The cold water hit Molly's face and a gasp left her lips. She stood for a moment, eyes tight shut and fingers grasping the edges of the white sink. She could feel the drips of water leave her face one by one, falling off her eyelashes, dancing down her nape, leaving her chin. As her eyes fluttered open, she caught her own eyes staring at her from under her brows in the vanity mirror above the basin. Her face looked different. her brows furrowed, searching for the missing element of her simple face, it was the same same shape, the same milky, pale colour. Her nose still pointed towards her thin yet small lips. It was her eyes. Her eyes had lost their spark. She shook off the moment and grabbed the hand towel to rub her face. Something she did a little too vigorously, as her face burned red when removed.

The warm sound of the bath filling was making Molly tired. Sure, she had finished her third shift in this week, and god, was she thankful of the few days respite that were to follow. As she slipped off her trousers and pulled off her blouse, she cast the day off her to remain with her pile of clothes. It had not been a difficult day, after a morning of filing before the arrival of fresh cadavers just after lunch, the arrival was welcomed. There was nothing worse than filing.

As she lazily threw her smalls onto the pile of clothes, she climbed into the tub and turned off the heated taps. The water was hot. It was probably too hot as Molly became aware of her reddening skin been the the water. The aroma's of the bubble bath filled her senses she gave into the hot liquid as she sank her body and her head lower. The water surrounded her face and her eyes were failing to remain open.

He slipped into the room silently and noticed her eyes shutting. He watched her chest rise and fall slowly for a few moments, the corner of his lips uncontrollably curling upwards. He shut the door behind him and began to remove his shirt. Swiftly, his own garments joined Molly's pile on the floor. It was a struggle to fit his lean and long body in the bath besides her reclining body. As he lowered himself in, Molly's eyes catapulted open in surprise. Their eyes meeting instantly locked onto one another, saying words their lips would not.
Her skin pimpled under the touch of his slender fingers. Whether it was a stunned silence or a simple refusal to believe what was happening, Molly was silent as he pulled her onto his lap. His face was unbearably close to her own now, and she could smell his beautiful smell above the strong fumes of the bath. His hands worked their way from her hips up her back, carefully feeling every inch of her skin beneath his exploring hands.

He leaned in and grazed his Cupid's lips along her jaw, finding their way gently to her lips where they were greeted hungrily by Molly. Her mind went blank as she deepened their kiss and her hands got loving lost in his thick black curls. Never breaking, his lips found their way to her neck, and Molly reciprocated his touch by involuntarily reclining her head. Pulling her closer against his naked body, her mouth gasped open and his name escaped from her lips.
"Sherlock..."

A loud knock at the bathroom door made Molly awaken with a start, banging her foot on the tap as she went. "Molly, I don't know how long you're planning to be in there, but I suggest it be not much longer. Do try to remember that your only bathroom is now being shared by two." His deep baritone muffled against the wooden door.
Molly looked around feeling a little dazed for a moment, remembering where she was and deciphering why her body now had the texture of an eighty year old. She was in the now tepid bath, and Sherlock was at the other side of the locked door. Not next to her in the water. Disappointment filled her tingling body as she shakily stood up and stepped out, reaching for a towel.

"Yes, Sherlock" she croaked, annoyed at the high pitch of her reply, she coughed and continued, "I'll be out shortly."
Se heard him turn and leave. Wrapping the towel round her moist body, she flung out the plug and listened to her dark thoughts circling away with the bubbles. Grabbing her clothes, she was not paying attention when she opened the door and strode head first into Sherlock, stood with his hands behind his back and a surprised look in his face.
"Oh! Gosh, sorry Sherlock I didn't um.. See you there." She mumbled, feeling her cheeks blush beneath his gaze. Without a sound, he strode into the bathroom and promptly shut the door behind him. Molly stood for a moment, and heard the familiar sound of the shower turning on and the shower door swinging open.

Molly returned to her bedroom and sat on the bed, throwing her clothes into the corner, near, but not quite into her laundry basket. She thought about the past week, and threw herself backwards onto her bed.
The day Sherlock came to her for help, she had little realised what events were to follow. His face burned into hers, a pleading look in his eyes that Molly has never in the years of knowing him, of loving him, she had ever, seen before. What do you need? She asked him, believing his tormented face was another ruse to manipulate her into working later and 'assisting him', or pulling out a body for one of his eccentric experiments or.. The countless other requests she had failed to say no to. You.