That was the first time I ever wrote a detailed kissing scene. Usually I go all Princess Bride on it and give the characters privacy or I say "they kissed." But Anton Chekov said "Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the light on the broken glass" so I decided to take said advice. Hmmm at this rate I could be making a living writing erotic novels by the time I'm sixty. Progress!
Also I am shamelessly promoting my sister ghostwriterlondon13 and her recent story Bad Code if anyone is in the mood for some Dark Molly. So go and tell her that's not how concussions work and so on and so forth.
Oh snogging him now?
In her haste, she accidentally knocked her elbow on the doorknob, but Molly successfully closed the bedroom door behind her without any other interferences, hesitating momentarily before locking it. She knew it wouldn't be much deterrence from Sherlock, but she hoped he could respect the boundary she was attempting to set. She curled up in her bed alone, trying to tuck the blankets in around her and began trying to process the kiss. Yes, Sherlock was rusty, a bit greedy, and had no sense of the word 'gentle' but he did well enough…and that was the problem. Molly could handle a thoughtless and cruel but brilliant man. She could handle a nosy roommate. She could handle an odd friend. But Molly didn't know if she could handle a Sherlock who wanted to kiss her, a Sherlock who wanted to touch her, and a Sherlock who suddenly wanted to express emotions that she only recently discovered actually existed. It was fantastic that he was actually acknowledging that he was a human being, but Molly didn't think it was the best idea to use her as part of the experiment.
It would hurt him….
It was just as surprising as a security blanket suddenly gaining consciousness and declaring that a ham sandwich with a side of chips would be lovely. Molly tightened the blankets tighter around her as she heard the flimsy lock open, and felt Sherlock slide into bed beside her, thankfully keeping a respectable distance and thankfully keeping silent. Despite the tension, Molly turned around and faced him, giving him a small peck on the cheek, "Goodnight, Sherlock."
"Goodnight, Molly."
The next morning as Molly went on her usual morning walk (well every morning she didn't happen to have work) she ran right into the one and only Elliot Browning. Something told her—his nervous manner, the way he seemed to have purposely avoided knocking her down despite his superior stature—told her that this wasn't a chance meeting. Some part of her mind also admonished her for thinking of him as the one and only when there had to be at least a dozen Elliot Brownings in the world. Both were rather common names. She dragged herself to the immediate present in time for Elliot to actually begin speaking to her.
You know, it doesn't have to be a one off, he was actually quite good in bed….
"Oh, Molly hello!" He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck "Funny meeting—"
"Elliot, we're still in my neighborhood." Molly sighed, resigned to the fact that this was what her morning walk would become, "Cut the bull. I haven't had coffee yet so shall we?"
"Oh yeah! Uh sure let's just go…." Elliot trailed off as Molly walked past him and into the shop, placing their orders quickly before sitting down. Elliot leaned forward, his eyes darting around the room, "So uh…how have you been?"
Molly gave him a small smile as the waitress placed their coffees in front of them, "Good."
"And him?"
"Brilliant as always." Obviously a closed off and hurried nature wasn't enough to chase Elliot off.
He rubbed his forehead, his eyebrows furrowing, and Molly knew he was about to really get to what he thought was the heart of the matter, "Molly…I just…I just don't know what happened. You were just so kind—and it's hard to forget you. You're a wonderful woman, you're sweet, kind, beautiful and…I just can't do it. I don't care if you have a boyfriend, in fact, I think he's a shit boyfriend if you go around shagging blokes behind his back and are sad all the time."
"I'm not—"
"Yes you are. And Molly—I've stopped drinking. I've been going to those meetings things, collecting days, all that stuff…it's because of you I want to be a good man for you."
"You are a good man. I'm the bitch here. I ruined a good friendship." Molly somehow found herself saying, cursing herself for being nice because it would only encourage him.
"Well you wouldn't have been straying if nothing was wrong."
Everything's wrong, always.
Molly knew that if she explained her situation with Sherlock then she would simply be adding fuel to the fire, "We're fine, Elliot." She sipped her coffee, refusing to look anywhere but his eyes, "We're fine."
"Does he know?"
"Know what?"
"Bloody hell, Molly, he's supposed to be some sort of genius, wouldn't he have 'deduced' the fact that you shagged me?"
"Yes."
"And?"
"He knows exactly how meaningless it was. I don't fancy you. So please stop calling me, texting me, and 'accidentally' bumping into me. It's annoying, it borders on harassment, and I can't bear it right now—" Molly placed her money on the table and left, her hopes of not being pursued quickly dashed with Elliot catching up to her, grabbing her arm.
"Molly, we had a connection."
"No we had sex. Huge difference, mate. Now let go of my hand before we make a scene." He accidentally pressed down on a bruise—that god damned doorknob had it out for her—causing her to squeak out in pain."
Elliot wrenched up her sleeve upon this discovery "Where did that bruise come from? Look if he's hurting you then it doesn't matter who he is I'll—"
"Elliot listen to yourself." Molly pulled away from him slipping her sleeve back into place, "I'm not some victim, and you sure as hell aren't my knight in shining armor coming to save the day. So. Leave. Me. Alone."
"You know I can't do that—"
"I can't stand a man who doesn't respect a lady's wishes." Molly snapped, "So get the hell away from me." Molly practically darted into her building and up the steps, almost running into Sherlock as he left the flat. She tried to brush past him but he stopped taking her by the shoulders.
"Your morning walk went on for far longer than usual." He spoke in explanation for his presence, "You met Elliot on the way." His eyes darkened, "You had coffee."
"Yes. Yes we did. Elliot decided to celebrate sobriety with me." Molly rubbed her forehead.
"And now you're distressed."
"Yes."
He emitted a low growl and was about to brush past her, but she caught him, a hand on his chest, "Molly, let me—"
"Sherlock, love, it's nothing." She took his hand, and unlocked the door, leading him back inside with all the calmness she could muster. Once they were inside, she peeled her jumper off and proceeded to pour herself a glass of orange juice and sit on the countertop. Sherlock hovered at the door a moment later before crossing the room and placing a hand at the small of her back, rubbing circles.
"I don't know how to do this." He said at last.
You don't either.
"I know." Molly inhaled deeply and pressed the glass against her temple with her eyes closed "And that's okay."
"It doesn't seem okay."
"Sherlock, what do you want me to say? Do you want me to give you a diagram you can commit to memory about why you've suddenly developed feelings most people figure out while teenagers and in their early twenties? Or why I am the subject of your sudden bizarre change? It probably has to do with proximity. I'm here and you seemed to have discovered heterosexuality."
"You're operating under the assumption that these…these thoughts and feelings and wants will go away if I'm away from you" Sherlock's hand tightened at her waist, and he sat up on the counter next to Molly to draw her closer, "Even when I was on the other side of the world, I could not banish the thought of you from my mind. I shouldn't have visited at all when I was dead but I—you kept me from going mad—and at the same time drove me completely mad. Trust me when I say that if they could go away, I would have gotten rid of them" Sherlock pressed a kiss to Molly's neck, before catching her gaze "And I'm terrified."
"Of what?"
"You were abducted because of me. Imagine what they could do if they knew—" His face screwed up, and Molly could almost see the interworking parts of his mind trying to figure out what words needed to be strung together. "—if they knew I held…deep affections for you—it would be putting a target on your back…."
Sounds okay to you, huh Molly?
"Sherlock, I can handle more than you give me credit for." Molly poked his nose with a grin, "So I think I should keep you around, kay? Besides." Molly jumped down and put her glass in the sink, "Being abducted was a fascinating study of character on my part. I can also smell chloroform a mile away now and I'm clever, so I think that my worst enemy will continue to be myself, as it always has been. I could die or be disfigured horribly in a traffic accident or trip and break my neck on something—"
"Stop—"
"No Sherlock, I won't. I'm not scared of dying. I never was." Molly was inevitably selfish, finding comfort in this strange man, using him in the end. She was too far gone though. She returned to him, kissing him sweetly before muttering against his lips, "You make me happy, Sherlock. Remember? So you will not take that away out of fear or out of keeping me safe or any of that nonsense."
Sherlock kissed her forehead and then her hands, "Stop talking about dying." He commanded.
Yes but we'll still think about it, won't we?
There came a time where Molly had to leave Sherlock and go to work. It was then that an extraordinarily annoying familiar face to rear her ugly head, "Hello I'm Kitty Riley you must be Molly Hooper, tell me is it true that—"
"I'm not making comments." Molly checked her phone in order to pretend to be busy before continuing on her walk.
"But Miss Hooper, you're living with the famous Sherlock Holmes surely you must have—"
"Nope."
"Are you in a sexual relationship with Mr. Holmes?"
Molly froze, turning towards the reporter with a small smile gracing her lips, "I do not like people much. That's why I work on dead people. I am a private person. So I'm not going to let you follow me around badgering me with questions that the world frankly doesn't care about. Go bother someone else to fish your bloody career out of the toilet after your monumental fuck up."
Kitty's eyes narrowed and she pulled out what she most likely thought was a trump card, "You're on medication for your mental health. You've tried to kill yourself recently. Sherlock is not an easy man to put up with but if he's been forcing you to resort to knives and pills, darling I assure you that—" She was cut off by an incredibly hard punch to the face, knocking her to the ground.
Rolling her eyes at the gaping bystanders, Molly straddled Kitty and drew her close by the collar of her jacket, "Never insult him again. If you come near me again, I will file for a restraining order." Molly also reached into her pocket and took the recording device, "Please refrain from contacting me."
Standing up, Molly whirled around and walked away as if nothing happened, even though her insides were churning. Was that too hasty and impulsive? Would she find a way to bring Molly into the fold somehow? Why the hell did everyone think that her problems had to do with Sherlock? Her life didn't revolve around the man, and he certainly wasn't the source of her misery but a pleasant break from it. He didn't hurt her, he never hurt her. Everyone else treated her like a glass figurine, waiting for him to crush her beneath his boot, but it wasn't going to happen. If anything she had found all his triggers, all his weaknesses and she could hurt him in a heartbeat. Of course, she didn't want to, never wanted to, but she could.
Sherlock was at the morgue waiting for her "New case—your hand. Tell me."
John gave a small wave, glancing at Sherlock, "Hi Molly."
"Answer."
"I punched an annoying woman—Kitty Riley was her name I think."
Sherlock grinned—actually properly grinned. John was laughing more at Sherlock's reaction, sidling up beside Molly and wrapping an arm around her shoulder, "You really know a way to a man's heart, Molly Hooper, now let's get some ice on that, shall we?"
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