A/N: Hi guys, back again. I hope you enjoyed the last chapter. Thank you for the reviews, follows and favourites. Sadly as always I own nothing; it all belongs to the BBC, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Stephan Moffat. I apologise, Sherlock goes very OOC in the chapter.
I hope you enjoy! :-)
SM
Chapter 3:
I woke up, feeling something soft and silky brushing against my nape.
"Mmmm...Toby...I'll feed you later." I mumbled, snuggling deeper into the duvet. Sadly this didn't stop the nuzzling, the silky hair still tickled my...wait...when had Toby grown hair and not fur.
"Molly, that isn't the way to greet your bed mate." Sherlock grumbled, his baritone voice hoarse. Suddenly he flung one of his long arms over my waist, pulling me snug against him and placing a soft kiss to the back of my head.
"M...m..morning Sherlock." I stuttered, suddenly freezing against him.
"I believe we are past stuttering, Molly. It was cute at the beginning..." Sherlock started before I interrupted.
"You thought m..m..my stuttering was c..c...cute?" I asked nervously.
"Erm, well, erm, I..." Sherlock muttered, not forming coherent sentences. I looked over my shoulder at him, searching his eyes for the answer. Noticing his cheeks and tops of his ears were slightly pink.
"Sherlock are you blushing?" I asked,
"No, don't be stupid Molly." He said, suddenly removing his arm from my waist and shuffling out of bed. I felt like an arrow had gone through my heart; the hope that was once there was destroyed. A tear fell, and the sobs began; I tried to hold them back but they wouldn't stop, like an attacking armada. Then there was a weight on the bed next to me.
"Molly, please don't cry. Not over me. I just..."
"You always say such horrible things, always." I whispered, refusing to look at him.
"Look at me Molly, please." Sherlock asked,
"You are just as bad as him, you used me for your own personal gain and you didn't think twice about the consequences. You lied. I never counted and you have never trusted me..." I sniffled, tears falling down my cheeks.
"Oh, Molly, shhhh." Sherlock uttered, pulling me closer and rubbing up and down my arm. "You're wrong Molly, you do count and I trust you with my life. I apologize for using you in the way I did but everything said wasn't a lie. I liked you're hair in a side bun..."
"What?" I chocked, unable to speak over the tears. My body shaking with the sobs that wracked through my body.
"My Molly, my pathologist. Why do you doubt yourself?" He asked running his long fingers through my hair. "Ahh. Whatever he did to you doesn't need to define you Molly; you don't have to be a product of your past." Sherlock's voice was comforting and soon my sobs stopped. "When you are ready to tell me about what happened..." He started, feeling like he didn't need to continue he placed a kiss on my forehead and strode into the kitchenette.
Ten minutes later I emerged from my bedroom, smelling something from the kitchenette, I headed to where I thought Sherlock might be.
"Oh, Sherlock, erm, I d..d...didn't know you could cook," I said surprised to find a selection of breakfast foods on the table. This was not as surprising as finding Sherlock in a pair of dark jeans that hung just so on his hips.
"Yes, just because I don't do anything doesn't mean I am unable to do it. Stop staring Doctor Hooper." He announced, his back to me.
"Sorry." I mumbled, taking a plate and picking up some pancakes, grilled tomatoes and a slice of bacon. He turned around, wearing his signature smirk.
"For someone with an above average intelligence level you are very unobservant." He said, his smirk turning into a smile.
"Sarcasm. The l..l..lowest form of wit, so they say." I stuttered, finally realising what Sherlock was referring to. Sherlock's cobalt eyes lit up.
"Well done Molly, quicker than John." He said. Then the light in his eyes was gone, the one name that Sherlock would die for, and did die for, in the eyes of many.
"He's met someone: Mary Morstan. I know her, she's nice; used to work in the Haematology department. They met when she had moved to the A&E department; John went in after a fight because someone said something about you. Mary claims it was love at first sight and I believe her. He loved her from the moment they met. They couldn't be more perfect for each other." I stated, answering the unsaid question. But as I said it I felt guilt, knowing that all of this time I had been lying to them, lying to the world, but they still trusted me. I couldn't eat. The guilt was eating away at me, but for him I had to be strong.
We sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime until Sherlock broke the silence.
"Thank you, Molly." He said, turning to face me.
"For what?" I asked, confused about what he meant.
"For being you. For saving me, and most of all thank you for loving me." His voice broke halfway through the sentence; his calm façade shattered, revealing a young innocent boy.
"What do you need?" I asked, knowing that this one sentence had the power of an army and the strength of an ox.
"You."
A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review and let me know if you think I should leave the story here or write more and see how Sherlock and Molly's relationship develops.
Thank you
SM