Molly gently drew her fingers through dark curls noticing his hair is shorter now, not quite as soft, "Do you think they've always been here?"
Sliding one arm beneath her knees, Sherlock closed his eyes. The corner of Molly's mouth turned, remembering a time when Sherlock Holmes' hand against the back of her thigh would have sent her pulse racing. She inhaled deeply, relishing the victory of a steady rhythm but against better judgment, let her resting hand run from his neck over his back and shoulders. The small smile faded, the tension she felt beneath the thin fabric of his t-shirt carried every broken shard precariously lodged like shrapnel in crumbling defenses. Instinctively, her fingertips dipped to his scalp softly coercing relief. She slid her palm down his arm protectively as if somehow she could shield his heart from discovery.
"You never told anyone," he said.
Molly's gaze continued to roam over furniture and windows. She felt no need to answer. It wasn't a question, just an emphatic statement of simple fact. Sherlock sat up. Molly turned so that their eyes met. Her naked vulnerability never failed to arrest him.
He jumped to his feet and began checking the room again, frequently turning back to the kitchen to confirm the angle. Molly looked away, waiting for him to catch up. Suddenly Sherlock stopped, spun around to stare at the front door, and then followed line of sight back to the bedrooms. Dismissing the shame, Molly frowned in concern. She felt sick.
"The locks were changed." Sherlock sprinted for the kitchen and dove beneath the sink. Molly's head fell into her palm as he tore through cleaner bottles and bin liners until he emerged holding a small tool kit.
The hardware flew to pieces but gave up nothing. Frustrated, he threw down the tools and sat back against the door.
Molly dropped her hand from where she'd been chewing her thumb and turned back to the windows.
Sherlock glanced in her direction and huffed, "No."
"Why you?" he growled as he stood and paced the room. "Apart from ease of access, it's not as if you were the only possible choice."
"I have an early shift. I should get to sleep." With a shake of her head, Molly stood and walked toward the spare room, "Goodnight, Sherlock."
He watched her disappear behind the door frame. Quickly, he moved to the kitchen, but the angle was still not right. He knew she was pulling off layers of fabric and sliding under the blankets on the left side. Jumping from a chair to the table, his head banged against the ceiling while attempting to peer from above the cheap chandelier, but he still could not see Molly, just a small portion of the bed. Brow furrowed with annoyance, he hopped to the floor.
Sherlock pulled on his coat and turned to leave, but quickly shrug it off again to reassemble the door. After testing the bolt on one knee, he turned to retrieve his coat but stopped. Dim yet clearly visible in the moonlit glass, he saw the reflection of the empty tea cup on the sideboard where he'd left it. Steadying himself against the shock, Sherlock blinked away the image of tousled bedding and fumbled for the discarded screwdriver. Molly's eyes opened at the sound of the chairs being flung away from the table. Scouring every inch of the ornamentation, Sherlock found it. Heart pounding, he wrested it from the wood and wrapped it a napkin before using electrical tape to seal the small package.
The flat was empty when Molly awoke. She returned the mess of supplies to their place beneath the sink and with a contented sigh, she replaced the chairs while coffee brewed. Sipping from the steaming cup, she paused in the doorway for several moments before pulling the door closed and deciding against tidying the bedroom. After laying out clothes from the closet in the spare room, she disappeared into the shower. Turning her face to the soothing spray of water, Molly smiled. On her way out, she briefly considered leaving a plate of food in the frig on the off-chance Sherlock returned, but when her phone buzzed with an invitation to lunch from Greg, she abandoned the idea. Grabbing her handbag and tapping out her reply, Molly left for Bart's.