I Dream of You Often.
Chapter One.
She wondered how much time she'd wasted dreaming about him. She concluded more than was probably healthy. She leaned her head on her hand and began to stare out of the window and dream – again. It was always the same dream, slightly altered occasionally but essentially the same. It always ended with the words 'I love you.'
"What are you smiling at?" A sharp voice interrupted her and she nearly fell off her chair in fright.
"It's you."
"Ever obvious Molly." Sherlock stated, removing his gloves and scarves, one eyebrow raised quizzically at her.
"Sorry." She muttered, almost angry that the man she was dreaming about had interrupted her dreams. "What do you need?"
Funny how their encounters were always centered around what Sherlock needed and not what Molly needed. She stopped in front of him and simply gazed while he rattled off a series of instructions. She sighed.
"I'm sorry, am I boring you?" He asked, taking a step away from her.
"Oh, no, God no, of course not." She paused and shut her eyes briefly, turning her head away from him, "I'll be right back."
She flashed him a quick smile, which he ignored and practically ran to fetch his equipment, cursing her stupidity all the way. When she returned, Sherlock was already deeply engrossed in his research, he said nothing when she placed the books he'd asked for down next to him. She sat on a stool at the opposite end of the room and stared. He was beautiful. His dark hair, his pale skin, she didn't really need to look, she'd had his face memorised for quite a while, but the Sherlock of her imaginings was always vastly different from the Sherlock of reality. She liked to watch him breathe, it was human, it was real. She watched his chest rise and fall as he worked and she felt peaceful, she turned her attention to his hands. She adored his hands, so graceful, so clever, so careful and precise. Watching his hands move over her instruments sent a thrill through her body.
"Molly."
Even her name on his lips made her shudder.
"Molly?"
She suddenly realised she wasn't dreaming and sat up quickly.
"Hmm?" She murmured from her hiding place.
"I need you."
The words were simple enough and not uttered with any feeling, it was simply an order. Even so, Molly felt a surge of desire as she wondered what it would be like for him to say that to her in the context she so desperately wanted. She appeared in front of him and he moved to one side.
"Check that against that would you?"
He pointed to the microscope and then something in the book at her elbow. She nodded. This was the way it always worked, Sherlock knew he was right, he just liked to be told.
"I knew it!"
She wasn't sure what he knew, but the way his eyes sparkled and the faintest flush appeared on his white cheek, she felt it didn't bode well.
"Molly, you're an angel!" He suddenly exclaimed placing his hands either side of her face, "Thank you."
He kissed her, the quickest and briefest of kisses but it was enough to completely throw her. At Christmas, he'd only kissed her cheek and she'd replayed it in her mind until she thought she'd go crazy with longing and now he'd kissed her again! She couldn't wait to be alone so she could replay it in her head. Before she could fully regain her senses, he'd disappeared. She smiled after his departing figure. Molly Hooper had always been alone, no man had ever been even the tiniest bit interested in her, and she didn't flatter herself that Sherlock Holmes was either – but…he liked her. She knew that, and he could relax with her. He wasn't as much on guard with her as he seemed to be with others. Molly could well be cynical and say it was because she posed no threat, she was a non-being to him, but the romantic in her said different. It said it was because he liked her. She licked her lips and closed her eyes. She could still taste him. She placed a finger on her bottom lip and sighed. It was enough. For now, it was enough.