Cuddling Somewhere
Sherlock walked fast, carrying yet another blanket. He was now thankful that Molly's precaution had won over his own stubbornness. It was colder than he had expected and the weather report had announced. Luckily, the night sky was mostly clear, with only a few grey clouds showing in the horizon.
Molly turned her head to him when she heard his footsteps and grinned widely. She was already sitting on top of the thicker blanket, all wrapped up, and Sherlock spread the blanket he had picked up lastly over her as well. Then, he scooted Molly over and found a place for himself under both blankets too.
Molly adjusted herself with her back against his chest, one of his legs on each side of her, and Sherlock held her tight. She was shaking.
"You'll be warm soon," he reassured her, rubbing his hands against her arms, which made Molly laugh.
"I sure hope this is worth it," she spoke, her teeth chattering.
That morning Molly and Sherlock had left London in a rented car and driven together to the seaside. There was going to be a meteor shower and Molly had insisted she wanted to see it. London was not the best place to gaze out the stars, so they planned out the trip, put what they would need in the boot of the car, and left town.
Molly had been chattering on the ride there more or less continuously whilst Sherlock drove, paying attention to the road, and answering her questions now and then. Since they had time before the spectacle begun, they had visited the town, walked in the beach, and had looked for the best place to stay the night. They hadn't made a reservation but soon they found a rustic and lovely bed & breakfast, with a fireplace and comfy bed, which suited them both straight away. There were still rooms available, and it only took one look in Molly's direction for Sherlock to know they would not have to search further.
He had never cared much about the stars, but Molly knew a few things, certainly infinitely more than him. And even though he would erase all the information she was passing him later, he also knew that talking about this made Molly happy, so he heard her intently.
As the evening approached, they had both left their bed & breakfast room, and driven to the beach. Molly had insisted it was romantic to watch it there; Sherlock had laughed and rolled his eyes, but had ultimately acquiesced.
It was not a summer night, quite the contrary, so they brought the blankets and they cuddled together on the beach, waiting for the show to begin.
It was Sherlock who saw the first shooting star; Molly missed it. But after that her eyes were open and curious and they observed the skies above with the same attention a child watched their favourite cartoon.
It didn't take long for the lonely star that Sherlock had seen to become the starting point of a hundred more, which followed suit.
Sherlock's chin was resting on Molly's shoulder, relishing on the smell of her shampoo, and she would take notice and announce out loud every time a new star fell.
"We're supposed to ask for a wish when we see a shooting star," Molly pointed out.
They both saw the next one falling, an incandescent spark of light extinguishing in mid-air.
Molly closed her eyes and made her wish. When she opened them again she realised that Sherlock had never closed his.
"Aren't you going to make a wish as well?" she inquired.
Sherlock looked at her, and kissed her quickly on the nose, "I already have all that I could wish for," And he held her closer against his torso, emphasising his words.
Many more stars fell during the time they cuddled together out there on the deserted beach, embracing each other to fight the cold, but Molly didn't make any more wishes. She didn't need them either.