Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. Russell T. Davies and BBC own Captain Jack Harness. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, and this story is un-betaed, so please forgive the mistakes and the typos.
Anon prompt on Tumblr:"Molly meets Captain Jack Harkness because Torchwood takes over a case from Sherlock".
The sound of the laboratory's doors opened with too much force; the swoosh of a long, thick coat: the usual auditory clues that Molly Hooper's favourite consulting detective was searching for her.
But the voice that was asking for her attention wasn't the one she was expecting.
"Dr. Hooper? Dr. Molly Hooper?"
She turned, and took a good look at the man in front of her. Piercing, baby-blue eyes. Short, dark hair. A charming smile, one her friend Meena would define "I will make you drop your panties just with just one show of my perfect teeth/lips/tongue-smile". He was handsome. Very, very handsome.
And, apparently, he was giving her the proverbial "once-over"...and he seemed quite satisfied with what he was seeing.
"Hello...". Oh, God. His voice was...like honey on a well toasted slice of bread. She smiled at him, shyly. "Why do I always become mousy Molly when a suave, dashing, good-looking man is in front of me?".She didn't have the time to answer to herself, because the doors were spread open once again. Poor hinges.
"Captain Harkness, stop it". Sherlock's authoritative voice commanded. Molly shivered, without even realizing it, at the deep, dominating tone of his order. "Why does he have to sound so much sexier, when he's angry?"
"I'm just saying hello!" the other man almost whined.
"For you, that's flirting" the consulting detective replied, approaching them, and eyeing Molly with suspicion. "Pupils dilated, goosebumps...wonderful, another victim for bloody Jack Harkness. This hideous man, flirting with my pathologist...I hate him!"
Jack studied the other two. Yes, the pathologist was lovely, and the lip-biting she was doing was very tempting...and Sherlock...well, he was a real eye-candy. What caught his attention, actually, was the way one was looking at the other. He was a time-traveller. He knew that look. He had given that look to a lot of men, women, alien...even robots. Hell, he had invented that look. Well, it seemed he had to play gooseberry, for once.
After all, from what he could remember, Sherlock's brother was a dapper and charming gentleman, too.
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