Here is a filler fic. I know it may seem slow and steady but this is Molly and Sherlock. They take time and I promise the next chapter is more. So much more.
Also thanks for the bananas.
And to Rosie85 for the most indirect plot bunny.
In my head, Molly has known him for almost two years and with the series that's an extra two-ish years and with the fake death for about three and he's been back for almost half a year... so seven. They've known each other seven years.
Disclaimer: M.
Sherlock woke at what appeared to a little over lunchtime judging by the sunlight coming from his windows. He also woke up to the smell of roses. Velvety, provocative roses. Looked to his side and found her there.
Typical.
He got home late or rather early that morning and promptly collapsed face first on his bed. That does happen after most of his high priority cases. After spending days focused only on the game he does forget to eat or sleep. Such is the burden of a brilliant mind.
When he slept he was in the middle now he awoke on the right side of the bed. So she flipped him then. Easy enough after a case like that he was sure to be dead to the world.
He rolled his eyes. Of course she would be naked. She was on her side uncomfortably close to him but he noted she wasn't touching him. Hmm, that would be too personal. The woman didn't do personal.
He didn't have to deduce how she got in. From the bathroom window he bets. Feeling sentimental, were we?
All this happened with the speed of thought.
Quietly, as much as he could and that was a great deal lot, he got out of bed. He hung for her his maroon dressing gown on his door, knowing she'd rummage his closet for his blue one. Sentiment, he sneered.
He calculated she'd wake in roughly three hours. Good he needed a shower seeing as he slept in his suit from the day previous. And he had a lovely experiment in the fridge.
"Oh so you'll come over this afternoon then? Thanks again, dearie," Mrs. H hung up and smiled fondly at her mobile. Molly was simply just darling.
"Why are you here?"
"My, my, feeling a bit touchy aren't we today, Mr. Holmes? How come, didn't you sleep well?" she teases.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and placed his cuppa down. Sensing his impatience, Irene languidly roamed the sitting area. Running her fingers on the mantle, picking up his skull and putting it down. She continued her pace until she reached his violin by the window, all the while replying with a:
"Nothing, Mr. Holmes. Just a quick house call. Just to see how well you've settled back into the land of the living. Also I admit I'm a bit hurt that you haven't tried to contact me since your glorified resurrection. Seeing how I am also dead, I thought maybe that would warrant some kindred-ship from you," in her same oddly toned voice and pout.
She held up his bow and violin, "would you play something for me?"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her. This time it was her turn to roll her eyes and reply exasperatedly,
"I'm just here for some fun, Sherlock. Nothing more I promise. Also, being 'dead' bores me."
Finally accepting she had no ulterior motives, Sherlock moved from his chair and gathered his bow and violin. While Irene took his vacated chair.
"Fantastic!"
Just as Sherlock was about to delicately move the bow over his violin, he heard it.
Soft shuffling steps from the stairs beyond the closed door.
He carefully placed his violin down. He tilted his head a bit.
They were shuffling but not slow, so not Mrs. Hudson's then. Also they were careful, so they knew where the stairs creaked. Soft, so not John's then. He wore boots. So whose then?
Without knowing it he was slowly gravitating to the door. By then there came a soft knock from it. He opened it forgetting for a moment there was a supposedly dead woman in his flat.
"Molly-"
"I see you've already settled in... quite nicely," in her same oddly toned voice still and teasing smirk.
Sherlock had one word for her only,
"Leave."
He didn't know why but he felt the need to text her.
To clear up the misunderstanding.
They weren't in a relationship, so why feel the need at all? They were friends but he thinks he won't feel the need to explain were it John at the door.
A quick reevaluation was greatly needed. Certainly.
He wasn't beyond cutting remarks but somehow lately (even before his fall) he's been careful not to cut her too deeply.
Only her. Why?
He's still harsh to John and something vile to Mrs. Hudson on occasion.
But over his faked death and return, he's learned to be delicate around Molly. Not delicate. But more like... nicer. A bit more good. He lets her admonishing stick more than John's. Maybe because while John's was more of a scolding, hers was reluctant and if not awkward.
They were comfortable with each other. Nothing stilted like before but more leveled.
But they do tip toe some when they've missed cues or forgot how not to.
Also Molly Hooper had the habit of surprising him and managing his impossibilities beautifully.
He thinks he gets it.
Why he wants to clear all this mess...
Their friendship has been rocky from the beginning. Somehow it has mellowed into this.
And it may have taken seven years, several false starts, faked deaths and a return but they are here.
He'd be damned if this awkward mess botch all that up.
Happy with this conclusion, he withdrew from his mind palace. And not short after John Watson slammed the door and made him talk about it more over tea. Great.
John said to let it go. Ignore this until Molly makes the first move. Take his cues from her.
Really, great advice. Really.
No, he knows what to do. The last time they found themselves in an awkward great mess was that one Christmas. He's sure he knows what to do for her forgiveness.
To speed things along.
Oh yes, he most certainly did.
Then after they can ignore this awkward mess too.
Brilliant. They've done this enough times, what's one more?
Also Sherlock Holmes knows no timing. Whatsoever.
More soon.