Green Eyes Do Look Good, Sometimes

Sherlock has been observing his wife for the past half-an-hour. Her face seems to have been stuck in a hybrid between a pout and a frown, and he's sure it has something to do with the fact that they're in this fancy hotel now because he had to meet with the infamous Woman.

Molly hasn't talked to him since their dinner, with her taking a backseat as she watched her husband and the woman engage in what could only be described as flirting, or verbal foreplay in her jealous mind, and she honestly had to fight the urge to fling her steak knife towards them when the woman leaned in to kiss Sherlock goodbye on the cheek. A lingering, almost wet kiss.

Sherlock had acted like it was no big deal, and their evening progressed without a word between the two of them. They couldn't get to their hotel room fast enough, and when they did, Molly immediately went straight to the bathroom to wash off the invisible filth of that dinner from her body.

Now that she's done showering, she has taken perch on one of the suite's armchairs, wrapped in the hotel's fluffy bathrobe, her glasses on as she reads a book. Well, tries to read a book is more like it, considering all she's done is stare at the words and not exactly comprehend what they mean. Her mind is on something else.

"Molly, you have been reading the same page for about twenty minutes."

"Why did you bring me here?" she asks abruptly, not being able to take it anymore.

"What?"

"Why did you take me here? So I could see you and that woman basically tear each other's clothes off with just your eyes?" she hisses.

"What in the world are—"

"Oh please, Sherlock. Your little eye contacts, the touches… Heavens, I wanted to cut her hand off when she touched you! There was nothing innocent about whatever the heck you two were doing downstairs!"

"Molly, we were merely conversing. I cannot help it if my voice is naturally low and hers is naturally sultry. It doesn't mean we were shagging in our minds. At least, not for me."

Molly narrows her eyes at him. "Oh, I'm sure she was just so annoyed that you brought your wife to dinner." she says, spitting the word out like it's venom. "She looked like she was ready to drag you under the table."

Sherlock raises his eyebrow. Since when did Molly have such long, sharp claws? He knows she's strong, sometimes sassy, but this level of acid is new. "There is nothing between me and Irene."

"Nothing official. I don't know why I had to be there to watch your pupils dilate when she came sauntering in, wearing her mile-high stilettos and a dress that looked like it was a couple sizes too small for her." she mutters with a scoff.

"She is a rather attractive woman, I must admit—" The glare that Molly sends him rivals any glare he has ever produced, and he's forced to backpedal. "But it d-doesn't do anything for me, I promise you that—"

"Your pupils were dilated, Holmes. Your skin took on a slightly rosier color and there was a minute difference in your breathing. Do not lie to me."

He blinks. Molly is just so sexy when she goes all professional on him. "Molly, please—"

"Don't you Molly please me! What the hell was that? Don't you realize that you just cheated on me?"

"I would never cheat on you."

"You just did!"

"We were just talking, Molly. That's how we talk."

"Pretty disgusting way of talking."

"Her game is sex. I've told you that before. Her language is sex. Hell, the very air she breathes is sex, and we wouldn't be able to get a worthwhile conversation with her if we, as they say, don't speak her language. You meow at Toby all the time. Does that mean you're a cat?"

"That is SO different, you insensitive twat! You still cheated by participating in a game of sex with another person, whether or not it was verbal or telepathic or whatever the hell you think the rules of your disturbing game was!"

Sherlock can't help but stare at his enraged wife, her wet hair unruly from the frustration, her face red, her bathrobe slightly askew and her hand going up repeatedly to adjust her glasses. He fights the urge to lick his lips, knowing that Molly would take it the wrong way. "You have no reason to be jealous."

"Oh yeah, besides the fact that you just had contactless sex with a dominatrix from your past." she throws back sarcastically, rolling her eyes at how casual he's acting.

He sighs. Maybe his old tactic of playing along with The Woman's advances isn't acceptable anymore. He honestly hadn't aimed to cheat, even bringing Molly along to show off to her how good he is at adapting personalities when it comes to cases. He thought his deep voice would have Molly scrambling to climb him once they arrive in their suite, and he didn't realize that he was already cheating on his wife in front of her. He stands up and walks to her from behind the desk, pulling Molly up from her armchair and, before she could protest, he buries his face against the crook of her neck. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize. It won't happen again."

She frowns, but she doesn't pull away. "This doesn't make everything okay."

He nods. "I know. But I really wasn't cheating on you. Honestly."

Molly relaxes just a tiny bit, but she says nothing.

He breathes her scent deeply, pulling her closer. "And just so you know, you look so delicious when you're jealous like that."

"Make me jealous like that once more and I'll never let you touch me ever again."

He sighs. "I guess we'll just have to start role-playing, then."

Note: Yes, the author sees the appeal of a jealous!Molly too.

By the way, if any of the readers would like to do the #-a-day Sherlolly challenge, the author urges him/her to do so! If ever there's a need for prompts, the author is always happy to help.