So, I have no idea where this came from. An image in my head of Molly and Sherlock performing experiments at 221B in matching goggles turned into this monstrosity. This is basically pure fluffy, sciency Sherlolly. I'm giggling because I really like this ridiculous little one-shot. This is for everyone who has followed and/or favorited me and my stories. I wouldn't have continued writing if it wasn't for you! 3
Molly Hooper had just finished a rather grueling day at the morgue when she received a text message from her boyfriend (Significant other, she corrected herself. Sherlock hated that term, and Molly had to agree it didn't quite suit him), asking her to stop by Baker Street on her way home from work. He had been asking (demanding) that she bring him a pair of feet for the better part of a week.
The pathologist sighed in defeat as she quickly showered and changed into jeans and one of her most comfortable jumpers. (A green and pink concoction that Sherlock had grudgingly admitted he liked on her.) She grabbed her bag out of her locker, collected the feet, said goodbye to Mike Stamford, and rushed outside to hail a cab.
Once she was safely nestled in the back of the car, Molly settled back into the seat, closing her eyes as she relaxed for the first time in ten hours. She puzzled over Sherlock's mysterious text message. (I need you at 221B as soon as your shift is over. –SH)
When he had left her in the lab earlier that morning, he had given no indication of asking her over tonight. Something important must have sprung up then. She twisted her hands as she nervously pondered what on earth could have occurred in the last few hours to cause Sherlock to send that message.
Molly was so lost in her thoughts that the driver called her name twice before she registered that the cab had stopped moving. Looking out the window, her eyes took in the familiar sight of 221 Baker Street. She apologized profusely as she paid the man, who wasted no time in driving off as soon as she had slammed the door behind her.
Walking up the steps, Molly recollected all that had happened between her and the consulting detective over the last year. It had taken time after his dalliance with drugs for her to trust him again, but his fierce protectiveness over her during Moriarty's return had cemented their frienship.
Then, not long after Moriarty's death (for real this time- Sherlock had made sure of it), Sherlock had taken her to dinner at a small Italian restaurant. The owner had regaled her with tales of Sherlock's many good deeds, including when he got the man off on a murder charge. Molly had giggled shyly when the man told Molly that she was the first girl Sherlock had ever brought in.
Butterflies fluttered in Molly's stomach as she remembered what had taken place after dinner. The detective had walked her home and confessed his romantic feelings for her. They had spent the rest of the night tangled together, reiterating their mutual affection for each other. Heat coiled in her belly at the memory.
"Molly!" A voice interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see her consulting detective leaning out of his window, wearing only his dark blue dressing gown and a pair of goggles. Molly's heart clenched tightly as she took in the familiar sight. "Quit dallying and come upstairs! I have something to show you!"
She quickly opened the door and practically ran up the stairs, nearly colliding with Sherlock as he pulled the door open to allow her entrance. He beamed at her as he stepped aside to let her into the flat. She placed a quick kiss to his cheek and shimmied out of her coat.
"Did you bring the feet?" he asked excitedly, his seawater eyes sparkling with barely-controlled mirth. Molly held up the cooler and laughed as he clapped his hands together. "Fantastic!" He opened the cooler and peeked inside. "Yes, these will do excellently for our next experiment. Wait here for a moment, Molly!"
Sherlock disappeared into the kitchen, and Molly took the opportunity to divest herself of her shoes and her jumper, leaving her in only jeans and a button-up. She sat down on the sofa and waited for Sherlock to return, delighted to find him in such a good mood. He and John had just completed a case, and she had expected to find him in one of his sulks.
When Sherlock finally reappeared, he brought with him a large white box, complete with a pink bow on top. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, but he simply grinned in response. He sat down next to her and placed the gift in her lap. "I got you something, Molly."
"I can see that, Sherlock. Why? What have you done this time?"
"Must I have done something to buy my pathologist a present?" Sherlock let out a huff when Molly remained silent. "I just wanted to get you something. Promise. Please open it?" He widened his eyes and drooped the corners of his mouth, resembling the puppy Molly had owned as a child. Molly shook her head, helpless to resist him. One of these days, she thought, he will no longer be able to manipulate me like that. Alas, today was not that day.
She carefully opened the box, anxiety flowing through her as she dared glance inside. She was surprised to discover a dressing gown, uncannily similar to the one Sherlock was currently wearing, and a set of goggles identical to his own. In fact, the only way they would be able to distinguish between the two was the rather prominent "M" written in permanent marker on the side of hers.
Molly dropped the gift onto the table and looked over at the smiling detective. "Sherlock, what…?"
"Since you are over here more often than not assisting me with experiments, I thought it would be logical for you to have your own dressing gown and personal eye protection at 221B. Do you… like them? If not, I can return th–"
"No! No, Sherlock, I love them! I'm just a little confused about why you chose to do this now."
Sherlock looked away and cleared his throat. "Well, Molly, I have been thinking."
"That's terrifying," Molly muttered under her breath, earning a glare from Sherlock. "Sorry," she quickly appeased. "Please continue."
"As I was saying." Here Sherlock paused (he really could be such a drama queen) before continuing. "I've been thinking. We have been together for nearly a year, now, and while I am content with our relationship, I find that I am no longer satisfied with our arrangement."
Molly released a horrified gasp, but Sherlock corrected himself before she could speak. "No, that's not…. That came out wrong. What I meant was…. Oh, just try on your gift, will you?"
"O-okay…," Molly replied, now more confused than ever. He didn't appear to be ending their relationship, but this conversation was turning stranger by the minute. She stood up and grabbed the goggles, pulling them over her face. She was not surprised to find that they were already adjusted and fit her perfectly. She pulled her arms through the sleeves of the dressing gown, relishing the feel of the cool silk against her skin.
"Well?" she asked Sherlock, who was staring up at her with blatant admiration. "How do I look?"
"Beautiful," he whispered, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into his lap. Molly felt her cheeks redden with his praise, and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously. He tilted her chin towards him, pressing a swift kiss to her lips. She moaned in discontent when he pulled away, causing him to chuckle quietly. "Have you checked the pockets yet?"
"What? Why…." Molly's voice drifted off as her hands encountered a small metal object hidden within the right pocket. "Sherlock, is this…?"
"A key to 221B. Yes. I rather thought we could further our relationship by cohabitating. If you'd like, that is," he amended.
Molly found his uncertainty unbearably adorable. "Sherlock, I'm flattered, but I–"
"I realize your personal beliefs require you to be married before moving in with a romantic partner. I am amenable to this change in our relationship as well. We can go see about rings tom–oomph!"
Molly threw her arms around the consulting detective, peppering his face with kisses before drawing back slightly to meet his eyes. "Sherlock, is this your way of asking me to marry you?"
He coughed uncomfortably, his face flushing bright red. "Maybe," he finally conceded, so quietly she had to bend forward to hear him.
Molly giggled happily and fusing their lips together for a much more satisfying snog. "Then I accept."
XXXXX
The next afternoon, John Watson carefully entered 221B Baker Street to check on his former flat mate. Although his mood swings had been much milder ever since he had begun seeing Molly Hooper, Sherlock could still be overly dramatic and even somewhat dangerous when left to his own devices.
Hearing laughter emanating from the kitchen, John quietly peered into the makeshift laboratory. He smiled softly to himself at the sight of Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper huddled together over a Bunsen burner, the smell of charred plastic filling the air. Both wore matching dressing gowns and goggles, oblivious to everything but their experiment and each other. John watched as Sherlock placed a kiss to Molly's temple, pointing at something on the table in front of him.
John quietly let himself out, winking at a delighted Mrs. Hudson on his way. The ex-army doctor whistled to himself as he strolled down Baker Street, content with the knowledge that Sherlock had truly found the perfect companion for him. He only hoped Sherlock had the decency to ask him to be best man at their wedding. He couldn't wait to give a speech. John grinned wickedly. Do I have some stories to tell….
On a side note, apparently I am incapable of writing a Sherlolly proposal without them being adorable science babies. I am surprisingly okay with this development. ;) Please leave a review! I love reading your thoughts and comments!
