Dead Bodies and Strawberries
MollyMissFix
Molly Hooper had just gotten back to her small one bedroom flat after a twelve hour shift at Bart's, when she walked in the door she dropped all her bags, kicked her shoes off, and collapsed onto her lumpy sofa. She let out a big sigh from the relief of finally being off her feet, no sooner did she sit down that her mobile started to ring. She glared at the device than glanced at the clock on her mantle, it was just passed midnight, who would be calling her at this hour? She look at the caller ID and saw that is was Greg, and her heart dropped, getting a call from the Detective Inspector this late could not be a good thing.
"Hello?" Molly answered her phone.
"Molly?" Greg asked. He sounded tired and quite annoyed.
"Is that Molly? Give me the phone." she heard a deep, slurred voice in the background.
"Piss off, now sit down." she heard Lestrade say firmly to someone on the other side.
"Greg, is everything alright?" Molly asked, very confused with what was going on.
"Hi Molly, so sorry to bother you so late but I was wondering if there was anyway you could do me a favor?"
"That depends, what do you need?" Molly said hesitantly, wondering what in the world the detective could need from her after midnight, maybe a fresh body needing a look over, the thought of going back to work was cringe worthy at this point.
"As I am sure you heard that Sherlock took John for his stag night tonight, well turns out the two Nancy's can't hold their liqueur much, didn't even make it to pub close." Greg said and Molly remembered Sherlock asking for her help and basically calling her a drunk the other day because he wanted to give John his stag night before the wedding. "Well anyway the two went out on a case in their inebriated state and I got a call and had to pick their asses up and brought them to the station."
"Lestrade, I told you to give me the phone!" Molly heard the slurred voice now realizing it was a very drunk Sherlock Holmes, she had never even heard of Sherlock having a drink before, let alone be hammered drunk.
"And I told you to sit down!" Molly heard Greg yell at Sherlock, clearly losing his patience with the consulting detective. "Please Molly, I have work to get done before I can go home and I won't be able to get a thing done with these two here, is there any way you could come down to the station and pick John and Sherlock up and bring them back to Bakers Street?"
The thought of getting up from the couch was not ideal, but the pleading in Greg's voice wore her down and she said that she would do it, how could she pass up the opportunity to see a drunk Sherlock?
"Thank you Molly, you are a saint, I will have the boys ready to go once you get here."
"Is Molly coming? I need to talk to her!" she heard Sherlock slur again.
"Yes you lush, she is coming, now sit DOWN!" with that the line disconnected and Molly couldn't help but giggle.
The ride to Scotland Yard only took fifteen minutes and she got out of the back seat of the cab and told the driver she would be right back. The second that Molly walked in the front doors Lestrade was there talking to the front desk receptionist.
"Oh thank God Molly, I didn't think I could handle them any longer, come on back and I will release the boys to you." Molly followed Greg to the back where the holding cells where and she saw that John was sitting on the floor, back against the small cot, his head in his hands, passed out. She looked and saw Sherlock's long form spread out on the cot, his feet hanging off the end, his arms covering his face as he laid on his back. Greg opened the door and he and Molly walked into the small cell.
"Time to go boys." Lestrade said and John looked up and moaned, fumbling to stand up from the floor.
"Where are we going? To get another drink? I could use another one." John said as he stumbled into Molly and she caught him by the arm, and dear lord did he reek of alcohol.
""Fraid not John, I'm here to take you guys home." Molly told John and she finally saw Sherlock sit up at the sound of her voice.
"Perfect I have a couple brews in the fridge at home, right next to the head." John said leaving the cell.
"What head?" Greg asked John as he followed him out.
Molly looked at Sherlock who was trying very hard to not fall back over while sitting on the cot, his whole body shifting, but his eyes where firmly set on Molly, even though they where glazed over from the alcohol.
"Molly." He slurred her name not looking away from her.
"Hello Sherlock, I'm here to take you back to Bakers Street, so come on, get up." She told him taking a step closer.
"I would love to, but it seems that I did the calculations incorrectly and have become, what I believe John put so eloquently as "shitfaced" and am having a difficult time getting up." he told her looking up and her face and giving her puppy dog eyes. Molly giggled and rolled her eyes but bent down and helped Sherlock to stand up, he wobbled a bit and put his arms on Molly's shoulders to steady himself. If she thought that John had smelled of booze, he was nothing compared to Sherlock, she could not believe that she was seeing the sharp minded man who could identify 140 different types of tobacco ash had been reduced to a slurring mess.
Molly froze when she felt Sherlock press his nose into the crook of her neck and took a deep breath in through his nose as if he was smelling her.
"You smell like dead people and strawberries." Sherlock said and she could feel his too hot breath on her neck as he spoke. Molly felt her face start to burn and a blush creep across her skin. She knew how she smelt of the death that she handled on a daily basis after she got home from work, her past boyfriends always told her how disgusting it was, they never understood why she was in that field of work and how she didn't get grossed out by it all.
"We-well when Lestrade called me I was just home from work and I didn't have any time to shower before I got here, I-I'm sorry." she said as she detached herself from Sherlock but kept her hands on him just in case he feel over. He looked down at her seeming to be steady now, looked into her eyes and absently started to play with a lose strand of her hair as he answered her.
"Molly Hooper, you have nothing to apologize for, and I like how you smell, it smells like my Molly." Molly looked up at Sherlock than, not believing what he was saying, her blush was defiantly covering her whole face when she heard a knock at the opening to the cell and she quick turned to see John standing in the door with a grin on his face.
"Will we be going home anytime soon or are you two going to stand there and snog all night." John started laughing at his own joke and Sherlock frowned.
"Of course lets go." Molly said in a rush and walked quickly out of the room not looking back at Sherlock.
Once she finally got both of the men into the waiting cab, they headed to 221B Baker Street with John on her left and Sherlock on her right. Molly kept taking deep relaxing breaths trying not to read to much into what Sherlock had done and said in the holding cell just a couple of minutes prior. John had already passed out, his forehead up against the window, quiet snores drifting out of his mouth. Molly was observing John when she felt the weight of Sherlock's head resting against her shoulder and turned to face him, his dark curls tickling her cheek. So many times had Molly imagined running her fingers through his curls and there Sherlock was, his head resting on her shoulder, his eyes shut.
She wondered if he was passed out just like John was, maybe she could run a hand through his hair quickly just to see what it was like, she might not ever get a chance like this again. After thinking it over, Molly couldn't help herself and gave into the urge to run her fingers through Sherlock's curls. His hair was much thinker than she has imagined, but just as soft as she had dreamed so many times. After the initial time Molly touched Sherlock's head he didn't move at her touch so she figured that it was safe to indulge herself in this once in a lifetime chance and continued running her hand through his hair. Molly stroked the thick hair several more times but froze when she heard am almost purring like sound escape Sherlock's mouth.
"Don't stop." she heard Sherlock mumble to her, so he had been awake, Molly felt her face begin to heat up again. "Please." she heard him beg, so she put her finger back into his mess of hair.
To soon it seemed like to Molly, the cab pulled up at Bakers Street and she had to shake John awake but once realizing he could go fall asleep in his own bed, John did not hesitate to get out and went straight to his room, quickly mumbling a good night to Molly on his way. Sherlock on the other hand needed Molly's help to walk up the stairs and into his bedroom, finally once inside she removed his arm from her shoulders and let him flop onto his bed. Now that she had successfully gotten Sherlock to his bed, Molly wasn't really sure what to do next. She looked around his room realizing she had never been in it before, she saw that everything was a little messy yet seemed to have its place, and she smiled at the poster of the table of elements that he had hung up.
After standing there for a moment she went out of Sherlock's room in search of some Aspirin and water for him to take because she knew that he would need it in the morning. Once she found it she brought both items into Sherlock's bedroom and saw that he was no longer laying on the bed but sitting up with his head in his hands.
"Sherlock, I brought you some water, why don't you drink some, it will help you feel better." she told him and he looked up at her and grabbed the glass from out of her hand, their fingertips brushing. He took a couple of sips and handed the cup back to her and she set it on the side tale for him.
"Well now that you are home safe and sound, I guess I better be going, it's late." with that she turned to leave but was stopped by Sherlock's warm fingers grabbing her wrist.
"Don't go." he said and looked up at her from where he was still sitting on the edge of the bed, "Will you help me Molly?" he asked her in a soft voice, he wasn't slurring his words anymore.
"With what?" Molly asked in a whisper.
"I seem to be having trouble with some of my motor skills and would rather not sleep in the clothes that I puked on." he tells her, looking down at his rumpled clothing.
Molly took a deep breathe and couldn't believe this was happening, a very drunk Sherlock Holmes was asking her to take his clothes off. She took a step towards Sherlock and looked at his face then grabbed his suit jacket and slowly pushed it off of his shoulders. After removing the jacket and setting it aside she knelt down in front of him and with shaky fingers started to undo every button on his shirt. Was it Molly's imagination, or did she hear Sherlock's breath hitch? She pulled her hands away and looked up at him, their faces so close their breath co mingled as they gazed at each other.
"Keep going." Sherlock told Molly as he reached his pale hand out and tucked a stray hair behind her ear than relaxed it against her cheek. Unable to speak Molly pushed Sherlock's shirt off his shoulder just like his jacket and all she could do was stare at his bare chest, it was more muscular than she had thought it would be, but still lean. His pale skin was flawless and it took all of Molly's self control to not run her hands over his chest.
Molly knew that Sherlock was watching her, and she knew that he could tell every though that was going through her head but he didn't say anything, just continued to watch her undress him. Once his shirt had fallen to the ground Sherlock laid back on the bed, resting on his elbows, but he never broke eye contact with Molly. She knew what he expected her to do next and she felt her face flush just thinking about it, she tried telling herself she was just helping a drunk friend who needed help getting to bed, but it was hard to remember that when Sherlock kept staring at her with that hungry look in his bright blue eyes. Finally taking a deep breath Molly reached for his belt and undid it, and quickly undid the button on top, than the zipper, hoping the sooner she got this done the sooner she could go home and realize this was all just a wonderful dream.
When Molly looked up at Sherlock again he was still staring at her but he now had a half grin on his face and damn it, did he look sexy, laying on his elbows, no shirt on, looking down at her with his pants undone, their was no way this was actually happening to little Molly Hooper. Before she could register what was happening Sherlock was sitting up his forehead laying against Molly's, his large hands scooping up her small ones, holding them to his chest, his eyes shut and breathing shallow.
"Molly, my pathologist, my Molly." he whispered against her lips though they weren't touching. She didn't know where all of this had come from, what all of this meant coming from Sherlock, a drunk Sherlock at that.
"You count, you always count, your the only one who does, the only one who sees me, my Molly." This was just so much to take in, Molly couldn't believe this was happening.
"Sh-Sherlock, your drunk, you don't know what your saying, let, lets get you to bed, yeah?" she asked putting a smile on her to small mouth, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over, but she wouldn't let them fall not in front of Sherlock, drunk or not. With the sound of her voice Sherlock's eyes opened and when he did Molly saw the normal Sherlock make his return after the long night.
"Goodnight, Molly Hooper." Sherlock said as he leaned in and kissed Molly on her cheek than pulled back, laying back down in his bed under the covers, his back facing Molly.
She knew it was too good to be true, that Sherlock would go back to acting normally towards her like he always did, but yet it still hurt. She didn't say anything else to him she just stood up and walked out of his room, closing the door behind her quietly. She made it all the way to the street before the tears started falling.
Two weeks passed from the incident with drunk Sherlock and she hadn't seen or heard from him since then, which was probably for the best. Molly was engaged to Tom, all the feelings that came out that night shouldn't have even been there, it was a one time occurrence she tried to tell herself, tried to rationalize it, but she knew that's not what it was. She would move on from Sherlock, she already had, she was going to get married to Tom and have a normal life with normal children and she would be content and have everything she always thought she would have, and yet she worried it wouldn't be enough for her. As she was thinking about Tom, the doors to the lab opened and in strolled Sherlock, his coat flaring behind him and John at his heels. Molly said that she was over him but just the sight of him brought all the pushed down feelings to the surface, she really was a masochist for putting herself through this but she never really had a choice, she had fallen for the gorgeous consulting detective and hard.
"Molly, we need to see a body, Ted Carter, should have came in early this morning." Sherlock said in his usual cold and calculating voice.
"And Good afternoon Molly." John said trying to make up for Sherlock's rudeness.
"Oh, um, yes of course I'll just go get him, and good afternoon John." Molly said with a small smile than turned to go get Mr. Carter for Sherlock to look at. Molly didn't know how to act with him after the intense night they had only two weeks before hand, she knew that he was drunk and he didn't realize what he was saying but Molly's head was clear and everything he had said affected her. She just had to push all that to the back of her mind and do her job and try to not fall even more in love with Sherlock Holmes.
She wheeled out the body and left Sherlock and John to examining it, walking away, not feeling much like hanging around with Sherlock there. When they seemed to be finishing up Molly walked back over to the pair to see if they needed anything else.
"Wonderful, just as I thought, come John we must go check Mr. Carters flat." Sherlock said, walking towards the door. Molly gave a small smile at their leave and was about to roll the body back to where it belonged when she heard the doors to the morgue open again, Sherlock coming back in and walking up to her.
"Thank you Molly, for everything." Sherlock said to her, staring into her eyes intensely.
"Of course Sherlock, anytime." she told him. Sherlock lifted his hand and brushed a stray hair out of Molly's face and looked back down at her.
"My Molly." she heard him whisper, and than he was gone again though the doors, leaving Molly standing looking after him with a silly smile on her face, doing a terrible job not falling more in love with him.