Sherlock

Characters: Sherlock and Molly.

Time Frame immediately after season 2 episode 3.

Let's face it, Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss are amazing. I am not. I love the characters, and am only borrowing them for a moment.

Thanks for your kind reviews. All reviews both positive and negative are gratefully received.

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Molly awoke earlier than she thought she would considering the time she had finally gone to bed. She stretched and glanced at the door to her bedroom. It was closed. She sighed, but wasn't sure if it was of relief, or of regret. Sherlock hadn't joined her after all.

Day light filtered through the curtains, and she stretched again before throwing the covers back and climbing out of bed. She put on her dressing gown and listened carefully at the door. There was no noise at all. She guessed perhaps Sherlock was still asleep. She padded quietly to the bathroom and slipped inside. As its small window fronted to the side alley, she had been careful to install a black out blind, therefore very little light trickled through. She pulled the light cord, turned and gasped to see Sherlock lying in the bath staring at her.

She turned quickly away only having glanced at his face. "I am so sorry... I'll um.. go", she said opening the door

"It's fine Molly," he said sitting up. He was fully clothed. He'd been lying in the bath fully clothed with her duvet over him. He'd changed from the surgical scrubs into a pair of plain trousers and shirt.

"Why... are you in the bath?"

"It was quiet in here. You have a very noisy clock in your lounge. Also this was the darkest most private room."

"Oh, of course." She turned to face him, the small room making contact with him almost unavoidable.

He studied her intently. "You slept better last night." It wasn't a question.

She blushed and looked away, "yes, thank you."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn't acknowledge her comment. He edged past her and opened the door. "I'll put the kettle on."

Molly closed the door and began to make a mental list of extra items she would need to purchase. A bolt for the bathroom door was going to be high on the list.

Carefully she picked up the duvet and on instinct buried her face in it. It smelt of warm spices, musk and a hint of cologne. It undeniably smelt of Sherlock.

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When Molly entered the kitchen pulling her cardigan straight, she was amazed to see Sherlock had indeed made tea, but also toast and had laid it out on her small kitchen table.

"This is very civilised." she said.

He pulled out a chair for her, like a waiter at an expensive restaurant. Molly wanted to giggle, but the serious face he wore quenched the thought quickly.

He sat in the other chair and began to pour the tea as he spoke. "Today you will call in sick."

Molly almost choked on a piece of toast. "Why?"

"Because I need you here. Well actually I need you to go out and run several errands for me. I have complied a list." he pushed a note pad towards her.

Chewing carefully, and trying not to drop crumbs down her shirt she studied it. "Exactly where will I find 'nanofibres' and what is 'dirty down'?"

"Addresses are on the second page."

"I think I should go in today. To work. I have things to do. I'll need..."

Sherlock shook his head. "It will look odd if you go in. To all intents and purposes, the man you love has just died. You identified the body. You should be in shock. I think that should be good for at least a day of compassionate leave."

She sat stunned. "Shock." Did he really just say 'the man I love', she thought.

Sherlock looked at her. "Problem?"

Molly shook her heard, stood up and moved her empty plate to the sink. "I don't think you realise how difficult this is. The lying. To John, to Lestrade."

"It's for their own good."

"I know."

"I need something else though. Something only you can tell me." said Sherlock calmly. "I need to know about Moriarty, about Jim."

Sherlock heard her gasp. "I really don't want to talk about that."

"Molly, everything he said to you could be of vital importance. It could be a small clue that could lead me to his team. The people threatening John and Lestrade."

Molly said nothing.

"Let's start with how you met Jim."

A sob escaped Molly's lips and she dashed from the kitchen into her bedroom. After slamming the door shut, she threw herself on the bed and cried even harder. Damn Sherlock, damn damn damn him. For one second she found herself regretting letting him into her house, then immediately retracted the thought. He was the most irritating man she had ever met. He might be brilliant, but at times he could be so stupid.

Sherlock sat in the kitchen. He hadn't expected such a violent reaction to his questioning. Puzzled he replayed the conversation in his head. No, everything he had asked was reasonable. Potentially embarrassing for Molly, but necessary. Then he remembered her yesterday morning (was it really only yesterday?). The little lost girl sitting in bed in pyjamas asking him to make Moriarty go away, to make it all better. At that moment, he imagined what John would say. "A bit not good Sherlock."

He gave her a few minutes, and then left the kitchen and knocked gently on the bedroom door. "Molly? I realise now I was being selfish. I didn't think about how difficult this could be for you."

There was a pause, and then Molly opened the door, and raised her head challenging him. "The word you are looking for is 'sorry'."

Her face was blotchy from crying and her hair was messy, but through that he saw the woman that he had turned to 2 nights ago. That had unconditionally opened her life to him, had helped save him. The strength that she had shown him that night was back.

Sherlock bent down onto his knees, so he was looking up at her, "I apologise unreservedly and wholeheartedly."

Sherlock looked genuinely contrite and Molly began to feel like a heel. "I'm sorry too."

A spark of an idea formed in his head. "Do you trust me Molly?"

"Will I regret it, if I say yes?"

Sherlock tutted. "Not if you trust me."

Molly rolled her eyes and looked down at him. "I trust you Sherlock."

"Good. Now go shopping, get everything on the list." He stood up, and retreated back to the kitchen. Molly followed wiping her eyes.

"I have a credit card here, just pay for everything with this." said Sherlock.

"Sherlock, I can't use your card. You're dead. I'll be done for fraud!"

"It's not my card. It's Mrs Hudson's." He saw her face, and sighed. "It's fine. It's not really her card. I took it out in her name, but I pay the bills."

"OK you win." Molly took the card and picked up her bag from the chair. "You'll be here when I get back?"

"Yes." Sherlock fished in his pockets and handed her several hundred pounds in £10 notes. "Take taxi's today. Not the bus."

Nodding mutely she took the money and place it her bag. "What are you going to be doing today?"

"Thinking."

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