A "Psychologically Beneficial" Dance in the Rain
(A/N: Let's see who can spot the vague Doctor Who and Supernatural references! Comment the ones you find! (BTW, this is proof that I DID NOT SKIP NINE. NO ONE SHOULD BE ALLOWED TO SKIP NINE, HE IS MY SASSY BBY.))
Molly continued to scribble endless words on her heaping mountain of paperwork. Her untouched cup of coffee was a clear sign that she had been frantically recording changes from each dead body to the next for the last few hours. The clock on the wall seemed to tick agonizingly slowly.
She sighed and sat back in her chair, stressed and utterly overwhelmed at her workload for the evening. The white walls of the morgue were doing nothing but intensifying her lingering headache. Molly rubbed her temples, set her ballpoint pen on top of the desk, and finally touched her coffee cup, disappointed to find it cold.
The doors to the morgue opened with a subtle creak, and a familiar figure stalked in, coated in a splash of black paint as usual.
The cloaked man proceeded to sit in the nearest rolling chair, which happened to be right next to Molly.
She pretended not to notice Sherlock, but failed as she sensed him crane his neck to look over her shoulder at her paperwork.
Molly reluctantly continued to write, suddenly self-conscious of her data she had recorded. She had only written a few phrases before he spoke up.
"Wrong."
Molly glanced up at Sherlock. "Hmm?"
"Both corpses had traces of sulfur on them; they obviously both worked in the same scientific laboratory. I got curious and checked this morning."
"You were here this morning?"
"Of course. I had a favor to ask of you."
Molly gave him a sideways glance. "But I normally don't come in until noon."
Sherlock crossed his arms and leaned back into the chair. "I am aware. I was going to wait for you, but John was being needy."
"You didn't have to—"
The morgue doors swung open, less subtle this time, and Molly's coworker Sarah walked in with a clipboard in the crook of her elbow and a smile on her face.
"Your shift's over, Molly," she said. "You're free to go."
"Oh thank God, " Molly whispered to Sherlock. "I thought it would never end."
Sherlock stood up and rebuttoned his coat, followed by Molly who scrambled to snatch up any remaining paperwork. She gathered them in her arms and strutted out with Sherlock, struggling with the papers.
"Thanks again, Sarah," she called.
They both heard a faint "anytime" when Molly began to drop her paperwork.
"Here, let me help," Sherlock offered. He picked up over two thirds of her mound of parchment before hearing her answer.
"Thanks." Molly chirped, the weight in her arms much lighter.
They walked in silence for the next few minutes, exiting the hospital and approaching Molly's car. Dark, stormy clouds splattered with ink fluffed above their heads.
Sherlock lingered behind her as she fumbled for her keys, his tall frame rocking back and forth on his heels. He was still holding most of her papers.
Molly's hand dug deep into her purse, trying to latch onto the car keys that were not there, and were, in fact, locked inside her car.
As she realized this, she cursed under her breath and peeked into the passenger door window. Sure enough, her beaded keys were resting softly on the passenger seat.
"Your keys are locked inside, " Sherlock stated. "I figured as much."
Molly turned around. "If you knew I had locked my keys in then why did you help me?"
"Just being friendly."
Since when did Sherlock Holmes try to be friendly? "Oh. Well…thank you."
He did a quick nod of his head when the thunder clapped and rain started pouring down furiously.
All the paperwork Molly had worked on was becoming more soaked in her arms.
"Shit!" she cursed, her and Sherlock now covered in soggy parchment.
Sherlock said nothing; he just stood there and let his coat drip.
A fuse inside her threatened to snap; all her paperwork was ruined and she couldn't get into her car. She stared up at the dark sky, mentally cursing God. Her day was a disaster.
"You know what?" The fuse inside her snapped, but it was the right one. "I don't care."
"Sorry?" Sherlock glanced at her.
"I don't care." Molly's wet hair stuck to her face as she dropped her stack of paper into a rather large puddle, all while grinning like an idiot. They landed on the pavement with a slap. "I don't care."
Sherlock continued to stare at her quizzically. Molly smiled.
"Should I be concerned?" Sherlock's expression displayed nothing but confusion.
"Not at all. Well, my keys are locked inside, my work is ruined, and we're soaking wet. I'm fed up to the point where I don't care anymore." Molly gave him a genuine smile that radiated warmth. "What's there to be concerned about?"
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, but refused to say anything. Molly laughed.
"Well, go on, off you pop, drop the papers!"
He hesitated, but finally dropped the stack into a different puddle. He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Molly Hooper, not many things scare me, but you are genuinely scaring me right now."
Molly burst out in laughter. "Me scaring Sherlock Holmes? I take it that's a first." She saw Sherlock smirk.
"In fact," she said, raising a finger, "I am so fed up with my job that I'm going to…" her eyes scanned the parking lot and the front of the hospital building. From a window on the fourth floor, music began to waft into the parking lot. That's when Molly had an idea.
"Sherlock, have you ever danced before?"
"Hmm? Oh, well…" he cleared his throat. "Of course."
"Show me your moves."
"Sorry?"
Molly held out her hand. "Show me your moves."
"And why would I do that?"
"I don't know, it's raining, there's an open parking lot, I'm locked out of my car, there's music playing, why the hell not?" Molly flashed him a smile. "What, you've never seen people dance in the rain before?"
"Of course I have."
"Then why are you hesitating?"
"I'd rather not say."
Molly gasped and suppressed laughter. "You CAN'T dance?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"Not really, but come on, I'll teach you."
"Molly, I don't—"
"Oh, get out here." Sherlock stiffened as Molly grabbed his soaking wet hand and pulled him into the middle of the parking lot.
Molly took off her sopping lab coat, grabbed Sherlock's hand, and guided his hand to her waist. She clasped his other hand within hers, their palms squishing together due to the rain. She could sense Sherlock's tenseness and smirked. So he was attracted to her.
As Molly Hooper gave Sherlock Holmes dancing lessons in the middle of the parking lot at St. Bart's, she almost burst out laughing many times during the session. It wasn't every day you could hear that sentence.
Once Sherlock began to get the hang of it, he eventually relaxed. His expression was no longer strained, his body language radiated comfortability—-hell, he even broke a smile here and there.
Then "Fall Into Place" by The Apartment began to play.
"Okay, Sherlock. This is your final test." Molly instantaneously decided upon the arrival of the new song. "If you pass, you get my full respect. If you don't, well…..you'll get my respect anyway."
Sherlock grinned. "I hope I don't fail."
"Well, don't drop me."
Sherlock laughed. "I would never do that."
"You never know."
"But—"
"Shut up and dance, you genius." Molly laughed as he began to sway with the music, twirling her often.
It seemed like they danced for ages, and Molly enjoyed every second of it. The rain continued to pour on top of them, but they hardly noticed. Sherlock twirled her again and drops of water spiraled off of her clothing.
Sherlock pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her waist and preparing to dip her.
Maybe it was his smile. Maybe it was the way his eyes twinkled. Maybe it was the way that his dark curls were plastered to his forehead in all directions. Hell, she didn't know—she would probably never know. But something in that moment had propelled her to lean forward and smash her lips to his.
Sherlock tensed up in her arms, his eyes probably as wide as saucers. After a few moments, he eventually cupped her jaw in his hand and deepened the kiss.
If the world had begun to burn, Molly wouldn't have noticed. If her name had been announced as the next lottery winner, she wouldn't have noticed. Even if the hospital were to blow up, she wouldn't bat an eyelash.
Stray raindrops trailed from Sherlock's curls down the side of Molly's nose. The downpour seemed to increase the longer they kissed and showed no sign of stopping.
Sure, Molly was having a bad day, but all that was trillions of miles behind her now. After all, she was kissing Sherlock Holmes in the RAIN. How much more lucky could she get?
Eventually, though reluctantly, Molly pulled away and buried her face in his shoulder, grinning spectacularly. He did the same.
They stayed like this for several minutes before Sherlock mumbled into her shoulder.
"Did I pass the test?"
Molly contemplated this for several seconds before answering. "Not yet."
Sherlock pulled away from her shoulder, still gingerly gripping her elbows. He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Mmhmm." Molly answered. "You haven't dipped me yet."
Sherlock smiled and lowered her down, securely encasing her in his forearms. "Have I passed now?"
Molly radiated happiness with her grin. "A+."
Sherlock swung her back onto her feet as she grabbed the collar of his coat and pulled him into another kiss.
*******TRANSITION HERE BECAUSE I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THOSE LINE THINGS WEEWOO WEEWOO TRANSITION YAYY*********
Sherlock was deep in his mind palace, playing back his experience with Molly Hooper on a continuous loop when John walked in.
"So, Sherlock, do you want to explain to me what this is?" John held his phone up to Sherlock's face, displaying a picture.
Sherlock scanned the photo and his eyes quickly widened.
It was a picture of him and Molly kissing in the rain.
Sherlock snatched the phone out of John's grip. "Who took this?"
"I did."
"Were you spying on us?"
"No, I was stopping by St. Bart's to see if you were there." John flashed a smile that dripped with proudness. "And I just so happened to stumble into you two without being seen. I took a video as well."
"Delete it. Now."
"Hell no!" He snatched his phone back from Sherlock and stuffed it in his pocket. "Now, tell me," he said, sitting down in his designated arm chair across from Sherlock and smiling widely. "Why exactly was Molly giving you dance lessons in the rain, and why did I just so happen to stumble in on you two sucking face?"
Sherlock cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "It was….psychologically beneficial."
"Psychologically beneficial. Okay, I'll tell Mary that the next time we kiss." His voice was stained with playful sarcasm.
"I… you…shut up, John." Sherlock curled up in his chair and turned around.
"Not a chance." John smirked as he left the room.
A/N: So there ya go! I got this idea when it started pouring down rain yesterday. Also, should I make another "dancing in the rain" one, but have it be Doctor Who themed? If so, should it be Tenpetals or Whouffle? :D