Disclaimer: This fanfiction is not written for profit, and no infringement of copyright is intended. Not beta read, so all mistakes are mine.
#LittleThing
They're walking home from St Bart's the first time.
No warning, just a sudden "hmph!" and then small fingers lock around his in a grip that's trying not to be tight. A grip that's trying to be nonchalant and failing miserably.
She has to walk extra fast for a second- his stride being rather longer than hers- and then they both adapt. His steps shorten, hers lengthen. Neither of them trip the other up. They resolutely do not look at one another; The tips of both their ears turn pink and...
Well, then they're holding hands
With one another.
In public.
Sherlock's not entirely certain what to do about that (or if he should be doing anything).
He looks at Molly from the corner of his eye and realises that she's doing the same to him- She's always so ridiculously easy to read. So he studies her, catalogues the new sensation of her hand in his. Her fingers are small. Strong. Calloused at the tips and along the heel, where she rests her wrist for traction. Her palm is small and almost dainty- His engulfs it. He feels like his is huge in comparison, a monster paw, and it's ludicrous but the thought makes him smile.
Molly looks at him askance and the smile grows, even as he pulls her closer to him.
For his Little Thing's things are all little, he thinks, and then wonders if he's sustained some sort of head injury because that thought it ridiculous and yet oddly... welcome. Funny. Fond. At this he lets out a puff of laughter and when Molly looks at him askance once again he pulls her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles.
"Good?" she asks, her voice a little timid.
"Good," he nods. Pulls her a little closer. "Little Things are good."
And with that they make for Baker Street and the comforts of home...