Chapter 2.
Mary began giggling hysterically.
A very intoxicated Molly looked her way.
"That is your 'I've been a naughty girl' giggle. What did you do Mary?"
"Let's just say we'll soon find out if Sherlock Holmes is your knight in shining armor or not," Mary giggled as she downed another gulp of wine, an empty tequila bottle laying at her feet.
That's when Molly spotted the pink phone in Mary's hand not holding the wine glass.
"Mary Elise Morstan! What. Have. You. Done!?"
Before Mary can answer, there is a knock at the door.
"Oh my god! He came!" Mary shouts, stumbling and attempting to run to the door while not spilling the dark purple liquid on the rug.
Unbolting the locks as fast as she could, Mary threw open the door shocked to find herself nose to nose not with the rude detective, but with his handsome companion.
"Oh my god!"
The door slammed shut and a red-faced Mary ran into the kitchen giggling.
"Molly, can you get that, I have to change my clothes!"
Molly stood up and shouted to the person on the other side of the door as the knocking began again, "I'm coming!"
Taking her steps carefully Molly finally managed to successfully answer the door.
"John?!" She blurted out with equal excitement and confusion, "What are you doing here?"
"Sherlock got your text and I was worried about you. We both were, actually, he's out in the cab. Should I call him up?"
Just then Mary reappeared wearing a red dress she kindly referred to as her 'get laid' dress causing John's jaw to drop.
"Holy, Mary… wow… Mary, I-I …. Wow."
"Oh, hullo, John. Sorry to rush out of the room earlier, I was, um, I had to get ready for my... er, date." Mary said, carefully letting the words fall from her lips so as not to slur her speech in front of the good doctor.
"Date, eh?"
John seemed disappointed.
Molly interjected before this could digress anymore. "Someone should probably go get Sherlock, yeah? I can do it. Out in the cab you said?"
"What? Yes, he is, I'll just have a seat while you go get him," John muttered, eyes still locked on Mary.
Taking less careful steps so as not to take ages to gather the detective, Molly finally made it to the front door of her building. Forgetting that the front steps were an odd height she tumbled out the door and onto the concrete.
"Dammit!" she shouted looking at her bloodied knees and palms.
Her head was spinning from the alcohol and she needed to get off the cold ground. By the time she could process what the next step was, two strong hands were hoisting her off the ground.
"Someone had some fun tonight," Sherlock said with a coy smile on his face.
Bending over slightly he scooped the tiny woman's legs out from under her and before she could register the action, she was being carried like a small child back to her apartment.
She wanted to protest the action, but it was rare for Sherlock to show such tenderness. She was going to take whatever physical contact she could get. In the lift up to her floor she was briefly reminded of how her father would carry her to bed when she fell asleep on the sofa as a little girl. Her eyelids became heavy and she was struggling to stay away. Between his warmth and the alcohol she was in a perfect state of mind to have a long night of sleep.
Glancing down at the stilled woman in his arms, Sherlock noticed her sleepy and dazed look.
"Molly, have you suffered a concussion this evening?"
"What? No, Sherlock. Why would you ask that?" Molly asked in a sleepy tone.
"I didn't want you to fall asleep and die this evening if you had, now lets get you to bed sleepy head."
Molly's face turned red.
'Sleepy head,' she wondered, 'where did that come from."
Entering her apartment, still in Sherlock's arms, Molly noticed John and Mary conversing on the couch. Mary was running her fingers up and down John's forearm.
'Oh no. Mary's signature move,' Molly thought, 'looks like I'm going to be seeing a lot more of John.'
Expecting Sherlock would have put her down by now, Molly glanced up at him. He smiled as he looked down at her.
"I'm taking you right to bed. Your wounds need cleaned and you need to sleep," he murmured, asking the question she hadn't even had the chance to ask.
After cleaning her knees and hands, he pulled the covers over her legs.
"Sweet dreams, Molly," the baritone voice said as the light in the room turned off.
Outside her bedroom door she heard his voice again, although this time it wasn't directed at her.
"John, say goodbye to Mary, I'm ready to go back to Baker Street now. Mary, I suggest you grab a glass of water and put yourself to bed as I have done for Miss Hooper unless you desire your alcohol poisoning to effect your day tomorrow."
Mary's face was blank.
John translated, "Water and an aspirin so you don't have a hangover. Goodnight, Mary."
He gave her a peck on the check and followed Sherlock out the door.
Once in the cab he turned to his flat mate.
"D-did you just tuck Molly Hooper into bed?"
"I merely cared for her. Isn't that the reason we went over there?" Sherlock sneered.
After a pause John answered him.
"I suppose so. That was very kind Sherlock."
The cab pulled up to 221B and Sherlock exited the vehicle, his long coat billowing behind him. Upon entering the flat he went directly to his room and shut the door, he needed to go to his Mind Palace.
Why had he been so kind to Molly? Normally he didn't take kindly to people to consume too much alcohol, but upon seeing her in trouble he felt the need to help. Not only that but he felt something else… Worry. He reminded himself that in the morning he should text her to check on her medical status.
He chuckled to himself. Apparently he did have a heart, and it was worried about Molly Hooper, of all people.
