A/N: You know you're obsessed with a ship when even a migraine becomes fodder for fic. Inspired by true events i.e. this epic migraine of mine and my current state of sleep deprivation. This fic occurs vaguely post-TSoT and pre-junkie Sherlock in HLV. I have a headache, so you will excuse my fuzzy timeline. Anyway! Hope you'll like it somehow. x
Oh, and rated T for mature themes. ;)
Aches
It was late and Molly felt as though her skull was beginning to split from fatigue. She stifled a yawn and flipped through her reports. Just a few more pages, she thought to herself as her tired eyes scanned through the lists of figures. Every so often, her fingers would reach up to pinch her nose bridge or to gently rub her temple. The dull ache of sleep deprivation was growing every moment she stayed awake, fixing her eyes on her paperwork.
"Sex," came a voice, startling her. She had forgotten Sherlock was in the lab with her. It had been a while since she had had company in the lab this late into the night. Molly was used to working in solitude. In fact, she preferred it, but Sherlock Holmes was always a welcome exception.
"I beg your pardon?" she asked, turning to look at the detective. She was in-between turning pages and had her fingers suspended in mid-air as they lightly gripped the paper.
Sherlock smirked as he flipped through his own lab reports and tapped his pen against the paper.
"You have a migraine," he continued, "I've heard sex is a great cure for that."
"Have you been reading women's magazines?" asked Molly, slightly amused.
"Perhaps. But it isn't medically unsound," he said, casually turning his own page.
"No, I suppose it isn't," she replied with a smirk.
"So, shouldn't you be going home?" he asked, suddenly shutting his manila folder.
His swift movement and sudden gaze in her direction startled her again. Molly's fingers released the page they were holding and the paper slowly floated back into its horizontal position.
"But I haven't finished my—"
"Your head is hurting, you need sex," he said, turning his attention to his hands that had somehow balled into fists atop the folder, "and you have Tom, waiting for you at home."
At the mention of Tom's name, Molly let out a soft chuckle as she too, shut her folder of reports. She quietly gathered her stationery and collected all her folders. Hugging them to herself, she turned to look at Sherlock, who responded by returning her gaze.
"You're right, I should go home." she said, nodding.
Sherlock tensed and unknowingly clenched his jaw. Molly noticed, but bit down a smile. Instead, with her things in hand, she made her way calmly out of the lab, but not before pausing beside the detective.
"Tom isn't there anymore," she whispered, gently placing a ringless hand on one of his clenched fists. She patted his knuckles once, twice, then removed her hand, continuing towards the door. Speechless, the detective could only turn his head to watch her walk away, only to see her pause and turn slightly towards him.
"Coming?" she asked, a half smile playing on her lips.
Sherlock did not know which baffled him more - The fact that he had not noticed the absence of her engagement ring, or the fact that he had been given a second chance he knew he had not deserved.
"Coming…" he mumbled, haphazardly sweeping his things off the table before chasing after the woman he had lost once, and swore never to lose again.
END