A/N: So hey watching youtube inspired this little one! Naughtiness at the end so please watch that one.
Enjoy and review!
"Molly this is an utterly pointless endeavour, why on earth are we doing this?!" Sherlock moaned as he was tugged onto a chair in front of the laptop, his complaining lessened as his pathologist perched herself on his lap.
"I'd like to document our relationship." Molly hummed as her fingers tapped across the keyboard trying to find the right page.
"So write it in your diary." Sherlock huffed, arms crossed over his chest.
"I do, but your input would be better." She ignored her sulking beau and located the page she wanted.
"The boyfriend tag? This is worse than I thought, we are not honestly using the juvenile names of boyfriend/girlfriend are we Molly?" She hears his disgust and resolutely ignores him again.
"Where did we meet?" Molly ignores and asks him without looking.
"The University of Warwick, you caught me removing pickling jars." Sherlock answered monotonously.
"You were stealing them Sherlock!" Molly scoffed and he shifts in his seat.
"They were for an experiment!" He argues instantly.
"That's always your excuse." She grins and turns back to the screen. "What was our first date?"
"Two days after that and I took you to coffee in that god awful shop."
"That wasn't a date! You were both bribing me not to tell about that incident and you were asking me to steal more for you!" Molly turns, outraged to the detective who looks mutinous. "Our proper date was two and half years ago when you finally took me out to that steak restaurant." Her expression dares him to argue so he remains silent. "Where was our first kiss Sherlock?"
"Your graduation." He mumbles into her shoulder blades, having shifted forwards to be closer to her. "You tasted to that cherry lip balm you liked. It was more than like, it bordered on obsession." His flippant answer made Molly's heart squeeze; she thought he'd have deleted that kiss though Molly spent the next few years fantasising about what could have happened afterwards if her parents hadn't interrupted.
"Did you know I was the one?" She mutters, tensing for the answer.
"What does the one mean? The one what? The one pathologist who will put up with my experiments or the one woman who doesn't scream when she finds eyeballs in the fridge, though you do recoil every so often…."
"Next." Molly wished she'd vetted this list first. "First impression?"
"Fierce, very fierce, especially over some pickling jars!" Sherlock scoffs again but his arms are wrapped around her waist now.
"When did you meet the family?" She's shifted to curl into his chest a little more.
"At your graduation, I think your father was torn between pride and protectiveness."
"Do we have a tradition?" Molly squinted as she read and answered before Sherlock. "No, because you don't believe in the point of doing something repetitive. What was our first road-trip?"
"Molly is this list American?" Sherlock said in disgust and snatches the laptop away from her to scan down the page. "This is ridiculous Hooper, you couldn't have chosen sappier questions!"
"You answer them then without me reading them to you!" She snaps and hands him the laptop completely before getting up from his lap and stalking into the kitchen. Sherlock stares at her retreating back and weighs up his options; unhappy girlfriend but life not wasted on this list of dumb questions or happy girlfriend and a few minutes lost.
Happy girlfriend.
"Our first road-trip was when I made you come to the peak district with me for a case, does that count? You said I love you first, which is about right because you know I do not verbalise my emotions well, we argue about absolutely everything because I'm a grumpy bastard who has to have it his own way, and since we've started living together, my mousey pathologist has vanished. I would like to say that I wear the trousers in this relationship but I know without a doubt it's you." Sherlock has stood now, list memorised briefly as he stands behind Molly.
"Hmm?" She refuses to turn.
"You won't let me watch any more crime shows, but you still love Bones so when I'm out on a case you watch it when I'm not here. You get French dressing on your salad but only the one from Sainsbury's because it has a nice tang to it. The one food you don't like is curry, you're not very good with spicy food, when we go out on the rare date, normally with the Watsons you get a vodka and coke if you're not driving or just an orange juice and lemonade if you are. You're a size four but pretty much a four and half in most shoes making it a pain for you. You collect badges from different places you go to in the same way people collect fridge magnets." Sherlock's whispered the answers to the questions, laptop abandoned on the desk and his hands have slipped to Molly's waist. His lips are brushing against her neck which she's bared for him and their bodies are flush together.
"Last few." Her voice is a breathy whisper and Sherlock's semi erect from that alone.
"Your favourite sandwich is a toasted chicken and cucumber with mayo, and you'd eat your mum's roast dinner every day without hesitation. You dislike cereal immensely and opt for toasted teacakes from breakfast. You're not fussy on music and you fall asleep quickly when I play the violin. What the hell has sports got to do with you Molly?" Sherlock's almost bemused but before the spell is broken he hurries to answer the next question. "Your eye colour is an attractive shade of brown, your best friend is Meena and something I don't like about you is your insane thirst to document this relationship." Sherlock mutters into her skin, feeling her annoyance flood back at his final answer. "But something I love about you is the fact that you do." She spins in his arms and he gauges her reaction; he can see the war of annoyance over lust and wonders if he kisses her whether it'll piss her off more.
It has happened before. Apparently kissing a woman to stop an argument makes her mad and you end up on the sofa for the next two nights.
Lust wins out for Molly.
"Kiss me already Sherlock." She growls and crashes her lips against his, rewarded with his body pressing against her front and his arms locking around her waist. "Do you want me in the kitchen or on the sofa?" She mutters against his lips, delighted as he grinds his erection into her body.
"Kitchen, can't wait." He pants.
Maybe these crappy little quizzes were a good idea.