So, I did a thing. Got inspired this morning by MorbidbyDefault/MorbidMegz and just drew on my own painful (monthly) experience. Plus I wanted to write a man that finally doesn't go screaming and crying at the mere mention of this most dreaded word.
Thank you Rachel for looking this over for me!
I don't own the characters, they aren't mine. I do own a few of those heating pads. Pure gold.
Heat Application
She was going to die. This month, she was sure of it. She believed she could make it through anything that came her way, but right now she couldn't find it in herself to deal with anything else that wasn't a bottle of ibuprofen and her heating pad.
She had called off work, Mike being more than understanding that she just couldn't make it in to the morgue today. She didn't know why men were so very scared of this more than natural cycle that a woman's body experienced, but the moment she uttered her valid excuse, he was quick to agree and tell her to just stay at home, take her time and get better. The less details she gave, the better, as far as he was concerned.
At another stab of pain from her abdomen, her ovaries feeling like they were currently being ripped out of her body, she curled around her pad, trying to relax back into a nap. It was a long while later that she was roused from her sleep by the incessant sound of knocking on her door.
No, she thought while rolling with her back to the bedroom door, her temples already throbbing in pain. I'm not moving, no matter who you are or what you want. She brought the heating pad closer, before realizing it had lost its warmth while she slept.
With a frustrated huff, she pushed it away. Molly was trying to reason with herself that she had to get up and reheat it, when footsteps sounded on the hallway, coming towards the bedroom. She hadn't even noticed the knocking had stopped. Rolling again, facing the door exactly when the intruder entered her room.
In a movement that seemed too well rehearsed, the covers were lifted, and a warm body slid into bed with her. A beat later, Molly was snuggled up flush against him, feeling the warmth seep deep into her stomach, her nose buried into his neck. One long inhale, one long exhale and a kiss against his skin later, and she had trouble hiding her smile.
"Molly," his voice rumbled from deep in his chest. Apparently chastising, but underneath she could feel his pleasure and contentment at their position.
She fit her body better against him, feeling her pain already abating and being replaced by the slightly hollow, on-cloud-nine feeling that only chocolate and a hefty dose of ibuprofen used to provide for her when on her period. Molly chuckled just thinking of explaining the comparison to him.
"This is a nice surprise." She didn't even think she'd see him this soon, John's message from two days ago confirming that their case in Germany was taking more time than Sherlock had previously thought it would.
"We arrived back a few hours ago." His arms came around her finally, his palms pressing lightly against key pressure points along her back, loosening her muscles. "I was in need of a few tissue samples for an experiment, but the Bart's replacement proved too difficult to tolerate for more than an hour."
"I'm afraid I won't be good company either." One of her legs made room between his clothed one, her feet caressing the material of his suit pants.
"First day of your menses," he started detailing. "Excessive tiredness evident from traces of sleep that are still around your face. Severe pains that caused you to call Mike and excuse yourself from work. The tension created in your muscles," one of his palms made its way between their bodies, under her shirt, fanning over her lower abdomen, pressing lightly into her skin, "tension that constricts circulation, sending pain signals to the brain. Correct?"
"Correct," Molly confirms, too used to Sherlock's uncomfortably personal deductions. If he's not bothered by her period, she could consider herself one very lucky woman.
"Heat application eases the pain," he continued while his hand started rubbing circles into her skin. "Only the chemical heating pad lost its warmth half an hour ago, proving the manufacturers right with their two hours guarantee."
"Still correct," she reached behind her on the bed, searching for the discarded cold pad and bringing it in front of her, showing it to Sherlock. "It's reusable if I boil it for 10 minutes and then wait for it to get to room temperature. I was just deciding if it's worth getting up or not. Considering..." Considering her circumstances now, with Sherlock's hand acting like a pleasurable source of heat, not to mention his whole body next to her, Molly was leaning towards not worth it.
He took the pad from Molly, dropping it on the floor. "You didn't let me finish," Sherlock guides her to settle on her back, moving lower so he can whisper in her ear. "The heat will decrease pain signals being transmitted to the brain. The dilating blood vessels serving to an increase in blood flow and oxygen to the tissue. Another way to limit the severity of menstrual pains is a regular physical activity, which you clearly have avoided today, since you couldn't even be bothered to feed Toby."
Molly simply hummed in agreement, her hands covering Sherlock's on her abdomen, her face turning sideways, towards him.
His primal urge when he got through the door had been to devour her, every part of him wanting to reacquaint itself and possess the woman laying in that bed. But he was more than that base desire, he always had been and he knew that set him apart from any other. So he got next to her, observed her state of mind and the level of pain she was in, drawing his conclusions and setting up the path he was to follow next.
Sherlock moved forward slowly, stopping a fraction away from her, his face held close to hers. Molly, for her part, did not react, only to slowly close her eyes, waiting, eternally patient. His hand stops on her lower abdomen, his fingers slightly flexing on her flesh. He moves closer, a hairs breath between them. He can feel her holding her breath, waiting.
His free hand moves quickly, sliding beneath her hair, pulling her the rest of the way to him.
"There is an experiment I want to try still, today."
His fingers pull hard. He crushes her against his mouth.
So I wrote a more tamer ending at first, but then I thought that if I was Molly, I clearly would try to do some physical exercise before falling back asleep, so yeah.
Enjoyed it or not, drop me a line! xx