Requested by penaltywaltz on tumblr: Sherlolly, reacting to the other one crying about something. Chapter title inspired by 'Don't Cry, Baby' by Etta James.
Molly was having the worst day of her life. It all started when she was on her way out the door of her flat when she heard it: the breathy text alert of Sherlock's phone. He had spent the night holding her close, finally falling asleep together amidst their gentle snogs. It was a peaceful night's sleep as she woke up to find them in the same position they were hours ago, their lips still barely touching. It had made her blissful until that damn ringtone sounded.
At work, she had just finished an autopsy when another body was brought in. They claimed it to be a drug overdose. Immediately beginning, she slowly pulled the sheet back as the mass of dark curls she found had her panicking enough to rip the sheet off. Molly let out a breath of relief to find out it was not Sherlock. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly to hold back the tears. Reeling in her fluctuating emotions, Molly began to work.
Arriving home after her long day, she trudged through her bedroom, slipping on one of Sherlock's dress shirts for pajamas. All she wanted was to curl up in a ball and cry herself to sleep.
Sherlock arrived at Molly's flat, setting the takeaway on her coffee table. The unmistakable sound of sobs racking his love's petite body alerted him. He made his way to her bedroom, cracking the door open.
"Molly?" he called out softly. He saw her curled up, crying into his pillow. He walked over to the bed and scooped her up in his arms before sitting himself down.
"Sh-Sherlock," she cried into his chest.
"Shhh, it's alright, Molly. What's wrong, darling?" Sherlock asked, gently stroking her hair. Her sobbing became louder and more forceful to the point where her answers were incoherent. "Don't worry about talking, love, just let it all out." He kissed the top of her head and rocked her in his arms, humming a sweet melody in her ear. Every now and then, Molly felt his lips lightly brush against her ear.
"She t-texted y-you again," Molly stuttered through her tears. His heart ached for her. She misunderstood the text from Irene.
"Oh, my Molly, there's nothing to worry about," Sherlock told her. "I had told her to cease texting me; that I was in love with my pathologist. She wanted to send her congratulations to you."
"C-congratulations?" Molly asked, finally looking up into his bright viridian eyes.
"Mhm. I believe her words were 'congratulations on stealing the elusive heart of Sherlock Holmes,'" he informed her. Another kiss, pressed to her forehead this time, seemed to calm her.
"I also had a bit of a scare today. This body was brought in and the hair was very similar to yours and I—I just know that I could never handle it if you were kil—" Molly stopped, unable to bring the word to her lips, tears streaming down her face. She found another way to word her thoughts on the matter. "I don't want you to leave me." Her voice was so thick with emotion, Sherlock was helpless to stop a tear of his own from slipping.
"I will never leave you, Molly, I promise," Sherlock whispered, a small, comforting smile graced his lips. She lifted her head to press her lips against his, feeling the need to make sure he was there and he was real. "Mm, do you know how much I love you, Molly?"
"If it's anywhere close to the capacity of love I feel for you, I think I have a pretty good idea," she replied, kissing him once more. Sherlock wiped her tears from her face with his thumbs. Molly's stomach growled due to the fact she had not eaten anything all day.
"It's a good thing you're hungry," Sherlock chuckled. "I brought takeaway." This elicited a laugh from Molly and his heart soared. "I love your laugh." His smile had his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"I love food," Molly giggled. Sherlock gave a playful frown. "And I love you too."