15
When Sherlock opened his eyes, it seemed to him that he had slept for years. Molly lay curled up on his left side with one hand under her head and the other on his chest. He had always liked looking at her when Molly didn't notice him and now that she slept so peacefully in his arms, he took the opportunity to enjoy her hair scattered across the pillow, her calm features, her slightly parted lips, her slow and steady breathing.
Those few times he had shared his bed with Janine, he had found her wanting to cuddle or sleep spooning deeply annoying, so much so that after a few minutes he used to get up and go to the front room and work. With Molly there beside him, he had to admit he wasn't going to get up for the world, "Except to go get honey" he chuckled to himself.
Sherlock let out a sigh of deep contentment and couldn't stop himself from bending over and gently brushing her lips with his in a light kiss. She hummed something incomprehensible as she rolled onto her opposite side pressing her bum against his thigh. At the sight of her naked back and bum, he felt a firm squeeze in his lower abdomen and his heart rate's pick up, a clear sign he was needy of her again.
He eased himself onto his left side and let his finger ran along her back's skin. Molly's body quivered at his tender touch and he heard his name leaving her lips. A groan escaped him and was about to wrap her waist with his arm to bring her closer to him and hide his head into her neck's hollow to nibble on that special spot Sherlock had discovered made her moan and shiver with pleasure, when his phone chirped a text's alarm.
Sherlock was strongly tempted to ignore it but a second one followed immediately so, being careful not to wake Molly, he leaned over the mattress to pick up his trousers off the floor and retrieve his phone from inside theirs pocket. Reading Dr Abbington's name as sender, a strange and unsettling sensation took hold of Sherlock whose body instinctively stiffened.
As he expected it concerned a Eurus' new illustration. An empty room was drawn into it, with no furniture except for a steel chair in the centre of it. Artificial lights on the ceiling in spite of the presence of a window overlooking a garden or a small wood…it wasn't clear. Beyond the unidentified green area, his sister had scribbled a word that Sherlock could not decipher…scarecrow perhaps? Unmissable and very clear were the words at the top right of the drawing sheet, "Protect Molly".
He lay on his back disconsolately for not having elements that would allow him to deduce what Eurus wanted to show him through those drawings and from what danger he must protect Molly. Sherlock tapped quickly on his phone a text for Mycroft asking him to arrange an urgent visit to their sister for the following afternoon.
The response of his elder brother didn't take long, YOU JUST BEEN THERE, BROTHER MINE. WHAT'S THE MATTER? – MH
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the banality of what Mycroft wrote, I NEED YOU TO GUARANTEE ACCESS FOR MOLLY TOO – SH
IS SHE COMING WITH YOU? I'M ASKING YOU AGAIN SHERLOCK, WHAT'S THE MATTER? – MH
As he tapped back, he wondered why his big brother always had to be so damned fussy and annoying, JUST DO WHAT I ASKED YOU. LET'S TALK ABOUT IT IN THE MORNING – SH
WHY NOT NOW? YOU'RE AWAKE AND I CAN BE THERE IN TWENTY MINUTES – MH
DO NOT DARE COME HERE! I'M BUSY – SH
INTERESTING CASE? – MH
Sherlock glanced at Molly before typing his answer THE MOST INTRIGUING AND CHALLENGING OF ALL MY LIFE – SH
WELL, WISH MISS HOOPER GOOD NIGHT FOR ME – MH.
He snorted partly irritated and partly amused by Mycroft's remark and after putting his phone on the bedside table Sherlock slid to his side and spooned himself against Molly's body. Nuzzling her neck he closed his eyes and went back to sleep…after all, hadn't she promised him a breakfast requiring a great deal of energy?
The first buzz made him squint, the second one forced him on his elbow and look around taking note of the semi-darkness and the fact that Molly was no longer in bed. At the third buzz Sherlock reached over to the bedside table to get his phone. Who the hell was calling him at two in the morning?
"Sherlock Holmes" he said seeing that the id caller was unknown. No one answered, all he heard was a person's breathing and a dog's barking, "Hello? Who is it?" he asked sitting on the mattress' edge, his senses completely awake and alert. "Who are you?" Sherlock insisted but in response he got the call cut off.
He got out of bed, put on a pair of striped pyjama bottoms and his blue dressing gown hanging from behind the bedroom's door. In doing so he noticed the clothes previously discarded around the flat were now piled up neatly on the chair next to the wardrobe. Perhaps Molly got up because she needed the loo, so Sherlock gently called her name as he sauntered out of the bedroom.
No answer and peeking his head inside he saw she wasn't there. Then he headed for the kitchen, but there was no sign of Molly either there or in the front room. The flat was surrounded by darkness and silence, as it had been so many times in the past, especially at that time of the night.
And for a long time Sherlock had loved that silence and that solitude because they allowed him to focus on his work. Then John's arrival as flatmate changed things. The barrier he had built around his heart to keep his prodigious mind from succumbing to his emotions had begun to crack.
Little by little he had learned to let people enter his heart and had allowed them to be close to him and to love him. Except Molly. Up to four months earlier Sherlock had kept her out of this circle of people. Or rather he had kept her at safe distance, even if not in a conscious way, because all those who were associated with him, sooner or later, were at risk. And Sherlock had never properly coped well with the thought of Molly in danger.
Of course he knew how badass she was, actually. She proved she was every goddamn day. In her work, how many women chose to slice up cadavers for a living? In her everyday life when often she got too lost in taking care of everyone else she forgot to take care of herself as had happened after Mary's death.
But nevertheless he wanted her to be safe and protected. The very thought of losing her forever, drove him mad. Especially now he could no longer deny his feelings for her, now he was fully aware he could give her all his love unconditionally.
Sherlock put himself out of that kind of meditative numbness and swallowed hard, feeling his throat tighten with mounting anxiety. He told himself there was nothing to worry about, Molly had probably gone upstairs to the room she had slept in since her moving to Baker Street, even though Sherlock saw no reason why Molly should have gone there.
As Sherlock climbed the stairs he called Molly's name a couple of times without getting an answer. The room's door was wide open and although the bedside lamp was on, he already knew she wasn't there. Taking a deep breath, Sherlock crossed the threshold. Instinctively he took note of the untouched bed, of the ajar chest of drawers, of the sunflower-coloured dressing gown resting on the headboard but above all of Molly's phone lying on the pillow.
He felt his stomach clenched and his heart beating faster in his chest. What if Molly's seeming disappearance from his flat had something to do with the phone call he received earlier? Her phone was dead so Sherlock did not have a chance to check if by chance she had received texts or calls that led her to go upstairs and wear pyjama bottoms and t-shirt, that was what was missing at a quick glance, and go out.
Taken with a deepening sense of fear that something might have happened to her, Sherlock rushed down the stairs calling her aloud. He came almost breathless to the foyer, lunging for the front door and opening it with a loud hubbub, and he had already had a foot on the pavement when he was frozen in place by Molly's voice coming from over his shoulder, "Sherlock! What the hell are you doing?".
He blinked in amazement and utterly happy she was in front of him perfectly sound and safe, "Thank God, you're ok!" Sherlock exclaimed retracing his steps, "Did something happen?" she asked looking at him with concern, "You look upset". Molly didn't have time to add more because Sherlock held her so tightly in his arms it almost took her breath away.
"Don't ever do that again" he said in a bossy way resting his forehead on hers, "Don't do, what?" she asked back as she felt under her hands, which lay on his bare chest, his heart rate slow down little by little and return to normal. "Don't walk away from me without warning me. I thought…I feared" Sherlock caught his breath and opened his eyes gluing them to hers, "Never again Molly, promise".
She saw no reason for all his agitation but she was touched to see him so madly worried about her, "I promise" she said softly, raising her hands and cupping his jaw, "I'm here, Sherlock. I'm fine". He bit his lips and nodded, taking small breaths "I love you" he whispered as he bent his head to meet her lips as he lifted her off the floor.
Molly returned his kiss with equal passion and almost without realizing it she found herself with her back against the wall, "What were you doing down here?" he asked catching his breath, hands resting on the wall on either side of her head. "I went to the loo. I heard Mrs Hudson come in and she was arguing with Mr Chatterjee about a woman from whom he seems to have not taken his eyes off all evening".
Sherlock snorted as he took her hand leading her upstairs, "Such an intelligent woman wastes her time with a bloke like that!" he remarked and she giggled at his words. It had always been clear to her how fond he was of Mrs Hudson but hearing him say it out loud was another sign of his gradual improvement in showing his feelings.
"I heard her whimper, so I went up to put something on and then I went to her to make her an herbal soothers and keep her some company" Molly finished explaining as he closed the flat's door and pushed her against it. Sherlock gently slid her pyjama bottoms to her feet, as she took care of undoing his dressing gown's belt and sliding it down his shoulders to drop it to the floor.
They smiled at each other before melting in a hot kiss, her arms looping around his neck, his arms cupping her bum to lift her up and take her to the kitchen table where he gently placed her, "We talked about honey before, right?" he said opening a cabinet's door to take a squeeze bottle. Molly bit down at her lower lip and grinned at him, "You talked about honey" she pointed out as he stood in between her legs.
With a mischievous glint in his changeable eyes, Sherlock motioned for her to stick out her tongue and after squeezing a small amount of it into her mouth he kissed her, their tongues licking the sweet nectar. He stepped closer and she crossed her legs around his buttocks. Their kiss deepening as he moved his hands to the small of her back and pulled her forward, her hands went up to his curls as she moaned into his mouth when she felt his erection against her core. His thumbs hooked the waistband of her knickers and started to pull down but a sudden and lasting ringing of his phone forced him to pull away from her.
This time the caller was not a stranger but DI Greg Lestrade, "Sherlock…there has been a murder" he said. Sherlock ruffled his hair throwing an apologetic look at Molly who had followed him into the bedroom, "Okay. Where are you?" he asked grabbing his trousers from the chair, "Sherlock…the victim made his last call to you about an hour ago".
Sherlock stopped dressing and asked "Who is it?", DI Lestrade coughed lightly "Martin Stapleton".
