I don't really know what this is at the mo, I was bored, so I wrote this: .com/post/16227311550/im-bored. Then I got bored again so I built on it. It's a bit very short, so :) but, here anyways.
I don't own this, Moff and Godtiss do. Oh, and Sir Arthur :)
"Sherlock?" she called limply, "I'm back!" Scuffing into the lounge, a soft cough racking through her, she got a reply almost immediately.
"I know, Molly, I can hear you." Sherlock was perched like an owl on the arm of a leather chair; his palms pressed together, fingertips tickling the underside of his chin. He was wrapped in Molly's purple dressing-gown, obviously too small for him. She mentally warned him, again, not to snoop.
"You're tired, Molly." Sherlock stated, not even glancing away from his spot on the floor as she stumbled past him into the kitchen. Molly grumbled in reply, tugging open the fridge and trying to avoid the bloody body parts air-packed in plastic. She rummaged to the back, pulling out a pack of frozen peas. She fell onto the sofa opposite Sherlock and coughed again into her fist, groaning and pressing the freezing pack against her forehead. Sherlock looked up then. He took in her appearance. Hot flush, drooping eyelids, pale skin, heavy breathing, lack of limb control, cough.
"Molly?"
"Yes, Sherlock?" He could barely hear her.
"… Did you get the shopping?"
Molly inhaled deeply and her eyelashes fluttered. "Yes, Sherlock."
He paused for a moment, and then hopped off the arm, landing gracefully on his toes. He stalked around the cluttered coffee table and peered at the half-asleep woman, leaning over her slightly. Molly grimaced as the heat from the light was blocked, and stirred gently, the cold pack slipping. Sherlock caught it before it sunk into the sofa and carefully replaced it on her forehead. He placed his palm onto the icy plastic, increasing the pressure and earning himself a thin smile from Molly.
Sherlock shuffled into a comfortable position on the sofa beside her, keeping a constant palm on her forehead and up a low hum, and soon Molly fell into a deep sleep. When her head lolled onto his shoulder, her mouth parted against his suit and her long hair falling the length of his arm, Sherlock decided she needed to move. Spinning the slightly defrosted pack of peas onto the nearby coffee table, he slid his right arm under her knees and his left around her shoulders. In sleep, Molly slowly curled up against his chest, and he unconsciously tightened his arms around her little body.
Sherlock cradled Molly the entire length of the flat- her bedroom being the small, breezy box at the end of the corridor; then changed his mind at the state, size and temperature of the room. He doubled back, making sure Molly's head didn't collide with the blue wall, and headed for the spare room; 'his' room. He pushed open the door with his foot and padded over the piles of clothes and sheet music to the unmade bed. Sherlock carefully placed the still sleeping woman in the centre of the double and pulled the crinkled purple sheet up to her chin. She curled into a ball under the sheet and sniffed loudly, coughing into the pillow. Sherlock rummaged under the bed and pulled out a handful of single, white tissues and dropped them beside her head on the fabric. He smoothed down her long hair and stared at her for a moment, thoughts swirling behind his eyes. When Molly stirred, Sherlock was shocked out of his trance and cleared his throat, straightening up and striding to the door. He took one last look at the sleeping woman and sighed, closing the door and retaking his perch on the arm of the chair. Unbeknownst to him, Sherlock's ice-mint eyes were dilated from the moment Molly stumbled through the door.
Uhh, I know it was so very bit lots short, but it's a kinda opening thingy to hopefully a few short bits from post-Reichenbach :) Sorry :D Anyways, R&R or whatevs, thankyou! :) xx
P.S. Did you get the pupil dilation bit at the end? Eh? ;) Oh, and I honestly don't know why this is called 'Shade of Red'! :D If you can think of anything else, I will appreciate! :)