Here's my new one. Each chapter will be from a different point of view, until the very end. I'm posting two today but one each day after that. Let me know what you think. TA!
*I'm sending this out to three of my favorite authors... cactusnell - MrsMCrieff & Sherlockian87, getting to read you work makes me smile and I hope this does the same for you.*
Ch.1-His Pants
It was driving Molly mad. How did he even move? They looked terribly uncomfortable. They looked like they'd been sowed right on his body. It frankly made no sense, the way he ran around constantly you'd think he'd want something with more... maneuverability. But the question that plagued her most of all was: could there possible be room for pants under those deliciously tight trousers?
She frankly hated herself for spending so much time thinking about menswear. She's spent half her life in classrooms working her arse off to achieve her title and position, only to now spend her days waiting for Sherlock Holmes and his perfectly produced posterior to walk into her lab.
Things had changes considerably between them since his return from the dead. Molly no longer stammered and blushed at his very presence and Sherlock kept his scathing remarks to himself, for the most part. Although he couldn't seem help himself but to toss the occasional false complement her way. She didn't really mind, if it made him feel better to think he was flirting his way to spare fingers and toes than to think his brother's name procured them, so be it. But now that she thought about it he'd been laying it on a bit thick lately, even for him.
Molly finally felt like her rather embarrassing crush a subsided to professional admiration. That is until she started obsessing over the man's trousers and possible lack of pants. She found herself hoping for a particularly difficult case. The ones that caused him to have to remove his suite jacket and wander around the lab muttering to himself as she watch, looking closely for that tell tale line under those trousers. She was sure he'd caught her at least once, though she was trying not to be obvious.
After much thought (too much thought,) she decided to approach the problem like the detective himself would. She would research and investigate. She could just ask him outright but she realized there would far too much smugness for her to handle. She thought perhaps casual conversation was the solution to her quandary.
She popped by Baker Street one day while Sherlock and John were off on some big case in Portsmouth. Mrs. Hudson did Sherlock's laundry, if the man owned pants he must wear them, it would at least answer some of her questions.
"Oh, Molly dear so nice of you to keep an old woman company." Martha Hudson said as she answered the door.
"Just wanted to catch up Mrs. Hudson, haven't seen you in while." Molly lied as the landlady led her into the sitting of the lower flat.
They took their tea and chatted about Mrs. Hudson's hip and most recent gentlemen. Molly was a bit chaffed at the fact that the septuagenarian was getting more action than she was, but she pushed on. Finally the conversation, of course, made it's way to Sherlock.
"Oh, I tell you if he doesn't do something with that refrigerator I will call his mother. I have her on speed dial, you know." Martha warned as she offered Molly another biscuit. "Do you think you can go gather up all the moldy bits love?"
"Um, I didn't bring anything to carry them in. Sorry." Molly said.
"Never mind, I can't get him to keep the place in any kind of order. I never really wanted children, he reminds me why."
Molly saw her opening, "So do you do Sherlock's laundry as well?"
Mrs. Hudson huffed, "Of course, everything that doesn't get sent to the cleaners. You wouldn't believe how much of his wardrobe requires special care."
Now that they were on the topic Molly suddenly felt like she had no idea how to broach the subject, she started to panic. "Um so you wash everything?"
Mrs. Hudson looked up at her, "Well yes dear, except what gets sent out."
"So, his..." Just do it, ask her if she washes his pants... she was just telling you about snogging a the life out of a retired lorry driver. Oh that's not a good joke at their age... come on Hooper, grow up.
"Molly?"
"Um, his towels? You wash Sherlock's towels?" Damnit!
"Well yes, towels too." Mrs. Hudson replied with a confused look on her face.
Opportunity lost and feeling like a failure Molly went home deciding she needed to regroup. Hopefully she'd have some answers before she had see him and his lusciously distracting arse again.
