A/N: When stealth plot bunnies attack. This was inspired by my new pajamas.
"Can I help you, sir?" said a female voice behind him.
Sherlock winced. He'd been hoping to accomplish this mission without a salesperson looking on. So much for that. Taking a deep breath, he pasted on his most pleasant smile then turned to face the woman. "Yes, I was looking for some pajamas for a friend."
The woman was mid-twenties, single, overly fond of Chanel No. 5, and giving Sherlock the eye. "Girlfriend?" she asked, grinning.
Sherlock mentally rolled his eyes but kept the smile on his face. "No … she's just a friend."
The saleswoman nodded. "Oh, of course, pajamas for a friend. If she were your girlfriend, you'd be looking at something a lot sexier."
Pajamas can be sexy! a voice in his head protested. Molly is adorably sexy in her plaid pajamas. Wait, what? "Um, right. My friend needs new summer pajamas-"
"Oh, these will be darling!" she said, cutting in and leading him to a nearby display. "The loose pants and tank top are just perfect for warm summer nights. Best of all, feel how soft the cotton jersey is!" She held out the top to Sherlock.
He dutifully touched the fabric. It is quite soft, but Molly's skin is softer. Wait, where did that come from? Mentally shaking himself, he asked, "Do they come in yellow?"
On his way out of the store, Sherlock glanced down at the bag. At least Molly won't see anything unusual in a friend giving another friend pajamas, right?
Molly was in her kitchen, going through the day's mail, when she heard a familiar set of footsteps in the hallway. Someday, I'll get him to show me how to enter a flat without making a sound. "In here, Sherlock," she called out.
Sherlock came into the kitchen, looking relieved when he saw her. He had a shopping bag from one of the higher-end department stores in his hand. "Molly, hello," he said, smiling weakly.
"Hi, Sherlock," she replied, her smile bright and cheery. "Bad day, was it?"
"It was fine until I went to the store. If I ever smell Chanel No. 5 again, it'll be too soon." He set the bag on the counter next to her.
Molly raised an eyebrow. "Something for a case?"
"No … er … it's for you." His cheeks were slightly pink.
Sherlock Holmes, blushing? No, I must be seeing things. Molly opened the bag and peered into it, then looked up at Sherlock in confusion. "What's this?" She pulled the yellow tank top and pants out of the bag. They were printed with white vines and accents of turquoise blue on the leaves. They're so soft…
Sherlock was blushing even more. "I, um, the last time I stayed over, I noticed that while all of your winter pajama sets are two or three years old, your summer nightie is from your first year of uni."
It was Molly's turn to blush. "You went through my drawers?"
"I, er, was looking for a torch."
"Right. Um…" She looked down at the pajamas then back up at him, smiling nervously. "Why don't I go try these on?"
"Er, yes, good idea."
As soon as Molly was gone, Sherlock groaned quietly. It was supposed to make her happy, not nervous. What do I do now? He considered then dismissed several scenarios, ultimately deciding to put his own pajamas on so she wouldn't feel as nervous.
He could hear her changing in the bathroom so he snuck into his favorite bolthole, her bedroom, and quickly changed into the spare pajamas she kept in the bottom drawer of her dresser for him. Throwing on his oldest dressing gown, which had been hanging on a hook on the back of the bedroom door, he was back in her kitchen and looking for her secret stash of biscuits when she came into the room.
Sherlock took one look at her and groaned inwardly. I was right, adorably sexy.
Molly hadn't noticed him, her focus was on her hair, which she was braiding like she always did before bed. When she finally did look up, her eyes widened and her blush returned. "I, um…"
He smiled weakly. "I thought I could, um, sleep over. Not because John kicked me out or because I need a bolthole, but just … because."
She smiled softly. "I'd like that." Her smile turned playful. "So, what do you think?" She turned in a slow circle.
Sherlock blurted the first thing that came to mind. "You look like you're ready for me to take you to bed."
Molly stared at him for a moment then she approached him slowly, her eyes never leaving his. When she was right in front of him, she crooked her finger, smiling at him softly, and he obediently lowered his head. Molly murmured in his ear, "And what if I am?"
The next morning, Sherlock was lying in bed, watching Molly sleep as he contemplated all the things that amazed him, the newest one being how Molly's braid managed to stay perfect after their enthusiastic lovemaking.