A/N: Hellllloooo! So one of my tumblr/fanfic friends Nocturnias (who writes amazingly! Love Stories and Tournaments of Lies anyone?) sent out a Sherlolly Fic Challenge that I just had to take up. It essentially said that Sherlock had to try and date Molly Hooper (b/c she's the logical choice) but she rejects him and he tries to win her back. :D :D :D I just had to.
Okay, read on! It is only a two-shot and will not be turning into anything else, it was just fun to write.
Disclaimer: Moffat & Gatiss are kings.
Cream, One Sugar.
This was a three patch problem.
Sherlock Holmes was spread across the couch of 221B, his eyes closed tightly as he heaved in a breath. His mind was full of the woman - what had she asked him? Had he ever had anyone? The answer was quite obvious, Sherlock thought, as if he would be interested in something so trivial - so human. His mind flicked back and forth between Irene and Moriarty - The Woman and The Consulting Criminal. What had he called him? The Virgin? Sherlock scoffed and let his eyes open, the flood of nicotine in his system a calming and awakening experience.
In that moment of perfect clarity Sherlock decided, this nickname needed to change. He hated it as much as John hated being called a "confirmed bachelor". Sherlock mulled this thought over: sex was messy and intimate, he was pristine and calculating. Sex was about passion, he was about science. His eyes narrowed as he continued the thought - but sex was also about instinct, a human need driven by chemistry in the brain: dopamine, norepinephrine. This thought was not so disagreeable.
As he grew accustomed to the idea he began to flick through potential candidates. He could pay a prostitute of course, but there were far too many variables that he could not control, sexual infections just being one of them. This ruled out any women he met at a bar or cafe too, and being inexperienced he hardly felt that this would be the likely option. So he flicked through the list of women he knew. Irene: preferable but not available, last seen skulking somewhere about Tunisia. Sally Donovan: Absolutely not, he crossed her off the proverbial list without a second thought. Sarah, unavailable as she was currently dating John and as he understood it was socially inappropriate to attempt to woo your best friend's girlfriend. He sighed... and then there was Molly: mousy, shy, and awkward, but willing.
Sherlock considered her for a moment, she wasn't unattractive by social standards. Yes her mouth was too small, and yes her breasts were less than ample, but she had an altogether symmetrical face and a becoming hairline. What was better is that he knew her, he knew her history and her availability and it fit perfectly into his proposed time table. So Molly it is.
The only fly in the ointment would be sleeping with her right away - she was the perfect picture of innocence and sexual inexperience, Sherlock was positive she would look for more than just an open sexual relationship. He grimaced. He knew Molly was clever, more clever than the average person, and she was interesting (to a point), but she could hardly utter a word around him that didn't begin or end with a stammer. He reckoned that if he really wanted her he could have her now, probably on one of the lab tables and that would be it - virginal Sherlock no more and experiment over. The problem would come after, his mother had always told him to beware of a woman scorned and he needed Molly - for morgue access and other unliscenced priviledges at St. Barts. He would have to do this from another angle.
He would have to date her. Or at the very least make an effort to be nice to her before an after coitus - he supposed that she would probably want to engage in hand holding or some sort of conversational intimacy in the moments after and he debated the relative merits of such actions.
Agreeable, he determined after a few moments, as long as she could keep her insufferable stammer under control.
Sherlock stood, stripping the patches off his forearm and tossing them in the bin before heading out the front door of 221B - getting Molly to bed was going to take some planning.
!=!=!=!+!=!=!=!
Ninety minutes later Sherlock was standing in the morgue, two cups of coffee in his hands and a brilliant smile pasted across his face. Charm. That's what would sell her.
On his way to the morgue had stopped off at a drug store and bought a packet of condoms, two were now safely tucked into his pocket. He stopped off at a coffee bar and got them both cups of coffee, and mentally prepared himself to be as inviting and believable as he could.
"Evening Molly," he greeted and plopped the cup of coffee down in front of her.
"S-Sherlock," she looked up at him, her eyes narrowing in suspicion but then he flashed her a smile and he watched her melt immediately.
"How are you this evening, Molly?" he asked, another warm smile.
"What do you need Sherlock?" she asked, taking a sip of the coffee and putting it back on the table.
"Oh nothing," he took the seat by her, making sure he was angled in and leaning forward, trying to signal his sexual availability.
He watched her swallow and then continue, "You're never here for n-nothing,"
"I am tonight," he smoothed over, "I was in the area, I thought I would pop in,"
Molly looked clearly puzzled so he placed a hand on hers and smiled warmly again, "I haven't been by the morgue in awhile," he said.
He watched her eyes dialate and felt her pulse quicken beneath his fingertips, she took a breath and quite suddenly her face changed, shifted into a cold mask he normally saw reflected on his own features. She looked into his eyes, "Laying it on a little thick, don't you think?
"What?" he was caught off guard, and he removed his hand, looking down at her.
"What do you need, Sherlock?" she straightened up, "you can just ask,"
He considered this a moment and studied her, she was being much more rational this evening and he felt his plan beginning to crack apart. "Molly, as I've already explained,"
"Please," she scooted back in her chair, "don't patronize me,"
"Alright," Sherlock stood, his figure so much taller than hers, "I have a problem with which I could use your assistance, I would like to solicit your... services,"
"Do you need something analyzed?" she asked and then added, "is it going to get me fired, arrested, or killed?"
"Nothing like that," he waved her down and cleared his throat, "my problem is of a more personal nature,"
"Fight with John?" she asked, tilting her head to the side, her voice regaining its softer edge, "I could... I mean, if you need advice I could,"
"Molly," he warned, trying to mask the exasperation in his voice, "Please do shut up,"
She raised an eyebrow but clamped her mouth shut anyway.
"Thank you," Sherlock took a step closer to her and brushed his fingertips along her jaw, running the pad of his thumb over her lip.
"What?" her voice came out like a whisper, albeit a husky whisper.
"Molly," he murmured, "the problem that I need you for involves a particular kind of help that only you could give me," he quirked an eyebrow and ran his thumb across her lip again.
"Oh, Oh!" she jumped back immediately, "What? Where is this coming from?"
"I've decided," he began, "that I wish for something more," he was lying but it suited the situation, "and I believe you fall into that category,"
"You want to... go out? With me?" she tried, her voice still rather weak.
He pressed forwards against her and she was locked between a lab table and his body nearly touching her, "Yes I believe I do,"
"I..." she choked and tried again, "I... you want to go out with me? Like for real, on a proper date... not just-"
"Molly," he groaned and his lips came crashing down on hers, his hands pressed to either side of her face to keep her steady, his mouth awkwardly moving until it found a rhythm with hers. At least now she was silent, and the kiss was not all that unpleasant to him. Her mouth had a certain softness he savoured.
She inhaled sharply and pushed him back, "Sherlock, what on earth?"
He kissed her again and pressed her further into the lab table, his hands on her arms, pulling her up to his lips, fiercly gripping her against him.
He felt her still and then struggle, she pushed him back strongly and they disconnected, "you're hurting me!" she cried and his hands flew free of her like he had been burned.
"Molly," he began.
"No, what the hell?" she wiped a hand across her mouth and took a steadying breath, "What the hell are you doing? If you came here for sex... you can forget it," she could hardly believe the words had left her mouth, "I'm not a... a toy you can toss around and use when convienant,"
"Molly I was simply trying to kiss you, I'm sorry if you got the wrong impression," he tried this approach and waited to guage her reaction.
"No," she countered, "I'm pretty sure I got the right impression - you're bored Sherlock and you're looking for an easy girl to sleep with. I'm the obvious choice, I get that - simple, shy, besotted Molly - the obvious target for an easy lay," she clapped a hand over her mouth.
"It's alright, you can say what you're thinking," he noted, "I often do," he was impressed by her in this moment, unabashadly saying exactly what she meant.
"Fine," she crossed to where she had been working a moment ago and sat down, "I'd like you to go,"
"Excuse me?" he asked and watched as she picked up her pen and began to resume writing.
"I said I'd like it if you left, Sherlock. You came here thinking I would easily fall into bed with you because I... like you, and you're wrong. I'm not a ... I'm not a whore, Sherlock," she swallowed roughly and glanced at him, "I won't be treated like one,"
He studied her again and in this moment he truly believed he might admire Molly Hooper. "I am sorry," he attempted.
"You're not," she noted, "you just think you should be. Now I asked if you would go, and I meant it,"
Sherlock nodded and turned to go, throughouly confused by the turn of events. As he reached the door Molly called out, "Sherlock,"
For a moment he thought his luck had changed and he turned to look at her, "I take my coffee with cream and one sugar. Next time you try to seduce a woman at least get her coffee order straight,"
Molly looked down at her notes, a blush growing over her cheeks as Sherlock turned angrily on his heel to leave - departing more aroused than when he first arrived, and with fewer options than when he began.
A/N: Continue on to part two! ;)
