Hi, now that I have the case firmly set and there are not many details to work about that I can focus a little bit more on Sherlock and Molly. Also with their friends starting to notice what's going on there's bigger chance for me to put them in different situations and have some fun. I think that there are certain things and behaviors that can be seen in people having a relationship, and underneath everything that Sherlock is there's still a human being.
I want to apologize for complaining so much, my inner writer craves some reviews with comments telling me if you like it, or with funny remarks, I used to wait and update until I had three reviews (a long time ago), but now I can't be that selfish, so I'm going to be happy only with the number of followers (it keeps growing, that should do), thank you very much for reading, it really makes me happy, and I really hope you are enjoying it at least a bit. I was thinking of writing a Halloween special, but everything ends up turning into a romantic fic (read Fade, not really material for Halloween), so that will have to wait. I'll leave you to chapter 9.
9.-Spaghetti
It didn't surprised Molly to find Sherlock buried beneath the covers of her bed, clutching a pillow to his chest and sound asleep when she arrived from work that night. She knew he was asleep because if he wasn't he usually reacted to the softest sounds, but when her phone beeped with a text message when she was closing the door to her bedroom, he didn't even move. She wasn't really sure how long he had been awake this time. So it was good to found him so lost in dreams for once, she thought of the quickly cooling dinner she had brought.
Well at least she always managed to feed him something when ever he came to visit, so the food was not going to be a problem. She left the take away she had bought in the kitchen, made her way to the bathroom and took a shower before deciding that she wasn't really hungry, she dressed herself in a pair of pajamas and went to the bed, laying at his back, hugging him the same way he hugged the pillow, feeling if only for a moment a bit ridiculous for being so literally tiny around him, when usually she was the one wrapped in his arms.
It was surprising how much their relationship had moved on, if she had known that just a kiss with the right lip gloss was enough to have him like this, she would have started with that. She still sometimes felt as if everything was just a dream, it couldn't be that easy, and she had been tempted to ask him about his reasons to be with her. If this was a dream, it was the best she had ever had. But then there was that sense of security now, not only had he started showing her affections that seemed impossible for him to develop when she met him, and he was trying to understand her, with what happened with Tom, and then by spending all that time working with her at the morgue. He was so out of character, and she wouldn't dare to ask him the reason behind it, fearing that he would suddenly snap out of a trance induced by his stress and fear since the case started.
On the other hand he had suggested the relationship to be a secret, ok, it was a bet and she somehow found it romantic to be with him in this exclusive way, being the only one getting his attention and proudly enjoying every minute of it, without the need to answer embarrassing questions or hearing inappropriate comments from her friends; he had even bought that cute necklace for her, the tiny violin was representative of him, and his love of playing said instrument. But it still felt weird, it was as if something was lacking in their relationship and she still couldn't tell what it was.
His steady breathing and the heat of his body was reassuring, in the few potential intimate moments with him they had always stopped at the clothes line. That hadn't stopped her hands, or his to wander under the fabric though, or their bodies to show palpable evidence of arousal, but she wondered why neither of them was going further. Well, she knew her reason, of course, the last man she had been with in that way was Tom, and for a while she had expected him to be the only man she was going to be with for the rest of her life. They had been together, and she had taken advantage of his resemblance to Sherlock by playing some of her fantasies with him, and now it just felt wrong to be with 'the real one' feeling just a little bit guilty for not respecting the thoughts (naughty or not) that she had created for him. And obviously there was the 'thing' he'd had with Janine. If the newspapers were to be believed, then he wasn't all that "clean" him self, but she was trying not to think about that.
"It's hard to give a name to this thing I'm feeling for you Molly, I'm still not quite sure what it is, but I'm not letting you go until I know for sure." Those words still managed to make her blissfully happy and at the same time froze in fear. What if he concluded that it was all an experiment, a craving he was just trying to satiate by spending time with her? Was she just another experiment? Would he dump her just to treat her bad again? There was still chance of him deciding it was true love for her, but, how much could she expect from him then? Living together? Having children? She was certain Sherlock would agree to any of those given the chance in a late future, but never to a wedding like John and Mary's.
She caressed his head starting to feel sleepy, his dark curls bouncing from her fingers, if this relationship was meant to last many years or just another week, she would take it. Before this she had been prepared to loose hope, expecting it to never bring love again into her life, and she was ready to let it go if Sherlock ever decided to end it with her. Love had proved many times to be just painful for her, she could treasure the memory of having been with him, but she wouldn't survive having her heart break by anyone else after him.
John sighed once more, pacing once again the waiting room he was currently at. He pushed the dial button of his mobile again and waited for his best friend to pick up. Again the call was sent to voice mail, making him wonder why Sherlock, of all people would turn his mobile phone off. Was he making this because of the argument he had had with Molly the day before? By taking revenge over them when he was needed for important things like this? Hell, he had asked Lestrade to do this, how was he supposed to know what he wanted to do there?
The door to the management office of the Archives and Record Administration opened and the secretary stepped outside, carrying some folders.
-Mr. Watson. Thanks for waiting here, let me explain what you need to get access to our records; first of all you need to… - John listened carefully to the woman, who then enlisted all the things he needed to do before getting permission to access what ever Sherlock was looking for. From requesting the use of the facilities, to the different policies, revisions and training that one needed to complete before going into an actual research. - … we have contacts with excellent publishers if you want to publish your findings as a book or as an article on several media.
-Is that all?
-For starting, yes, it is. I'm sure you'll be able to answer further questions while you work.
-And what if my request of starting a short research is denied?
-I would advise you to try again, sometimes you just need to mention straight forward what you are trying to achieve with the investigation, but if you're planning to write a biography then the family or the government needs to approve, and if the person is alive, they may not grant you access to important pieces of information that you may not find in other sources.
-I think that's all I needed to know. Thank you very much. - Said John standing up and shaking the hand of the woman that had just explained why Sherlock would have to wait a month and a half to get into their files if he wanted to do it legally, fearing from that very moment the probable sue they would face if he intended to force his way in just to get the information. There should be another way, why hadn't he just asked Mycroft's help?
Walking out of the building he tried calling him again. When the voice mail default message started playing he finished the call and growled, he really needed someone to develop a chip to locate people like him. Entertaining thoughts about the possible uses for such invention John made his way back to his house. At least he had avoided being sent to France by his clever wife, something that Sgt. Donovan and another officer had to do now.
Molly woke up to what she considered to be the most beautiful pair of eyes in the world, being tightly held by its owner under a tangled mess of sheets and covers. Oh, she totally could get used to this.
-Molly… - he said in a whisper, the tone of his voice making her heart beat faster- I'm hungry. – To good to last longer. She giggled leaning forward to press her forehead over his shoulder.
-Could you please not use your sexy voice to ask for food? – She said rolling over him and kissing his cheek, noticing the pillow he was hugging last night was still between them.
-I wasn't aware that I had a 'sexy voice' as you called it; I was just trying to keep it low to avoid startling you this early. But if you want I can use it only for special purposes. – He said moving his hands over her back. – And let me suggest you to get a pair of warming socks, you almost made me jump out of bed a couple of times.
-Sorry. – She said starting to move out of the covers. – But I've found out that sleeping with socks keeps my feet cold all night, and without them they warm up sooner or later.
He stretched out on the bed, once she stood up; making her aware of the 'particular' state he was in. She felt herself blush but said noting and just walked to the kitchen, going straight to prepare coffee and reheat the spaghetti she had bought yesterday at that Italian restaurant, hopping the cheese they had added on top to melt again.
He walked into her kitchen, probably not caring about the kind of thoughts that could run through her mind at the 'sight', yawning loudly and running her hands through his hair, the fact that he had also thought on bringing his pajamas was not helping. She reminded herself that it wasn't the first time he was 'like that' around her, and tried to keep a normal behavior over the fact that this time she could see it rather than just being aware of the fact under the covers. It was weird how her imagination had been under control (providing her images that she could handle) with the feeling of the subtle contact, and now the simple view had her mind racing with thoughts that could make anyone blush.
They ate breakfast in calm, just talking about the quality of the spaghetti and the different things they liked from Italian cuisine. With the little chat Sherlock's morning state was forgotten as they found themselves talking about a case that had involved a chef and how Sherlock had deduced which of his employees was tampering his special sauce and causing many clients to get ill, thus helping him out of a sue and avoiding having to close his restaurant. They both enjoyed talking about the different things one could add to a tomato sauce to make it dangerous without risking a huge change in the flavor or color.
It was moments like this what had aided their friendship to start in the first place, and also what had make her give him free access to body parts and substances for his experiments, their mutual curiosity over facts that most people would never consider. Also their morbid sense of humor, if something could be told about them was that they would never lack a good topic of conversation, however weird for other people.
Every thing could have stayed that way if she hadn't chosen to make the cleaning of the breakfast table to the rhythm of her favorite music. She thought Sherlock had gone to change his clothes, but after a few minutes of moving with the music and singing random phrases of the songs she turned around dramatically only to find him watching from the door, still in his pajamas and bare feet.
-I was going to ask you where you keep clean towels to take a shower, but your choice of activity looks more interesting. – She knew her whole face was red; a faint blush was not enough in a moment like this. He walked towards her and spun her around with one arm, causing her to laugh. He then place his hands on her waist and started moving along with her in an awkward dance, pulling her to him one moment and making her spin around the other, moving their hips to the music and laughing until they ended up leaning against the wall with wide grins and panting.
-We should… go out someday, - he said, making her raise her eyebrows in surprise- … you know… to a place where we can dance like this. – He leaned forward and kissed her, she automatically wrapped her arms around him. They parted away, still trying to catch their breath, and she fanned her face with her hands. – Let me help you. - He said pulling her closer and starting to unbutton her top.
He stopped at the third button, noting what he was doing when Molly's white bra started showing, for a moment both doubted, the memories of certain Christmas party coming back to them, she should feel self conscious and stop him, but less than and hour ago he should had felt the same and that hadn't stopped him from walking around like that, so, to his surprise she reached out and undid the last two buttons, her face getting redder at her boldness. His expression turned serious, when he reached for her shoulders and started sliding the fabric downwards. She shivered a bit, not out of cold but by his eyes dropping to her body, she bit her lip fearing the critic that could fell from his mouth, but he just let his hands touch her lightly, letting his fingers run over the fabric. As if to ease the moment he kissed her forehead, and then reached for the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it off; pulling her closer and wrapping his arms around her, letting her head rest against him, where she could hear his fast heartbeat.
-You know, if dancing is going to end up with us doing this, we should keep dancing in doors. – She mumbled against his chest in a breathy voice.
-Is that your sexy voice Molly? – He said looking for her eyes, and using the same tone he had used in the morning. She smiled and then pulled him down and kissed him deeply.
-I don't know; I'm sure I can do better. – She said near his ear changing her tone just a bit, and feeling him shiver to her warm breath. They both chuckled a bit, feeling ridiculous hugging half naked in the kitchen.
-Where can I find clean towels? – He asked in the same tone, but she could sense his smile while his hands caressed her hair.
-In the cabinet next to the door. Keep asking things in that voice and you could find yourself getting something completely different to what you requested. – She said stepping back, taking her top from the floor and turning around to fill Toby's food bowl.
It was a while later that John and Lestrade arrived to Baker Street, they needed to contact Sherlock, and since his phone was out of reach the only thing they still could do was get him out of bed. John used his key, entering the building and they both climbed the stairs quickly.
-Sherlock! Open the door! – Shouted Lestrade knocking loudly. They waited a moment to give Sherlock time to get to the door.
-I'll do it. – Said John when there was no response from inside the apartment.
Once inside they found the place unusually silent. Not minding at all the privacy of his friend John walked towards the bedroom, almost kicking the door to enter; behind him Lestrade opened the door to the bathroom and they both turned to look at each other confused.
-He's not here.
-Where could he possibly be?
They walked back to the living room, looking at the usual mess that was over his desk. Something looked out of place, and it took a moment for John to realize that actually the 'mess' had certain order. For once the space in front and under the laptop was paper free, and Sherlock usually placed the machine over whatever was occupying that space without much thought. Then, the folders containing the case files were all pilled up to one side, some of the random notes the detective used to write whatever data or thought that he could research later were still messed under the folders. Books and notebooks were on the other side, and even the pencils and pens that he could never find when needed were now ordered inside the cup he had probably used to drink coffee last time. Obviously Sherlock hadn't done any of that, Mrs. Hudson had tried to do it once telling him that some order would probably make his life easier, to what he had responded by leaving a bigger mess on it the next day. So who could have ordered his desk and where was the body?
-John, why do you think Sherlock would bother to wash the dishes?
-Mmh? – John looked around and saw what Lestrade was talking about, there was obviously something wrong. Even in the worst cases, when they lived together and he wanted Sherlock to do the dishes, he had found himself with a pile of smelling dirty dishes and a bunch of disposable plates, cutlery and glasses before giving up and doing it himself, or finding that Sherlock somehow had managed to convince Mrs. Hudson to do it for him.
-Do you think he's finally doing things by himself? Maybe he went out to do his laundry.
John snorted, shaking his head at that impossible idea. If Sherlock Holmes was taking care of his house duties, then the man had finally gone crazy. – No, I don't think so; first he would pay anyone else to do this, than doing it himself. Somebody else did this, but who…
It was then that they heard the front door open, and then the hurried footsteps of someone on the stairs; they turned around just to see Sherlock opening the door and carrying a bag over his shoulder.
-What are you doing here? – He asked dropping the bag on the couch and taking off his coat.
-We were looking for you. Where were you?
-Taking a rest.
-Wh… So, you … Are you just coming back here since we last saw you yesterday?
Sherlock looked baffled only for a moment, - Of course not John, I came back here to get my bag and then I left.
-Where did you spend the night? - Asked Lestrade lifting an eyebrow inquiringly; a wide smirk appeared on the Consulting Detective's face.
-Does it matter? – He said walking towards his usual chair and adopting his thinking pose. – I'm well rested and ready to keep working, what do you have for me?
John sniffed the air. –Is that smell green apple? Sherlock, have you had visits recently? Or you just decided to change your shampoo?
-Nop. - Lestrade sighed and started telling him about who he had sent to take care of Mrs. Herbert housekeeper investigation, telling him when they were leaving and when he would be able to call them and ask them about their findings.
-Call me before, and I'll be here to take notes of anything they say, but I must warn you Sherlock, I've heard they're getting desperate with this case, if you don't solve it soon, we may need to close it.
-Don't worry; I'm already at the finish line. What did you found John?
-You are not going to like this. I went to ask about the procedures we need to finish to have access to their files and the whole thing takes at least a month to be completed, not many people is granted access there. You should reconsider asking Mycroft to make this quicker, otherwise you will need to look somewhere else.
-No, I cannot ask my brother this time… - Sherlock winced and his stomach made a weird noise- He would find a way to keep me from finding what I need… - the noise was heard again and this time Sherlock placed his hands over his stomach.
-Are you ok?
-I… I might not… Must have been the spaghetti… This, gentlemen is why I don't ever eat on a case. – He said standing up and running to the bathroom. The noises that followed his not so gracious retire made the two men in the living room share a disgusted look, before exploding in laughter.
Minutes later a very upset looking Sherlock reappeared in the living room. – It's not funny. – He said looking at Lestrade who was trying to compose himself but failing and John wiping tears from his eyes. A text message beeped and Sherlock pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket, he read the message and slapped his hand over his forehead.
-Too late. Could have warned me earlier.
-Who is it? – asked John still chuckling.
-Someone who had the misfortune to eat the same thing. Your advice Doctor Watson? - He said ready to send a reply message. John started laughing again, he took a deep breathe and mumbled a hurried and easy remedy for 'the problem'.
-Ok, if we're not going to be able to enter that place then I need to do some research … - he clutched his stomach- ok, maybe later… Some restaurants should warn their costumers about the expiration day of the cheese they used…
Another laughter fit was heard at his back when he turned around again, and he swore he would sue the owner of that restaurant.
-And we don't have cameras inside that flat, do we?
-No, your brother was very specific about the needs of all the people we secured, telling us what we could do, and where not to go.
-He's starting to trust many people, he should be more careful about his choices of friends. If anything, the incident with the "ex-boyfriend" is his fault for not allowing more security around that place. – Said Mycroft to Anthea checking the video of the security cameras near Molly's flat. – He could be doing any kind of stupid experiments with that woman, and wasting precious time… Authorize a group to set some cameras inside that flat, only the common areas and make them discrete, I don't want him to notice.
-Should we place some others at her work place?
-No, St. Bart's is highly protected and her boss sends me complete reports every time he does an experiment there. The flat will cover it, thanks for telling me about this.
-No problem sir.
