. That was ages ago Molly, Sher…Sherlock's different now. His time away changed him. He's nicer to you than he used to be."
It was true. The aftermath of the Fall had changed them both. As his only contact with his past life, Molly had become an anchor holding Sherlock together. They had necessarily become close. Molly couldn't begin to count the times or number of stitches it took to patch the man back together. But, when it was all over and Sherlock and John had reunited and settled their differences, everything went back to the way it was before. Molly, no longer needed to provide essential lifesaving services, returned to being the friend who hovered on the edge of the group.
"Well Hooper, are you a woman or a mouse?" Mary asked waspishly and waved the nail brush in the air again like a sword.
Molly stuck out her chin and glared at her friend. She had stopped being mousy a long time ago. Or at least she hoped she had.
"What do you suggest?" she asked.
Several hours and dozens of ridiculous plots later, Molly felt reasonably comfortable with the plan they had developed. Asking John and Sherlock over for a movie night would be easy as long as they didn't have a case. Their little plan might even work, though she had her doubts Sherlock would even glance at her in a remotely romantic way. Still, the idea was subtle, and if nothing developed, at least they had a good movie to watch. She helped her now completely inebriated friend into her guest room and tucked her in for the night. She hoped Mary would not have too bad a hangover in the morning; they had a lot of shopping to do.
ɸ
Friday evening, later that week . . .
Molly went down the list of essentials one last time;
Scented candle – check
Romantic Movie selections – check
Lights turned on dim – check
Sherlock friendly snacks – check
Sexy outfit – hmm - check
Molly walked into the loo and checked her reflection. She wore a simple white satin blouse with snug skinny jeans. Nothing too elaborate, nothing to draw attention saying, look at me I'm all dressed up for you. Molly did not want a repeat of the Christmas fiasco. The blouse draped her body well and clung in the right places, plus the satin was a sensory bonus most men appreciated. Who knew about Sherlock though? She looked at her reflection. Her face was bare of makeup except for a light touch of lipstick and a touch of powder to dull the shine. Her hair was swept up into a lovely loose bun on top of her head. Molly especially liked the loose tendrils of hair about her ears and neck. She looked nice, hell, she looked good! Molly smoothed the neckline of her top, stared into the mirror one last time, and verbally assured herself that she was not nervous.
The doorbell rang. She straightened her shoulders, smiled, opened the door and greeted her friends.
"Molly! You look lovely tonight!" Mary gushed as she hugged her friend. Molly frantically whispered in her ear.
"Don't be so obvious Mary, you'll spoil everything." Molly stepped back, gave John a friendly hug and smiled up at Sherlock.
"Hello Sherlock." She made no move to hug the detective. One did not hug Sherlock Holmes, at least not casually. Molly hoped to change all that, but now was not the time. The two friends stared at each other for a moment before Molly moved slightly and said. "Make yourselves comfortable. Mary, could you help me in the kitchen?"
As Mary and Molly headed off to the kitchen, Sherlock and John settled in the living room.
Sherlock frowned a little and plopped down into Molly's overstuffed chair. It was the most comfortable chair in the room. John sat on one end of the sofa.
Sherlock looked about the room, frowned slightly, and said, "They're plotting something."
"What makes you say that?" John said, a little confused.
"Observe, John," Sherlock said a little impatiently. "Look at the room. It's extremely tidy; there is low lighting with a candle burning. What do you think?"
John looked about. The space was extra neat. He could tell Molly had spent a great deal of time cleaning every surface, but beyond that…he shook his head. "Sherlock, not everything has to have a special meaning or indicate a conspiracy. Besides, if they are planning something unexpected, that could be good." He grinned at his friend. "I promise to protect you if Molly turns evil and has designs on your virtue."
Sherlock gave him a scathing glance and grunted.
A phone rang. "John, could you get that for me? I'm rather busy. It's in my purse." Mary called out from the kitchen.
John crossed the room to where Mary's purse lay on the entryway table and fished out the mobile. He looked at the name, but did not recognize it. "Hello?" he said and listened to a frantic voice on the other end. "Just a minute," he said, and walked to Mary. "It's your neighbor from across the hall. I'm not sure what she is trying to say. Something about water."
Mary took the phone and listened intently for a moment, then exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! I'll be there as soon as I can!" She closed her phone and looked at her boyfriend. "John, you have to take me home immediately! Clover says there is water seeping out under my door into the hallway!" I left the washing machine on, it must have burst a water hose or something!" Mary frantically began to collect her things in preparation of leaving.
John looked at Sherlock and called out. "Mary's got water problems at her flat. Do you want to come with us or stay here?"
Molly held her breath. This was the crucial moment. If Sherlock left with John and Mary the game was up.
"Sherlock looked up from selecting a movie long enough to announce lazily to his flat mate. "You are much better in a domestic crisis John. I'll just stay here and get a cab home later."
"Okay," John replied and ushered Mary out the door.
"Well that was one hurdle crossed." Molly sighed to herself in relief. She giggled quietly. John was going to be pleasantly surprised to find a dry flat when they arrived back at Mary's. She hoped he appreciated what Mary had in mind in order to reward him for being so gallant.
Molly quickly started the coffee machine and prepared a small plate of sandwiches which she cut into bite size wedges. Freshly baked whole wheat bread slathered with butter and thick slices of baked ham. She added crisps and carried the plate into the living room.
Sherlock was now perched at the end of the sofa. Long legs tucked under his chin. He was watching the opening credits to the movie.
"Would you like a sandwich?"
"I'm not hungry."
Molly was not surprised. Sherlock routinely turned down offers of food. She wisely didn't say anything, just placed the plate on the sofa between them. She handed Sherlock a cup of steaming coffee and settled down to watch the movie.
"What movie is this?" Molly asked. It definitely wasn't one of the romance movies she had left on the coffee table.
"Iron Man 2" Sherlock said absently, watching the small screen. "I took the liberty of searching your collection since the only thing you had laid out was the romantic dribble that John and Mary prefer. I knew you wouldn't mind."
"Okay." Molly said and inwardly sighed as her mind crossed 'romantic movie' off her checklist with a large red X.
Sherlock suddenly turned and looked at Molly. "What is that awful smell? He wrinkled his nose and gazed about the room searching for the offending odor. He even leaned toward her and sniffed, then to Molly's relief, shook his head. "Ah!" he said at last. He zeroed in on the small candle on the side table. "Found it!" He looked at Molly. "Do you mind?" He asked blowing out the flame.
Molly winced. "Sorry, Mary and I bought it when we were out shopping. It's an aroma therapy candle." She mentally sighed and crossed off 'candle with aphrodisiac scent' from her list.
"It smelled like a funeral parlor," Sherlock said as he refocused on the movie once more.
They watched in silence for a while. The action in the movie picked up and so did Sherlock's responses. Molly knew most people grew annoyed by Sherlock's constant running commentary, but she found it fascinating. Some of his sarcastic remarks were hilarious. It was almost more fun watching him instead of the movie. After a time, Molly glanced down to see that the plate of sandwiches and chips was mostly gone. Only a single sandwich wedge and four or five crisps remained. She smiled; feeding Sherlock was easy as long as you used a little psychology and cunning. She picked up the plate and placed it on the coffee table and scooted a little closer to the tall detective. He was totally focused on the film and paid no attention. Molly nursed her almost full cup of coffee. She wasn't thirsty, but she needed something to do with her hands. She scooted carefully a little closer. She could feel his body heat. It was quite exciting. She raised the cup to her lips to take another sip of coffee. On the screen Tony Stark was having a bad day. It didn't look good for the hero.
"No! No! No!" Sherlock shouted and threw up his arms in disgust. His left hand connected with Molly's cup and coffee splashed the side of her head and poured all over her lovely white satin blouse.
"Oh!" Molly cried in distress and jumped up. The whole front of her top was soaked and was somewhat translucent from the coffee.
Sherlock looked over in surprise. "Are you burnt?" He asked, rather surprising Molly with his display of concern.
"No, it's not that hot." Molly said in a distressed voice.
"Best change it then," Sherlock said and turned back to the movie.
"Right," Molly mumbled. I'll just go soak this in cold water before the stain has chance to set in." Sherlock made no response as Molly hurried to the loo. She stared in the mirror. She was a sight, One side of her hair was plastered to her scalp and still dripping coffee. There was no fixing it. She quickly removed the pins and elastic and combed her hair out. She didn't even want to think about her blouse. She filled the sink with cold water, swished in some shampoo and peeled out of her top. She added her bra to the water as it was also quite soaked. So much for a sexy alluring outfit!
Once her clothes were under water, Molly realized with horror that she had nothing to wear. She cursed the floor plan of her flat. That's what happened when old buildings were converted. The lay out of her small living space was awkward and inconvenient at the best of times. Now she was going to have to parade past Sherlock in a towel just to get to her bedroom! Molly sighed and opened the door under the sink to retrieve a towel. She found nothing except face cloths. Molly giggled hysterically. She could just imagine herself schlepping past the ever observant detective in two strategically placed flannels! She was seriously contemplating wrapping up in the shower curtain when she spotted the corner of a white square pushed into the back of the cabinet. She grabbed it out and was relieved to find that it was an old lab coat from uni days. She vaguely remembered putting it there to use in case she needed something to put over her clothes as she did her makeup.
The lab coat fit more snugly than the ones she wore at Bart's. Molly preferred comfort over fashion while working. She glanced down at the slight cleavage the neckline of the coat revealed. It wasn't indecent, just a little unexpected. She had worn tops that showed more. Anyway, she would just be wearing it long enough to get to her room and change.
ɸ
Sherlock glanced up as Molly came back into the room. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the fact she had brushed out her hair. He secretly preferred her hair hanging down about her shoulders, a thing she rarely did. And the lab coat she had on accented her petite frame. He licked his lips slightly as he observed she wasn't wearing a bra under the coat. He mentally took a picture and filed it in his mind palace. His pathologist was definitely looking alluring.
"Come sit down." He said as he patted the sofa beside him.
Molly shook her head. "Um, I still need to change tops." She explained.
Sherlock frowned. She wanted to change out of that lovely lab coat? "You look fine," he said a little brusquely. "Sit down. We're missing the best part."
Molly sighed. She refrained from pointing out that he could easily pause the movie, or replay anything missed as she seated herself on the sofa beside him. Changing her top didn't matter. All hope of a romantic evening dissolved as she mentally crossed out the remainder of the items on her checklist. Nothing had gone as planned.
Molly leaned forward and picked up the last bit of sandwich from the plate. As her body tilted forward, a lock of hair swung free and brushed Sherlock's hand. He glanced sideways at Molly. She was chewing thoughtfully and absorbed in the plight of the characters on the small screen, totally unaware that her hair was caressing the back of his hand. Sherlock stealthily turned his hand over so he could stroke the lock. It felt as silky as he always imagined it would, perhaps even more. He returned his gaze to the film, but continued to stroke the silky strands of hair.
As the movie finished, Sherlock felt the form of Molly's slumped figure stir then settle more firmly against his shoulder. She had been asleep for about fifteen minutes. He looked down at her relaxed face. Her dark eyelashes fanned onto her cheeks. He noted with surprise that they were reddish on the tips. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips were slightly parted. Sherlock forced himself to look away. He felt odd. Almost as if he was invading her privacy. It was late, the movie was over, and he should wake Molly and go home. Molly shifted again, this time away from his body. Something inside him protested and he fought the urge to gather her into his arms. His sensitive nose twitched. What was that smell? He smiled as he identified the faint odor of warm coffee emanating from Molly's direction. He always associated the smell of good coffee with Molly. The fragrance was compelling, slightly erotic. He leaned into Molly, nuzzling her, breathing in the warm rich tones mixed with essence of Molly. He found himself wondering if she tasted as good as she smelled.
Sherlock frowned. "What was he thinking? He didn't do sentiment. It wasn't his area!" He glanced down at Molly's sleeping form. His expression softened. He was willing to admit; perhaps it was time to amend his opinion of sentiment. His time away bringing down Moriarty's web had changed him. He no longer felt that the Work was everything. Yes, it was important and always would be, but friendships mattered. He no longer was content to be alone. Molly was important. He couldn't imagine her not being there for him. Perhaps it was time to stretch his definition of sentiment a bit.
Beside him, Molly stirred. Her rapid eye movement indicated she was dreaming.
"I love you," she murmured softly in her sleep.
"Oh hell, Sherlock groaned and surrendered to temptation. He lowered his lips to Molly's.
Her eyes flew open at his touch. All thoughts of sleep evaporated in an imaginary mushroom shaped cloud of steam with one glance at the hot hungry look in his eyes. Molly's arms came up of their own accord and pulled him close as she tumbled backward on the sofa, Sherlock covered her with his body. Their lips clashed together tongues dancing and nipping at each other.
Sherlock growled deep in his throat and his lips moved to the side of her neck, searching and finding her throbbing heartbeat pounding there under the skin. Molly curled her fingers in his hair and moaned as he began to pull the skin up with a sucking motion. He was going to leave a mark, but neither of them cared.
His hand pulled at her lab coat, hers jerked frantically at the buttons of his shirt. Neither of them were willing to stop kissing long enough to remove the clothing properly. Their frantic twisting and pulling finally resulted in Sherlock losing his balance and tumbling onto the floor with Molly sprawled across his chest.
"Your sofa is too small for love making," he growled. He pulled her mouth back down to his.
"Wait a minute," Molly said when she could catch her breath again. She jumped to her feet and pulled a willing Sherlock up with her. "Race you to the bedroom," she grinned.
Molly ran across the room, but Sherlock's long legs jumped the coffee table and he collided against Molly as his hand opened the door first. Two bodies hurtled through the air and landed with a loud thump on the mattress. The bed gave a loud screech of protest and promptly collapsed.
ɸ
Much later, Sherlock smiled to himself as he gathered an exhausted Molly close.
"Not again, Sherlock. I'm just too tired," his pathologist moaned.
"It's okay, go back to sleep. I just want to hold you. But you know you are going to have to build up your stamina if you expect to keep up with me." He laughed softly in her ear and nuzzled her neck.
"Mmmm, Molly made an agreeing sound and promptly fell asleep once more.
Sherlock gently tucked her head under his chin. Holding her was soothing. He ran his hand down her silky hair and smiled. For the first time since his return, he felt like he was home at last. He carefully slipped his arm across her waist, closed his eyes, and let out a contented sigh.
Outside, the never sleeping city thrummed its ever beating rhythm. Somewhere sirens wailed, crimes were committed and mysteries needed to be solved, but inside Molly's small flat peace reigned. All was quiet except for the inhale and exhale of breaths and the beating of two hearts synchronized in slumber.