Hey guys! I saw this prompt (somewhere) on Tumblr, and thought I'd give it a shot. I've never written fanfiction before, so any constructive criticism would honestly be amazing. Please review; I'd love to know what you guys think! 3 I'm also looking for someone to help me beta this...PM me if interested?
Special thanks to Hoodoo for the assistance :)
Disclaimer: I can assure you that if I owned Sherlock, there would be a lot more Sherlolly. But I don't -_-
Molly Hooper arrived home from work only to find Sherlock curled up in his chair. Craning her head, she saw his fingers steepled under his chin, eyes closed in thought. She set her umbrella down gently before tiptoeing into the kitchen. Pouring herself a cup of tea, she relaxed in the chair across from him. His forehead was smooth where it was normally creased, his lips slightly curved as though he were about to always seemed so peaceful whenever he was deep in thought. Sometimes she-
"Molly." She jumped a little.
"Hello, Sherlock" She squeaked. It didn't matter that she had been living with him for the past year, or even that she had saved his life more times than she'd care to count. Sherlock was Sherlock.
"Stop it." She blinked. "Stop...thinking. I could hear you even in my mind palace. How long have you been sitting there?"
"Not long. I picked up your milk and eggs, by the way. It's raining quite a bit, isn't it? I was lucky to catch a cab." Sherlock visibly perked up.
"What about the livers? Were you able to acquire those too?" Molly nodded.
"They're over in the 'fridge."
"Oh wonderful! I've been waiting for those. Do you think you could also pick up an eye and a lung too?" Sherlock narrowed his eyes and appraised Molly. "You've just finished three-no, the strength of the scent implies four - autopsies today. More than the usual, actually, so there will be enough organs." Molly sniffed her cardigan. Was the scent really that noticeable? "Don't worry, I was referring to the chemicals, not the bodies." He seemed to notice her hesitation and hurried to explain. "I've used up my spare eye...well Mrs. Johnson's, technically, so I need a new one. I need it for my experiment, Molly. I'd get one from Bart's myself, but Mike won't let me anywhere near the lab after what happened last week." She opened her mouth before clamping it shut again. Seeing her expression, his face fell.
Molly snapped her head towards him. "What!? What did you do?! Actually...I'd rather not know. About the organs..." He glanced up and gave her the deducing look.
"Mike isn't happy. His recent divorce has embittered him." He stood up and began to pace around the room. "He used to turn a blind eye to your organ snitching-"
"I wouldn't call it tha-"
"You're taking organs; I would say that could be correctly labeled as organ snitching. Mike normally wouldn't mind, but his superiors are beginning to notice the missing body parts." With a huff, Sherlock sat down next to Molly's legs and laid his head in her lap. Absentmindedly, she began to stroke his hair.
"I'm really sorry Sherlock, you know I'd have gotten them if I could..." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head. He hopped up and walked towards the window, observing the rain.
"No matter; I can always acquire one elsewhere." Molly was finding it difficult to contain her snicker. She shuffled into the kitchen.
"I'm going to make dinner. You know, John and Mary haven't visited in a while. Maybe we should invite them over for dinner sometime." Sherlock turned his head slightly only to hear Molly clanging and rummaging through the cupboard.
"We just saw them this morning, Molly" He said, exasperated. Molly poked her head out of the kitchen.
"I suppose, but I'd love to see them outside of the morgue. It's rather-"
He cut her off again. "What are you making for dinner?"
"Pot roast. Anyways-"
"Are you on your menses again?" Her head jerked up only to see Sherlock still looking out the window. She put the pan down.
"Wh-what?! Sherlock, that's-" she sputtered.
"You're wearing that ridiculous jumper again, and seem even more particularly sentimental-"
"I like this jumper! It's very warm! The weather's bloody awful today. And there's nothing wrong with wanting to see your friends without a body on the slab!" Raising his eyebrow, Sherlock turned to face Molly.
"Hmm. You didn't immediately deny it. And stop making that face it's really-" Molly cut him off.
"-What does this have to do with anything?!" Sherlock smirked at her before turning to pick up his violin. "Sherlock!" Without acknowledging her, he turned back around and began to play Molly's favorite song. Knowing that this was as close as she'd ever get to receiving an apology, she sighed and returned to start dinner. Between her clanging, his screeching, and the thunder outside, neither one heard the buzzer. Nor did they hear Sherlock's text alert. It wasn't until they heard Mrs. Hudson's shriek that they finally noticed someone was there. Molly shut off the water.
"Sherlock? Will you go see who it is? My hands are covered in flour." Sherlock stopped playing.
"Oh for heaven's sake, it's not important. If it were Lestrade he would have texted me-" His phone beeped again. He tucked his violin under his arm and set the bow down, peering at the screen. "It's just Mycroft. God knows what he-" The door creaked open, and Mrs. Hudson popped her head in.
"Sherlock? There's someone here to see you." Sherlock rolled his eyes before turning back toward the window.
"Tell Mycroft to bugger off. I don't care." Mrs. Hudson shook her head adamantly.
"It's not Mycroft. Perhaps you should come down to see for yourself." Mrs. Hudson shut the door and shuffled back down the stairs. Clearly displeased, Sherlock stalked to the door and flung it open.
"Oh for heaven's sake, what is it? Surely it can't be anything important," he scoffed. There was no one there. He was about to slam the door shut when he heard the familiar high heeled clack of a woman hurrying up the stairs. A client? No, judging by the footsteps, she seemed far too anxious to be a client. Right then, the woman in question came into view. Sherlock jerked his head in surprise. Once the impossible was eliminated, whatever remained had to be the truth. But this...this was pretty damn improbable. The visitor hurried closer.
"Sherlock." Two syllables, one word. All he needed to remember. She was pleading with him, just as she had all those years ago. "I need your help." Somewhere behind him, he registered that Molly had stopped whatever she was doing and was coming out of the kitchen. Molly called to him.
"Sherlock? Who is it?" For once, it seemed, Sherlock Holmes was utterly baffled. He opened his mouth before shutting it again. Turning from the doorway, he allowed his unexpected guest to enter. Molly gasped and dropped the pan. The woman was drenched from the storm, and though she was clearly frazzled, she still looked completely composed and graceful. Her dark hair was down and un-styled, and for the life of him, Sherlock could not think of a single instance where he had seen her like this. Her face was still carefully made up, but even that could not hide the defeated and desperate look in her eyes. Her eyes darted around the flat nervously before flicking back onto Sherlock. Perhaps if the circumstances were different, she might have enjoyed seeing the great and infallible Sherlock Holmes at a loss.
"I need your help," The woman repeated.
"Sh-Sherlock? What? What is it? What's going on?" Molly stammered. The woman finally seemed to register Molly's presence and raised her eyebrows in surprise before looking back at Sherlock questioningly. He merely gestured at the chair generally reserved for clients.
Sherlock spoke to her curtly. "Have a seat, Miss Adler."
Sorry about the cliffie! Please review with feedback! Should I continue the story? Let me know :)
~Audrey
