Purple Shirt of Sex

The silky purple fabric slid softly over her pale skin. She shouldn't have it. It was wrong to take it when he'd given her his clothes to store after the fall. No. She frowned, after the jump. She'd gotten everything dry cleaned as she asked. It now hung in a bag at the bag of her cupboard. She couldn't remember when she'd taken it. She just knew it was a particularly stormy night when she'd tossed and turned plagued with night terrors. The only commonalities in her dreams were his death and her futile attempts to save her. Jim's face often made appearances. Only he wasn't her Jim, sweet, kind and adorably awkward. This face was cruel and twisted with a gleeful wickedness in his eyes. His ringing laughter echoed around her manically. Drowning any hope she had that Sherlock was safe and sound and would come back.

It had long since stopped smelling of him; a strange combination of chemicals, tobacco and something that belonged only to Sherlock. The scent had comforted her and made her panicky and worried at the same time. It did all the things Sherlock had done to her. Now it was the knowledge it was his favourite shirt that drew her to it. The only connection she still allowed herself to the crush that used to cripple her in his presence and mad it so easy for him to manipulate her. To everyone else it looked like she had moved on. They didn't notice the subtle changes in her appearance. She took many efforts to ensure they didn't know the real reason behind the changes. She'd doubled the concealer the used to hide her dark circles, joined a gym to explain her drastic loss of weight and avoided as much contact with the people Sherlock had surrounded himself with fearing they'd see through her lies if she was near them too much.

She startled at the banging on her door and rushed to do up some of the buttons on the shirt. She almost tripped over in her hurry to answer the door. Righting herself and cursing she flicked the locked and opened her door to a bloody Sherlock the almost fell into her when he didn't have the door to lean on.

He didn't seem to notice the hitch in her breath as she took in the sight of him. Stepping forward quickly she wrapped an arm around his waist and dragged him to the bathroom quickly propping him on the toilet. Warm water rushed into the sink and she soaked the cloth while unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing revealing bruising and bloody scratches. Skin and muscle quivered under her light touch. She wrung the cloth out gently and started cleaning scarlet from his porcelain skin. She was detached from her emotions as she professionally treated him. He seemed too weak to talk at the moment making it easier for her. Finally she was done. Making him stand she lead him to her room and undid his trousers letting him step out of them. She then pushed his shoulders lightly forcing him to sit. Taking the hint he slid under the covers and lay down.

"Sherlock," she murmured softly. "Do you need some pain killers?" She went to the door when he shook his head.

"Stay?" He asked roughly. Hesitantly she stepped towards the bed before scurrying quickly to the other side and lying under the covers trying to give him some distance. She closed her eyes and her world faded around her.

The next thing she was aware of was his arms slung over her hip possessively. Her leg flung over his and tangled thoroughly and his head, propped up on his hand looking down at her.

"Purple is a good look for you Molly." He said with a smug gleam in his eye.

"Don't do that Sherlock." She whispered frowning. A blush crept up her neck as she realized his shirt had ridden up to her ribcage. Pushing it down she spoke again. "Don't tease me like that when you don't, or, or can't reciprocate the desire I feel for you."

She began untangling herself from him intent on getting up when his hand crept from her hip to her buttocks pulling her flush against him. "Molly Hooper, I may not show the urges I feel. But do not mistake that for meaning I can't desire you in that way. I merely control such urges as they are often counterproductive." All the evidence she needed to show that his words were true was jutting gently into her abdomen teasingly.

"Sherlock, I love you." She said smiling uncertainly. There was no way in the world she could deny him, but if she didn't and he didn't love her it would tear her apart.

"And Miss Hooper, I am exiplictly drawn to you in a manner I have not experienced before. As I am unfamiliar with sentiment and only know the science behind it I am trusting you to show me the depth of my feelings for you." He said before gently kissing her forehead.

"I'm not good enough for you. I can't make small talk, I can't keep up with your moods. Then there's my appearance, you've said it yourself. My breasts are too small and so is my mouth and, and"

As soon as she started stuttering he pressed a soft kiss to her lips, shutting her up immediately. "I was wrong, you're perfect for me Molly. You may not be able to follow my moods but you understand me better than anyone. You accept me, all of me, the rude annoying git, the genius, the man that needs looking after. You've always loved me for who I am, not who you think I should be. That's what makes you count, why I trust you."

"Sherlock" she breathed out just as she leaned forward pressing her lips to his in a searing kiss before letting him take control.

Yeah, uh, hi. I've been reading a lot of Sherlolly lately and this just kind of popped into my head. You may think I'm cruel to leave it hanging. However I am not good at writing sex scenes and unlike most people of the internet I won't subject you to it. So this is just a bit of fluff, post Reichenbach if you hadn't noticed. Much love, ShellyMay.