first of- a big thankyou to TheFilmFreak1234, and Nocturnias for cheering me up.
Also another thankyou for Murmeltierchen who has given me lovely reviews and inspiration!
DISCLAIMER: unfortuantley i will never ever ever, have ownership to sherlock.
enjoy ;)
Sherlock's pov
"Stop this Molly." I whisper.
I'm too late.
Or am I?
No response.
"Wake up Molly."
This won't make a difference.
"Please."
Nothing.
"I don't have anything." I say.
Then realise I'm talking to myself.
"Muffhr" molly murmurs.
"Molly?"
With one big yawn her eyes flutter open.
I almost drop her in relief.
...
Because she's the only person that will help me obviously.
That's why I'm relieved.
Yes.
Of course.
"Sherlock?" She asks.
"Yes."
I continue jogging down the stairs as her eyes rapidly adjust to the light.
"Am I going to die?"
I'm quick to respond as we walk out of the warehouse to Mycroft' waiting car.
"No."
Course not.
She's molly Hooper.
The one with the cat, the one with the nose, molly who works at the morgue.
She won't die. I won't let her.
A small smile spreads across her face.
It drops a second later.
"I'm really cold."
We jump into Mycroft's car as I try to reassure her.
"Well... When we get home..." I have stopped calling it her house, it was ours now.
"I'll make you... A big cup of tea. Boiling hot and then..."
I trail away when I see the look on her face.
"What?" I ask irritably.
She smiles.
"It's really sweet. You, trying to be nice."
I blush.
This comes as a surprise Sherlock Holmes definitely does not blush.
"Well."
I cough trying to ease away the awkwardness.
My mind takes a different perspective.
Sherlock's mind:
And. Stop.
I'm looking at the scene from an outsider's point of view.
I see Molly.
Big eyes, desperation. Looking for comfort.
Then me.
Stony eyed.
The porcelain mask remains on my face.
Just to crack a minute later.
To show emotion.
Mycroft's hired driver is examining the scene.
A look of humour on his face.
I turn back to examine what's going on.
She's still cold.
An anxious worry in the back of my head convinces me to go back to reality.
Molly's pov:
He seems to have zoned out.
The car stop as I shiver as the door blows cold air in my face.
"Sherlock."
I nudge him.
I feel slightly dizzy.
His eyes blink a few times as he once again lifts me into his arms and covers his face.
"Are you okay?" He asks me.
His eyes studying my face for some kind of conclusion.
He's not John.
He's no doctor, but I guess he must know shock.
"No."
We burst into the flat.
"Why?" He asks.
His eyes flicker over to a picture of me as a kid.
Toothy smile, wonky eyes, stupid nose.
"I feel cold. And dizzy."
He places me on the sofa and comes down to my eye level.
I'm still in his coat.
He takes it off me.
"wha-"
He dashes upstairs roots around and fly's back into the room.
I'm really, really cold.
Hypothermic shock.
Crap.
He wraps me up in my dressing gown places 5 blankets over me and stares at me.
"Sherlock." I whisper.
I'm warm now.
"Yes."
He still hasn't stopped staring at me.
I throw my arms around his neck, not bothering about the awkwardness.
He stares at me for a few seconds before reluctantly returns it.
"It's... good that...You're alright." He finally manages to say.
Life with Sherlock homes... is worth it.
yay! thankyou for alll your reviews in the words of mr holme's himself 'you do count'... ;)
