(Prompt from jrmboots: Bc Molly is a shortybum, she can't reach a book on the top shelf in the lab. Sherlock is working in the lab, but doesn't get up and help her, cos he's a douche. Some other guy in the room does (I'm feeling Greg,) he walks right behind Molly so her back is pressed against his front and grabs the book for her, she does a cute little squeak and a shy smile. Sherlock sees and gets adorably possessive and jealous. Not an established relationship! Happy Ending.)
A.N: Alright, so first prompt, sorry it took me so long, but I no longer have net at home or a comp, so I'm doing everything on my mum's and using the net at school (Yay me, I'm finally getting my GED, and going to college hopefully this fall!)
So, as my Bookends series happens to be connected oneshots, and deals with an established relationship, I've decided that this will be the prequel and posting it separately. So this is how Sherlock and Molly got together in the Bookends universe.
If anyone else has a prompt for this universe, please feel free to message me and I will get it written and posted as soon as I'm able.
There was a case, there was always a case. Not that Molly actually minded all that much, a case meant that Sherlock would be in the lab and thus she could spend time with him without looking like a clinger-on. The problem, as she saw it, was the fact that this particular case required the presence of Greg as well.
Oh, she liked Greg well enough; in the two years that Sherlock had been away the two of them had built up their friendship to the point where Greg felt comfortable enough looking to her for solace after the end of his marriage. Sadly, Greg saw that development as meaning she was agreeable to something more; and thus the problem.
After the end to her engagement Molly had come to finally realize just how deep her feelings for Sherlock ran. She was sure, given time, she could move on and love another. The thing was that she really didn't want to, not when Sherlock had given her hope for something more. Of course, Sherlock being Sherlock, he never did anything outright and Molly was left wondering if she had simply imagined it all.
"Molly, I need that book on natural poisons found in New Zealand." Sherlock kept his eyes glued to the microscope, unconcerned about whether or not Molly would retrieve the book he had brought with him; Molly always obliged him.
Molly didn't even think it worthy enough to be upset about Sherlock's abruptness, it was just the way he was. Instead she went in search of the large volume the detective asked for…well demanded really, but that was neither here nor there at the moment.
She had seen him enter with the book, tucked up underneath his arm, but she had been mostly distracted by a chattier than normal Greg, and hadn't seen where he had placed it. She turned this way and that, checking over every surface in the lab. The book was huge, like backbreaking huge, so it didn't seem possible that she could have missed it. It took her a few turns around the lab before she looked up, sighing as she noticed the hulking book set at the very top of the shelves attached to the wall. It was just like Sherlock to place it there with no regard to anyone else, he could reach it so it would've never dawned on him that no one else could.
There was a ladder in the supply closet a few doors down, she knew it would be the best solution to her problem, but she also knew that Sherlock would start to become antsy soon. In the end she leaned against the table, arms reached up as high as they would go. Of course Molly was nowhere near tall enough to reach even the second shelf, her fingers barely brushing the first. There was a reason why the unit had remained empty while every other shelf in the lab was overflowing with books.
She was resigned to use the table to climb up on when she felt a presence at her back. She wished she could say that she had reacted to the man at her back with decorum, but she would be lying as instead of remaining quiet she let out a rather embarrassing 'eep.'
She would admit that at first she let fancy take over and immediately thought Sherlock had realized what position he had put her in and decided to help. It hadn't taken her long before the size, shape and scent of the man behind her registered as well as the identity. Her heart dropped as Greg pressed firmly into her back, one hand resting on her hip as the other reached for the book. She didn't want to hurt the man, he was an absolute dear, but she had not even the inkling of feelings for him. Still she could smack him for the display he was putting on in front of Sherlock.
For his part, the small noise Molly made caught Sherlock's attention. He turned from his microscope with an exasperated insult already on his tongue, an insult that died spectacularly with a squeaky whine when he noticed the scene in front of him.
Now Sherlock had always been one of the first to tell you that feelings, of any sort, were a liability, this was why he had avoided them for so many years. Unfortunately since his return from the dead he had found himself in the position of being unable to reel in and close off his emotions as he once had. This was the reason why, when George pulled away from a shyly smiling Molly, that Sherlock practically lost it.
"I asked Molly for the book, George." The words were bit off, forced from his mouth as though they would be able to physically hurt the man.
"Oh, come on, you set the book on the top shelf. I could barely reach it." Greg refused to even touch the subject of his name; it was simply not worth it as Sherlock would never remember it correctly.
"I still don't…"
"Will you two let it drop? Sherlock it was too high and Greg was just helping me out, right?" Molly gently took the book from Greg and stepped back. She pretended that she hadn't noticed Greg's face fall, and just handed the book off to Sherlock.
"Ah, yeah, just helping out." Greg clenched his hands a couple of times, looking back and forth between his two friends. He would be lying if he said he hadn't given thought to something more with Molly. He had fancied her for years, probably even before he should have, not that he had ever acted on it. Not until he realized things were final between him and his ex-wife and Molly had broken it off with Tom.
He had hoped that Molly would reciprocate his interest, eventually at least, as they seemed to have grown closer. He had known that Sherlock would always be an obstacle, Molly still having feelings for him, but he had thought in time she would recognize his disinterest. As it happened though, he was the one realizing that between the three of them he was the one being politely turned down. It was a hard and strange reality.
"Look, I best return to the Yard and see what I can dig up there. Keep me up on whatever you find." He gave a nod to the still fuming Sherlock, and took a chance to lean down and press a kiss to Molly's cheek. He ignored the sound of Sherlock's clearing throat and simply left.
Sherlock turned back to his work as soon as the doors shut behind George, ignoring his behavior and Molly. It was typical of the detective and something that Molly refused follow along with. Normally she would pretend nothing had happened alongside him and continue on with their work. Not this time though, Molly was tired of the game they had been playing since his return.
"What was that, Sherlock?" Molly leaned against the edge of the table, her chin tipped up as she watched the man beside her stiffen.
"He was being rude; I asked you for the book and for him to retrieve it was ill-mannered." Though his face remained turned towards the microscope, his eyes were focused on Molly.
"No, you were the one being ill-mannered. You placed the book far out of my reach and then demanded…yes demanded, not asked…that I retrieve it for you. You knew I would be unable to reach it, but you still expected me to, and then you snap at Greg when he did the right thing and helped me." She might not return Greg's affections, but she didn't think he deserved to practically be scolded by Sherlock.
"It was still unseemly of him." His eyes flicked quickly away from Molly and back in front of him. He didn't feel comfortable with the look that had just crossed her face.
"Why, Sherlock, why was it unseemly of him?" She shouldn't, but she found herself holding back a laugh at how clearly he was unnerved by everything.
"Anyone with eyes could deduce that you in no way reciprocate his affections, to continue to push himself upon you is inappropriate." Sherlock busied himself with the microscope, but couldn't seem to focus on the sample. He couldn't actually focus on anything but the way that Molly had slipped a little closer to him, or the scent of her hair and skin as it drifted up towards him. It was unnerving.
"How do you know that I don't?" If her voice dropped lower into what her past boyfriends called her bedroom-voice, she couldn't really care. For the first time since she met him, Molly thought she had finally understood how to flirt with him.
"Molly, I know what you look and act like when you are interested in someone. Besides the dilated pupils and increased heart-rate and breathing, which are suspiciously absent around Gene, you have this silly little smile you give. It isn't really big, more of an upturn of the corners, but your eyes smile widely. You have trouble keeping eye contact, your eyes turn back and forth a couple of times before taking a quick look up and then repeating it all over again.
"You ring your hands; move back and forth on the balls of your feet as you try to talk. You stammer, but not overly much, just enough to give the impression of mousiness. You lean in, almost fitting yourself along his side.
"You do none of those things with Geoff, your smile is off, you work to keep your distance, and you speak clearly all the while keeping eye contact. As I said, you are uninterested in him and he should understand that and act accordingly. If he refuses to, can you blame me for reminding him?" He hated that, hated the fact that he had gathered all of that information about Molly and had been unable to delete it. Mostly though, he hated the fact that he just babbled it all out without censor.
"Wow, just wow, but Sherlock, why would you care if he won't leave me alone?" It shouldn't have surprised her that he had catalogued all of that about her, but it did. It also made the fluttering in her stomach increase until she thought she would be sick.
"You are my pathologist, why wouldn't I?" Giving up on the sample, Sherlock moved away from the microscope to open his book.
"Sherlock…"
"His interest in you is clearly bothering you, it is hindering your ability to assist me." He flicked through the pages of the book, not one word sticking in his mind.
"Sherlock…"
"I need your attention on me during a case, and not on fending off an unwanted interest." He ran his finger down the page he had opened to, not that he actually knew what he was looking for.
"Sherlock…" Molly had herself nearly pressed against his side, one hand on Sherlock's wrist and the other reaching over to close the book. She felt him jolt under her touch, and slipped her hand off of him, her fingers leaving invisible trails across his skin.
"It bothers you, that's why I care. You don't want him, you want…" Sherlock snapped his mouth shut, backing away from Molly.
"You, I want you, and I know you know that. But I can't have you, so why should I not accept Greg's?" Not that she would ever really, just the thought of Greg that way made her uncomfortable. Still it was worth it to say when she saw the look that shot across his face.
"But you don't want him." He hated the thought of Molly and…well anyone really. He hadn't even liked it when she had been with Meatdagger, but she had seemed happy so he could've dealt with it. He could've, really…alright, so maybe he had fantasized many times about arranging a little accident, but he never would've gone through with it…most likely.
"I might, in time." She doubted it, but she had started down that path and she would continue on it to the end.
"No, you never could. I wouldn't let you." He blinked a few times after he practically yelled out his words. He hadn't planned on saying that, ever.
"Why? Please, Sherlock, tell me why?" She wasn't sure what to expect, pushing Sherlock the way she was, but having him lunge at her was not it.
"Because you are mine, that is why, you are mine." Sherlock's fingers sunk deeply into Molly's hair, his hand pressed flush against the back of her head as he guided her lips to his.
Unlike moments before, Molly would fully admit to the 'eep' that escaped from her lips, mostly as it quickly turned to a low moan. Sherlock on the other hand would never admit to the growl that rumbled up from his chest, or the fact that he had placed the book that high on purpose. No, he would never admit that.
A.N. 2: Right, so the title doesn't really have anything to do with the story besides needing something to go along with "Bookends."
Now, as I said I have no net at home and my comp is dead, so that is why my updates have been slow. For anyone reading "And Isn't This A Crime" I haven't abandoned it, I hope to have an update for it in a week or two. Sorry it is taking so long, but besides what I already said, the MCU has sort of taken over my muse and I've been working on a lot of Darcy Lewis Stories (Which includes several Darcy/Steve and Darcy/Bucky)
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.