My own idea- Gamer Girl

Molly Hooper loved her job. There was no denying it. She knew it was immoral to thrive from salvaging what data she could from mangled corpses. But it made her ecstatic, with the thrill of discovering the most gruesome death tales. But even she had to admit, with the horde of school children entering her morgue in black body bags, the atmosphere grew increasingly emotional with the aspect of youthful boys and girls with a shortened lifespans. As clinical as she tried to be, she found her mind drift to the thoughts of the deceased's families. This disturbed her even further so she quickly dismissed any recognition of the previous train of thought.

But now it was 9:45 and she was sat a measurable distance away from the devastating and ominous atmosphere of the morgue, as the London taxi drew her away from the hospital. Soon after she arrived at the homely door of her flat. Upon entering said flat, Molly hastily discarded her coat and bag, and made a direct beeline for the kitchen. She quickly shoved two pieces of toast into the toaster, and ran off to the confines of her room to change into more comfortable clothes. Molly quickly decided she preferred to simply change into her pyjamas, therefore she threw on an old pair of dark sweats and an oversized men's T-shirt. Once she had adorned her ugg-style slippers, she retreated to the kitchen, where her toast had miraculously popped up from the hot insides of the toaster.

Molly quickly arrived at the realisation that her appetite had grown rapidly, and she was now ravenous. She almost swallowed the toast whole, as she was now eager to fill her whiny stomach. After eating half a packet of Oreos and a bowl of jelly, as well as the toast, Molly decided she was full enough. She walked briskly towards the comfortable sofa in her plush living room. With out hesitation she dropped to her knees, and turned on her Xbox. She was a rapid gamer and this was part of her nightly routine.

Sherlock was incredibly grumpy this particular evening. He had gotten no further in his case, and it was beginning to eat away at his sanity. He had performed a variety of tests on a number of deceased patients at Bart's this previous morning, and decided that right now he needed to study the results, before he went utterly insane. For the past 2 hours he had sat inhumanly still, in his mind place. John, who was sat on the opposite chair, was startled when Sherlock abruptly leapt to life. He jumped from his chair and stormed out of the room, only pausing to pull on his beloved coat and scarf. Without a word he left a baffled John alone in 221B.

He hurled himself into a cab as quickly as he could, and muttered Molly's address to the cabbie. He needed access to the morgue and Molly was the key to his entry. Only she was at home. He would have to most likely drag her from her bed. This had been proven a difficult task in the past. When the taxi rolled to a stop in front of the block of flats, Sherlock quickly paid and fled to the warmth of the building. Fluently and with ease he ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time. When he finally reached the door of Molly's flat, he froze. Could his ears be mistaking him? I could have sworn he heard Molly shouting. No, it couldn't be. But it was! He knew her voice anywhere. Without bothering to knock, he flung the door wide open.

The sight in front of him was not of a conflict as he had expected. It a strange sight indeed. Molly was curled up on the sofa, with her chin resting on her knees. She was wearing a headset which glowed in the dark-which. With only the light from the TV screen as any indication, he saw as was clutching a gaming controller, and was furiously slamming the buttons and twisting knobs. The look of concentration on her face was almost comical; her glare was directed at the screen, on which she was shooting military squad teams. At first she did not notice him, as she was too absorbed in the slaughter on the screen, and continued to shout down into the microphone on her headset to other gamers she was obviously playing with online.

In a matter of moments a whirl of a draft entered her flat, and made her shiver. She quickly spared a glance at the now agape door. A man was stood in the middle of the entry. She shrieked when she saw the silent figure hovering in her living room, only steps away from her. Squinting in the direction of the door, she soon realised that the man was no stranger. It was Sherlock. She let out a sigh of relief and turned her gaze back to the television, where she resumed her attack on the other video games members.

Sherlock relaxed as Molly realised it was simply him who had entered the room. He was about to demand she accompany him to the morgue, to be his assistant, when she unexpectedly said, "I'm not going back to the hospital. It's nearly eleven o'clock. But your welcome to stay here if you like." Molly's concentration was not broken the entire time she spoke. He was about to respond before she muttered, "I wasn't talking to you" into her headset. He realised he wasn't going to be able to persuade her to come with him, so he took her up on her offer. Sherlock discarded his coat and scarf on the cabinet to the left of him, and dropped onto the sofa next to Molly.

Molly glanced sideways at him, and disconnected her online game. She abruptly turned to face him. "Want to play?"

[2 hours later]

The room was in chaos. Sofa cushions had been thrown and the coffee table was knocked over. The game in the television was still running, except no one was playing it. All attempts had been abandoned when Sherlock would not give Molly the controller back. As it had turned out, Sherlock had a knack for playing videogames. It appeared as if he had been playing for years, rather than a few hours.

Both the man and woman were now lying on the floor; Molly pinned beneath Sherlock. When Sherlock refused to give her the controller for her turn, she had attacked him. They wrestled over purchase on the handheld device. Such force of an assault sent them tumbling to the ground. Molly had ended up with the controller grasped in her hands. Sherlock pinned her to the floor and tried to retrieve the device from her stretched out arms. This method failed, so he tried and new form of attack.

Molly squealed and writhed on the floor all the while giggling, as Sherlock tickled her senseless. He found himself join in with her infectious laughter. "AHH! I surrender! I surrender!" Molly cried. She released her clutch on the controller immediately. He stopped his advance, and pulled them both to a sitting position. A wave of realisation rushed over Sherlock. This time he spent with Molly had been the first time he felt truly happy. His feelings towards Molly had changed over the past three years. He no longer manipulated her; he genuinely meant what he said to her from the day she agreed to help him. He had suspected from day one his feelings were beginning to develop beyond platonic.

Their current situation made it crystal clear to him what he felt for Molly. The blush on her cheeks stirred that primal urge within him, and that was all the evidence he needed. He suddenly leaned over and placed a swift kiss to her full lips. She froze for a moment before she became responsive, and kissed back in earnest. After a long and passionate moment, they were forced to break apart for air. "What was that?" Molly asked innocently, unsure of where she stood. Sherlock frowned in deep concentration "I don't know," He muttered truthfully, "Did you mind?" She turned to face him fully and smirked, "No, not if you do it again." He returned her smirk with a crooked smile, and leaned in once again to capture her lips with his own.

FIN. -Jess