Disclaimer: I wish I owned Sherlock, but I don't
Sherlock was sitting in a chair, the old one that had been declared Toby's chair. But Toby had taken an odd like to Sherlock Holmes, so there sat the once great detective, the small cat purring on his lap. He had his elbow perched lightly on the armrest, his chin resting in his hand. He stared at the woman on the couch, laughing at the television. It was a stupid program she was watching. The couples rearranged them selves as misguidedly as the square on a rubix cube after somebody has changed the stickers. The utter lack of continuity made it impossible to deduce anything about any of the characters. He hated it.
But Molly Hooper, well, she absolutely adored it. She was completely engrossed by it. And, although it took him a while to realize it, he'd sit through any dumb show to see her smile. He was so lost in his thoughts, he hadn't even realized she was staring back.
"What are you doing?"
He was embarrassed, he didn't like to be caught fawning over someone. But he wasn't fawning. He didn't even know if what he felt was anything. Sure, he'd give the world to see her smile, to see her laugh. The only thing better was when he knew he was the cause of it. But he was Sherlock Holmes, these feelings were utterly foreign.
"I…I guess I was just thinking."
"Well, you've been 'thinking' at the back of my head for half the program." She smiles slightly, turning of the television. "Are you okay, Sherlock? Because, you know, you can tell me. I just, I want you to be happy. As happy as you can be." She half smirks, trying to lighten the conversation. "You know, being dead and all."
"I am happy, Molly."
She just looks as him, but says nothing. He knows she doesn't believe him. He feels something suddenly, something he doesn't recognize. But he knows the cause, the deep, worried, loving look in Molly's eyes. He carefully moves Toby to the floor.
"I…I don't know everything, Molly." He walks slowly towards the couch, sitting beside her. She smiles.
"Right."
"Really, Molly, there's things I don't get."
She looks into his eyes, deep as the ocean. Oh, how she coud get lost in those eyes. He smirks and she realizes that she had been thinking out loud.
"I…I didn't - I'm sor - I wasn't-"
"Can I try something, Molly Hooper?"
Before she can say anything else, he places a hand on her flushed cheek and leans in, pressing his lips softly against hers.
"Is that…Is this okay?" She can only nod before he kisses her again.
He doesn't know how long they sat there on the couch, letting their lips wander, but when she finally leaves for bed, it's with a small smile.
"Goodnight, Sherlock."
"Thank you." Wait, no, that's not what he meant to say. "What- what I mean to say is 'I hope you have a wonderful night.' Sleep well.
"Goodnight, Molly Hooper."