Hello Everyone! I have not written a fic in forever and one of NY resolutions was to get back to my writing. Although I am not sure How big of a following I have left since its been so long but I am hoping some of you are still there. Plus, I have been reading a ton of Sherolly lately because like everyone I was so happy for the "I love you," scene in the last episode but felt very unsatisfied for my ship with no follow-up. So I have been devouring stories and gave me my bug back. This story is a follow up to my story of Sherlock and the Red Dress. Don't necessarily have to read that one to understand this one but it will help. Hopefully, you like it and depending on the response I will keep going or leave it as a one-shot, so please let me know what you think! :-) This one does not have Euros ( I think I spelled her name right) or Mary being dead.
I own nothing and none of these characters are mine:
Molly Hooper groaned in appreciation as the cool tile soothed her inflamed skin. London was experiencing an unusual heat wave and given the fact she was temporarily living at 22B Baker Street, she was more heated than usual. As she lay on the kitchen floor, she let the thoughts she had been suppressing for the last few weeks rushing through her brain. After the cocktail party at Greene House, she had not really seen much of Sherlock. It had been a strange evening, to put it mildly, and then everything had gone to hell. Sherlock had virtually disappeared until John had dragged his hung-over ass into Bart's demanding she test his urine for drugs.
Molly had not really needed to run the tests, she could tell from his slightly guilty expression and glassy eyes, he was higher than a kite. After she got the full results in and saw exactly what was in his system did she feel like throwing up. Her initial reaction was to kick him in the nuts but settled for just slapping him until her hand hurt. Sherlock had made some snide comment afterward about her latest relationship failing which Molly knew was just a cover. She knew he felt guilty since he wouldn't quite look at her in the eye. She later found it the whole thing had been a case, a case that turned deadly with Sherlock being exiled. The mere thought of Sherlock being gone, gone on a case she had no doubt he would not be able to return from, made Molly sick. However, before his plane could even fully get off the ground did the television screens of London flash with the man who haunted her nightmares, "did you miss me?" That was how she ended up in her current predicament of having to live with Sherlock Holmes.
"Molly scurried into her flat taking the first deep breath since the broadcast. She locked all her doors and drew the curtains, somehow feeling safer not being able to see the world outside. "He can't be back," She whispered fervently, "he put a bullet in his brain. I did his autopsy," Molly reminded herself with a shudder, "He is not back, he is not back, he is not back." She whispered to herself until her heartbeat slowed down. Feeling calmer she fed Toby before hopping into a scalding shower, the hot water soothing her fraught nerves and wiping all traces of death.
For the first time in her life, Molly wished she had chosen a different career path. Something that did not involve death, murder, a crazy psychopathic man, and one consulting detective she would never fully recover from. Molly grabbed a towel from rack feeling drained. It had been an emotional month and she knew she should contact Lestrade and find out what was going on but she simply didn't want to deal with it tonight. Tonight, she was going to drink a glass of wine, watch Dr. Who on the Telly, and just forget her life for a while.
As she opened the bathroom door, her front door banged open causing her to scream and for poor Toby to fall off the couch. As she scrambled to catch the towel which had slipped out of her hands she glared at her intruder, "Sherlock!" Molly cried angrily, "We've talked about this, you are not allowed to pick my locks until I learn how to pick yours!"
Sherlock did not answer but instead calmly walked over and in one swift movement, she felt her world tilt and he had effectively thrown her over his shoulder. "What are you doing?" Molly screeched trying to ignore the fact she was having an up close and personal view of his lovely bum.
"It's too dangerous here." Sherlock stated simply, "You will be much safer at 22B until we figure this out. You can stay in John's old room."
She growled under her breath, only Sherlock would try to kidnap her so she couldn't be kidnapped, "put. me. down."
"Nope."
"Sherlock!"
"Really Molly don't be obstinate. It's a better option than the military compound Mycroft suggested."
It was at that moment Molly realized he had begun walking and was about to take her outside into the hall for the lift, "Sherlock William Benedict Holmes don't you dare!"
He paused at the usage of his full name, "Molly- "
"In case you haven't noticed I am buck naked under this towel and I am sure my lady bits are flashing all over the place with this lovely position you have me in right now."
Sherlock had noticed although he was trying not to dwell on it now, it made his body quite uncomfortable in certain areas. He sighed, "Your point?"
He was rewarded with a hard slap on his back, "My point you ignoramus is that you are not carrying me out to London until I at least get dressed!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes before gently lowering her back to the floor, her face was red and she was glaring at him, "thank you," Molly told him sarcastically.
"You have five minutes." Sherlock told her quietly, "Otherwise back over my shoulder you go and I don't care how many times you hit me."
Molly sighed, "Fine. Grab Toby's box for me and some of his food." As she turned away, she muttered something about caveman tendencies but he didn't dwell on it before hurrying her wretched feline into his box. True to his word he burst into her bedroom just as she zipped up the last of her bag.
Molly shook her head at him exasperatedly, "Did you get Toby- "but before she could finish, he had scooped her back up over his shoulder, "Seriously?" Molly cried, "I can walk you know!"
"I told you five minutes. You took six." Sherlock replied, "Besides with your short legs your stride is annoyingly slow. This is faster."
Molly couldn't help laughing slightly, "Fine."
That had been five days ago and she still didn't know what exactly was going on… All she knew was that she was officially a prisoner at Baker Street. Sherlock refused to even let her go to work until he knew for sure what Greene was up too. Because both Mycroft and Sherlock knew it had to Greene, the man who took over the network from Moriarty. So, until they figured it all out Molly had to stay put especially since Greene knew her from the cocktail party where she had played Sherlock's wife. It put her at more of a risk that she had been previously with Moriarty… And she had dated him.
Molly peeled herself off the kitchen floor realizing that dwelling on all of this was not helping. Sherlock and John were meeting Mycroft now to go over new information and she was going stir crazy. Her feelings for Sherlock was complicated enough without having to live with him and Molly found herself restless and anxious, plus the heat was not helping. Knowing she needed to get some energy out, she stripped down to her sports bra and booty shorts before rolling out her yoga mat. Molly glanced at the clock, she still had an hour before Sherlock was due back. She grabbed her I-Pod and cranked up her music loudly. No soothing chanting today, she wanted to work up a sweat.
"Honestly, John. Don't be ridiculous."
"I am not being ridiculous." John snapped, "remember I use to be your flatmate. I know how difficult you can be when working on a case."
"I am a wonderful flatmate." Sherlock answered dismissively as he stopped to give Mrs. Hudson a brief kiss on the cheek, "You were never bored."
John smiled briefly at Mrs. Hudson before stomping up the stairs after him, "That's not the point Sherlock! Look, all I am saying is try and remember to be nice. Molly has to be stressed enough without you snapping at her."
"Oh, would you quite your harping. Don't you have a wife for that now?"
"You're a git."
Sherlock snorted with laughter before pushing his door open and all thought of what he was about to say drained out of his head.
John froze next to him, his eyes widening and he felt his gum slide down his throat. Molly Hooper was bent backward, her feet planted firmly on the floor, her head touching her ankles, and her back was in a perfect arch. John couldn't help but tilt his head in appreciation, not only for her position but because of her choice of clothing which left little to the imagination of the body Molly had been hiding.
Her stomach was flat with strong ab muscles, her hips had the perfect indentation, and her legs were strong and there was a heavy sheen of sweat covering her but before he could finish his observations, Sherlock slapped his hand over his eyes, "You're married," he hissed.
John yanked his hand off, "Married not dead." He furiously whispered before his jaw dropped even further, Molly had swung herself upright and in one breath had fallen forward into a handstand and was opening her legs into a perfect split. With her small shorts, the movement made an image flash in Johns' head that caused him to mutter a quick apology to Mary.
"Molly!" Sherlock shouted angrily causing John to jump but before he could feel guilty for the quiet ogling he had been doing, Molly had fallen out her handstand by Sherlock's shout and cracked her head on the coffee table."
"Ow! What the hell Sherlock!?"
John hurried over, "No, stay still Molly." He felt her head where she had hit on the table, "Are you dizzy?"
"No," Molly muttered tears stinging her eyes at the pain, "I have a headache now though."
John helped her sit up going into full doctor mode, "Molly look at me. Follow my finger." He told her quietly gauging her pupils checking for a concussion. He finally nodded satisfied, "I don't think you have a concussion but you're going to have a nasty bump for a few days."
"Great just what I need," Molly replied before shooting daggers at Sherlock who at least had the decency to look guilty. "What was that for?"
Sherlock twitched his mouth but he didn't seem able to get the words out. He pushed John out of the way before leaning over and helping her up, "Sorry," he told her quietly, "I didn't mean to make you fall." He reached around and felt her bump, stopping when he felt her hiss, "Are you sure you're okay?"
Molly looked up into Sherlock's eyes touched to see his genuine concern, "Yeah I am fine. A little embarrassed though. I usually have more stamina than that."
"How much more stamina- "John trailed off at the thunderous gaze Sherlock shot at him, "right never mind."
Sherlock turned his gaze back to Molly, "Maybe you should get dressed, "
Molly looked down remembering her attire or her lack of attire to be more exact, "Oh!"
She glanced back up at John who seemed very interested in the ceiling all the sudden and remembering the yoga poses she had been practicing, she could feel herself blushing deeply. "Right. Um, excuse me for a moment," before scurrying off to her bedroom.
Once he heard the door click and John felt like it was safe to bring his gaze back to normal, he took in Sherlock slightly agitated presence. He sighed before plopping down into his old chair, "All-right spill Sherlock. What the hell is going on in that head of yours concerning our pathologist."
"My pathologist, John. Not ours."
John grinned at the sharp retort from Sherlock who kept his back turned to the doctor, "Oh I can't wait to get home and tell Mary this one." He told himself happily.