For Day 5 of SAW 2022: "Urinating in wardrobes, bad." (Apparently someone didn't get the memo.) Rated K+. Set Post TFP. Slightly angsty but with humor. Eventually.


"I don't mean to criticize and I'm certainly not laying all the blame on you, Molly - it takes two, after all! - but I thought by now you'd have, well, civilized him! It's been, what, three weeks since you moved in? And yet he's gone and done it again!" Mrs. Hudson gave her a severe look. "I know, he doesn't deal well with change, but this really has to stop, my dear." The severity changed to sympathy as Molly nodded agreement, her cheeks pink with embarrassment. Oh, when she got her hands on him-!

"Sorry, sorry!" she warbled as she hurried up the stairs. Oh, she and he were going to have WORDS, there was no question of that! Mrs. Hudson was right - it had been three weeks, she'd hesitated quite a long time before agreeing to move in for just this reason: that it would be too much of an adjustment, that he wouldn't really be comfortable even though at first he seemed to be perfectly fine with the change in his life.

Molly sighed as she beelined for the bedroom. Perhaps this wasn't going to work, she thought despondently. No matter how much two people loved one another, even knowing that adjustments would have to be made and compromises reached, it didn't necessarily mean they could live together.

As she reached the bedroom and opened the door, the smell hit her, much as it must have hit Mrs. Hudson when she came in to do a bit of tidying (even though both Molly and Sherlock insisted it wasn't necessary; they could no more stop Mrs. H from tidying than they could stop John from blogging). "Ugh, seriously?" she said as she scrunched up her nose. The wardrobe door was half open, and she could see the telltale stains of wee on the wooden floor - and, yup, puddling inside her new pair of trainers. The third pair she'd purchased in a month.

She picked them up by the backs, still wrinkling her nose, and deposited them into the kitchen bin. Then she grabbed cleaning supplies and set to work, not stopping even when she heard the door to the flat open, announcing Sherlock's arrival. "In here!" she called out as she heard the familiar footsteps pause in the parlor.

"Problem?" Sherlock asked brightly from behind her.

She turned and scowled at him. "This isn't funny, Sherlock! It's the third time since I moved in, and the third pair of trainers I've had to bin! This has got to stop!" She blinked back sudden tears. "Maybe I should move back to my own flat. I know you love me, and you know I love you - your sister bloody well made sure of that! - but maybe we weren't…maybe we moved too quickly, or, or…"

Sherlock swiftly knelt beside her and pulled her into his arms. "Shh, it's all right," he said soothingly as she began to cry (stupid and weak but there it was, nothing she could do to stop the tears now they'd started). "We'll work it out Molly, I promise. It's just a, a phase, that's all it is. A phase. A really childish phase, but we all need to make adjustments. I know it's my own fault for being so bad with change, and I know this childish behavior has to stop-"

He fell silent and from where her own head rested against his shoulder she felt his head turn. Felt his hold on her tighten just a bit. Just enough to let her know they were no longer alone. Still snuffling like an idiot she lifted her head and peered over Sherlock's shoulder.

Yep, there he was, the stupid (jealous? possessive?) git. Acting like he'd done nothing wrong. Blinking at them in that infuriatingly superior way he had, his lip curled in that all-too-familiar supercilious smirk.

"You!" Molly exclaimed, wrenching out of Sherlock's hold and jumping to her feet. "How dare you show up and just act so innocent! We know what you did, and why you're doing it! I swear, if you do it again, I'll, I'll-" Inspiration struck. "I'll have you neutered!" she cried triumphantly.

Eyes wide, mouth dropping open, their nemesis (current nemesis; normally they loved and adored him - well, Molly did, Sherlock tolerated him much as he always had although recent events, pre-ruined trainers, had caused him to appreciate him a bit more) bolted from the room and down the stairs. If he thought he'd receive a better welcome from Mrs. Hudson, Molly thought darkly, he was mistaken; she'd never lost her initial dislike for him and he certainly hadn't endeared himself to her today!

Unable to restrain herself, knowing he'd ignore her as he always did, Molly shouted, "Urinating in wardrobes, bad! You hear me, Toby? BAD!"

(Eventually he came around to having been forced to move and started using his litterbox again, much to Sherlock's relief and Molly's joy and Mrs. Hudson's grudging appreciation. By the time they expanded their family - twins, how could it be twins? - and moved again Toby had peacefully passed on to that Great Wardrobe In The Sky, where he could wee at will and curl up on all the expensive Belstaffs he liked without anyone voicing a single complaint.)


End note: Many thanks to Nocturnias for giving this a readover!