Molly smiles tiredly as she sinks into a bath. It had been quite a taxing day at work; she had been leaning over body after body nearly the entire day. The heat, bubbles, and steam of the bath water relax her sore muscles as she settles into it, breathing a sigh of relief. She reaches over and picks up the wine glass that she had prepared for herself before bathing and sips from it, a ruby red smile coming to her lips.
She leans back against the tub and gently plays with the bubbles in her left hand, as she drinks her wine with her right. Toby meows at the door and she chuckles. "Go away, Tobes. You hate the water, remember?"
He meows again and scratches at the door for a bit, before getting bored and leaving it. Once she is significantly wrinkled as a prune, she drains it and wraps a fluffy towel around herself, walking down the hall to her bedroom. She gasps, seeing Sherlock laying in bed on his phone.
"Sherlock!"
"Oh, hello Molly."
"Don't "hello Molly" me! What the hell are you doing?"
"I came to see you, you didn't answer, and I saw your car and knew you were home, so I figured you were showering or something, so I picked the lock to be sure you're okay. I heard you in the bath, so I decided to wait here. So, hello, beautiful", he grins.
She groans and rolls her eyes at him. "Well, get out. I've got to dress."
"Hey, I was making sure you were alright. Plus, you didn't even hear me come in! I could have been anyone, Molly. You've got to be more careful. Also, why can't you dress. I've seen it all before, love", he smirks cockily.
"Ugh, OUT", she points and crosses her arms.
He huffs and pouts. "Okay, okay fine." He gets up and kisses her cheek, leaving the room and closing the door. She sighs and takes a deep breath, rummaging through her dresser for her favorite pajamas.
"The gall of that man…", she murmurs under her breath as she gets dressed. Once in her pajamas and glasses, she opens the door to her room and jumps a mile when he is standing right there.
"God damn, Sherlock!"
"Now Molly, is that any way to speak when you've just put up a nativity in your home?"
Molly slaps his chest and groans. "May I get by?"
"What, no kiss today? I don't see what I've done to make you this upset at me. I told you that I was only concerned for your well-being."
Molly peers up at him and huffs. "Fine." She moves onto her tiptoes and gives hm a quick kiss before walking round him into her kitchen. He stands there and pouts, before following her.
"Did you have a bad day?"
Molly smirks softly, remembering the day he met John, and when she had asked him the same.
"Yes. It was back to back bodies nearly every second. Everything hurts, and I'm still sore even after a nice hot bath. So excuse me, but I'm allowed to be a bit cranky."
"Yes, you are. Maybe I could give you a massage?"
"Sherlock, I'm really not in the mood for your innuendos…"
"No, I mean it. Like a shoulder massage, or a back massage. You do say you love my hands", he winks.
Molly can't help but crack a smile at his ridiculousness and nods slowly. "That could be nice, actually."
"Yeah?" Sherlock smiles at her sweetly and walks over, massaging her shoulders. She relaxes and groans under his work.
"Ohh…that's lovely", she exclaims, popping a grape into her mouth from the bowl she had grabbed from her fridge.
Suddenly she hears Toby meow and sees him hop up onto the Nativity table. "Toby, no! Get down!"
Her tone of voice startles him, and he jumps above it onto the sofa. In the process he knocks down the porcelain shepherd from the set, and she gasps as it smashes to pieces on the floor. Sherlock cringes, knowing that this is catastrophic to Molly, whom has a very sentimental attachment to that Nativity Scene.
"No! Bad kitty!" she shouts, on the verge of tears. Her bad day just took a turn for the worse and Sherlock immediately wraps his arms around her, comforting her. Molly breaks down into his chest, all of the stress of the day bubbling to the surface and erupting from her as this incident brings it to a peak.
"I've got you…shh...it's alright. It will be alright."
"It's not alright", she sobs. "It's ancient, there's no way I'd find an exact match!", she croaks through her sobs.
Sherlock cups her face, tenderly stroking his thumbs over her cheeks and brushing away the tears. "We can fix it. I'll fix it. Come here, look." He brings her over and picks up the pieces carefully. "They're fairly big chunks. We can glue it back together."
"It's not the same…it's ruined", she whimpers.
"No, no it's not. It' not ruined. Molly Hooper if you can take the millions of broken and shattered and destroyed parts of me, and piece me back together into someone who resembles a human man, then we can find a way to fix this porcelain shepherd." He looks into her soft, brown eyes and she sniffles.
"Hey, did you know that I played a shepherd in my school play when I was four? My parents made Mycroft and I, and..I assume Eurus at the time, go to a private school that was prominent for educating gifted minds. Anyway, it was a Catholic school and so they had this Christmas play every year. My mum used to make us be a part of it to "engage with our peers". Obviously that didn't work, but I can tell you that I was the best-looking shepherd in the school. Unfortunately the only acting I used from then on out was after Eurus and it was mostly to manipulate people, but that was beside the point. Mycroft however, enjoyed acting even when he was younger. Most notable in the roll of Lady Bracknell."
Molly giggles lightly and wipes her face, stroking his cheek. "I bet you really were the cutest as a child. I know you were the best shepherd ever. Also, I remember you talking about when Mycroft was into acting. Funny, because he is so muted and un-fun now."
"Yes, well. He was an aspiring actor for a while there, but unfortunately my disgusting uncle Rudy got his claws into him and turned him into an arrogant, snide, governmental persona. He never had children, so he needed one of us to take over for him, and Mycroft being the oldest was clearly the most suited for it. That man could suck the life out of anybody. My mother hated him; he was always a terrible brother to her. Clearly the job isn't the only thing he passed down to Mycroft."
Molly takes the broken pieces of the shepherd and takes out the super glue. "I know he can be a pain in the arse, but he does care. Whether he outwardly expresses so or not, he does. I have a feeling that you know that."
"Possibly. Doesn't make him less of an ass, however."
"Well, think of him as a shepherd. He spent his entire life nearly, reigning in you and Eurus. Keeping tabs on you, looking over you, monitoring you intellectually and physically. The shepherd may seem like a jerk for keeping the sheep at bay, but the real jerk is always the wolf. Plus, just like in the parable, Mycroft would always leave his governmental flock if it meant finding and saving his lost brother."
Sherlock raises an eyebrow then laughs softly, his adorable forehead crinkle showing. "That's probably the most genius thing you've ever said to me, Moll. It makes so much sense, but it incredible at the same time. I do actually remember that one."
"Hmm yes, well, I can be insightful when I choose to be."
"You're much more than insightful, but I'll give you that." Sherlock goes over and smiles softly, kissing her gently before they both work side by side to piece the pretty navy, gold, and silver shepherd back together.