Okay just breathe; come on it's all going to be okay. Just pretend it's a normal day and you're returning to your normal flat. But it's not normal is it; I mean how often do I have the worlds only consulting detective sprawled out on my sofa? These were the thoughts that whirled around in Molly's brain as she climbed the seemingly endless staircase.
Oh dear that's the door, is it me or is it abnormally menacing looking today? Well Molly in my opinion it's just you since there's nothing really menacing about a door. Oh and did you know that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness. Okay c'mon pull yourself together just open the door, easy does it. Oh God he looks amazing, why he can't just have an ugly day, just once.
Molly looked into the eyes of her new flatmate; his eyes were rimmed with red, drugs. No just crying.
'Sherlock?' Molly asked tentatively
'Mmmm'
'Are you...Are you ok-k-ok?' Damn that stutter.
'Of course I'm ok, my arch-enemy is dead, I managed both to help my friends and preserve my life, and I get a long holiday thrown in. What about any of that sounds troubling?' Came Sherlock's snarled reply. 'You're the one who is obviously not ok.'
'Huh?'
'Obvious, the bags under your eyes indicate lack of sleep, while your hair indicates a lack of personal attentiveness recently. I mean you always wash your hair, more often than it needs judging my it's thinness, but it's always washed. Looking at your clothes, while you're no fashion icon at the best of times, that ensemble is just atrocious.' Sherlock ended breathing heavily. Why was I so mean to her? He thought with a pang of...guilt?
Molly tried not to feel hurt at his cruel deductions, she knew he was going through a tough time and needed a punching bag; she was fine being that punching bag.
'Your right I'm not sleeping, or washing, but I still know when someone has been crying and you have Do you want me to share my deductions with you?' Molly ended with a teasing smile.
'They would be elementary' yawned Sherlock, smirking in spite of himself.
'By the way my hair is not thin, it's just really long.' Molly retorted as she self-consciously twirled a strand of her brown hair round her fingers.
'It's beautiful Molly' Sherlock replied
'I know it's just.. really?' Did he actually just compliment me, and beautiful none the less, I didn't think he had the faculty for beauty? What does he want?
'Well its ok, I mean it's just there. It doesn't hurt to look at it' Sherlock rambled. Interesting. Where did the word beautiful come from? She's Molly; she works in the morgue and has thin lips. No one wants to kiss thin lips do they? Anyway that academic since I don't want to kiss anyone, my body is just transport.
'Thank you Sherlock' Molly replied softly.