The problem with two bibliophiles living together was space. Shelf space to be more specific. A shelf never stayed empty for long before it was filled with books. Of course as each shelf filled up that meant a new shelf must be bought, and so the cycle would continue. There was no truer an example of this than 221B and its occupants, Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes.
The flat had already been filled to the brim with books before Molly had moved in, with her addition of several boxes worth, 221B had begun to look more like an old library than an actual home.
Shelves could be found in every room, each filled to bursting with books. There was even a large unit mounted above the toilet; a shock for any visitors that entered only to be confronted with entire volumes on serial killers. Not even their bedroom was exempt. There were more shelves than empty wall.
With all of those shelves one would think that there would be little room for argument over space….and one would be wrong.
Molly stood in front of the shelving unit beside the wardrobe, her hands pressed tightly on her hips. She had just had the damn thing installed two days ago, and already Sherlock had it filled. She sneered at the thick bound volumes taking up room on her expensive unit, wondering why he couldn't have placed them on the shelves he had put up in the hall.
This always happened, every damn time. After a moment Molly leaned over and gathered all the books she could fit in her arms and stomped out of the room. Not caring what happened to them, she plopped them down in his chair before returning to repeat the process until every last book of Sherlock's was off her shelf.
She hummed to herself as she worked to carefully organize her new books; a set of antique dictionaries that her mother had been secretly collecting for her for the past few years. She smiled and with a flourish she placed the last volume at the perfect angle, setting a small glass paperweight in front to hold it up.
A slow, evil little smile took over one corner of her mouth as she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. She had no need to leave the room to know what was happening at that very moment. Sherlock would have entered the room, whipped off his coat and scarf with a grace that still left her spinning, hung them up before turning around and stopping in his tracks.
Counting to five Molly waited for the inevitable explosion, and no sooner had she finished Sherlock's booming voiced echoed through the flat.
"Molly Hooper!"
Molly giggled, patted the spines of her newest acquisition, and headed out of the room.
Sherlock stood, feet planted firmly in front of his chair, arms crossed over his chest. He heaved in a deep breath, trying to keep his temper down. He wouldn't be having as much trouble as he was had it not been for the fact that this was far from the first time he had returned home to find his books piled on the chair. In fact this now made it the fifth time in that month alone.
"Yes Sherlock?" Molly leaned against the wall, watching as her boyfriend tried to regulate his breathing. She could see his jaw ticking from where she stood, his arms falling down to his sides as he clenched and unclenched his hands over and over again. Had she not been who she was she would have been worried for her life. As it was she only felt a hint of fear for her beloved books; Sherlock wasn't past burning books if he thought it was absolutely necessary…The heathen.
"What reason do you think you have this time for throwing about my books?" She always had a reason, not that he accepted them. The first time she had been angry because he had removed a few of her books in order to use the shelf, the second because he had relegated Toby to the living room in order to place a shelving unit. The third had been a tantrum about the content contained in the books; though after a few long nights sequestered away in their room she no longer protested. In fact she had bought her very own unit in order to fill with those very type of books.
"I don't think, I know I have a reason. A perfectly valid reason I might add." Molly pushed off of the wall, coming to stand in front of Sherlock with hands resting tightly atop her hips.
"I'll be the judge of that." Glaring down at her he re-crossed his arms over his chest.
"They were on my new unit, my unit for my books!" Moving one hand up, Molly poked Sherlock in the middle of the chest with her last word. Let him invalidate that!
"I needed the space, I didn't think you would twist your knickers over sharing." She never seemed to have a problem with sharing anything else with him. Alright, so he understood…a little…she had bought the damnable thing and he did recall her telling him that the shelves were off limits. Still, he had just finally found those books, and they were very old and very expensive and seeing them on the floor was about to give him a coronary.
"Maybe if you were a little more organized with your own shelf space you would have had the room. But the fact remains that that was my unit, for my books, and you had no right to steal it!" Again she poked him in the chest, two extra times just to get her point across.
"Commandeered, I commandeered it. I never steal." His glare moved from her down to where she had poked him. He never did understand why she thought she could take liberties with his body as she did, at least those sort of liberties.
"I don't care what you call it, it still doesn't give you the right to use it." She thought about poking him again, but she figured three was probably enough and just kept her hands on top of her hips.
"What am I supposed to do with my books then?" Sherlock flung his arms open to gesture towards the pile on his chair.
"Buy a bloody shelf of your own!" Deciding that she might have been wrong, she poked him once again.
"Would you mind stop poking me? I used your shelf, there is no reason to become violent." He knew he would have a bruise by the evening, small and rounded like the tip of her finger. He was just glad she wasn't one of those women that wore their nails excessively long.
"Well if you would bloody well learn for a change I wouldn't have to resort to violence! Maybe I should just poke you until it finally sinks in to that great thick head of yours." With that Molly stabbed her finger harshly into the middle of his chest, over and over again.
The two would have made a comical sight to anyone that had entered the flat at that moment; Sherlock standing stoically in the middle of the room with his girlfriend frantically poking him in the chest as though trying to press a stubborn button…or poke a hole straight through him.
Sherlock raised a brow as he watched his…pathologist abuse his person. He should have been annoyed, but the look of absolute concentration on her face, the lip between her teeth and crinkle of her brow cooled his ire quickly. Now he only had to keep himself from laughing, something he was finding hard at the moment.
"Molly…Molly…alright Molly, if you do not stop this instant I shall have to punish you." If his voice had grown darker, thicker as he spoke the last bit he just ignored it.
Molly on the other hand could not, not when his deep voice dipped even further, smoothing over her like spiced honey. She knew that voice, it was her favorite voice of his. If he thought speaking to her in such a way would stop her, he was dead wrong.
She pulled back, her eyes lifting to meet his with defiance as she smirked and drove her hand forward one more time.
"That's it!" Sherlock flung out a hand to capture hers only to find Molly already dashing off away from him, giggling as she ran into the kitchen. He followed after her, his own low laugh filling the flat as they moved around and around like a couple of children playing games.
Molly ducked out of the kitchen and into the hall, darting quickly up the stairs. Sadly she had miscalculated how much further ahead she was, and had to catch onto the wall as Sherlock grabbed her ankle. She slid down until she was kneeling on the steps, Sherlock now curled around her body. His breath tickled the side of her neck and sent goose pimples up and down her arms.
"Caught you, so what should your punishment be…hm?" Removing one of his hands from the step he moved the hair from her neck to allow him to press nipping kisses along her flesh.
"Oh, but what if I promise to be a good girl from now on?" Molly turned her head to the side, holding in a moan as Sherlock bit down slightly harder. Her enjoyment of a bit of pleasurable pain had been a pleasant surprise for Sherlock when they had first become intimate, and an unpleasant shock to their friends when they had walked in on them utilizing Sherlock's riding crop.
"You're never a good girl…not that I mind in the least." Sherlock felt Molly laugh before he heard her, and couldn't help but chuckle along side of her. He wound his arms around her waist, pressing his chest flush with her back as he continued to nip at her neck.
Now, it was not unusual for the two to block out everything around them when they got a bit amorous. This was one of the various problems their friends had with them, the ridding crop incident had been only one of the many times the couple had been walked in on. It seemed that they never learned, mostly as John and Mary walked up the stairs to find the couple still kneeling on what was once his stairs.
"My God! Do you two ever actually use your bed?!" John pressed his hand to his eyes, thankful that they left Lizzie down with Mrs Hudson. Beside him Mary just chuckled as Sherlock curled himself further around Molly so she was hidden.
"Like you're one to talk!" Mary smacked John's arm lightly, giggling as his eyes went wide.
"Mary! Don't you dare…" He wasn't exactly innocent, but he didn't feel like discussing it with Sherlock and Molly.
"Not that this isn't a delightful visit, but do you two think you could maybe come back later, I'm in the middle of punishing Molly and am not too keen on an audience." Sherlock winced when Molly reached behind her and poked him in the side, but paid her no more heed as he glared at his two friends.
John turned around quickly, already two steps down before he heard his wife laughing and wishing the couple above well. He couldn't understand why he never called before coming over, it always ended the same…every damn time.
Not wasting any time once he felt Mary beside him, he grabbed her hand and rushed down to grab his daughter and leave. He really didn't want to hear what was coming next.
Once the sound of the door below shutting reached his ears, Sherlock nipped at Molly's shoulder before standing up and pulling her with him. Molly dusted down her shirt and leaned against the wall, trying as hard as she could not to laugh.
"You are a bad man Sherlock Holmes." She poked him again, this time in the side where she knew he was ticklish and took off before he had straightened back up.
"And you, Molly Hooper, are far too naughty for your own good!" A full smile spread across his lips as he took off after her, the pile of old books on his chair forgotten…at least for the moment. There was still the issue of shelf space that needed sorting out…but not just yet.
A.N: Oh look, playful Sherlock and Molly! And seriously, shelf space is sacred and it is an evil thing to steal it! This is a big problem in my family, my Grandfather is always stealing everyone's shelves and filling them up with random junk. And I do mean random.
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.