I got bored one night so I wrote this :) Hope you enjoy it!
Molly shed her torn and ruined clothes as she got into the shower. The warm water soothed her nerves that had been taunted and terrorized for the past week. It didn't stop her nervous shaking though. From the time they had started running, she hadn't stopped shaking, no matter how hard she tried. Sherlock hadn't yet noticed or he hadn't said a word, because he simply didn't care.
It wasn't supposed to be this way. He was supposed to die and stop the running from Moriarty and his men. But he hadn't died, thus the running hadn't stopped. When they had faked his death, Sherlock had assured her she would be safe. He had stayed with her for weeks, but the day he had left the house for one moment, the men at found her.
Molly took off the bandages from her fingers and arms, wincing as the water stung against her wounds. They were scabbing over now, but weren't clean. She had meant to find alcohol to clean them, but she hadn't had the chance. She knew a few were infected but they were the least of her worries.
She was too worried about Sherlock. He wasn't talking unless it was necessary and that scared her. She not only wanted him to talk for his own good, she needed him to for her sake. She needed to be told everything was going to be okay, although it wasn't. She needed comfort. But it was Sherlock Holmes. To hell with that.
Molly turned her back to the shower head, wetting her hair. She screamed out in pain as the water hit the cuts on her back. She jumped away. She turned the shower water off immediately, covering her mouth. She prayed to god he hadn't heard her, but of course he had.
"Molly?" Sherlock said, knocking at the door persistently. "Are you alright?"
She swallowed, trying to find her voice. "I...I'm fine... I'm fine Sherlock." she said back, with her voice trembling.
The door knob jiggled as he tried to open the door. "Molly, let me in."
"I...I'm not decent!" she cried back. She could almost hear Sherlock rolling his eyes. "Then get decent!" she grabbed the biggest towel she could find and wrapped in around herself, attempting to cover every inch of skin that she could. She unlocked the door slowly. He pushed through immediately. "What happened?" he had his gun in his hand, checking every nook and cranny. She stuttered, trying to think of a lie. "The water... it got rather hot. I just startled myself." He pulled the shower curtain back with the tip of his gun, pausing at what he saw.
"Lying. Not your strongest suit Ms. Hooper. Try again." he said bitterly. She looked away from his glare, feeling uncomfortable. She didn't want to tell him. He had enough to worry about. He didn't need to worry about her. He never had. Why should he start?
"Molly, don't play games with me. However relatively brilliant you think you are, don't ever believe you are capable of that." he hissed. She looked at him this time, but didn't speak. He put the gun down on the counter and stepped towards her. She in turn, took a step back. Not intentionally but out of fear. "Molly. You are practically having a panic attack and there seems to be blood in the shower. Are you going to show me what's wrong?" Molly wanted to run. She felt sick and she was having trouble calming her breath. She hung her head, letting out a tiny whimper, and slowly turned around to show him the whip marks.
"He did more than just push you around Molly..." he mumbled, pushing the edges of her towel away from the wounds. She gripped it tighter and tried to turn around. "Molly, we need to clean these." he said quietly. She whimpered again and nodded shakily. Sherlock sighed, not annoyed though, sad. "Molly, I need you to calm down. Sit on the edge of the tub. I'm going to get the first aid kit." she shook her head "No. You don't need to." she said quietly. Sherlock sighed again. "Who else is going to do it?"
Fifteen minutes later, Sherlock came in with a giant first aid kit. Molly had managed to calm down slightly, though it was hard with the pain radiating from her cuts. Sherlock knelt down in front of her as if she was a child. He looked at her with caring eyes "I found some clothes in the laundry room that might fit you. I cut the t-shirt so you can wear it as I clean your wounds. I hope it suffices." Molly nodded, taking the clothes. Sherlock politely turned his back as she changed.
Sherlock sat on the edge of the tub, legs on either side, mirroring Molly. He had begun to clean her wounds cautiously, feeling nervous about hurting her. He was cleaning around the outsides of her wounds when she gasped out in pain. "Sorry." she mumbled afterwards. Sherlock shook his head. "I let this happen to you. I'm the one who should be sorry." She winced again, making Sherlock stop. "Talk to me Molly. Just try to ignore the pain." Molly turned slightly to see his face."Why are you being kind to me?" she asked quietly.
He was acting ever so strange, tending to her wounds, respecting her and even stealing clothes for her. He was even showing emotion. Sherlock continued to clean her cuts "I'm always kind to you." Molly sniffed. "Lying is not your strong suit either Mr. Holmes." he sighed, breathing on her neck. "I'm being kind to you because it's what you deserve. You have done nothing but kind to me since we met, no matter how much of an ignorant twat I have been to you." Molly looked at her hands. "It's only because I love you." she said under her breath, not loud enough for Sherlock to hear her though.
But he heard her. He did and he wasn't surprised. "I love you too Molly." he said quietly. Molly made a noise, which came out as a squeak and moved away from him. "What did you say?" she asked breathlessly. Sherlock looked at her straight in the eye, and held a serious face. "I said I love you."
Molly blushed and turned her head back around. "Wow." she mumbled. Sherlock took offense to this. "You know, despite what people think, I am capable of having emotions. I do have them. All the time. But I have the capability of ignoring them when I see fit." Molly didn't say a word, as he moved closer to her to continue cleaning her wounds.
Molly played with the tips of her hair as she thought of what Sherlock had just said. Maybe she had actually just passed out in pain and she was dreaming. He loved her...? There was no way that was real.
Sherlock finished cleaning the wounds and began to put gauze on them. He had gone back to not speaking and it scared her. If this was real, she didn't want to be awkward around him anymore. She wanted to be able to talk to him. But she was Molly Hooper. She was always awkward and was incapable of speaking with anyone without being nervous.
Sherlock broke the nervous banter in her head as he placed a soft kiss on her neck. Molly froze, not even being able to think. Sherlock watched her carefully, kissing every spot that didn't hurt, slowly and gently. "Sherlock...?" she breathed quietly. "Mmm?" he mumbled in response, too preoccupied to summon actual words. "What are you... um." she bit her lip as shivers went down her back. "...doing?" she whispered.
Sherlock kissed her a few more times "Shh. Busy." Molly closed her eyes tightly, trying to maintain the noises she was internally making. She turned her face to see him, and he caught her chin. Kissing her tenderly, he made sure he didn't touch any part of her that would hurt her. Molly pulled away and faced to wall in front of her. "Molly?" Sherlock asked quietly. She shook her head in response. "You... I can't."
Sherlock brushed his fingers through her wet hair. "Not like this. You're just doing this because you feel bad. You don't actually care. You-you're Sherlock for god sakes." Sherlock stood up abruptly and walked out. Molly let out a whimper of an "I'm sorry." and put her head in her hands. She heard the slamming of the front door of their motel room.
A few hours later, Molly had changed back into a baggy sweater and her hair was up in a high ponytail. She was lying on her stomach reading when Sherlock walked in with two coffees and some bagels. "You need to eat. Sit up." he said emotionlessly. Molly watched him carefully as he handed her the bagel and coffee with her name scribbled across the wrappers. Molly wanted to say something but couldn't. She had hurt him and didn't want to say more. "You can stop staring at me and eat." he hissed.
Molly hung her head as the venom in his words hit her. As Sherlock sat down next to her and drank his own coffee, she looked up at him, only to realize he was staring too. Resting the warm beverage on the bedside table, she turned to him. "I'm sorry Sherlock. It's just hard for me to believe that you could love someone..." Sherlock cut her off. "I do have emotions Molly! Why is it so hard for you to understand?"
Molly rested her hand on his knee. "I meant someone like me. You are a genius and I'm a simple pathologist. There is no reason for you to even notice my presence." Sherlock touched her neck, caressing her cheek. "I have every reason to my dear. One tends to fall in love with the person who rescues them." Molly smiled at him before kissing him softly.
ps. Thank you for the reviews! I'm sorry this wasn't longer or that any of my stories are longer but I have ADD and can't really focus for long periods of time. I will try to write longer ones!