~ Indisposé ~
For the 'Life' prompt
They had been lovers for less than a fortnight (and what a fortnight it had been!) when Molly was struck down.
You might want to stay at Baker St tonight. I'm afraid it's that time of the month. - MHx
Clarify. - SH
Indisposé. - MH
As my mother would say. - MH
? - SH
Surfing the Crimson Wave. - MH
? - SH
At that point Sherlock's ringtone blared from her mobile and Molly groaned.
She'd managed to work a full day, in spite of the worst onslaught she'd had in ages (and she could not help wondering if their (delightful, vigorous, gratifyingly frequent) activities over the past two weeks had something to do with that), relying on massive doses of hot sugared tea and ibuprofen to see her through. Now, however, she was finally home and in bed with a heat pad pressed to her tummy and, having the next day off, all she wanted to do was try to sleep for the next thirty-six hours.
However, since Sherlock was concerned, and apparently confused enough by her euphemisms to actually initiate a phone call, it was obvious that some explanation was required.
Molly steeled herself and jabbed the screen. "Sherlock."
"Do you mean you're menstruating?"
She sighed, both relieved and frustrated, and unfortunately her voice actually broke as she replied, "Yes, and it's horrid, and you'd better just stay away for a couple of days, alright?"
"No, it's not alright! You don't usually have such a difficult time, your cycle's been more or less like clockwork for years, barely slows you down."
"How do you bloody know that?" she snapped, then considered the source. "No, never mind, I don't want to know."
"Ha! Bloody. Though I don't suppose you were trying to be amusing."
"Not in the least," she snapped.
"Hmm. Right. Look, let me come over and see if I can help. I've done a bit of research-"
"What?" she exclaimed in disbelief - and then thought, Of course he has, you idiot, who do you think you've taken up with, it's not like he's a NORMAL boyfriend...
"With the change in our relationship I felt that it behooved me to gain a thorough knowledge of a process that is bound to affect our day to day existence at least one week per month, taking into consideration the various elements of premenstrual syndrome - mood swings, weight gain, breast tenderness, etcetera - as well as the usual four to five days of your period."
Molly groaned again, and wondered if she'd made a grave mistake, should have severed all ties at "I love you" and moved to Timbuktu. Or China. Or the moon.
"Molly, you won't really mind if I come over, will you? I can help! I have a whole list of remedies to try-"
"I'm not an experiment!" she half shouted, her voice edged with both tears and helpless laughter.
There was a pause. Then…
"I know you're not, sweetheart."
Molly bit her lip, and felt a tear slip down her temple, into her messy hair.
She said, in little more than a whisper, "Yes. Come over then. But don't say I didn't warn you."
o-o-o
Some twenty-four hours later, Molly roused slowly from a long afternoon nap to find Sherlock sleepily kissing the back of her neck. He was wrapped around her, his arm and hand protective about her middle, and she could feel him beginning to smile.
"Better?" he asked.
She was. So much better. Thanks to research, tender regard, and a quite amazing lack of squeamishness.
She caught his hand in hers and drew it up to kiss each of his fingers. Then she scooted about, turning over to face him. Reached up to lay her hand against his cheek (his eyes closed briefly as he moved to kiss the heel of her hand), then brushed the messy curls away from his beautiful eyes. "You, sir," she said, just a trifle breathlessly, "are a strange and wonderful creature."
"Am I?" he replied, the beloved tone of his voice making her shiver. "Then there are a pair of us."
She smiled. "I love you."
The smile was returned in spades as he replied, "I know," and kissed her.
~.~