A/N: For the January 1st prompt - "Write about Sunday afternoon." Immediately follows Hard Enough. Rated a hard T, but not for a happy reason. I want to apologize in advance for what Sherlock says. It is absolutely horrible and something no woman should hear.
Sherlock decided to tease Molly a bit more. After a shower, he walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but a rather small towel wrapped around his hips. All in good, clean fun.
Molly was at the stove, making pancakes. "Hungry?" she asked, not turning around.
He smirked. "Starving. Some food would be nice too."
She turned to him and nearly dropped the spatula, her eyes wide and her cheeks decidedly pink. "Sherlock…"
"Yes?" he asked innocently.
"Put some clothes on?" She didn't sound very firm about wanting that.
He smirked. "For my sake or yours?"
Molly rolled her eyes, still blushing. "Both."
Sherlock leaned to kiss her cheek, grinning. "Should I just leave this here?" he asked, one hand on the towel.
"Sherlock!"
He chuckled as he left the kitchen. Oh, Molly, being your husband is the most fun I've ever had. He got dressed then went back downstairs.
Molly glanced at him long enough to make sure he was dressed then she shoved a plate of pancakes and a cup of coffee at him, still blushing. He grinned at her then sat down at the peninsula with them. She joined him with her own plate and coffee.
"It's okay for you to drink that?" he asked, curious.
"The medical opinion seems to change every year," Molly said, rolling her eyes, "but my doctor is alright with one small cup a day. I'd kill for a venti."
He chuckled. "As soon as you're out of the hospital, I'll take you to Starbucks."
"You're a god," she said firmly.
Sherlock laughed. "Thank you for noticing."
Molly rolled her eyes then they ate in companionable silence for several minutes. Sherlock reached over to take her hand.
"Ford told me everything he could about himself and his life now," he said softly, "but that was only his point of view. I want to know how you saw him."
She sighed quietly. "He was the light of my life. There wasn't a day we had together that I didn't laugh. Ford wasn't just my husband, he was my best friend. He always knew when I'd had a bad day and tried to fix it, whether it was getting my favorite take-away, watching a Glee marathon, or making love for hours."
Sherlock smiled a bit. "How was he in bed?"
Molly blushed. "I don't think that's something you should know, Sherlock."
"You're always going to compare me to him, I want to know what I'm up against." His tone was even, but inside he was irritated. I've always come second to him, from the day we were born. It didn't bother me until now.
She glared at him. "That's not fair."
"Fair or not, it's the truth."
"What do you want me to say? I cannot, and will not, forget the years I had with Ford. To the rest of the world, you are him, but I know you're Sherlock. Sex between us will be different than it was with Ford or any other lover I've had. You don't need to know how he was."
"Yes, I do," he said firmly. "The way he wrote it, he could play you like a fucking violin. If I'm going to use the tips he gave me, I want to make sure they're sound."
"You're jealous."
"You're bloody fucking right I'm jealous! He had you for five years! He got you pregnant! He apparently made you happy. You, the woman I've been in love with for the past three years!" He didn't realize until she was shrinking away that at some point, he had stood up, slammed his hands on the peninsula, and was staring her down.
"Sherlock," she asked quietly, fearfully, "what is this?"
He swallowed hard. "The withdrawal, I can't fight it anymore." She reached out to him but he pulled away. "Don't touch me!" He turned away from her. "Bloody fucking hell, I need a fix…"
"You promised Ford you wouldn't. You told me you were clean."
Sherlock turned to glare at her. "Do you think I'd be acting this way if I wasn't? I haven't had a fix since Thursday, the day before we switched. It's been three days, the longest I've been clean in years. I'm doing this for you, Molly, and God fucking damn, you'd better be worth it."
She stared at him, her eyes hurt and angry. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means the 'natural highs' I get from your cunt and your mouth had better be the best fucking highs of my life or I'm just wasting my time here."
Molly swallowed hard. "You need to rethink your priorities, Sherlock," she said quietly. "Think about what means the most to you – the drugs or me and the baby. You can't have everything. I need a husband I can depend on, someone who's honest with me and himself." She reached out to take his hand. "I need you to be that man, Sherlock."
Sherlock looked down at their joined hands then turned and left the room. Just as he was walking out the front door, he heard her sobbing.
He kept walking.
