Chapter 14: Moving in drama
Thanks & love as always to my beta, Thinkswithpen.
There''ll be a hiatus on this story now while I go back to work on my Cabin Pressure crossover fic: The Pilot's Pathologist.
Sherlock and John were standing in 221C, surveying the progress. John had had a brief reluctance to move out, until he realised that not living with Sherlock Holmes full time might have its perks. He'd insisted on soundproofing the ceiling. Hello: sleep-filled nights without the intrusion of a violin.
"I tell you, John, she's gone mad!"
"What's Molly done now?" John's tone suggested that whatever it was, it was probably reasonable.
"She is insisting on removing the living room wallpaper and painting it all a mint green colour. Mint!"
"What's wrong with what was there?"
"That's what I said, and I've rarely been so sorry to have asked a question. Apparently, having 3 different garish wallpapers in one room was "enough to make anyone crazy" and she wasn't willing to put up with it."
"Ok. So some compromise required," said John reasonably.
"I haven't finished yet! Then she demanded that all experiments be moved up to your room, with a separate fridge freezer for body parts. The kitchen is apparently to be a "food only zone" from now on."
"That's a brilliant idea! Why didn't I ever think of that?"
"Probably because you didn't want to share a bedroom with me…"
"Oh right…still, it works…you won't ever have to tidy up that room. There's the silver lining."
"Hmm, I wouldn't count on that. She is a neat freak. I've seen her clean away barely finished mugs because she can't bear to see them once they're no longer in use. Also, she's insisting that we have a lock installed on the door….says Mrs Hudson is far too prone to just barging in!"
"I think you're due for a timely reminder that you initiated all this change, Sherlock. You asked her to move in. I think you're damn lucky to find anyone willing to put up with you, and she's the second one!"
"I know. I said something similar when I convinced her to move in. I suppose it will be worth it eventually."
"Why is she at work today instead of moving?"
"She packed up everything already and a moving company is doing the heavy lifting. We've put in a couple more bookcases and her stuff can go in them. She is taking a half- day though."
"Right, well, have fun. Try not to kill each other straight away. I'm really looking forward to living alone for a while."
"No, you're not. You'll be begging Mary to move in with you within a month."
"No comment."
Molly finished up at lunch time and headed for Baker St, or "home" as she was supposed to call it now. How weird to be living with someone else after all this time. Sherlock's stay after his Fall was more an extended house guest arrangement than living together so it was the first time since uni that she'd lived with anyone.
The front door was open and Mrs Hudson was seeing out the last of the moving company.
"Hello, duckie, Sherlock's upstairs."
Molly smiled her thanks and headed up to the first floor, fumbling in her bag for her keys. Sherlock had conceded that sometimes Mrs Hudson was a bit too familiar. She opened the door and gazed around the main room, now adorned with a fresh coat of lovely minty green. New bookcases stood by the windows and her books had been arranged on them. Alphabetically. No prizes for guessing who did that.
An insistent meowing drew her attention and she realised that Toby was still in his carry case. Molly quickly released him and he shot off to explore his new surroundings. As she straightened back up, arms appeared around her waist and hands travelled up to cup her breasts. Sherlock kissed her on the neck and breathed into her ear "Should have let me carry you over the threshold."
"That's only for married people – and we're not. Hello," she added as he continued nuzzling her neck.
"You see, this is why I wanted the lock."
"Would you like the tour of your new home?"
"Does the tour start in the bedroom?"
"Well, no, but it could…although, I have it all planned out. I've even cooked!"
Molly twisted around to look at him, grabbing his jaw in her hand.
"Are you serious? You cooked something? This is better than I imagined!"
"Now don't get too excited. When I say "I cooked", I mean, I bought lots of cheese and set it out on the scrupulously clean kitchen table, with crusty bread, and some of that wine you like."
Molly was still impressed. Throwing her arms around his neck, she dragged his lips down to meet hers.
"Later," he said, disengaging, "tour now."
His girlfriend made a small disappointed sigh and slipped off her shoes, dropping her height by a good 10 centimetres.
Sherlock affected an American accent.
"So here we are in the main room of the property, which is lit by two nice windows. The paintwork is freshly done: the new owners didn't like the previous décor. Extra bookcases have been added to specification. Follow me through to the kitchen."
He led Molly by the hand through the glass doors into the kitchen. It had never been so clean.
"Passing through the other door, you see the bathroom and the master bedroom to your right. Up the stairs is the laboratory."
Molly followed Sherlock up the stairs. John's room had been converted into a workroom for Sherlock. It now contained a microscope, centrifuge, fridge freezer and a good workbench.
"This looks great, Sherlock. It was such a good idea to move all of this stuff from the kitchen. Whose idea was that, I wonder?!" she teased.
The detective made no comment but secretly agreed that this was a much better space than the kitchen.
Back down the stairs, Molly wanted to see the finished bathroom, which she had yet to approve.
"Oh, look at this bath. It's huge. I'm going to use it all the time."
Sherlock cleared his throat pointedly.
"Right, of course, we're going to use it all the time. I love it!"
"Finally, we have the master bedroom, which has been preserved almost intact, apart from the addition of an extra wardrobe."
Molly flopped on to the bed, beckoning Sherlock to join her. He lay down on his side, resting his head on one hand and looked down at her.
"Is everything to your satisfaction?"
"This room needs work…but it can be a work in progress," replied Molly, primly.
"It's perfect as is!" spluttered Sherlock.
Molly pressed one index finger across his lips.
"Well, we'll see about that. Now, you mentioned something about cheese?"
"I'm not hungry anymore. There seems to be a pathologist in my bed."
She threw a mock-outraged look at him.
"Sherlock – we're not going to bed, it's 2 o'clock."
"Yes, it is. I've been wondering about afternoon delight for years. Now it's time to find out. We can eat later."
"But also, we can have sex later….I live here now…won't be going home tonight, or ever again."
"One of my better ideas….I definitely won this round."
"Ah, you're not still trying to compete with me, are you? Don't you understand I've won, repeatedly and thoroughly? I've actually collected money on this."
"You bet on us?"
"Naturally – everyone else was running a book, I thought it was only fair to get in and rig the pool. How do you think we paid for the lab equipment?"
"I presumed Mycroft…." said Sherlock, trailing off.
"Oh my god, I'm a kept man now, aren't I?"
"Oh shut up, you love it."
"Maybe a little bit…."