Disclaimer: This fanfiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. Not beta read so all mistakes are mine.
#Buffering
It's just so, well... him.
The reaction, that is.
When Molly walks out of the bathroom in a dress before going to Mrs. Hudson's birthday party, when she pads out into his bedroom in her shorts and t-shirt before climbing into bed... Sherlock always stops.
Stares.
His eyes turn slightly glazed and his expression slackens.
Just for a moment he's gone away- buffering, John calls it- and then just as suddenly he's back. Looking sheepish. Glancing away guiltily. Sometimes he even bites his lip.
There's something about it that Molly finds terribly... endearing.
In the aftermath he always pulls her close. Holds her. Sometimes her dress, sometimes her hair, but he always puts his hands on her. Breathes her in.
It's like he's trying to convince himself she's really there.
At first she'd been surprised- nonplussed- but now that she's gotten used to it she reacts in kind. She moves closer to him. Touches him too. She strokes him, kisses him, feels his skin, just the way he does for her. He can get lost in sensation, she knows that, and she wants him to know that she's a safe place for him to do it.
She wants him to know that she's here for him.
She thinks she succeeds; He's not always good at communicating how he feels, but he's willing to try, for her. To show her, rather than to tell. He's willing to let her close and she knows how hard that is for him- So difficult, after everything he's been through. So she does her part. She tries to make it easy. Most things with Sherlock are easy, if you give them enough time, and time is a gift she'll always give to him.
"You like this?" she asks sometimes, gesturing to her clothes, or her hair, or whatever has gotten this reaction out of him.
He'll nod. Smile.
She loves that smile, bright and boyish. Shy and sheepish.
That smile isn't for everyone, it's only for the people he loves, and- amazing as it seems- one of those people is her.
"I like it," he'll say. "It's..." And then he'll come up with the most ridiculous, overly complicated and wordy compliment he can think of, just to show that he's still Sherlock Holmes, dammit! He still has his Big Bloody Brain and she has not bamboozled him.
It's funny, but that's not the thing that makes Molly's stomach flutter.
That's not the thing that sets her heart alight.
No, it's that look on his face when he looks at her first. The reaction she wrings from him, and the fact that she's the one who makes him buffer. Her, not anyone else. And for the sake of that, she'll wind him in her arms and kiss him, his body warm and flush against her own. She'll lay him down and make him gasp for her. Make him shiver for her. She might even make him breathless, if he gives her enough time, or if she has enough energy. (Of course, she makes a point of always having enough energy, because it's him).
In the aftermath he'll be quiet. Peaceful. She often finds herself thinking about how lucky she is to have a Sherlock of her very own.
She hopes that he understands that.
She hopes her actions make that clear to him.
He sleeps beside her in trust, his breath calm and even, and there's nothing more she wants in the world than the here and now.