A/N: My contribution to Sherlolly Week 2015: Day 6, Sherlolly with a focus on Sherlock.
Sherlock Holmes longed for his bed ever since his plane touched down from Montpellier. Or rather more specifically, he longed for Molly Hooper in his bed. A part of him repined though, at the fact that he had recently taken two cases in as many months that took him abroad, each time for over a week. He knew Molly understood his need to dulcify his interest, once it was adequately piqued.
Once in the bedroom he now shared with her (and sometimes, Toby), he moved quietly to shed his clothing and climbed into bed next to his slumbering pathologist. He intended to wrap his arms around her, and bask in the feeling that, through repeated trials, coming home to her far exceeded the lure of any case he may be tempted with.
He was, however, very quickly hampered by a sizable object that lay between him and the object of his affections.
"Molly?" he called in the dark.
"Mm," she acknowledged, sleep heavy in her voice.
"What's this?"
"Body pillow."
"Yes," he confirmed, the vowel dragging slightly. "I know what it is. What's it for?"
"For pillowing."
"And it's here because––?"
"To keep your side of the bed snuggly while you're away on cases." And as if for emphasis, she hugged the pillow airily, an arm and a thigh swung over it. A few short moments later, her punctuating sigh turned into soft snores.
He laid there, calculating the likelihood that he may have just had a full conversation with a half-asleep Molly. He then calculated the greater likelihood that even in his absence, he was still able to be a not-good boyfriend. It didn't take him long to arrive at the conclusion that he had been a gigantic arse and a daft berk––in voices that sounded eerily like John's and Mary's, respectively.
Sherlock turned his body toward her, framing the pillow between them. Reaching over, he delicately swept aside a wanton tendril of hair that had fallen over her face. He leaned forward and skimmed her lips lightly with a kiss, as if it earned him penance. He let his head rest next to hers, sharing a corner of the body pillow, their foreheads touching as he finally allowed himself to drift to sleep.
The following week, the repeat client from the Continent was forced to call upon, and settle for, a private detective who did not possess an international reputation. Meanwhile, in a halfway house across town from Baker Street, Bill Wiggins grinned contentedly as he found a perfectly good body pillow on his bed with a note containing two familiar initials, -SH.
end
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