I'm sorry readers for having to bear with me! I'm a day late, but here you go ladies and gents, fluffy chapters all round.
DISCLAIMER: I dont own sherlock deeerrr.
For: My awesome 'jumperguy'.
Enjoy!
I sit there frozen in shock.
Thank you Molly Hooper.
Thank you Molly Hooper.
I believe I am pacing up the and down making the skull topple of the mantelpiece.
I look in the mirror and hastily put it back up.
When did I get so tubby?
I cascade the unwanted thoughts out of my head and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to think of his face at that moment.
It looked gorgeous as always.
But it was different.
He looked scared.
He looked human.
With a sigh I fall back onto the sofa, hugging a cushion to my chest.
It smells like him.
I push it away from me having a thought dawning.
What about if this is another of his ploys?
I know what he's like yet I can't say no.
Maybe it is a ploy.
The pit of my stomach seems to deepen as I look straight forward.
The knock at the door startles me as I retreat down the stairs to see the delivery men stood in front of me.
"Oh yes, the front room please." My words struggle out of my mouth.
They raise their eyebrows suggestively and I want to spit in their faces.
Serves you right for picking the cheapest option.
I leave the room and March back up the stairs and open the door to the flat.
Sherlock looks up.
"Miss Hooper, do sit." He nods to me and then returns to his paper.
"Miss Hooper?" I ask with concealed venom.
Since when was I miss Hooper?
I comply as always and allow the builders to swan their way through the flat.
They look at Sherlock disapprovingly and wink at me.
I take in their hungry glances and shift further into my seat.
Sherlock sees this.
He doesn't react.
I can't stop a little bit of anger bubbling over, but I am Molly Hooper, calm.
I get called into John- my room by the movers and walk into the room.
"Yes?" I ask observing them both.
The first was bald, typical idiot, looked like he was an alcoholic. He smelt like it anyway.
The other one seems a bit more sensitive, he had brown hair and blue eyes, beer belly, and I'd say he's married.
I realise in horror that I'm making an attempt to deduce.
My mouth clamps shut as I blink a few times.
I realise I'm in a room.
By myself.
With the bald one.
In a locked room.
I don't remember locking it.
I look down in horror at the door handle and then back at the man in front of me.
I'm currently backed into a corner.
No escape.
I panic and look up at the door.
I've seen it all before, the mad glint in the eye.
"Jim's missing you." He speaks the name with a flourish as I feel my legs buckle underneath me.
"How do you know M-Moriaty?" I ask quietly my eyes glossing over.
"He's an acquaintance." He flashes me a grin.
I pull out the draw behind me quietly and extend my hand in it.
Paper, paper, paper, screwdriver.
My hand tightens around it and I push it into my pocket.
He turns back round to face me and closes the small distance between us.
I use this chance.
As quick as my hands would let me I bring down the screwdriver onto his arm.
It penetrates the skin as he immediately staggers away from me.
"You bitch!" He yells and it seems to have gotten Sherlock's attention as the door bursts open.
I don't want to look up at him or anyone else and instead bury my fists into my eyes, cowering away from the puddle of scarlet delicately tracing its way across the floor.
I look up and he's laid on the floor, screwdriver sticking out of his chest.
"I put it in his arm!" I squeak worriedly.
Sherlock doesn't reply.
I've seen blood, the lot before obviously.
But not what I myself have done.
I look at Sherlock who is scanning the room with his eyes.
"Was that you?" I ask in panic.
"No." He replies.
"Then who did?" I ask shakily.
He stands up from the man, who's now dead and walks over to the window.
"Who else is in the house?" He asks, his eyes squeezing shut and his palms presses together.
His eyes snap open and widen.
"Too easy, the other delivery man did it." He sighs and exits the room.
I attempt to get up and then he returns to the room.
"You are fine I presume?" He asks, eyes undressing me as always.
"I-I'm fine." I squeak.
"Anything else I should know about?" He asks me.
I think about what the man said.
About Moriarty.
"No."
He raises an eyebrow but drops it and returns to his seat.
"Should I call the police?" I ask looking at the door of my room.
"You can take my room tonight." He says, bluntly ignoring my question.
"Right." I nod.
His hand tightens around a gun at his side as he fires 3 bullets out of the window and returns to his seat.
He looks at the clock expectantly and then smirks when the sound of sirens are heard outside.
"At least that way you won't waste credit." I smile a little, see his face and then clamp my mouth shut.
He just said shut up with his cheekbones.
I don't think that's even possible.
"They've moved all the things in anyway." I continued valiantly.
He doesn't reply.
"Sherlock." I spit.
He opens his eyes and looks at me.
"Yes?"
"Stop it." I reply harshly.
He blinks a few times, a flicker of fire passing through his eyes before returning to the ice they were before.
"Stop what." He replies.
"You know what. I live with you, and I'm staying here." I find new found bitterness and I don't like it one bit.
"I don't believe I have a problem with that." He replies slowly.
"Then why are you being like this?" I ask softly, a lot different than before.
"I seem to have developed an... interest in you." He clears his throat and pulls the paper up over his face.
"And?" I ask.
This is very treacherous grounds.
"That's what you wanted wasn't it?" He replies.
"You mean like... girlfriend?" I ask.
He tuts and brings down his paper.
"I do not want to be called 'boyfriend'." He says the word like its poison.
"I won't." I reply shakily.
"I presume this is settled?" He asks.
A little smile plays up my face.
Then the police had to come in and ruin it all.
Soooo what do you think happens next? review please! :3