Comfort

The door creaked slightly as Molly wearily pushed it open and dropped her bag, keys and coat on the side table. She normally hung her coat in the shallow closet in the hallway, but she was too exhausted and stressed to tend to it. She left it dangling precariously over the edge of the small table.

She wanted a cup of hot tea and a long soak in the bath, but her body was just too drained to do anything about it. Molly sank down on her sofa and stretched out on her back. She stared at the ceiling.

Normally she loved her job. She took pride in her ability to handle every situation in a calm and professional manner. Today, she had been stretched to her limits.

The body of the third victim of a vicious serial killer had arrived that afternoon. The woman, like the preceding three, had been pregnant. Evidence that a crude cesarean section had been performed was obvious. Like the others, the poor woman had suffered greatly and her baby was missing.

Molly knew that Sherlock and half of Scotland Yard were working around the clock to track the killer down, but it was too late for this young woman and her child.

She shifted her body slightly and tried to relax. Her mind kept going back to the anguish of the woman's young husband who had come to identify the body. Large tears began to slide down her cheeks.

Molly's grey and black tabby jumped on the sofa. His heavy almost painful steps climbed up her legs, until he reached his goal and settled onto her stomach. Toby, ever sensitive to Molly's moods, stretched his body out along the length of her body. His soft fur tickled slightly as he nestled his head under her chin.

Molly's arms automatically cradled the cat as he quietly lay on her stomach. His substantial weight was a welcome comfort. Toby cranked his head at an odd angle and began to lick the salty tears from her neck. Molly held him tighter as her tears were accompanied by quiet sobs.

She closed her eyes and lay quietly as Toby's soft purr rumbled and vibrated. Finally, the tears stopped and she drifted off to sleep.

The sound of keys in the lock and the familiar creak of the door announced his arrival. Molly turned her head as looked up as Sherlock crossed her living room and stood looking down as her.

"We got him." He said quietly. "He still had the baby, and it is in good health."

"I'm so glad." Molly said as tears welled up and threatened to start falling again. "Has the father been told?"

"Yes, Of course the infant will have to remain in hospital until she has been checked out and DNA testing affirms that she goes to the correct father, but there is little doubt that baby is the one we were looking for."

As Molly shifted her body in an attempt to sit up, Toby opened his eyes and glared at the detective.

"Don't move, just lay head back and relax. You've had a long day." Sherlock commanded as he pulled a chair close to the end of the sofa and sat down.

"No longer than you." Molly protested as she settled her head in a comfortable position. On her lap, Toby began to purr again.

"Just relax." Sherlock murmured as he began to comb his fingers along the top of her head in a massaging motion.

"That feels nice. It's nice to be comforted by both my boys." She said drowsily as she began to fall asleep.

Sherlock continued to gently trail his fingers through her hair. He thought about what his pathologist had just said and found that he wasn't sure if he should be offended most at being called a boy or the fact that she had included her feelings for him with those for her cat. Knowing how much she cared for her feline, he decided that maybe it wasn't such a bad thing.