A/N: Well Have this tiny little cute shot. I might make this into a series of drabbles and requests, so go mad.
Enjoy!
Sherlock came in to discover his Molly asleep on the sofa of their home. She was an inelegant sleeper, he'd always known that – watched her many times grunting away with her mouth open but if anything he'd loved her more. Every pretence that had naturally occurred during the early days of their relationship had been stripped away when Molly was asleep. She couldn't pretend to be refined and ladylike asleep, she wasn't doing her best to be bold or confident, or even holding back her gas. When she was asleep, Sherlock adored her natural state, even if she'd forced him to the sofa sometimes after eating cauliflower. Of course, at this stage in their relationship, she did all that anyway.
But right not she was a cute sleeper, or maybe he was biased. She had curled herself up in an awkward ball in the corner of the recliner. The seat was up, laptop open at the foot of the chair while she spread along the seat's length. One arm flopped across her eyes to cover her from the sitting room lights, a childhood toy pressed against her nose, while her legs were curled against her chest. It looked so uncomfortable but Sherlock knew she could easily sleep through his arrival.
It had been a strange few days for Molly – a work do had seen her storming out of a strip club, getting lost in Essex and having to train it back to London on her own, while on the phone to Sherlock and crying pitifully at the deception of her supposed colleagues.
So he'd sent her flowers Monday morning to brighten up her paperwork filled day. Knowing she'd be sat up in one of the offices surrounded by said bastard colleagues, he'd dispatched them as quickly as possible and listened to her for fifteen minutes on the phone, her subject switching between gratitude and embarrassment at having such an extravagant bunch of flowers delivered to her desk. A bunch that she could barely get on the tube and instead gave into getting a cab home, the mass of flowers were now sat on their kitchen table in the vase that came with them, pride of place in the centre.
Sherlock smiled again as she grunted and rolled over once more, pressing her face into the pillow to block out the light, one white leg kicked perilously close to her laptop. Something Sherlock foresaw and quickly pulled the device away before it could tumble onto the floor. Just in time as her leg stretched along the length of the upturned recliner seat. Smiling fondly at the dull mundane nature of his life, Sherlock settled himself on the armchair, fingertips pressed together and watched his Sleeping Beauty snore her way through the next 30 minutes.