I apologize for not posting in a long long long long long long long time. Beware this chapter is awesome! R&R please!
Molly awoke in a bed. She had no clue whose and she was frightened. She sat up suddenly when she realized there was a body next to hers. She looked at the sleeping form and realized what had happened. She had come to Sherlock about the message Moriarty had left her. She had fallen asleep on his chest and she was now in his bed. He was asleep and slightly snoring. Sherlock was sleeping. She didn't know this man was capable of sleep. She stared at the man she loved for a couple of minutes until Sherlock began to move. She was frightened and got out of bed quickly, scared of his reaction to being so close to her.
She was standing at the far corner of the room about to exit when she heard a soft voice, "Molly? You do not have to sneak out of my room. I am not going to yell at you. You helped me sleep for the first time in a long time. I understand now why men prefer to have company." He began to sit up and Molly realized he was not wearing a shirt, and she blushed. But when he stood up she blushed even more red then she was before. Sherlock Holmes was standing in his underwear right in front of her. Her eyes widened and she was about to leave when something caught her attention. Sherlock's body was bruised and battered. Scars riddled his chest and sides. He had a crescent shaped scar underneath his left pectoral. His skin was burnt in some places and his arms were covered in needle marks. Sherlock was riddle with stories from his past.
Sherlock let Molly stare for awhile, letting her deduce what she will, before he put on his dressing gown. He rarely let anyone see his unclothed body. There were so many things he wanted to hide, he was ashamed of things as well. His needle marks, past drug habit. His crescent shaped scar, someone had shot him and he needed to dig the bullet out. His bruises were from self inflictment. He hated himself some days and it was better to harm himself rather than hurt someone or destroy something in Mrs. Hudson's lovely apartment. He didn't know why he let Molly look at him for so long but he soon became uncomfortable with her looking at him. Her look went from shock to pity in seconds. He didn't care for sentiment. Although he had showed more the past couple months than he would have liked.
He finally brushed past Molly keeping his head down as not to meet eyes. Then Molly did something Sherlock never saw coming. Molly grabbed his wrist and turned him to her. She forced his head to look at her. He saw tears in her eyes and he hated that he had caused them. He brought his free hand up to cradle her cheek. She pushed her face into his hand, and turned to kiss his palm. Sherlock's heart began to flutter and he longed to hold Molly close. And that is what he did.
Molly was surprised when Sherlock pulled Molly into the most passionate hug. There bodies fit like puzzle pieces. She wrapped her arms around his waist when she felt him lay his chin on her head. This seemed to be a comforting position for Sherlock. He had held her similar to this last night. She pulled back and looked at his eyes. The steeling blue pierced her soul and she knew him. She took one more chance. She put her hands up to his face and pulled it down. His lips met hers and relief filled her. He kissed her back and there mouths molded together. She heard Sherlock sigh and lean into her.
Sherlock had never been kissed before. He had always done the kissing. He liked to have control. But to lose it was a new feeling. He needed control back. He pushed her into the doorframe. He brushed his tongue across her lips and she let him in. He controlled the complicated tango there tongues were doing. They were lost in the moment when all of a sudden Sherlock heard a grunt. He pulled back from the frazzled Molly. Her lips were swollen and red, yet she looked beautiful. He turned to see an awestruck John standing in the hallway. He was bright red and not making eye contact.
Sherlock had some explaining to do.