If Molly had never become involved with Sherlock, she would have never had slowly fallen in love with his false charm and charming good looks, she would have also not slowly wormed her way into the once lifeless heart of the detective, she also would not have ended up in a relationship with the formerly cold man, and she most certainly would not be awaking in their bed at an uncommon hour to the muffled sound of a hairdryer from their shared en suite.
Molly made an incomprehensible noise, one of annoyance that can only be made in the moments between sleep and consciousness. Feeling around the other side of their usually warm bed she felt a cool loneliness beside her. Oh God… if he's drying human organs with my hair dryer, in our bathroom AGAIN, I will murder him and it will go undiscovered!
Manoeuvring groggily from her side of the bed, rolling up within the bed sheet (something she had learnt from her eccentric just plain weird boyfriend) she hopped onto the cold wooden floor and padded gently to the bathroom door.
"Sherlock, love. If there is even one dismembered body part in any part of the room, you wont live to explain and…" as she creaked the door open and light flooded into her eyes and as she blinked away the brightness, she had not expected the sight that faced her. Left silenced, stunned and immediately quelling the oncoming, unceremonious giggles, Molly backed out of the en suite and collapsed upon their bed. Her giggles erupted as a dressing gown clad Sherlock with half of his raven black curls encased within luminous pink curlers, stalked forcibly into the room.
In between desperate gasps for air and fits of laughter Molly spoke to the stoic man who stood before her. "You… Yo- you perm your own hair… Perm it!" she burst again into tremendous fits of laughter as she noticed the signs of moisturiser across his distinct cheekbones. "That better… better not be my moisturiser mister. I pay good money for that."
"If you would cease your persistence mirth I will explain as to my current state. It is for a case."
"Oh, pull the other one Sherlock… I can tell when you're bloody lying, I've known you long enough, this happens regularly doesn't it!"
Sherlock was not impressed his girlfriend had discovered one of the few things he took embarrassment from, but there was no escaping it. He had been awakening from 3 until 4 am one morning a fortnight since his cohabitation with Molly deterring from this event, sneaking back into their bed before she awoke.
"Fine, you win, Doctor Hooper." The resentment was clear in his tone. "I occasionally have to, as you said, perm my own hair and moisturise. Although my hair is naturally curly, it becomes unruly and knotted if I do not control it. No need to worry, it is my own cream… I can forget to hydrate with regularity when on a case, moisturising stops my skin from becoming dry and irritable. There."
Molly stood, her hair crinkled and her clothes rumpled from sleep, makeup smeared from non-removal the night before. "Who am I to talk, eh? Look, it'll certainly take some time to fix this." She pointed at her face and hair, walking over to the resigned man and wrapping her arms loosely round his waist. "Don't look so cranky, you're being grumpy… it's okay, but you didn't have to hide this from me, the laughter was mainly from shock… and you'll remain handsome no matter what." Rubbing in the excess cream on Sherlock's cheeks and threading her free hand through his loose hair, she kissed him gently.
"Now continue with your beauty regime love, I'm going to go back to sleep… it's half three in the morning and I have no work tomorrow, join me when you're pretty."
"You, Molly Hooper, can be very cruel. But yes, I will take these atrocious things out and join you."
"Good." She kissed him again before flopping onto the soft all encompassing sheet and dozed off with almost immediate affect.