The word "gun" made her visibly shiver. Any loud pop made her jump substantially higher than she ought. Sadly, she thought, guns played too much a role in providing her a job. She hated guns. So what was Molly doing walking into a shooting range with her boyfriend?
John always carried his handheld with him, mostly because being around Sherlock Holmes meant constant danger. Shortly after he had started dating Molly, he discovered her skittishness around them. Since then he had made a point of leaving his gun at home when he was with her, but after they were attacked while on a date, he had no choice but to keep his weapon handy. He then decided that his girlfriend should at least attempt to get over her dislike and fear.
Molly reveled in the feel of John's hands and body guiding her through the correct posture and grip. Each touch sent a welcome spark of dopamine through her brain. She nearly forgot she was learning to use the instrument of evil in her hands. She felt his breath tickle her ear as he gave her instructions and a few words of comfort. John gave her a quick peck on the cheek before replacing her protective earmuffs and stepping back to watch the fun. She glanced back at him, saw him mouth the words "go on" then turned to her target while taking a deep breath. She tried to hold on to the memory of his kiss and forget the weight in her hands. She shook like a flag in a hurricane. She saw that her target was a vague outline of a man with a large target over his chest. To hit the bulls eye on a real man would cause a long, bloody traumatic death, she mentally noted. How inhumane. Molly couldn't clamp down on her medically trained mind which insisted on making this harder. Still shaking, she took another deep breath, aimed the quaking gun barrel, started to pull the trigger, and then something amazing happened.
John couldn't believe what he saw. Molly, who flinched at gunshot wounds and the thought of the weapon, came alive as she pulled the trigger. Her body stopped convulsing and assumed a perfect form just as the gun discharged. John chuckled when he noticed that instead of hitting the target she had hit the anatomical center of the target's heart; intentionally or not, it was still rather impressive. She immediately fired again, this time hitting the brain stem, another relatively quick death for their dummy. Molly turned around with a huge grin on her face, ruby red from the adrenaline rush. John walked back over to her clapping and took the gun from her. Their hands made comfortable contact as she beamed up at him with beautiful brown eyes glowing with success.
Still thrilled with being an almost natural crack shot, Molly looked back towards her target and noticed just how lethal she would have been. Dismayed, she turned back to John and let him remove the earmuffs and eye protection.
"You did great, sweetie!" He whispered in her ear while rubbing her arms. "Don't you feel a little better knowing you can control them?"
"A little, but not much. At least I know how a soldier feels hitting his target," Molly replied with a weak smile. She had such a newfound respect for her soldier. She flooded with oxytocin as he wrapped her in a comforting hug for several minutes. She gave him a light kiss on his soft lips, drew back and asked, "I know you put the gun down, so what's that in your pocket?" with a sly little wink.
"Come back to 221B and find out, my dear," was the sexy reply. John felt a deep passion for his sweet little pathologist. They left the range, hands intertwined, smiling and laughing interspersed with quick glorious kisses all the way back to the apartment. ;)