Okay then. This is a very short one shot about Molly, with very little Sherlock mentioned.
I might do a trilogy, I don't know.
Anyhow;
DISCLAIMER: Yes I think we've gathered that I don't own Sherlock, or the characters. Shall we?
Enjoy. 3
The packet that Molly had purchased earlier is sat on the ledge.
With trembling fingers, she turns it over in her hand, taking in the bold print, the sharp colours.
She has an image of Sherlock in her head, various film stars, her friends, her granddad.
All with one thing prominent.
If my friends do it why can't I?
Her shakes have become more apparent now, as she slowly draws out the object from the packet.
Why she is doing this she doesn't know, how many people have passed through this morgue, lung's blackened with tar, the contamination of tobacco rich in their body and their teeth a disgusting yellow.
She's come prepared; a lighter is in her pocket.
She becomes quite aware, that if she doesn't do it now she never will, so with the cold air rippling in her lungs she places the cigarette in her mouth and quickly grabs the lighter before any doubts, or any person could stop her from doing so.
She knows how to light a cigarette after spending all her lunch breaks outside with Sherlock. Smoke would billow from his mouth. Satisfaction upon every feature.
She brings the lighter slowly towards the cigarette, balancing precautiously in her mouth. Molly expects to inhale the smoke like Sherlock does, but instead she recoils. It feels like shards of glass are being thrown down her throat, scratching at it.
In a cough of fumes and smoke it's all over, she stares at it in her hand, drops it, and silently walks away.
It's just a little tester, all reviews are welcomed.
Cheers :)