A/N: Yai, I'm back! :) Sorry it took so long. I am afraid it's not that long, but I hope you still like it. :) Thanks for all the lovely reviews on the last chapter. Every single one puts a huge smile on my face. Thank you! Special thanks to vampireyautja for pointing out the mistake. Am too lazy to fix it now, but I will. Thanks! :) And I would like to reckon the person who suggested a prank-war, but I somehow can't find her/him. Maybe it's too late. My eyes are a bit tired. Anyway, that's what I had planned for a while, so I just wanted to say: Nice thinking! ;)
Okay, enough jibberjabber, here we go! Let me know if this is your kind of humor.
The next morning, Molly was woken by a fuzzy paw in her face. The pathologist made a noise of complaint and pulled her blanket over her head. But the brown and white feline wouldn't give up that easily and started meowing as loud as he could. Five minutes she managed to ignore it, even though her head was throbbing from the vodka. Then it started banging at her door.
"Molly! Silence your cat. I am working."
Molly moaned and buried herself deeper into her blanket.
Toby didn't stop meowing and in the end Molly heard her door being opened.
"Molly! Didn't you hear me? I said, silence your cat!"
She only grumbled and turned away from him.
"Molly!" - "Meow!"
"Get out! Both of you! I'm sleeping", she growled.
Toby started to walk over her, even her head, to get her attention.
"You're obviously not. Feed the cat, Molly. It won't stop until you do."
"Why can't you feed it?"
"What? Speak up, I barely hear you under your blanket."
Sherlock heard a frustrated noise.
"Why can't you feed it, damn it?!"
She yelled this time. Her throbbing head complained.
"Because it's not my cat. You chose to buy a cat, so you should be aware of the responsibilities that come with it. This domesticated creature depends on your care. If you find yourself unwilling or unable to do so, you should find it a new home."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Sherlock!"
Molly jumped out of her bed with the blanket still tightly wrapped around her body, stormed past Sherlock who stumbled backwards and walked down the stairs, ignoring the rock concert that took place in her head.
Toby followed suit and rushed past her which almost made her fall, but she caught herself at the kitchen table, cursed and prepared breakfast for Toby, who was brushing against her legs impatiently. When she bent down to place the bowl on the floor, he almost jumped into it. Molly sighed and slowly got up, her head spinning. She rested it against the cupboard and closed her eyes, not noticing Sherlock.
He took in her dishevelled appearance, the hair in total disarray, drowning in the huge white blanket, face pale and dark circles under her eyes.
Hangover.
"I hope this will teach you a lesson. You're clearly too old to get drunk like this."
Molly winced as his full baritone blared through her head and shot him a dirty look.
"Shut. Up."
She walked into the living room and threw herself onto the couch, facing the wall and snuggling into her blanket.
"You can't sleep here. I'm doing my experiments."
"So?"
"Your breathing is disturbing."
Molly took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Sherlock, I swear to God, if I hear one more word from you, I get off this couch and kick you where the sun don't shine."
While Molly was exhausted, sleepy and bugged, Sherlock's lips twichted in amusement at how she tried to make her soft voice sound all menacing.
"You're clearly not a morning person."
Molly's response was a surprisingly nasty insult, followed by pulling the blanket over her head and disappearing from sight.
With a chuckle Sherlock went back to his experiments, smiling longer than he realized.
„I can do this", Molly spoke to herself as she stood in the bathroom later that day, looking down at the toilet. She had drunken lots of fluids yesterday and she really had to go.
Mrs. Hudson's words were still ringing in her ears. This was her bathroom, too. She had rented the whole flat, not just one room. Her behavior really was childish. Determined to finally do it, she lifted up the lid…and jumped back as a mental picture popped up in her head in which the ever so great, perfect detective sits on this very toilet with his pants down, reading the newspaper.
"This is ridiculous", she sighed and shifted uncomfortably. She really, really had to go now.
"He is just a man. You know that. There is nothing to be scared or ashamed of. You share a bathroom and use the same toilet. Get over it", she scolded herself, took another deep breath, turned around, opened her trousers and finally sat down.
Relief washed over her as she finally managed to empty her bladder in 221b Baker Street and a blessed smile crossed her face.
"Congratulations. About time, I'd say."
Molly shrieked as Sherlock's voice came from the other side of the bathroom door and nearly fell off the toilet. In her shocked state she forgot to be embarrassed.
"Oh bloody hell! Were you listening? What on earth is wrong with you?!"
"I just wanted to make sure you were all right. You've been in there for quite some time."
Yeah, right!
"You're a very, very sick man, Sherlock! Now go away! Gosh!"
"Oh, get over yourself. It's simple, natural body functions, Molly."
Molly was so furious, she quickly took of her shoe and threw it against the door. She heard a chuckle and retreating footsteps.
With a frustrated noise she rested her head in her hands, her face feeling very hot.
After this impossible moment she decided to took a very long shower, just to show him that she wasn't intimidated by him and that it was her flat, too. The hot water took the edge out of her and she felt collected and relaxed (well, as relaxed as she could be around Sherlock Holmes) as she exited the bathroom, a steam cloud following her into the hallway.
For a second she thought about hurrying up to her room, but decided to confront him instead.
She spotted him on the couch, making his way through a pile of newspapers.
"You will never do this again."
He didn't even look up or acknowledged her existence in another way. Molly put a hand on her hip.
"Look at me while I'm talking to you."
He let out an unnerved sigh and looked up.
"You will never do this again", she repeated.
"Do what?" he asked innocently, but she saw a mischievous sparkle in his eyes.
"Sherlock, this was one step too far. You don't want to mess with me."
He only rolled his eyes at her and looked at the newspapers again.
"I'm serious. I grew up with three older brothers. Playing pranks at each other was all we did growing up."
"Uuuhuhuhu, I'm so scared", he mocked her and Molly balled her hands into fists.
In an elegant movement Sherlock rose up from his seat, crossed the distance between them and tried to scare her off by towering over her. He had no idea that the effect it had on her was anything else but scary.
Even though she was mad and still hungover, she couldn't help the blush that spread on her cheeks while his body heat hit her skin.
"You don't really want to challenge me, Molly."
Molly held her head up high.
"No. You don't want to challenge me. I'm not talking standing-behind-a-door-and-shout-boo-pranks, Sherlock. I am talking put-your-hand-in-warm-water-while-you-are-sleeping-and-make-you-wet-yourself-pranks."
His lips twitched in amusements as he leaned in even closer. His breath brushed her cheek and Molly's heart skipped a beat.
"You wouldn't dare", finally came his reply and Molly narrowed her eyes.
"Try me."
His eyes roamed over her and Molly blushed even more. His beautiful mouth turned into a teasing smile.
"Bring it on, then."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Fine. I officially call Prank War!"
With that she whirled around, her open hair hitting his chest and throat, and hurried up into her room. She closed the door and went straight for her mobile.
"Josh? Hi, It's Molly. Yeah, I'm fine. Listen, I need you to send me the book. That's right. The book."
