Hi there! This is my first ever fanfic so hopefully you all enjoy it!
Sorry if there are any mistakes in this, I edit all my work myself and I wrote this in the middle of the night!
Enjoy and review!
-Lemon
Life had never been easy for Molly Hooper, so she didn't expect this year to be any different than the rest. Of course like every other person in the world she had hopes and dreams that the new year would be different from the rest, she even went as far as making a list for herself that she posted on her fridge hoping to invoke some motivation.
Join that spin class that you've been wanting to join for years but haven't because you're scared to do things in front of people but don't be! This is your year!
Lose that last 5 pounds of holiday weight!
Learn a new skill, maybe even learn to play the piano, or pick up painting?
Organize your life, house and office.
Volunteer more at the children's hospital or at the homeless shelter
Make Sherlock love me.
Okay so the last one never made it to the fridge but it still make her secret list that she kept in her journal. She had known the man for three years yet he never failed to amaze her and thrill her. This year had been different compared to the rest however, this was the year she killed and saved the great Sherlock Holmes. Of course she couldn't take all the credit to herself, it was Sherlock who came up with the great plan for his "suicide", it was him who mapped everything out and created the concoction that would keep his heart rate slow enough to be considered dead, but still enough to keep him alive.
Yes it had been the Great Detective who had pulled off the world's greatest vanishing act, but without Molly's help it wouldn't have been possible. That late night in the lab when he came to her replayed in her head every night right before she fell asleep, his words both haunted her and excited her. You do count, you've always counted. Oh how long she had waited to hear those words come out of his mouth, how long she had yearned for him to come to her, not for her lab or her bodies, but for her. She had saved him and in return he saved her, he had been the first person to show her that she counted and that she was important, for the first time in her 31 years of life she felt special and she wasn't willing to let them feeling go away that easy.
Molly woke unusually early that morning to the sound of scratching at her door. She rubbed her eyes clear of sleep and slowly got out of her bed, Toby had a habit of getting himself stuck in her bathroom and needed help to get out. She cursed silently and made a mental note to buy a door stopper to make sure Toby couldn't lock himself in anymore. Still half asleep Molly walked over to the bathroom door and slowly turned the knob and opened the door. She was greeted to darkness but when she went to reach for the light something inside her stopped her. A creeping feeling crawled up her spine and worked its way through her body making her shiver despite the warmth of her flat.
"Hello Molly,"
The deep baritone voice sent a shock throughout her body making her jump back and smack into the wall behind her. A sharp pain hit Molly's foot and as she looked down she saw broken glass, and even worse blood. Despite the pain Molly stepped forward and flicked on the hall light to get a better look at the man behind the voice.
His black curls were longer than they were the last time she had seen him and his cheekbones looked even more prominent. Instead of the finely tailored suits he always seemed to wear he was dressed in a leather motorcycle jacket covered in mud and caked on dirt and an old ripped pair of jeans that looked like they wouldn't survive a washing. But he was still beautiful and angelic as always despite all the bruises and cuts on his face, hands and neck. He was still her Sherlock.
"Sherlock," she whispered so quietly she wasn't sure she had said it till she saw his smile.
"Yes Molly, it's me," he replied equally quietly. "I'm back."
"For good this time?" she asked the question she was terrified to ask.
"Yes," he answered, "this time for good."
Molly hadn't realized she was holding her breath until she felt the painful tightness in her lungs begging for air. She put her hand down from the switch on the wall and absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear but before her hand had reached her hair she felt Sherlock's cold hard hand stop her and instead pull her in close in a warm embrace.
"I missed you," she said before she could stop herself.
Sherlock chucked and pulled her closer to him. "I missed you too, Molly."
So they stood there for what seemed like forever, her arms placed gently on his chest with her hands bunched up in his shirt, she breathed the scent of him in making him fill her body with the sweet heavenly aroma that was him. He didn't look like her old Sherlock with this new outfit of us but his sweet musky scent still lingered filling Molly with bittersweet memories and broken promises. They would have stayed like that forever if it wasn't for the sharp pain that throbbed at Molly's foot. Regretfully she pulled away and looked down at her bleeding foot.
"Oh Molly, here let me help you."
Before she could protest Sherlock had swept her off her feet and carried her in his arms and walked them both towards the kitchen where he knew she kept all her medical supplies. Molly began to protest but knew it was pointless so she remained silent and let the man of her dreams carry her into her kitchen and place her gently onto the dining room chair.
"I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you," Sherlock said turned away from Molly to search through her shelves in hunt of the first aid kit she had.
"That's okay," Molly replied. "I was just a little startled that's all; I thought you were Toby that's all. I guess I never expected you to show up here-"
Molly abruptly stopped speaking when she looked down at her bare legs; she had forgotten she had slept in her father's oversized Oxford shirt, and nothing else. Blushing, Molly tried to push down the fabric to cover her thighs only to have the fabric pull tight and bounce up to her stomach. With all the blood rushing to her cheeks Molly was glad that Sherlock hadn't yet found the first aid kit and that he hadn't seen her pathetic attempt at covering herself.
"Molly don't be embarrassed, I've seen your legs before so there's no need to hide them I'm not looking." Sherlock said without turning around.
How did he know? Who was she kidding, he was Sherlock, he always knew. With a sign Molly gave up and left the shirt where it was, pooling just below her waist but low enough to cover up her yellow boy shorts she always wore to bed.
After a minute Sherlock found the kit and quickly turned around and focused his attention to Molly's foot. She must have knocked something off the wall when she backed up into it and stepped on it causing the cut. Sherlock grabbed the alcohol wipes and very carefully wiped away the blood from her foot, the pain caused Molly to jerk away but he kept a steady hold on her so she couldn't get away from him.
"It'll disinfect the cut, it won't kill you." Sherlock said to Molly's reaction.
"I know," she said quietly, "I am a doctor after all."
He worked in silent as Molly watched him patch up her foot. His soft delicate fingers made her skin burn and she could only imagine them running through her hair, running down her delicate throat, and running down her-
"Molly?"
His voice suddenly brought her back to reality and with a jerk she sat up right, with the blood rushing to her cheeks once again and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "Sorry, just tired."
"Your foot's all fine now, no stitches needed or anything like that just be careful with it for awhile, okay?"
Molly nodded her head and grabbed Sherlock's outstretched hand which he used to help her get out of her chair. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and led the now limping Molly towards the bedroom. When they entered the room he pulled back the duvet covers of her bed and gently pushed her down into the pillows and when she was down he retrieved the covers only to place them over her body tucking her in slightly in her sides.
Sleep clouded Molly's brain and before she could protest or fight it she was allowing Sherlock to tuck her in bed like a small child. She smiled to herself and shut her eyes allowing sleep to fully evoke her body. The last thing she remembered was the feeling of something soft and warm touch her forehead and the whisper sleep now, my Molly. And then…nothing.