"Problem, brother mine?" Mycroft smiled smugly. Not many people knew, but Mycroft 'The British Government' Holmes was also a werewolf. It is an old family curse they were born into from their father's side. Their mother was aware of it, though she was not supernatural herself, but she did have quite the IQ.
"What are you smiling about?" Sherlock asked. It had been two weeks since the full moon. He had trouble staying away from Molly. Not only was it out of necessity for his job but he found that he did not want to keep away and he didn't know why.
"Nothing, I assure you," the eldest Holmes replied. "It seems you're becoming cozy with Miss Hooper."
"Cozy? Really? I'm trying to distance myself," he assured him.
"She seems to have you…under her spell," Mycroft chuckled. He had suspected that Molly was a witch, but Sherlock had never confirmed it. Little did his brother know, he had just planted a thought in Sherlock's head.
"Here you are, Toby," Molly said, scratching her kitty's ear. He was a beautiful black cat with golden eyes. Though it was a bit cliché, she loved her little companion. The sounds of her lock being picked didn't alert her in the slightest.
"Come in, Sherlock," she called out.
"You're very intuitive, aren't you?" he asked when the door opened, noticing Toby. "I knew I smelled a feline."
"Behave," she scolded. "What brings you here at this hour?"
"I need a place to stay—just for the night, I assure you," he explained. "I had arrangements with an acquaintance of mine, but I don't enjoy her company."
"And you enjoy mine?" Molly questioned with a small smile.
"Truth be told, yes," Sherlock answered. "You are intelligent and much more tolerable."
"Oh, well, if that's all," she remarked. He looked exhausted. "Oh, alright, you can take the guest room."
"Thank you, Molly," he told her. As he walked by, their fingers brushed together and a jolt of energy went through both of them. "What was that?"
"I—I don't know," she replied. Sherlock wasn't sure if she was telling the truth, but then again, Molly never gave him reason to distrust her.
This habit of Sherlock using Molly's flat as his bolt hole continued two days a week over the last month. They took to ordering takeaway and settling in with whatever film they decided on for that night. Tonight was unlike the others. Warm Bodies was playing on the telly and they had just finished their meal.
"It's funny, isn't it?" Molly asked. "We're completely abnormal beings, but we do such normal things behind closed doors."
"I suppose it is amusing, yes," Sherlock agreed. A moment of silence passed with their focus turned back to the movie. "Can you reanimate the dead?"
"I can, but only for a few moments," she admitted. "Nothing permanent is possible."
"Is that why you're such a good pathologist then? You just ask the corpses on your slab who killed them?" he laughed.
"Actually, yes, I do ask them," she told him. "But, that is not why I'm a good pathologist. I did go through all of the schooling and graduated top of my class, thank you very much."
"Impressive," Sherlock remarked. She smiled at him kindly, one that was normally reserved for him. It made his heart accelerate.
When they went off to their separate bedrooms—yes, it was now Sherlock's room in her mind—Molly was relieved to settle down into her pillows. Ever since the first night he spent at her flat, her recurring dream began to reveal more, but not much. Now, she could see her entire left hand more clearly as it wrote the name in the journal. There was a band of white gold on her finger with a moonstone center. She had never seen a ring quite like it before.
"Molly?" Sherlock whispered into her room. "Are you still awake?"
"Yes, why?" she asked.
"May I stay with you tonight?" he inquired. "Tonight is a night terror night." Sherlock never told her what the nightmare was about, but she never pushed him to reveal it either.
"Of course you can," Molly told him. There were nights he'd have the recurring nightmare of a memory from childhood. He had been playing with his childhood friend, Victor Trevor. His sister, Eurus, would play with them on occasion. Then, came the day she began to shift for the first time. Victor had made his way over in the late evening to try and get Sherlock to have a nighttime treasure hunt. Eurus was a new wolf who lost control too easily, and accidentally ended Victor's life.
Sherlock waited until Molly was sound asleep. He listened to her steady heartbeat to calm him. She stirred a bit when he wrapped his arm around her in a big spoon position. The intoxicating scent of her overwhelmed him. It was flowery with a hint of vanilla and honey; it was just so Molly. He nuzzled his nose against the nape of her neck, breathing in her scent, eventually falling into a deep sleep.
The dream in Molly's head revealed more to her that night. She was acutely aware of the fact Sherlock had his arm around her. He was just as cuddly as his wolf counterpart seemed to be. As her dream self wrote his name repeatedly in the journal, with her ring finger bejeweled with a beautiful moonstone on a white gold band, she heard a violin playing. The new element was the beautiful melody that was playing in the background. What it meant, she did not know, but in time, she'd find out it was one of Sherlock's many hobbies.
Author's Note: What did y'all think of my twist on the Eurus and Victor thing? Still explains why Sherlock tries to distance himself even though he can't stay away.
