weasleygirl928 asked: Unable to find a present he deems worthy enough,Sherlock decides to play the composition he just finished for Molly for her birthday
The final note rang throughout the silent flat for several seconds, before Sherlock removed his bow from the strings and set the violin aside without a second thought. The awestruck expressions on the faces of most of his friends went overlooked, as his gaze focused on the one person whose reaction actually mattered.
Molly Hooper stood motionless across the room, an unreadable expression on her face.
"Well? What did you think?"
Her mouth opened and closed, until her shoulders sagged and she let out a ragged breath. That's not supposed to happen.
He barely had time to register the moisture welling in her brown eyes before she turned and grabbed for her coat. "I-I'm s-sorry," she mumbled quietly, "b-but I h-have to g-go. Th-thank you for the l-lovely b-birthday dinner." She nearly sprinted to the door, slamming it shut behind her.
Sherlock stared after her for a split second before the voice of John Watson echoed his thoughts. "What just happened?" Sherlock blinked, confusion threatening to overwhelm him. How had everything gone so spectacularly wrong?
Mary Watson, always the voice of reason, broke through. "That isn't really the issue right now, John. Sherlock! Go after her!"
She didn't need to say any more, as Sherlock was already dashing down the stairs after his pathologist.
He found her standing on the edge of the road, trying to flag down a cab.
"Molly, what…?" He grabbed her shoulder, turning her around to face him. "What's wrong?"
"N-nothing. I just remembered I have something v-very important to do…." Molly refused to meet his eyes, focusing intently at his coat collar instead. Cupping her face between his hands, Sherlock forced her gaze upwards. He gently brushed away the hot tears falling down her cheeks.
"Molly," he purred softly, his baritone voice murmuring the words like a caress. "What's wrong?"
She sighed in resignation, her breath flowing sweetly across his face as she exhaled. His fingers were still brushing lightly across her cheekbones. Offering comfort didn't come naturally to him, but he found that Molly was causing him more and more to forgo his ban on all things sentiment.
"Why do you always do this, Sherlock?" She bit her lip as she stared up at him, her eyes sad and forlorn. They flickered off to his left briefly before returning to his.
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused. As far as he could recall, he had only twice, in all his thirty-six years of existence, done anything remotely like what he had just done upstairs. There was something so intimate about composing a song for someone, and, though he loved the Watsons and their daughter Lily fiercely, the way he felt about them paled in comparison to his feelings for Molly.
"You always do this! Every bloody time I think I'm moving on with my life, you do something so kind, so sweet and romantic, and I'm sucked right back in to the black hole that is Sherlock Holmes! Honestly, can't you just be happy for me and send me on my way? Instead of giving me false hope that you feel somethi–"
Her words were cut off abruptly as Sherlock silenced her with his mouth on hers. For a moment they stood there awkwardly, unmoving, eyes wide open. Perhaps I should have thought this through, Sherlock thought to himself. The next second, however, all thoughts were wiped clear as Molly moaned into his mouth and took control of the kiss.
Sherlock had tried all manner of narcotics in his search for peace, but kissing Molly brought him to a height unlike any he had experienced previously. When her tongue lapped at his lip tentatively, requesting entrance to his mouth, he could not stop the groan that escaped as he acquiesced. One hand moved of its own volition to tangle in Molly's curls as the kiss deepened.
Finally, after what felt like forever (and not nearly long enough), Sherlock pulled back, breathing heavily as he attempted to regain his balance. He was pleased to note that Molly was also panting, her eyes blown black in desire and pulse beating erratically in her throat.
Molly was the one to break the silence. "Sherlock, what…?" She gulped in air for another minute. "Does this mean that you… do feel something… for me?" Her voice was hesitant as she asked the question, hardly daring to hope that her deduction was correct.
"No, Molly." He grimaced when he saw the crestfallen look on her lovely lips, still swollen from their passionate snogging session. He quickly backtracked. "What I mean is… that hardly begins to describe your importance to me, Molly. I think I…. No, I know that… I love you. Molly, I don't want you to move on. Sometimes I fear I would die if you ceased being a part of my life."
"Oh." She gazed up at him as though seeing him truly for the first time. Sherlock found that strange, as she had always been the only person who could ever see through his facades to his true self. Except when it came to how he felt about her. "And your song upstairs…?"
"The composition was my way of… revealing my romantic hopes to you. Perhaps I should have just told you, like John insisted."
"Yes, perhaps." She was quiet for a moment.
"Oh. Okay, then. I suppose you'll need time to ponder. I'll just go back, then." Sherlock began to turn back towards 221, but was stopped by Molly's arms wrapping themselves around his neck. Her fingers played with the curls there. Well that feels… not… awful.
"But I think I prefer your way, Sherlock."
"You do?" he blurted out, bemused.
"Yes. It's less conventional. And if there's one thing I know about our relationship, Sherlock, it's that it is never going to be anything close to conventional."
"Yes, that would be far too boring for us," Sherlock agreed, pressing another kiss to her lips. A blinding smile graced her mouth, probably mirrored by one on his own face. "I suppose this means we're together now, correct?"
"I should think so, Sherlock. You can't just snog a girl silly on the pavement without at least inviting her up to your flat for coffee! That would be downright rude! And on her birthday, no less!"
"Well, if I must…." He grinned down at her. "Happy birthday, Molly Hooper. I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?"
Molly pulled out of his arms and began walking to the door. "Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs."
Sherlock was stunned for a moment before following his giggling pathologist up the stairs to 221B.
I'm not too sure about the ending. I had a really awful day today, and I was in need of something happy to make me feel better. It kind of worked. I have one more prompt in my inbox, as well as Part III of "Like a handprint on my heart." After that, I plan to complete the next chapter of "All In" and start a Co-stars AU I've been hinting at on my Tumblr!
As always, I love to know your thoughts, so please leave a review!
