Hey guys! So I wrote this quick one-shot because I have been having some serious writers block at the moment and I needed to write something to help me get out. I love the fact that in the show we always see Sherlock sneakily staring at Molly or smiling at her when no one is looking at him. So this is my take on some of the moments that happen between them. PS it does get slightly angst near the end so you have been warned. Enjoy!
He couldn't help himself from staring.
On the bitter December afternoon when he had bumped into her outside the hospital. He had seen her a bunch of times, in the lab or in the morgue. Though he never properly introduced himself to her, he knew her name and she defiantly knew his.
Though it was only a brief encounter, maybe just lasting for a few moments, he couldn't help but notice her. Her nose was red from the cold, as were her brightly coloured pink cheeks. He noticed as her mouth curved into a polite smile as she walked passed him and said sorry for bumping into him. As she continue to walk, he found himself stopping. He looked over her shoulder and just stared at her, taking her in.
He couldn't help himself from staring.
A few months after her first saw her, he began to talk to her in the lab. Whenever he would pop in with Lestrade to identify a body or to pick up some results, he would find himself staring at her once more.
It was strange, honestly. For a grown man to be just stood staring at a woman that he only just met. But there was something about her that peaked his interest. When he first heard her talk. Talk properly that is, he couldn't help but notice how smart she actually was. Of course she was going to be smart, but she was smarter then expected. She even correct Lestrade on a few occasions, though it is quiet easy to outsmart Lestrade.
When he walked out of the morgue, he couldn't help himself from looking over his shoulder towards her. He watched her for a moment, as she put the body back in the bag and into the draw. He stopped himself quick enough so she wouldn't notice, but he had a feeling that she did.
He couldn't help himself from staring.
The first time he had made her laugh was interesting fro Sherlock. He never had made anyone laugh intentionally. Not many people understood his humor and half the time people laughed at him not with him.
But the day he made her laugh was something different. It was a few years after they had met. He had heard her laugh many of times, but he was highly convinced they were fake. Because the way she laughed this time was pure and musical. Sherlock looked at her and watched as he entire face lit up. Her eyes crinkled at the sides as she laughed. He had not expected her to laugh.
John had told him later that night that she was laughing purely out of sympathy, because the joke he had told was completely morbid and unfunny. But Sherlock knew the truth. She laughed because it was funny. She understood his humor, she was on the same level as him. He found himself smiling at himself that night when he was in his mind palace, storing that moment for him to look back at again and again.
He couldn't help himself from staring.
The day she told him that she didn't count. It took Sherlock by surprise. Why on earth did she think that. Yes, in fairness, Sherlock was harsh towards Molly. But he had never intentionally meant to hurt her. He always saw her as someone he could trust and count on when he needed something.
He couldn't help but notice the flash of pain in her big brown eyes as she continued to speak. She became defensive after that, easily dismissing him as he tried to talk to her. He stared at her as she walked out of the lab. He honestly had no words to say. He thought about going after her and apologising. But he couldn't find it in him to move.
"Sherlock?" John's voice brought him back. He removed his eyes from the door and looked at his friend.
"What is it John?"
"You were staring...at the door. Are you okay?" Sherlock looked away from John and into the microscope in front of him.
"Perfectly fine John."
He couldn't help himself from staring.
Her face was a picture. They way her mouth hung open when he pressed his lips against her hot center. He ran his fingers lightly up and down her thighs, making her shiver with pleasure. He stared at her up through his lashes, watching her body squirm underneath him as her orgasm built up inside of her.
He kept memory of her like this. The sweet noises she was making as he kissed and caressed every inch of her body. If this was the last time he was going to see her, then he was going to take it all in, every single moment of it.
"Sherlock..." She whimpered. Sherlock removed his mouth from her and moved up her body, pressing delicate kisses on his way. He hovered over her, staring down at her. He stared at her lips hungrily; her swollen, pink, sweet lips. He ducked his head down and kissed her once more like his entire life depended on it.
He couldn't hep himself from staring.
On the day of John and Mary's wedding, months after he had returned. He stood at the back of the room, looking through the crowed at the guests interacting with each other. He caught sight of her, accidentally. Her bright yellow dress is what drew him to her. He didn't mean to - he didn't want to.
He stood there and watched her kiss and laugh with...Tom, in front of the camera. He didn't look for long, just the sight of them together made his blood boil. He quickly turned around and walked towards Mary.
"I saw that you know." Mary said to him.
"Saw what?" Sherlock looked into the other direction, towards John and Major Sholto.
"You, staring at Molly. You do that a lot you know." Mary was smiling now, that smile like she knew something he didn't. God he hated that smile so much.
"I do not."
"Yes you do."
"So that's him. Major Sholto."
He couldn't help himself from staring.
She was so angry at him. Angrier then she had even been in her whole life. And it was all because of him. She slapped him, not one, not twice, but three times. He noticed how she clenched her hand into a fist for a brief moment. He thought she was going to punch him for a moment, but she relaxed it instantly.
He stared at her, watching her breath as John and Mary started to talk around them. He didn't really pay attention to what anyone was saying, but in fact payed attention how Molly's face changed from anger to hurt. How she looked more upset then furious. Her eyes sparkled with tears that were beginning to build up. She sniffed slightly and looked away.
Sherlock went out of the room for a phone call. He stood outside the room and looked in. He talked on the phone and watched her through the window. He watched as she began to take in deep breaths and let some tears flow down her face. He watched as Mary walked straight over to her and comforted her. They began talk, probably about Molly's broken engagement.
He hung up the phone and took in a deep breath before walking back in.
He couldn't help himself from staring.
She laid there, in his arms, in his bed, in his flat. They finally got to this point. Officially being together. Sherlock hadn't got used to it yet, it was still fresh and new for him. But every day was something new and special.
He looked down at her, sleeping. He took the sight of her in. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, her face was without make up and her body was clad in one of his dress shirts. As she slept her chest rose and fell with every breath she took. He couldn't help it, watching her. It wasn't often Sherlock would go to sleep or got to bed at all.
But in these moments. These sweet moments when it the two of them, alone. He allowed himself to watch her. Her back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around her waist, their legs intertwined with each other. It was peaceful and perfect.
He couldn't help himself from staring.
As she held their goddaughter in her arms he watched her from the kitchen. He smiled at the sight of them both. Molly would make a perfect mother. She was so natural around baby Watson, both of the Watson kids in fact, it honestly didn't surprise him that Mary and John made her their god mother. He walked over to them both and put down a cup of coffee in front of Molly.
"We should have one." He stated. He kissed her on the top of the head and sat beside them. Molly looked up at him as if he was a mad man.
"Seriously?"
"Yes seriously. You are clearly capable of caring for a child, you are godmother for both the Watson children. It would be shameful to put those skills to waste." Molly laughed at him.
"You are completely impossible and mad you know that?"
"Yep. And you wouldn't be marrying me if I wasn't" They both giggled as he lent over and pressed a delicate kiss on her lips.
He couldn't help himself from staring.
Molly Hooper. That was what it read. Not Holmes, Hooper. She never had the chance to become Holmes. She died Hooper. In all his life, Sherlock had failed at many things, but Molly remaining Hooper as she breathed her last breath was the biggest and worst.
He stood there, alone, staring down at her grave. The black marble stone mocking him every time her caught eye of it. He let out a sigh as he sat down on the floor.
"When I was in Europe, I was held hostage in a cellar in Berlin. My wrists were tied together with rope that had the smallest pieces of glass in it. And ever moment i moved, I would feel those pieces of glass pock into me. That was he worse pain I had ever felt in my whole life." He stopped himself, feeling the tears build up in his eyes.
"That was until I lost you. I would rather had that rope wrapped around my entire body rather then watch you die in front of me." Sherlock took a deep breath in. He looked down at his hands, down at where his wedding ring should have been. He then pulled out a piece of paper out of his pocket.
"I won't ever have the chance to read these words to you. But there is nothing stopping me from doing it down." He unfolded the paper and prepared himself.
"When I first met Molly Hooper, I couldn't help myself from staring. And I found myself from then on catching myself staring at her, learning something new about her each time. I did get away with it for a long time, that was until Mary noticed me staring at the wedding. Guess that's the disadvantage of having a assassin as a friend." He let out a small chuckle to himself before continuing.
"Though I may not be the best candidate for a husband. I may not be there all the time when you need me. But I can promise this. When we are old and grey and sat in our retirement home, I promise I will stare at you the exact same way that I have done from the moment I have met you. With pure admiration and adoration. Like you are the the sun and the moon wrapped in one. Like you are the most precious thing that has ever graced this earth" He stopped and let a tear run down his face.
"But I guess that won't happen now, will it."