A/N: This has been sitting in my files for a while now and I decided to revisit it. It's based on the Elementary episode "Details" and set after TRF on the understanding that Sherlock stayed with Molly from time to time. Anyways, hope you enjoy!
"I never thought you would be stupid enough to attempt to walk home in the dark, in London, dressed like that," Sherlock lectured Molly, the harshness of his tone belying his concern as he ushered her into her flat.
"Shall we review why I'm dressed like this?" Molly asked, sinking into a chair wearily.
Sherlock frowned and said nothing.
Part of the reason he'd lent her his coat was because he didn't wish to dwell on certain aspects of the evening; particularly her attire and the reasons behind it.
He watched in silence as she toed off her heels, sighing a little in contentment as she wiggled her toes.
"That's better," she said softly, hugging his coat closer around her small frame and closing her eyes.
He'd never thought of his coat as being particularly large, but Molly looked positively dwarfed by it. He felt his chest tighten uncomfortably as he took in just how small and vulnerable she seemed in that moment.
He shuddered inwardly as he considered what might have happened in the alley if he hadn't come along.
The mugger had had a knife after all.
Molly rubbed her eyes, "Why are you staring at me?" she asked through a yawn.
"I'm not staring," he replied defensively, "I'm making sure you're not injured."
Liar, he berated himself, but Molly either didn't notice or let the comment slide.
"It's been a long night," she said finally, "I'll see you in the morning," she added, standing up and slipping out of his coat, revealing the russet coloured dress that left very little to the imagination.
The dress that made it very difficult for him to keep his eyes off her and (for some bizarre reason) his hands. Another reason why he had been so angry in the alley: Molly Hooper was his and that man had no right to touch her.
"Thanks for your coat," she added, handing the item in question back to him and padding down the hallway to her bedroom.
"Good night," he called after her belatedly.
She waved a hand in his direction, stifling another yawn with the other, as she disappeared into her room.
Sherlock sat down on the couch, thinking.
Molly was one of the few people in his life who had morphed from a permanent fixture into a much needed and valued person. The problem was that she had done so without his knowledge and almost without his consent.
He had been relieved that Moriarty hadn't thought to put her in the same league as John and the others as it meant it gave him a connection with his life, it gave him an anchor. It meant that one person that he cared about was safe.
But this evening when he'd rescued Molly from her attacker he'd realised that she wasn't as safe as he'd always assumed. Moriarty didn't have to have her in his sights; she could still be taken from him at any time which was unacceptable.
Before he left to continue dismantling Moriarty's web he would make sure that he left her able to properly defend herself.