A/N: So I watched the Sign of Three and Sherlock drunk is amazing! But I wanted to see what Molly would do. This is what I came up with. Honestly my drunk Molly was based on Hazel Hayes of ChewingSand on youtube. There's a specific video with Jack Howard and Sober Speaking, this is where my drunk speech from Molly came from.
DRUNK MOLLY, soon to be followed by DRUNK SHERLOCK!
"Molly where are you… your keys are in the door...are you drunk?!" Sherlock had strolled into the flat on one of Molly's rare nights off and clocked the prone figure on the sofa.
"Sherlock Holmes…" She raised her head the necessary two inches off the sofa to eyeball the detective. Her voice was cheerful and most definitely drunk. He almost sneered at the form bent over the sofa and then the pathologist wiggled her arse in his direction in a futile attempt to haul herself upright. That short blue dress was gorgeous on her, an old style from a department store but Molly had never worn it around him before.
"Where have you been Molly?" Sherlock's conscience warred with itself. Rapid fire thoughts; Need access to morgue, Molly too drunk to give access, is access immediately required, could sober up Molly, Molly in general state, Molly will break ankle at the angle in those shoes, black heels make Molly's legs look sexy, Molly should be put to bed, hangover huge, age and lack of experience working against her, do not call her before 12 in the afternoon tomorrow, Molly has evening shift tomorrow, lab access, tomorrow evening.
"Meeeeeeena took me out to some newwww jazz barrrrr and then Chloeeeee took us behind the sceeeeenes after her set." Molly was upright and staggering towards him. Sherlock threw an arm out to catch her prone form as she toppled in her heels. What he wasn't expecting was her to grab his arm and pull him down with her.
There was muffled grunts as Sherlock held most of his weight on his wrists, fighting criminals gave him quick reflexes but not he was on top of Molly Hooper whose reflexes were not so quick. She groaned from the carpeted floor and slowly rolled over, still caught in the embrace of Sherlock's arms. Then she giggled.
"Sherlock lock lock lock Hooooooooolmes." She whispered as he frowned. Sherlock pulled back to get up but Molly grabbed his coat sleeve to anchor him down, for such a diminutive woman she had an awful lot of strength. "I don't want Sherlock to know I'm drunk. He'll think I'm really stupid for imbibing alchooool because it's something the lower mortalssssss do." Molly leant close to his ear and Sherlock took a deep breath of her perfume. Vera Wang's Princess Power. Her lipstick had faded but her mascara was still firmly in place and her face powder was also still intact despite the heavy night.
Sherlock made his split second decision on how to play this one.
"Then we best be quiet before he hears your." He whispers back and Molly giggles again. "You're going to have to let me up so we can hide from Sherlock." Molly nods and releases her grip on him allowing the detective to pull back. Grabbing both hands, he hauls the pathologist upright who sways on her shoes once more and flumps back against the wall.
"The world is moving and my legs aren't!" She snorts back a laugh and grabs the door frame for support.
"Take the shoes off Molly." Sherlock kneels to unbuckle the straps on her shoes and hears her gasp.
"My own Prince Charming, but you're taking off this Cinderella's shoes!" She beams and slides against the wall again. Sherlock tactfully says nothing but puts both shoes by the doorway and leads her by the elbow into her bedroom. Even without the shoes she manages to trip up, face first onto the bed and Sherlock has to lead her back to the space in her bedroom.
"You need to get changed Molly." Sherlock sighs, the amusement of drunk Molly rapidly wearing off.
"Okay, can you undo my dress pleeeeeeeeeeease." She faces the mirror and wipes at her lips with a face wipe. Sherlock tenses briefly, it's just a dress, one little zip. Oh the zip goes from top to bottom, like one long strip of fabric. It's just Molly, good old plain helpful Molly, Molly Hooper, the woman who saved his life asking him to unzip her dress. That gorgeous blue dress that shows a body she always hides. Molly Hooper who apparently owns a garter belt and black stockings, Molly Hooper who looks amazing in black underwear.
"Undone, I'll turn around while you get changed further." Sherlock steps back hastily and spins to face the door.
"Do you know something, Sherlock Holmes is the most amazing man in the world. He knows it as well. I always thought I loved him. I don't think I love him. I admire him. Despite how horrible he has been to me, Meena tells me I'm a doormat when it comes to Sherlock Holmes." Molly rambles and Sherlock hears the springs depress as she sits down, probably to roll those stockings down her legs.
He doesn't know why he hasn't moved but he's frozen to the spot.
"I bought this underwear in the hope that Sherlock would see it, what a foolish dream. I'm just human to him, boring, plain and easy to read. He only has to bat his eyelashes and I'll give him things that Scotland Yard has denied him. What does that make me? Stupid probably…"
"You'll never be stupid in Sherlock's eyes Molly Hooper." Sherlock interrupts her and spins to see her staring blankly at him. "But before he sees drunk Molly you should probably sleep…" He doesn't want her to realise that it is Sherlock she's been talking to and she nods sleepily, yawning at his prompt. She falls back against the pillow and her eyes close almost immediately.
Awkwardly tugging the duvet from beneath her, Sherlock manages to kick away the arousing underwear and tuck Molly Hooper into bed. As he's about to stroll out of her flat he spies the packet of aspirin on the kitchen table and doubles back to the kitchen.
One bottle of water placed with two aspirins, already popped out of the packaging. In the off chance that Molly knocked the tablets off the table he left the packet beside them. That hangover would be huge.