DAY 1: A DAY IN THE LIFE

28 August 2016

Summary: Sherlock has other ideas for Molly's evening.

A/N: Includes Sherlolly.

Rating: T, for a couple of swear words and mildly suggestive scenes (*wink wink*).

I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.

Molly yawned as she opened her front door. She yawned again as she dropped her keys in her old shallow marble bowl on the narrow table in the hall. She hung up her coat in the front closet and dropped her bag next to the couch before plopping herself down on it, causing Toby to yelp and jump from his spot in the middle of the couch. "Shit! Sorry, Toby!"

The cat only gave her a grumpy meow before he ran to her bedroom, where she was sure that he would resume his 'much-needed' nap.

Sighing, she sat back and toed off her shoes. She lifted her aching feet and rested them on the mahogany coffee table. "I'll deal with them later," she muttered to herself as she closed her eyes. "Nap first," she added with another yawn. "Just for five minutes."

Reluctantly opening her eyes, she fished her mobile out of her bag and set her nap alarm for 6.40pm. She stretched out on the couch and placed her mobile on the table.

She was out like a light after only a couple of deep breaths.

The blare of her alarm, as well as the heavy knocks on her front door, woke Molly from her nap. How long did I sleep? she wondered as she sat up and silenced the alarm. Her eyes widened when she saw that it was already 7.08.

"Hello? Ms Hooper? Are you home?" asked a male voice that she only vaguely recognised. Her guest knocked again for good measure.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she slowly rose from the couch and shuffled towards the voice. "Who is it?"

"It's Angelo, from the restaurant. I'm Sherlock's friend."

Oh, right, she thought. It's been a while since we ate at his restaurant. What's he doing here? She opened the door to a smiling, silver-haired man with a large brown bag in his hand. "Hello, Angelo."

"Sherlock ordered this for you," he said, thrusting the bag towards her.

Giving him a small smile, she hesitantly took the bag. "And what is this?" she wondered aloud as she slowly opened it. Her smiled brightened when the marvellous smell of penne arrabbiata wafted from the bag. Taking a deep whiff, she giggled as her stomach growled.

Angelo laughed good-naturedly. "Sherlock said you'd be too knackered to cook anything. Also said you'd need your favourite comfort food."

She looked up and narrowed her eyes at the restaurant owner. "He's still in Brussels. How did he even find out?"

Angelo shrugged. "He seemed to know so much about your day when he rang me. But he's Sherlock, you know? So I just took down his order." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey coat. "Perhaps he spoke with your supervisor or co-worker?"

"He must have," she replied with a nod. She made a mental note to ask Sherlock if he had spoken with Dr Stamford, who had chatted with her when he dropped by the morgue and the lab this afternoon. He was also the only one (besides Meena, of course) that commented on her sleepy and exhausted look. "Did he happen to mention a Dr Stamford when he rang?"

Angelo frowned and shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't remember him saying anything about any Stamfords. He only gave me the order and told me to bring it down at 7 o'clock. Said you'd be napping after arriving home from work and you'd be starving upon waking up."

Molly shook her head. "Of course he knows that," she remarked.

Angelo only smiled and nodded knowingly. "Oh, please don't worry about paying," he added when she moved to get her wallet. "It's on the house."

She stared at him for a moment. "Er… Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course. I'll do anything for Sherlock Holmes. You see, he got me off a murder charge."

"Yes, I think I've heard about that." She grinned brightly at him. "Thanks for the free food."

"You're welcome! Enjoy your meal, Ms Hooper." He turned to leave and waved her goodbye. "Have a good night!"

"Thanks, Angelo! You too!"

She brought the bag to the kitchen and removed the styrofoam container. She shooed her cat away when he climbed on the worktop. "Toby, no." She turned towards his half-full food bowl and pointed at it. "You've got your food. This is mine. You don't like spicy Italian food anyway." She stuck her tongue out at her cat when he gave her a displeased meow.

She pulled out a folded piece of paper from underneath another container (which was labelled 'Insalata caprese'). She lifted herself up on the worktop and, with one eye on Toby, she opened the note. She smiled to herself as she examined it. "He must have written this on the Notes app and emailed it to Angelo, who must have printed it off himself," she muttered to herself. She looked up and locked eyes with Toby, who was watching her from his spot next to his food bowl. "Do you think Angelo read the whole thing before putting it in the bag?" Getting no response from the cat, she took a deep breath and began reading the note.

Molly Hooper,

Thank you for helping to clear my mind and to figure out how the sister accidentally killed her long-lost brother. Also please forgive me for keeping you up last night. Mike Stamford has assured me, though, that your lateness this morning won't affect the promotion that you've been eyeing––and that you deserve.

I've asked Angelo to deliver your favourite dish from his restaurant once you've caught up (a bit) on sleep. It's a thank-you, an apology, and your first birthday present from me.

I'll text you once my flight from Brussels lands in Heathrow (should be at 7.42, but the inebriated pilot might cause a delay). I've got more birthday presents for you, so please keep the penne arrabbiata warm. Feel free to finish the antipasto.

Many happy returns, Molly.

Yours,

Sherlock Holmes

Clutching the note to her chest, she glanced at the clock and hopped off the worktop. She put the styrofoam containers into the microwave oven to keep them warm and safe from Toby. She shut the microwave door and began to get ready for Sherlock's visit.

Freshly showered and changed into her favourite grey floral pyjama top and cropped bottoms, Molly checked on the food and took the styrofoam containers out of the microwave oven. She transferred the penne arrabbiata into a microwave-safe container and placed it back in, heating up the penne for two minutes before lowering herself to a chair. "Oh, wait!" she exclaimed as she straightened up and pulled forks out of her cutlery drawer. She grabbed the salad as she finally sat down.

She had just finished the appetizer when she heard a knock on her door. Smiling, she put her fork down and rose to take the penne out of the microwave oven. She set it on the table before she walked out of the kitchen to meet Sherlock.

She stopped in her tracks when the consulting detective entered the flat. Softly chuckling, she crossed her arms and cocked an eyebrow at him once their eyes met. "Why did you knock if you're just going to pick my lock anyway?"

He shrugged and gave her a small smile. "I was being polite." He divested himself of his coat and scarf as he strode towards her and left them on her couch.

Shit. He's wearing the purple shirt of sex. "So did the sister resist arrest? Or did she come quiet…ly?" Her voice trailed off and her pulse quickened when he came to a stop before her. The intensity in his eyes made her body tingle. "W-what are you doing?" she asked as he gently cupped her face in his hands.

"Many happy returns, Molly Hooper," he said before covering her mouth with his.

She was unsure if this was one of the other birthday presents he mentioned, but it only took her a moment to respond to his kiss. Immediately shutting her eyes, she uncrossed her arms and slung them round his neck, while he wrapped his arms round her waist. Her hands slid up in his luxuriant curls and she tugged, earning her an erotic moan. Her brain melted when his hard, warm tongue met hers.

She was breathing hard––as he was, she noted––when they pulled apart. She slowly opened her eyes to Sherlock Holmes gazing down at her with the tenderest expression she had ever seen on him. "W-was that a birthday present too?"

He chuckled. "Yes. Although, to be perfectly honest, I've been wanting to do that for a while," he replied in a husky voice. He smiled at her before clearing his throat. "I'm starving. Did you leave me any penne?"

She burst out laughing, causing Sherlock to give her a confused look. "Actually I haven't eaten it, because I was waiting for you." She turned round and headed back to the kitchen. "Thanks for the salad, by the way."

He grabbed her wrist when she reached for the still-warm penne arrabbiata. "It's your birthday, Molly. Just sit down and let me serve you."

She sat back, while he pulled out plates from her cupboard and dished up nearly half of the penne arrabbiata onto her plate. She listened with a huge smile on her face as he regaled her with his account of the killer's arrest and with his deductions of his fellow passengers on the flight back to London. She pretended to pout and huff when he refused her help in cleaning up after their late dinner. She giggled when he kissed her again and carried her to her bedroom.

Later in bed, she stroked the pendant of her new necklace as she revelled in the feel of his arm round her waist and his warm body against her back.

Looks like the only agenda for my day off tomorrow is spending it in bed with Sherlock Holmes, Molly thought before sleep finally claimed her.

I honestly didn't know that you could keep takeaway food warm in the microwave oven.

And Sherlock totally kicked Toby out of Molly's bedroom before he gave her the third birthday present (*wink wink*)

Please visit my AO3 page (LadySolitaire83) if you'd like to see the links to my references.

So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?