Tumblr prompt from the delightful softsusurrations: I love your stories! Especially Molly and uni!lock! Are you able to write Molly and Sherlock's first meeting at uni (maybe in labs) and of course it goes wrong and ends in a sexual tension fuelled fight ️?
The giggling was getting completely out of hand. The couple on the sofa were utterly absorbed in each other they completely forgot there was a third party in the room. Molly groaned inwardly as Mary's new boyfriend whispered something in her ear causing her to erupt in flirtatious giggles.
Honestly, a month into the relationship and the two blondes were practically joined at the hip. Molly was happy for Mary. She really was. The bubbly blonde had been her roommate since day one of Uni, luck of the lottery draw, and had immediately adopted Molly into her rather rag-tag family of friends. Boyfriends came and went, but their friendship became forged in iron, so to speak. And Molly was genuinely relieved that Mary had found a bloke who genuinely liked her, for all her bossy, flirtatious, know-it-all ways.
Yes, John seemed to be a rare subspecies of the male human. Having transferred from up north at the start of term, he was a bit of a teddy bear compared to Mary's usual rough-and-tumble dates; less smolder and more charm. Molly had a hunch he was going to be around a while.
That is, if she didn't kill them both for disrupting her studying.
A knock on the door finally pulled the two lovers apart.
'That'd be my roommate,' John sighed as he pressed his forehead to Mary's. 'Told him to meet me here when he finished heckling his brother's guest lecture.' He shoved up from the couch and put on his jacket while Mary watched with a disgustingly adoring look on her face. Molly would never admit it aloud for fear of encouraging their smitten behaviour, but she secretly loved the way they seemed to be completely smitten with the other.
John opened the door and Molly's heart nearly stopped. Dressed in a well-tailored suit with envious cheekbones and eyes like an exploding galaxy, John's roommate was honestly the most intriguingly gorgeous boy she'd seen.
'John.' The boy clasped his hands behind his back and nodded a silent greeting to Mary. 'Now that you have completed your duties as a… boyfriend,' he visibly sneered at the word. 'I need your assistance in the lab.'
John scoffed. 'Assistance? You just want someone to fetch your mobile while you're eyes deep in samples.'
Mary giggled behind him and he turned to pull her close for a more personal goodbye.
John's roommate glanced around the room before his gaze landed on Molly sitting at her desk. His eyes pierced her and she swallowed nervously.
'He-hello.' She smiled.
'Oh, sorry, Molly.' John wrapped his arm around Mary's waist and turned to their roommates. 'Sherlock, this is Molly. Molly, my roommate and frequent pain in the arse, Sherlock Holmes.'
Molly waved timidly in greeting, but Sherlock only narrowed his eyes at her. Molly lowered her hand slowly as his gaze flew over her. When he finally spoke, she felt her face flush at the hauntingly deep baritone of his voice. Unfortunately, his words negated any initial attraction she felt.
'Twenty-one, but with a sense of fashion that would offend a seven-year-old. Obviously, trying to compensate for the lack of mother figure in your life, which explains your inability to apply make-up properly, as well. Could account for your lack of romantic partner, as well. Self-conscious, nail-biter, people-pleaser…'
'Oi, shove off!' Mary had pulled herself away from John and stepped in front of a mortified Molly, her hands on her hips as she glared at the taller man.
'Sherlock, mate, it's time to go. So sorry, Molly.' John yanked his friend out the door, sending Molly a clearly practiced grimace of apology. The door slammed behind them and they could hear John dressing down his roommate with a wearisome tone, their voices fading as they walked away.
'Well,' Molly choked out, trying to smooth over her humiliation. She shot Mary a small smile. 'Glad you chose the nice one.' With numb practice, she pushed back her tears and turned the page of her textbook. 'At least now, I'll be able to get some studying done.'
She felt Mary staring at her, the pity almost tangible, as she pretended to read. Eventually, she heard Mary walk into the small kitchenette and fill the kettle. She swallowed the lump in her throat and picked up her pen. Sherlock Holmes was like any other bloke. He looked at her and only saw the surface, disregarding her without even getting to know her.
Too bad, she thought forlornly. He was quite brilliant.
Over the course of the next few years, Molly and Sherlock had several brief encounters. It was nearly impossible to avoid the other when their best friends were in a relationship. But Sherlock refused to exchange more than a 'hello' with her, his sharp gaze raking over her with derision every time.
Being a chemistry major, Molly had expected to see Sherlock around the science wing, possibly in a class with her. But the only time she saw him on campus was when he burst out of a lab, an angry professor on his heels, shouting at him about proper etiquette and not blowing up chemicals for fun.
In spite of his scorn and social ineptitude, Molly felt herself becoming drawn to the distant man, his brilliance and completely inappropriate use of lab equipment surprisingly charmed her. Little by little, her hurt at his obvious disdain melted. She recognized his sharp tongue as a defense mechanism from forming attachments and getting hurt himself. It took her a while to understand, but about a year after their introduction, she realized that she was falling for the overbearing git.
And she hated herself for it.
One late night, almost two years after they met, found Molly in the student pathology lab. As a graduate assistant now, she was allowed unsupervised time in the laboratory to work on her research. And she took full advantage of that. Especially at night, now that John and Mary had taken to their small flat for privacy in order to avoid Sherlock.
It was getting close to midnight and Molly's eyes were starting to ache as she switched out the slide on the microscope stage. The small lamp by her corner workspace afforded her enough light to work by without drowning her in fluorescent light. Not to mention all the slides and pipettes she needed were in easy reach in the cabinets above her head.
Just a few more minutes, then I'll leave. She promised herself.
She was jotting down a few notes when the lab door opened and the overhead lights flicked on. She jumped in surprise and winced at the blinding light, inadvertently crying out. 'Oi!'
'Molly?'
The familiar baritone caught her attention and she blinked madly trying to adapt to the sudden lighting change. Her eyes finally adjusted and she looked over her microscope to see Sherlock standing in the doorway, his hand still hovering over the light switch.
'What are you doing?' Her heart was thundering madly from adrenaline. He stared at her in shock, his mouth gaping in surprise, something she'd never thought she'd see. She briefly wished for a camera to document the great Sherlock Holmes' flummoxed. And by her, no less.
'Sherlock?' She frowned as he continued to stare.
He blinked, shaking himself from his stupor and adopting his usual haughty façade once more. 'Molly. I… apologize for intruding.' He clasped his hands behind his trademark coat, a Belstaff that probably cost an entire term's tuition.
Molly raised her eyebrows. On one hand, he apologized, something John said he never did. On the other hand, his tone was the very opposite of apologetic.
She mentally shrugged. I'll take it anyway.
'What are you doing here?' She repeated, sitting up straight and suddenly very aware of her appearance. She'd been wearing her clothes since 7 that morning, her hair was in a sloppy bun atop her head and she knew there were marks around her eyes from staring into the microscope lens for hours.
He stepped closer, allowing the door to close behind him. 'I was unaware the lab was occupied. I was bored and intended to conduct some experiments to pass the time.'
'Don't you use the chemistry lab on the third floor?' Molly bit her lip and blushed as his attention never wavered from her.
'Yes,' he responded as he skirted the first row of tables. 'Unfortunately, Professor Higgins has reached the end of his proverbial rope and threatened to expel me should I step foot in his lab again.'
'So, the path labs were next on your list?'
'Indeed.' He shrugged off his coat and unceremoniously dumped it on top of hers. His hands in his pockets, he sauntered over to her, clearly past the surprise of seeing her alone in the lab at half past eleven at night. Molly, however, was quickly moving from the surprise stage to the 'dear-God-he's-gorgeous-and-staring-at-me' stage. She hadn't exchanged more than ten words with him over two years, and he always looked at her with indifference, but she couldn't help that her heart toppled over every time his name came up or she saw him genuinely laughing even if it was the time she had fallen into the courtyard fountain. And now he was standing less than twenty centimeters from her side and all she could hear was her pounding heartbeat.
'I was just finishing up,' she explained as his eyes roved over her workspace. Her journals were dog-eared and well-worn, samples and slides covered nearly every available space, and she had left her vials near the sink to be washed up.
'You're studying the decomposition of the eye?' He queried.
Molly followed his gaze to the open journal page. 'In layman's terms, yes. It's part of my doctoral research project.'
'Most girls are not interested in looking at pictures of a decaying body, much less studying it so intensely.' He snorted in derision.
Slapping her journal closed, Molly flushed angrily. 'I'm not most girls.'
'No,' he smirked as he took in her wrinkled clothes, baggy and covered in chemical stains. 'No, you're definitely not.'
Humiliated, Molly felt her anger rise. 'Well, I'm sorry if I fall short of your standards for women, Mister Holmes. But quite frankly, I don't give a flying fig!'
'Mmm,' he hummed noncommittally as he slid his finger across the edge of a slide. She twitched in growing agitation as he sneered and reopened her journal. 'A bit simple for a doctoral thesis, isn't it?'
Sherlock, wisely, took a step back as Molly jumped up from her seat. The late hour, the stress of work and school, the strain of caring for a man who never gave her the time of day, boiled over and she jabbed a finger under Sherlock's nose. She crowded him as her voice grew louder.
'You… you arrogant arse! You think you're so brilliant and you look down on everyone like you're God's gift to the world!' Her arms flailed as she gestured madly. 'You don't care about anyone else's feelings, so long as you get your way. God, I hate myself so much for falling for you!' So caught up in her rant, Molly missed the way Sherlock's eyes widened at her admission. 'Why on Earth John chooses to put up with you I'll ne-mmphfff!'
Sherlock's hand shot out and covered her mouth. She glared at him for cutting her off and shoved his hand away. 'What?' She spat, self-consciously rubbing her tingling lips.
He tilted his head and stared at her, his gaze moving across her face and down her body. But instead of the usual disdain in his eyes, his gaze felt softer and less invasive. Molly crossed her arms over her chest trying to appear angry in her self-consciousness.
'Well?' She raised an eyebrow when he still hadn't said anything. His curls were tousled over his forehead and she resisted the urge to brush them back.
A slow smirk spread across his face as he clearly deduced what she was thinking. Before she had time to even blush, he stepped into her personal space and smiled softly down at her.
'Would you like to grab coffee with me?'
No one understood why Molly Hooper and Sherlock Holmes were together. One day they were nearly strangers and the next they were inseparable. Her meekness and his arrogance, her mousey personality and his command of a room, seemed too different to be compatible. But they were.
John and Mary liked to claim responsibility for their best friends falling in love. But the consequences were unfortunate: walking in on a serious snog-fest, listening to them discuss the effects of decomposition on bodily fluids and extremities, and, God save them all, the fights.
If there was one thing Sherlock loved almost as much as kissing Molly, it was riling her up until she was red in the face, spouting out deductions about him.
Because shutting her up with a blistering kiss was his favourite part of the fight.
