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Molly Hooper's day off. Finally.
She crept quietly down the stairs to an empty lounge and kitchen. Both a bit unkempt.
Still on that case then?
This past week she's only seen snippets of him. In the lab and a laboring shadow in the kitchen which she was bright enough not to disturb.
Though she's a little put off because they just talked and she knows where she stands. And it's lovely but she'd be glad if she was allowed to talk to him at all.
She scolds herself. He's busy right now. They really do need better timing.
Her tummy did a little grumble. Hungry. But it's Sherlock's flat, would there even be food? Something remotely edible at least.
Quite the dilemma for Molly Hooper.
She tip-toed into the kitchen, feeling quite foolish. I mean, he moved her in. She was allowed to eat, right?
She found food on the table though. Complete and a true British glorious one at that. Mrs. Hudson then. Bless that woman.
She would go downstairs and thank her but no. Still too awkward. She only met Mrs. H once over her (forced) move. They met at the door. She was just heading out for her graveyard shift and Mrs. H just got back from a date.
She looked pleased and Molly was too embarrassed.
"Sherlock, dear. What can you do, right?"
Molly could only nod with blazing cheeks.
"We're not-we haven't... Oh dear god, I'm off. Ta!"
Nothing but the awkward best for Molly Hooper, thank you very much.
A super late brunch (lunch) and a shower after found Molly Hooper lounging on her beloved lumpy sofa reading an uber glossy magazine. She was smart enough, it was her day off. Sherlock can bite his tongue if he finds her.
Her back faces the hallway to his room. There.
What better way to spend a day off? Longest shower she's had this week and the glossiest magazine she could find. All while wrapped in the comfort of her beloved lumpy lumpy sofa.
Though she stays on guard in case of footsteps. This continues for a bit. Then -
She hears shuffling steps behind her but doesn't turn around. Prepared to NOT be embarrassed when he finds out she's reading about the royal baby.
"Molly?"
He sounded immensely tired.
Molly turned to find Sherlock still in his dress shirt and rumpled slacks. Hair a mess and eyes squinting like he couldn't keep them open. He was also leaning on the wall.
Just got back from a case then. Molly turns back to her magazine.
"Food's on the table, Sherlock."
"I smelled you," is his reply.
And before she could say anything back, he's on the couch with her and (for the lack of a better word) snuggling into her armpit.
"Sherlock!"
It's all awkward limbs and dead weight but still Molly Hooper's heart jack hammers some. Not entirely because she's still embarrassed about the magazine.
"I got darted, did you know?" he slurred.
"Wh-what?" a bit more than confused really.
He didn't reply so she prodded him
"Hey?"
"Huh? Er, uh-yea. Three hours after yer shift I think. Jawn wanted to wake you up but I told him you just finished yer graveyard shift. Again. Called him an idiot too, after that he threw me on the bed. He was very rude about it."
Molly giggled because he's slurring and pouting and he's being very manchild-like. Complete with hand gestures.
"I'm impressed though, that you could somehow talk at all after... What was it? You got darted, right?"
"Oh please," he said as if that would simply clarify everything.
...
"Sherlock," she clears her throat, "Not that it's a problem but you're - you're kinda in my armpit."
He instantly tenses up. And Molly has this horrible image in her head that he'd get up and run for the bathroom to get rid her on him. The next day when he's well he'll say something cutting and they'd be back to square one.
Let's forgive Molly Hooper for that one. Because we really do have to remember that for a little over seven years, she believed this manchild had no heart.
But all the same, she waits on bated breath.
What she doesn't expect (and somehow that makes it all the more sweeter) is Sherlock Holmes snuggling deeper into her armpit and giving half a shrug.
"I don't care," after a bit, "I smelled you."
"You said that already."
His grip on her tightens.
"I smelled you," he says again like she doesn't understand. How he meant it.
But because Molly Hooper is a doctor and has spent a little over seven years trying to understand this baffling impossible man...
She gets it.
And it could possibly the sweetest the most beautiful thing that he has said to her. Ever. Second to his 'confession' of course.
Never mind he was still half drugged.
She wraps her arms around him. Instead of aww-ing and coo-ing she opts instead to make a confession of her own.
"After we talked, my pillow smelled a bit like you. I tried my hardest not to... but every evening I wake up my nose is buried in it," she says softly.
"Though, it's beginning to lose your smell," she says almost heart-breakingly to the quiet.
She thought he'd fallen asleep but then he snuggles a bit more into her.
"The sofa smells like you. I didn't count on that when I moved it in. It's distracting when I have a think here. The kitchen's mess, that's why."
"You want to move it then?" she says sadly. She's rather fond of her sofa.
"Never."
She giggles and relaxes more into him.
"Hey get more rest, yea? I'll feed you in the morning."
He nods.
But a minute after says;
"I like it when you do that."
"Which one exactly?"
"Your fingers in my hair and your hand on my elbow, your thumb moving up and down."
They wake up around 10pm. She wakes up to his wide eyed expression. Of a boy who looks like he just got caught doing something he wasn't supposed to.
So she gives him his space.
She gives him a smile. Something insecure but understanding.
She heads to the kitchen makes herself tea and toast. Hungry but not up for more.
When she's finished she's surprised to see Sherlock still snuggled deep on her (their) sofa. Though it warms her heart.
She's sure they'll still be awkward some but they're okay. Just trying to figure things like these out.
So if they'll be awkward she'll let herself have this.
She walks to the arm of the sofa and rests her chin on her forearm. She brushes her fingers in his hair lightly.
"Hey Sherlock," she says softly, "I'm going up."
He mumbles some.
"All right, night," she whispers then removes her fingers.
She thought briefly of kissing his forehead but decides against it. He's had enough physical contact for the day.
Sherlock Holmes has had a taste of Molly Hooper in his arms, he's positive he can't sleep without now.
So he sneaks up to her room.
Finds her snuggled in her duvet back to the door and (unexpectedly) there's this things in his chest that spreads to his belly. Affection.
He moves to (his) side of the bed and slowly settles in. He's surprised to find her awake still lying on her side.
"Hey," she whispers then simply closes her eyes.
She thought he'd sleep on his side but is pleasantly surprised when his arms breaks the gelatin barrier, the same one he's made himself, and wrap them around her.
"Are you staying?"
"Always."
There's nothing more endearing than seeing Molly trying to be tall.
She's in the kitchen on her tip toes and bare footed reaching for something above. Hair spilling some over her shoulder and back. And Sherlock for once (really?) does something out of character.
Moved by affection for the pathologist in his (their) kitchen flat - he closes in on her. He finds his arms move in the naturalest ease. He wraps her from behind and her reaction was almost instant.
She folds in on herself, ears coming to her shoulders. He feels her bones humming but other then that she's unnaturally utterly still.
"I-I needed a strainer for the veggies."
"Hmm, I'll help you," he says but doesn't move.
She's still shaking a bit but she realizes he isn't letting her go just yet. She bends her head and sees his arms wrapped loosely on her waist and a fresh wave of affection washes over her. She smiles fondly and brushes her fingers lightly on his watch then to the back of his hand not caring in the slightest if she was allowed to or not.
It's been (rough) smooth sailing with them since his 'confession' and the sofa-drugged bit. They're still Sherlock and Molly. Figuring things out and it's a happy note that Sherlock's been a bit more good to her lately.
But still he doesn't do this often, she reminds herself. She leans back a bit, testing if she does would he take a step back? When he didn't she finally relaxes.
She likes this. It's new and ridiculously easy to love. She leans to the side and turns her head so she can see his face.
"Hello," he says simply and leans his head to hers. Nudging her hair and temple with his nose.
"Mmm," is all she says and she's all dreamy smiles and closed eyes.
She's on the brink of saying overtly sentimental, he feels. But she's holding back. He nudges her temple somemore and unexpectedly kisses it too. That surprised him but Molly's somewhere on cloud nine still and that's enough for him to push the panic down.
Panic that he wasn't doing the right thing. That it was obvious he was utterly flying blind here.
"Tell me," he whispers.
"It's just that we don't do these kind of things often. Sometimes I forget we're in an... understanding now. And it's such a lovely surprise when you do make the first move - also you are surprisingly cozy."
She giggles and snuggles in closer just to tease him.
He chuckles because Molly is sometimes childish.
"You were in the way. This is the cupboard where I put my clean beakers."
And to tease her more he lifts her up and drops her abruptly in front of the stove.
"Oh please, you just wanted to see how much I've gained!"
"Domestic bliss does suit you, Molly," he says teasingly bending his head so it's level and close with hers.
She splutters because Sherlock Holmes teasing her is the most adorable thing in the world.
"Yea, well, you're a big... buh." she splutters and her cheeks (she knows) are blazing.
Sometimes she forgets they really do have an understanding. And that they were allowed to do this without anything getting weird or awkward.
This thought strikes her so happily that without knowing it her arms wrap around him and she's giggling a bit.
She kisses his shoulder.
"Sherlock Holmes, you are impossible."
He hums the Mission Impossible theme.
This makes her giggle anew. Just had movie night with John then.
Molly Hooper, 35, and happy.
I changed her age bc I realized, belatedly, that Louise Brealey is 34 not 38. Ha.
Last one coming up.
Banana me.