It was well into the afternoon when Molly finally looked up from her book, the creamy pages a contrast to her pink fingers.
Waves crashing into one another, they lazily drifting inwards, only to slowly recede. Despite the sun radiating a constant heat, Molly knew better than anyone about the lies the water held. A few hours prior, she had tried to go for a dip. Only to realize how cold it truly was, it seemed only a single week in the summer was manageable. And today was far from then, so Molly contented herself with tanning.
Shifting her body on the towel, she peered at the horizon through well used sunglasses. The sky seemed to go on forever, coloured to match a mixture of pink lemonade and honey.
A ringing cut Molly off from her daydreaming, smoothed face now creasing with confusion, and a hint of annoyance. Picking up the light blue and bulky cell phone, she glanced at the caller.
Sherlock Holmes.
Sighing, she wasted no time and clicked accept.
"Hullo, this is Molly Hooper."
"You're not at the morgue."
"Nope. I don't work Sundays, Sherlock." she hummed, absently placing her bookmark in her book and setting it aside. As she squinted, Molly could spot a man making his way along the shore.
"I need you to, Lestrade may have a possible nine here."
"Not interested." He was getting closer now, and definitely looking very fit.
"What could be so important that you'd miss helping me with this case?"
With a snort, Molly glanced down to herself. Nodding with satisfaction at her pear green bikini, she took another survey of the approaching man. Auburn standing out among pale skin, very fit.
"Men with six packs?"
Sherlock made a few choking sounds, wheezing until he managed to steady his heart and actually process oxygen.
"You're right, not really six pack material. But he's unquestionably strong, no doubt with those muscles."
That send Sherlock into another fit, but Molly ignored him.
"You c-can't be serious!?"
"Got to go, Sherlock" she sung, and hurriedly ended the call with Sherlock protesting. Climbing to her feet, Molly dropped her phone to the towel, unconcerned about her phone breaking. It had survived worse, and she was certain that it was going to live forever.
"Nice day we're having!" Molly called out, grinning as she stepped from the soft fabric of the towel and onto the gritty beach's sand. The man was taller than he first appeared, and certainly more handsome than her first glance led her to believe.
"I hope it was worth it." Mary sighed, shaking her head from her position.
"Oh it was." Molly giggled, the watermelon vodka cocktail giving her a slight buzz at this point. Hissing with pain when Mary started dabbing the calamine lotion on her sensitive skin again, she numbed the sensation with another sip. Okay, maybe a little more than buzzed.
"Even with the sunburn?" Mary asked, brow raising in question and amusement.
"I wasn't burned at the time." Molly laughed in response, and then gave another flinch. Maybe she and Nathaniel spent a little too long in the sun, no doubt she did.
She looked like a lobster right now, a peeling lobster.
"And, how was he?"
"Well, I got his number."
"That I figured." Mary mumbled, eyeing a couple of the hickeys on Molly's neck. "You certainly placed Sherlock in a bad mood though, ranted the whole night to John and Greg."
"Really?"
"Yep. Even poor Mrs. Hudson was calling me, complaining that her tenant was an idiot, not letting an elderly woman get any sleep."
Molly was sent into another series of giggles with that, pleased with the innuendo.
"Oh shush you," Mary scolded, smiling despite herself, "I think you've had a enough of that."
Protesting when Mary reached for her glass, determined to take it away from the drunk pathologist, Molly hurriedly gulped down a bit more of the cocktail. Liquid flinging from the glass with the struggle, droplets dribbled on both Molly and Mary.
"Oh look what you've done." Mary clucked in exasperation, "I'll get us a cloth." And with that, the former CIA agent walked out of the room, leaving a seated Molly to remain in her sunny bra.
The next few moments passed rather too quickly, but Molly blamed that on her current state. What she did understand however, was that Sherlock was in her room and was positively pissed.
Smell of smoke and London on his coat, Sherlock towered over her with a crippling glare. Or it would have been crippling, if Molly hadn't just remembered the innuendo involving the detective and his landlady. Shaking with laughter, Molly bobbed within each wave with a merry snort. Sherlock was less jovial, as he already started his deductions.
"You went to the beach, and either forgot to apply sunscreen, which I doubt. Or you were distracted to the point of spending an unnecessary amount of time in the sun, hence the markings on your throat. I gather they're from the man you mentioned yesterday?"
Molly nodded in response, laughter simpering down.
"You fornicated with him, a short fling. He's self conscious about his abilities , so he's tempted to call again, to prove his worth. Most likely an academic as well, a nurse?"
As Sherlock continued to ramble on, Molly paid less attention to his words and more so to his face. And what a face it was, you could get lost in it, shipwrecked. A beautiful view, it would lead to no fruition, leaving Molly to starve and eventually cannibalize her crew mates. Like Cast Away, if there was more than one person and a volleyball. Or maybe he'd eat the volleyball...?
"Molly, are you listening?"
Surely the personified volleyball wouldn't count as a human, even if he thought it was. But if he ate it, would he consider it cannibalism?
"Molly?"
No that can't be right, but then he was lonely. What did happen to Wilson?
Every thought of Wilson and cannibalism was wiped away from Molly's mind when Sherlock kissed her, it wasn't as thrilling as when he crashed through that window, but it was still glorious.
Molly felt a chill slide down her spine, only being centered to this world by a pair of large hands cradling her head. He tasted of black coffee, mint, and something sharp. Sighing into Sherlock's mouth, Molly puzzled over the mysterious taste a bit longer before Sherlock pulled away.
"You've been drinking." Sherlock mumbled, giving a small peck on Molly's swollen lips.
"Watermelon vodka." Molly whispered, blinking owlishly when Sherlock eyed her up and down. She was still in her underwear. Oh crap.
"Is this a bad time?" Mary called out from the doorway, leaning against the wood with a grin.
"Obviously, please shut the door when you leave." Sherlock rumbled, freezing Molly he suddenly met her gaze.
"No need for the tone, but have fun kiddies!" Mary laughed before she picked up her bag and left the hallway.
Sherlock waited until he heard the door click shut before he tsked and began to circle Molly, face darkening considerably.
"He'll need a few pointers after this."
"Sorry, who?"
"That man you met yesterday, he missed all the right places." Sherlock said with a crooked smile.
Oh.