A/N: Just a little one-shot while I'm working on the How to Apologize… sequel. Three chapters done so far. I'll start posting it soon. In the meantime, enjoy this little drabble-thefaultoflegend
He texted her while she was still at work. Molly had been finishing up some paperwork from that day and couldn't wait to get out of there. She loved her work but the day had been a stressful one because someone was out sick and she had extra tasks to complete. His text made everything a little better, though.
I'm bored. Dinner tonight? –SH
She smiled down at her phone and took a break to text back.
I'm done at 6. Meet you at Baker Street? I'll get the takeaway –MH
See you soon –SH
Molly finished up what she was working on and gathered her things. This sort of thing became routine, her going over a few times a week to eat dinner with Sherlock. They were both on their own, both could use the company. And he was lonely ever since John got married, even if he never admitted it to anyone. But she could read him; she could always tell.
She got the takeaway and went to 221B, letting herself in as she figured Sherlock was busy with an experiment. She was right, as she walked in to him standing in the kitchen with his brown curls hanging over a pair of goggles and his favorite robe hanging off of his shoulders. He smiled at her when she came in while rotating a vial over a Bunsen burner.
"Molly Hooper," he said by way of greeting.
"Sherlock Holmes," she echoed and began to unpack the bag of food, laying it out on the side of the table that wasn't covered in body parts. He turned off the burner and grabbed his food in silence, making his way to the couch. She came over beside him, quickly falling into their usual routine of eating dinner together. "What do you want to watch?"
"You pick," he said while shrugging his shoulders and digging into his food. They sat and ate while watching a Doctor Who rerun. Eventually Sherlock grew tired and placed a pillow next to Molly's lap before lying down on the couch.
"I always liked that the companions have those little taglines," she said suddenly, just as Sherlock was about to dose off.
"What do you mean?" he asked sleepily, and rolled over to lay on his back and look up at her.
"I mean like 'Amelia Pond, the girl who waited.' Or 'Rose Tyler, defender of the Earth. It just makes them sound so epic, so much more important." He smiled a bit at her excitement as she talked about it. "People should have those little taglines, too. Like you."
"Me?"
"Yes. Sherlock Holmes, world's only consulting detective," she smiled and held out her hands as if spelling out his name on a billboard.
"Hmm…" he said, still trying to keep up with the conversation even as sleep was about to take him. "I suppose you're right. That's much better than just Sherlock Holmes."
"You even have your Doctor, like the companions do," she added, smiling down at him.
"Yeah, you."
"John." They said it at the same time and turned to look at each other, each one's face brimming with confusion. "You, Molly," Sherlock whispered softly to her. She blushed and looked away. "You know you have your tagline, too," he said after a few minutes. "Molly Hooper, the one who mattered the most." She smiled brightly down at him.
"If only I had a Doctor to take me on crazy adventures," she said.
"You have me to take you on crazy cases. Is that good enough?" he asked sincerely, his blue eyes boaring into her brown ones.
She smirked and ran a hand through his curls. "That's more than good enough."