Well, hello there. It's been…hmm, a month or two since I last posted a new story. Whoops…
If anyone's interested, the main reason is because of school. Well, school's always the reason, so no surprise there. But I have been active on Tumblr, I admit; I do occasionally post up a ficlet there :) It's because I have a phone that made it possible for me to be on Tumblr, but just recently, I've acquired my own laptop, so now I could post up any story here as well that I want with ease! Yay to me :D [There's still no 'fluff' category, though... :(] Umm, anyway, thank you for the support thus far; I know it's been said tons of time to the point where it kinda loses its meaning, but it made my day just knowing people have been enjoying what I've written :) So this is just something to let me get back into the groove of writing, and I do apologise for it being really short ._. Hope you enjoy this nonetheless! :DDD
Just a bit of a disclaimer: no, I own nought. Unfortunately.
He may have never verbally said out loud those three (cheesy) words, 'I love you', but she never minded.
Not when she gets a cup of tea every morning after she wakes up, brewed to…look like a cup of tea - because there are just some things he cannot do right; 'to err is human, after all', he always says as an excuse. She always rolls her eyes as a response.
Also not when she comes back home from overtime in the morgue and immediately becomes the center of attention for a certain (tall, dark and handsome - never forget these adjectives when describing him; surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, he has a rather large but fragile ego) consulting detective, with his callous yet gentle hands massaging her aches and stresses away.
And definitely not when he actually fills Toby's empty dish bowl whenever she is at work, and spares some effort and attention to spending some quality time with the cat.
She suspects, though, that the real reason why he decides to 'spend some quality time' with her cat has to be after that time when Toby dear never let go of his trouser pants after being ignored for a whole 4 hours by him; that cat certainly had really sharp claws then. Once bitten, twice shy, as the saying goes.
She knows him well. She knows that he hardly ever does things that he deems useless or unworthy of his time and effort. For him to (try to) make her a cup of tea, give her a massage after a long day at work, give her cat a little of his attention, and do other little things like ensuring she always has a blanket covering her when going to bed and taking her hand when walking with her, is more than enough for her. Because of that, Molly Hooper has never minded Sherlock Holmes never saying those three words.
The littlest things really do matter the most. Actions, after all, speak louder than words.