This was inspired by a prompt from otppromts, which itself was inspired by the Twenty-one Pilots song Tear in My Heart.
I own precious little, and neither Sherlock nor the prompt and song that inspired this belong in that category.
All mistakes however, do belong in that category as this is unbeta'd.
Enjoy.
They'd been driving for about an hour when he realized she'd fallen asleep. John had been busy with Mary and the baby, some event or occasion Sherlock couldn't be bothered to remember, so he'd asked Molly to accompany him on the case instead. She'd done so a few times over the past few months, and had proven very useful. The case they were coming back from had been good, an eight, and had lasted three days. Sherlock was alert, his body still slowly working on getting the adrenaline out of his system, but Molly's adrenaline high had already faded, and the ensuing exhaustion had overtaken her. They went over a slight bump and he heard her make a small noise and shift as though she was about to wake before settling again. He frowned. That wouldn't do at all.
He had noticed the dark circles forming under her eyes since the Fauxiarty debacle ended, deducing that she hadn't been sleeping well. He couldn't properly deduce why, but based on his own experiences, he suspected bad dreams were to blame. She seemed peaceful now, though. He decided to be more careful to avoid bumps and potholes for the rest of the drive. She needed her sleep. He shortly realized the difficulty of this task. They were on a rural road that saw enough activity to be worn down, but not enough, apparently, to warrant fixing. It took them an extra 15 minutes to get back to a better kept road because of all the maneuvering he had to do to avoid swerving too harshly while still managing to avoid the obstacles. While he still had to avoid some potholes on the main road as they headed back, it was significantly better. Still, he decided he needed to have a little talk with Mycroft about getting the budget for road repairs increased or something along those lines. Assuming Molly would continue accompanying him regularly, which he hoped she would, he could easily see this becoming an issue. They drove on for another couple of hours, and eventually he stopped the car. He then realized that he had gone straight to Baker Street rather than stopping off at Molly's flat first to drop her off. He thought for a moment before making a decision and getting out. He threw their bags over one shoulder before opening Molly's door, unbuckling her, and picking her up. She stirred a little before settling into his arms. Sherlock kicked the car door closed, knowing it would be picked up by one of Mycroft's people shortly, and headed inside. It took a little maneuvering to unlock and go through the door and up the stairs while carrying Molly and the bags, but he managed. He dropped their bags by the door before stopping for a moment to think, staring at the couch. He weighed his options before heading to his bedroom. He laid Molly on the bed and gently removed her shoes. She stirred again.
"Sherlock?" she murmured groggily.
"Just relax, Molly," he replied softly. "Go back to sleep." She yawned and shifted slightly before doing just that. After pulling the blankets over her, Sherlock once again stood, a decision to be made. He stared at Molly's sleeping form, and then shrugged, toeing off his own shoes and removing his coat, scarf and suit jacket. He laid down next to her under the blankets, his arm resting against hers. He closed his eyes, letting her warmth and the sound of her soft, steady breathing lull him to sleep.