Someone To Watch Over Me
This was written as a birthday gift for JM (Not Moriarty). It was meant to be a bit light and fluffy but didn't end up that way.
Rated T for dark themes and bad language.
Disclaimer – I own nothing.
She had no idea that he was watching her...but he was.
He wasn't quite sure when it had started, when he had first noticed her. Maybe it was her sweet smiles, the fact that she listened to him, sometimes bringing him coffee.
He watched her working, moving around the morgue and the lab so efficient in her role knowing exactly what needed to be done and how.
She calmed his mind, centred him. Watching her became an addiction.
It wasn't long before he started watching her outside of work as well, sometime following her as she met friends for coffee. Watching her eyes crinkle as she would laugh and joke with them, wishing it was him she reserved her smiles and laughter for.
On his bad days he would even find himself watching the windows of her flat, seeing the shadows cross the curtains as she moved around. Once or twice she'd not quite shut the curtains properly. Maybe she thought it didn't matter as she was two floors up, or maybe she secretly knew he was watching and didn't mind.
Those were the moments he savoured in his mind, playing them over and over on the nights he couldn't sleep. Where he'd catch a glimpse of skin, a hint of lingerie, as she changed for bed. If he closed his eyes he could see her, smell her.
He had always known that one day she would be his, that he would claim her for his own.
He had decided that today was that day.
He didn't normally attend any of the nights out organised by staff at Bart's. In fact, he wasn't normally invited. He was only coming to this one because Molly had mentioned it and invited him along 'just for one drink, you don't have to stay, it might be fun.'
And so here he was standing on the sidelines watching everyone else drinking and enjoying themselves. He never felt part of groups like this and never really wanted to.
Instead he was watching. Watching her.
She was dressed more casually than she did at work, jeans and a sparkly top, hair down in soft curls around her shoulders. He wanted to reach out and touch it, feel how soft it would be between his finger tips. But not yet...soon.
Eventually the night started drawing to a close, people leaving. Molly said her goodbyes and left with a friend for the walk back to her flat.
He left effortlessly soon after, no one caring much that he was there and so caring even less that he was leaving.
He followed behind them hoping to get an opportunity to speak to her before she got back to her flat.
As luck would have it she parted with her friend after about 10 minutes to walk the last quarter of a mile alone. Silly girl, didn't she realise how vulnerable she was, how easily someone could attack and overpower her.
He quickly caught up with her catching hold of her arm and pulling her round.
She squealed in shock initially before putting her hand on her heart and laughing 'oh, it's you. You scared the life out of me. What are you doing here?'
'I...um...I', he tried to get the words out. Tried to tell her that they were meant to be together but they stuck in his throat. Her forehead was crinkling in confusion. He needed to do something, to say something before she left.
Acting in impulse he pulled her close kissing her, trying to convey his feelings through the kiss. At first she was rigid with shock, he waited for her to relax into the kiss but she didn't. Instead she was squirming against him, pushing on his chest trying to pull free.
He didn't understand what she was doing, why she wanted to stop. Wasn't this what she wanted, what they both wanted. He could feel the anger rising within him. She was ruining the moment why was she ruining this.
He broke off from the kiss and shook her trying to shake some sense into her. She started to scream and he lost it slamming her up against the wall that was just behind her. She was just another bitch like all the rest. He'd make her love him, they were meant to be together. He just needed to kiss her again, convince her.
Before he could capture her lips with his own he felt someone grabbing the back of his coat roughly pulling him round. Then there was a blinding pain on the side of his face, he literally saw stars before the fist landed again and again.
He heard a wailing and realised it was coming from his own mouth.
He could hear Molly shouting in the background, 'stop Sherlock, enough, I'm OK, I'm OK.'
Sherlock let him go and he fell to the floor hard. Black spots were dancing before his eyes and he looked up wondering if he was about to pass out.
He could see them, stood together, Sherlock's arms wrapped around his Molly holding her close, wiping the tears from her eyes and kissing the top of her head.
'It's alright Molly, Lestrade is on his way, you're safe now.'
His head was spinning, his stomach churning. That bastard Sherlock Holmes, always hanging around the morgue getting in the way, how had he even found us.
As though Sherlock had heard the thoughts he spoke to Molly, 'he's been watching you since he started working in the morgue but as usual with this kind if idiot he saw but he did not observe. He didn't see me, watching him, watching you.'
As sirens sounded in the background his brain finally succumbed to unconsciousness.
So there you have it. Honestly, I came up with the first line and in my head it was going to be Sherlock watching her but then it morphed into a different kind of story.
So, a bit of a departure from my normal kind of story but I hope you liked it. Let me know, review.