"Just go back to your bath. You won't even know I'm here," Sherlock said once they were in the hallway.
"Alright," she said, faking enthusiasm. She clicked off her ipod as she passed by it on the side table.
She'd just made it to the bathroom when she heard the music start up again and Sherlock call out. "No need to turn it off on my account, Molly. I don't want to spoil your holiday."
"Alright," she called back, unable to keep the strain out of her voice.
The water was cold.
"I'll just masturbate here in the bath with romantic music playing while the man of my sexual fantasies sits in the next room," she muttered under her breath as she drained and refilled the tub.
"Did you say something, Molly?" Sherlock called.
Great. Paper thin walls.
"No, nothing!" she replied.
Try as she might to not think about Sherlock, it wasn't long before Molly was throwing in the proverbial towel on the relaxing bath idea. It just wasn't going to happen.
She realized with horror that she'd have to pass through the sitting room to get back to the bedroom, and that the only towel she'd brought into the bathroom was now soaked through.
She crept into the hall. Maybe he was in his mind palace and he wouldn't even notice her.
Glancing around the corner, she saw he was on his laptop. In that moment his head snapped up and he saw her head poking around the wall.
"Oh hello, Moll, Did you enjoy your bath?"
"Oh..uh huh. It was great. Yep. Thanks for asking." She hesitated.
Sherlock continued to stare at her.
"I..uhm…the bedroom's just through there."
"Oh…go right ahead," he gestured to the doorway on the far side of the room from her. "Don't mind me. You won't disturb me at all."
"Mk." She continued to hesitate.
"Is there a problem?" Sherlock finally asked.
"No. Nope." She forced herself to step out into the light and cross in front of him over to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Once she had her pajamas on…a little camisole and panties (she'd assumed she'd be alone the whole weekend and they made her feel pretty), she realized she wanted a snack. She'd brought food with her, but that of course meant passing by Sherlock again.
She could get redressed. But that would seem weird, like she was self-conscious in front of him. Which she was, but he didn't need to know that.
She hadn't brought a robe…she'd always lived alone and they seemed unnecessary. Finally she threw a hoodie on over the top and stepped out into the sitting room.
Sherlock had removed his jacket and shoes and socks and replaced them with a soft camel dressing gown. Molly realized that now that the sun had set, it was rather chilly in the room.
Noticing her shiver as she entered, Sherlock jumped up from the sofa and pulled off the dressing gown.
"Are you cold? Here, take this, I don't need it," he urged.
"No, it's alright, I'm fine."
"No, you're cold. Please, take it," Sherlock insisted.
"Why are you being so nice?" Molly asked as she took the garment.
Sherlock paused and bit his lip before answering. "I know that I'm ruining your holiday, Molly," he said.
"No, you're-" she began out of politeness.
"Don't try to deny it. This is the kind of place you go when you want to be alone."
Molly quickly pulled on the dressing gown. "Well…look how cold I'd be if you weren't here," she said with a wan smile.
"Yes," he replied lamely. "And I'll be gone first thing in the morning," he assured her.
"Yes…good…that's good."
Molly wouldn't let herself think about how amazing the dressing gown smelled. How she never wanted to take it off. No, she was going to eat this biscuit instead of thinking about that.
She came back into the sitting room with the bag of biscuits and two glasses of milk in her hand to find that Sherlock had started a fire in the fire place.
"Wow, that was fast," she mumbled around a mouthful of cookie.
Sherlock chuckled. "Don't give me too much credit. This is Janine's house. The fireplace is gas lit."
"Oh…" Molly smiled. "You want a biscuit?"
Sherlock looked at her strangely. "No. Thank you."
"Well," Molly set one of the glasses and a few biscuits on the coffee table in front of him. "If you change your mind."
Molly left the door open this time. She opened her book and tried to read. 20 minutes later she was back in the doorway looking at Sherlock on his laptop.
"Do you want to play a game?" she asked.
"What?"
"I just feel like it…surely Janine has some board games stashed somewhere. Except no cluedo. You have an unfair advantage."
Sherlock snorted and Molly wished for the millionth time in her life that he was less attractive. "You'd be surprised.
Molly turned to look over the shelves and cabinets on either side of the mantel. Not a board game in sight.
"Truth or dare?" she suggested.
"I…if it would make you happy."
"Yes," Molly sunk down beside him on the sofa.
"Truth or dare?" she asked.
"Truth."
"I notice you've not changed. What do you wear to bed usually?"
"Nothing. Truth or dare?" Sherlock didn't seem to realize the way his answer had affected her since he moved on so quickly.
"Dare."
"I know that you're an amateur artist. Show me a piece of your art."
"You've already seen…your Christmas gift…"
"Yes, I know. Something else."
"Alright." Molly went into the bedroom and found her sketchbook, grateful that there was something in there that wasn't him. She flipped to the sketch of Mary and John's young daughter and carried it out to him.
"This is amazing," Sherlock murmured as he looked it over. "Why are you so secretive about it?"
Molly shrugged. "Artists are a dime a dozen."
"As are violinists."
She shrugged again and pulled the book from his hands, closing it. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Again?"
Sherlock shrugged. "I have nothing to hide, but I'd rather not run around the cabin naked or fill my mouth with biscuits."
"Were the things that Janine said in the papers true?"
"No."
"Did you have sex?" Molly didn't know what was making her so bold.
"That's two questions, but no. Truth or dare?"
"Dare."
"Kiss me," he said simply.
"What?"
"Kiss me. Open mouth. Tongue."
"I heard what you said, it's just…" Molly's face scrunched up.
"That is the point of truth or dare. To make each other do outrageous things or tell secrets. You picked dare. What's the problem? It's just a kiss." He was so calm. His usual straightforward self.
Molly cleared her throat. "Yeah. Ok. Fine."
She took a deep breath. Her eyes drifted against her will down to V of skin exposed by the open top button of his shirt. She jerked them back up and then came in too fast, anxious to get it over with.
Their lips mashed together uncomfortably hard and Molly started to pull away, but stopped when she felt Sherlock's hands on her waist. But he didn't move the kiss along any farther. He was going to force HER to kiss HIM, like he'd asked.
She tilted her head and pretended it was anyone but him. When her lips separated, his own willfully followed suit and her tongue made a quick sweep over his.
It was the most awkward kiss she'd had since the age of sixteen. And the most exciting.
Out of air, she had to pull away briefly, but then she angled her head the other way and quickly repeated the first kiss.
Then she jerked away. "There. Your turn. Truth or Dare."
Sherlock licked his lips and smirked. "Dare."
"Shove as many biscuits in your mouth as you can.
"You're really awful at this game," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes as he reached for the bag. He made it to 7.
"Oh…no…it was worth a turn to see that!" Molly gasped out between giggles as he went to the kitchen to spit them out in the bin a few minutes later. It was refreshing to see the normally so cool and composed man in such a ridiculous circumstance.
"Truth or dare?" he asked as he returned, sipping a glass of water.
"Dare."
"Say Truth next time."
"You can't do that. You can't dare someone to say truth."
"I don't remember seeing a rule book for this game," he argued.
"Fine. You wasted a turn. Truth or dare?"
"Truth."
"Were you in love with that Adler woman?" Molly noticed after the fact that her voice was breathless.
Sherlock paused. "Yes. In a way, I think I was." He shook his head slightly. "In so much as the phrase 'in love' has any concrete meaning, which I'd argue it doesn't," he qualified.
The hiss of the fireplace was the only sound. Molly shifted and looked down at the soft sofa cushions they were seated on. They were flower patterned.
"I guess I don't need to ask," Sherlock finally said. "You're picking truth this time. So truth: What are you so afraid that I'll ask?"
Molly stared back at him for a moment then jumped up. "I'm tired. I give up. You win I guess. Goodnight." She rushed to the bedroom and slammed the door.
The room was filled with the golden glow of the sun when Molly woke up still wearing Sherlock's dressing gown (what he didn't know wouldn't hurt her).
She heard the tinkling of metal from the kitchen and the intermittent sound of running water. Oh Christ, was Sherlock cooking? She rushed to get dressed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a comfortable jumper before bolting into the kitchen. Upon entering the room, she was presented with a tantalizing view of the detective's backside as he bent over to stare into the tiny fridge.
"My god, Molly, did you bring anything remotely nutritious? Three tubs of Ice cream and not a single vegetable in sight?" Sherlock made an exaggerated "tsk tsk" noise. "I'm surprised you even had eggs," he added and Molly's attention was drawn to the scrambled eggs in a pan on the skillet.
Molly rolled her eyes. "I'm on holiday. And Sherlock, you really don't have to do all this you know. It's alright. My holiday is not ruined. You can stop apologizing."
"I'm not-"
"You cooked."
"Just eggs," he responded defensively. His glare drifted into a pout. "Don't you want them?"
She wasn't about to give up a free breakfast. "No, of course I want them. But I'm just saying you can stop being so nice to me. Just…act normally."
"Implying that I am not normally nice." He set a plate of eggs down in front of her.
"Well…no."
A bird chirped loudly outside and Molly wished it would stop. She also wished Sherlock would wear shirts that fit him so the top buttons wouldn't always pop open.
"Then why do you li—let me stay around?"
Molly shifted to pull a leg up underneath her. "Your work is important. You help people," she said with her eyes glued to her plate.
Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket. "Well…I'll be out of your hair soon. The first ferry leaves at 9. About an hour."
"Do you have another case?"
"No."
"You can stay a bit longer if you want," Molly said, trying to keep her voice off-handed and noncommittal.
"Do you want me to stay?"
"If you want to stay, I want you to stay."
"But do you want me to?" Sherlock pressed.
"If you want to."
An hour later Sherlock was stood at the door, holding his bag, when his phone went off and he glared down at it.
How's the "case" going, Sherl? –Janine
I'll get you back for this.-SH
"Well, bye then," Molly said quietly, drawing patterns with her finger on the side table as she stood with him in the hall. His phone went off again and he looked down.
Thought so. So really what I've done is sent you on a free holiday with the woman you love. Is that really so nasty?-Janine
Molly wanted some time alone.-SH
Molly wants you.-Janine
Sherlock licked his lips. "Actually maybe I'll stay."
"You should if you want to."
Sherlock hoped he wasn't imagining the way her lips tugged up slightly at the corners.
Thank you so much for all the reviews. They're so appreciated! I'll be posting a chapter a day of this until it's done. I can't wait for you to read the next chapter cus it's my favorite. -Listrant