As Above As Below 9


Molly's first thought was that Sherlock weighed more than he looked like he should weigh. He was practically crushing her to the floor and he wasn't making any move to get off of her. She could feel his steady breathing on the side of her neck, his curls were tickling the area under her jaw and their legs had gotten entwined.

Alright, as much as she was sort of enjoying this close proximity to a fully grown Sherlock, this whole situation was the furthest from romance as possible. Plus—Sherlock was restricting her ability to breathe properly.

"Sherlock," she said insistently, attempting to crawl out from under him. It didn't work. She moved with much more urgency now, giving him a hard push.

Sherlock groaned and rolled off of her and onto his back. His eyes were closed and he had started to pant, taking shallow sips of air. Molly bent over him, touching his forehead which was damp with perspiration. She managed to raise his head off of the floor and onto her lap; deciding to keep the other side of her, the really meek-and-infatuated-with-Sherlock side of her under wraps for once. She ran her fingers through his hair like she used to when he was a child and needed to be calmed down, but this time more hesitantly. Sherlock moaned, making her jump, and snapped open his eyes. His pupils were dilated; just a thin sliver of blue-grey was visible.

He jolted upright, nearly bashing heads with Molly, who had the sense to rear back quickly. His hands started scrambling in an attempt to grab hold of something—the way he was moving, so utterly clumsy was not at all like the old Sherlock, graceful and poised. It seemed that he was trying to get used to having longer limbs again. "Here, Sherlock let me-" Molly started, bracing Sherlock's back by putting her arm around his shoulders. Or at least she tried to.

Sherlock immediately jerked away from her grip, "No, I'm-" He started to say hoarsely, before clearing his throat, "I'm fine." His voice sounded unused, the normally deep baritone sounding as if he had a bad cold.

He grabbed onto the side of the bed, pulling himself up. Molly stood up along with him, hovering near him, in case he fell. She didn't like the way he was being wobbly. Her precaution wasn't wasted. The moment Sherlock had pulled himself to his full height, towering over Molly, his legs gave way. Molly grabbed at him, more or less managing to hold him upright by ducking under his arm and making him lean on her. Sherlock groaned pitifully again.

"Should I call Mycroft? I think he would know what to do," Molly said tentatively, worry gnawing at her belly. Surely there wouldn't be any after effects of being turned into a toddler? But then again, it wasn't exactly a tested science. Who knew what Sherlock would go through?

Sherlock scoffed, something that relieved Molly a bit. He would be fine if he still had the ability to be a stubborn little brother. "Change…" Sherlock muttered as Molly lowered him down on the bed.

Molly, who had been busy thinking about how she could call Mycroft, didn't quite hear. "I'm sorry, what?"

"The clothes…too tight…change," Sherlock said, panting. Molly blushed; the loose clothes she had to fit the six year old Sherlock had belonged to her younger brother, and they were a bit too tight on Sherlock. A bit tight as in Molly, if she had the sense of mind, would have blushed at how the t-shirt was all but a second skin on him.

"Oh, um…yes. Let me get an old shirt of yours." She left him reclining on the bed, hoping that she still had some of the expensive shirts he had left behind all those months ago.


"Uh…Molly?" Sherlock's questioning voice came from behind the closed door. Molly, who had left him to his own devices after he had glared at her—it was transparent that he wanted to change in private (she had no idea what had gotten into him, this was the man who merely a few months ago had walked around nearly naked in her bloody bedroom)—eased the door open tentatively to find him standing next to the bed on firmer legs than before.

However, the only thing that actually made an effect on Molly's brain was that Sherlock had left his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his very fit, very adult chest. Molly didn't realize she was staring until he cleared his throat. Her eyes snapped up to his, and she blushed to the roots of her hair. "Y-Yes?"

"Would you mind…uh, I can't seem to stop my fingers from shaking," Sherlock said, a flush coloring his high cheekbones a light pink.

Molly bit her lip then smiled at him shyly. She could understand that Sherlock wasn't really used to asking for help, and the fact that he had managed to bend his pride enough to ask her for help warmed her to the tips of her toes. She buttoned his shirt up slowly, suddenly unable to look up at him or stop her fingers from shaking.

She finally looked up at him when she finished buttoning the last one. She frowned a bit; Sherlock had a pained expression on his face. "Sherlock," Molly started to ask him what was wrong but before she knew what was happening, Sherlock tumbled into her, knocking her right back into the door of her wardrobe, him almost colliding with her if he hadn't thrown his arms in front of him.

Molly suddenly found it hard to breathe. Sherlock's arms were caging her body and he was oh so close. "I…Sherlock," Molly swallowed, realizing that they were breathing the same air now.

His lips crashed to hers in a fury, barely waiting for her mouth to open under his as his tongue swept past her lips, delving and exploring. One of his hands found purchase in her hair, tugging it just the right way to make her gasp and dig her fingers into his hair. He groaned now, pushing her farther into the wood behind her. He pulled his lips away from hers and burned a hot path down her neck and raked his teeth onto her collar bone.

"Sherlock…" she moaned as he sucked on a particular spot on her neck that made her see stars.

And suddenly, he was gone; Molly opened her eyes, missing his warmth. "Sherlock?" she asked again, not really knowing what was happening.

Sherlock looked pale, and Molly was just starting to wonder, horribly, that he really regretted anything that happened between them when—

He vomited right on her slippers.


A/N: Like I said to my lovely beta A Pirate By Any Other Name and NoveraDeMedeci, THAT my dear readers, is why Sherlock never gets a leg over.

HOLY MOTHER OF GODTISS, YOU GUYS! LET ME LOVE YOU! YOU MADE ME WRITE AND UPDATE FASTER!The last chapter became my most reviewed one and let me tell you, it made a hideous week so much better! I hope I managed to thank all you lovely people- Empress Of Verace, Lono, Ssmill, Lucy36, MadAsAHatterJayy, Don't Fade Away, nhauyen, MorbidByDefault, patemalah21, whytejigsaw, lililoop, Biffy316, UnifiedNations, lostmypen120, Lady Nuit, suki2618, magicstrikes, barus, syNemYoa, Beth-TauriChick, Mivida Garcia, hermione draco holmes, SammyKatz, lvPayne, daisherz265, hermione-amelia-rose1479, friend2friend1, 173'dliketobe167 and the guests!

Sorry if the chapter seems too short, but it seemed like a good place to stop :P and thank you for reading, faving, alerting and reviewing!

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Adi x