Just to reiterate; this is a set of one-off ficlets based around The Full House by Emcee Frodis (#7895293) & Hooper House Rules by Amalia Kensington (#7973501). (Thankyou , you beautiful pair!)

There are BIG SPOILERS for both the Sherlock series & The Full House/Hooper House Rules here, so go read & watch them first before you do anything else!

Thankyou SO much to everyone who's reviewed so far - Lex & Emcee Frodis (obviously!), faeryenchanter, coloradoandcolour, Adi Who is Also Mou, Nocturnias, , darrah & The Mad Squirrel. It means ALOT & if you could take a few seconds to review I'd be forever grateful!

ALSO! If you have an idea for a chapter or you want a Sherlolly ficlet written about anything at all please let me know in a review! I've got a couple more ideas for chapters but it's super tough coming up with ideas when you're in someone else's ficverse and you don't want to change to add to the canon. So! Anything you'd like to see - please let me know asap & I'll probably write it for you!

DISCLAIMER: I own none of these characters but if I owned a Sherlock he'd be tied to my bed.

This is a prequel chapter to Ch3 Unconscious. Bit of an odd idea but I thought it'd be cute. ^^ I LOVE SHERLOLLY FLUFF!

Chapter Four. Comforted. Set between Ch5 & Ch 6 of The Full House (where Sherlock is having to share a bed with Molly, and finding that her presence helps him sleep).

Sherlock lay across one side of the bed, his legs folded neatly in front of him, a sheet of papers with various clippings & photographs arranged in his lap. He scrolled through a text file on his iPhone in one hand, making notes on the papers with the other. The room was lit by the soft golden glow of a bedside lamp beside him. The day was drawing to a close; he'd briefly noticed the sun setting outside the window a few hours ago. But that meant little to Sherlock. Day or night had little consequence for him when there was important work to be done.

He didn't look up when the door to the bedroom opened. Molly shuffled across the carpet, closing the door after her, & went over to wardrobe so she could dress for bed. He felt her linger a little at the window, but he didn't look up. This was only the third night that the pair had been forced to share Molly's bedroom. Nevertheless, he was getting used to her nervous, mouse-like behaviour that only seemed to amplify whenever they found themselves alone with each other.

Last night Irene hadn't returned until the early hours, so Sherlock had been able to spread himself across the living room alone, while Molly slept soundly in her bed. When The Woman had appeared, he'd made a quick exit (as to escape from the numerous offers to share the sofa) & continued to work by the light of the bedside table he was currently sat beside now.

Finally Molly made her way over to the bed and perched on the other side, her back to the detective. She sat there for a while, unmoving. Sherlock continued to tap at his phone but glanced sideways at her with a sigh,

"What are you doing, Molly?"

"Erm," She shifted herself so that her back was resting against the headboard - just as Sherlock's was - though he noted the gap she'd left between the pair of them was as big as it possibly could be. She was almost hanging off the side. Molly twisted her hands in her lap, clearly uncomfortable.

"Are you… Are you going to sleep soon?" She ventured.

"I don't sleep," He murmured back almost instantaneously as he leafed through some of his papers.

"That can't be true," She offered in her usual small voice, "I know not as much as other people, but… For the past two nights you've been wide awake. You have to sleep at some point."

Sherlock continued to stare at his phone, deep in thought. "I sleep… Sporadically."

There was a pause, then he looked up at her, "That said, I am very aware sitting upright and on top of the duvet isn't the usual position when one wishes to sleep." He cocked an eyebrow, gesturing to how she was sat, "Are you going to sleep soon?"

"Well, that's what I mean…" Molly gave him an apologetic half-smile.

Sherlock went back to his work, "I slept for approximately two hours thirty-five hours ago. I am fine. I am also more than capable of continuing to work with a sleeping woman by my side." He waved his hand, "Don't let me stop you."

Gingerly Molly stood up, folded back her side of the duvet, then climbed back into bed, this time beneath it. Sherlock could just see her staring up at him through the corner of his eyes. It was very distracting.

"You need to close your eyes in order to sleep, Molly." He stated in a low grumble.

"Are you going to be… I mean, can I-? Erm. You need to-."

Sherlock gave a sigh, dropping the papers that were in his hand back to his lap before turning to look at her. He wished she'd get over this ridiculous schoolgirl crush that caused her to turn into a stammering idiot whenever forced to converse with him on a one-to-one basis. Gods be good, Molly was an intelligent and accomplished woman; the fact that she wasn't able to string a sentence together in his company confused and irritated Sherlock in equal measure.

"For goodness sake's Molly, please, for the sake of both of us, spit it out."

Molly turned faintly pink and, somehow, her voice seemed to become even squeakier. "I can't sleep with that lamp on."

He swivelled his head to glance at the lamp on his left, then faced Molly again.

"You were asleep last night. I had it turned on then."

Molly bit her lip & nodded against her pillow, "Mm. It woke me up… About a dozen times. I was so tired at work today I almost fell asleep while running tests on some tissue samples."

Sherlock frowned, "I can't work in the darkness."

"And I can't work without getting any sleep." She half-smiled again, though she looked anxious, "Maybe… You could just go to sleep tonight too?"

Sherlock's brow furrowed, and he looked at Molly for a long moment, pondering her suggestion. Before moving into Molly's flat, it'd had been a long time since Sherlock had even been in a bed, nevermind asleep in one. Of course, he had his own bed at 221b, but it was very rarely used. Often he preferred to lie on the sofa; with all of his books and notes and other knick knacks and thinking aids around him.

Finally he shuffled his papers and photographs and set them neatly down on the floor at the side of the bed. He quickly tapped at his phone for a few more moments before putting that down aswell. Finally, with a frown, he turned off the lamp and lay back against the headboard.

He felt Molly shuffle little as she turned onto her side, facing away from him, "Mm. Thankyou, Sherlock."

Sherlock inhaled deeply and stared forward into the darkness, "You're welcome Molly."

He sat there for a while, just staring and thinking. It was completely unnatural for him to lie down in the dark and force himself to lose consciousness - whenever he did manage to catch a couple of hours of sleep, it was often due to exhaustion and it crept upon him quietly while he lay thinking. Sherlock never actively decided to turn his brain off, he just allowed it to get some rest whenever it was absolutely necessary. Right now, however, his thoughts were buzzing. He felt it quite impossible to simply close his eyes and wander aimlessly into unconsciousness.

Glancing down, he saw the faint outline of Molly's sleeping form silhouetted beside him. She was lying on her side, facing away from him, and the light from her alarm clock bathed her features in a soft blue hue. Sherlock could see her usual expression of quiet apprehension was gone - the muscles on her face slackened and relaxed. She looked much better like that, he noted. Her long, dark eyelashes sent thin strips of shadows across her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He found himself watching her breathe - shallow breaths that made her small breasts swell a little against the fabric of her nightdress. They escaped through her slightly parted lips - lips that he recalled he had once told her were too small. Now, he found, they didn't seem too small at all. Infact, they seemed… Just so.

His pale eyes flickered upward to the alarm clock. It was half past one in the morning. Far too early to even contemplate sleep. Still, he couldn't just sit here for the next six hours staring at Molly's face. Maybe there was some logic in trying to get a night's rest in order to approach the case with renewed vigour tomorrow.

Carefully Sherlock allowed himself to slide down so that he lay perfectly horizontally, finding the soft pillows very welcome for soothing the aching back of his skull where he'd rested against the wooden headboard for so long. He was still lying above the duvet cover, though he steepled his fingers under his chin and taking a deep breath, closed his eyes. Unexpectedly, Sherlock found the darkness coupled with the absolute silence most agreeable. In her sleep, Molly had edged herself further from the edge of the bed and Sherlock could feel the soft rise and fall of her warm body next to him; the sound of her breathing was like a ticking clock - peaceful and oddly comforting.

Sherlock slowly exhaled and smiled to himself. He'd perhaps have to listen to Molly Hooper's advice more often.