Chapter 10

Two days had passed and Molly hadn't heard from Sherlock.

She had been busy at work, working extra shifts to cover her colleague who was in bed with a bad flu. She was trying to ignore the stares and whispers going on behind her back. The police had questioned all the staff at Bart's about "Jim from IT". And even if Inspector Lestrade had completely cleared her, it was now official that Dr Molly Hooper had been dating an international terrorist.

No wonder that people had carefully avoided sitting beside her at the cafeteria.

She kept her mind focused on her work. It had always been an efficient way to forget about her problems. People were often surprised or disgusted by her choice of profession, but she genuinely liked her job and had worked hard to get where she was. There were always some surprises with the usual stream of corpses, old or young, big or small. And since she had started working with Sherlock she was paying more attention to those little details.

Yes, that was Molly; hard worker, always trying to please people. "Little Miss Perfect" as her friends liked to call her. Always in control, except when it came to Him.

She couldn't help thinking over and over about what had happened on Sunday night. The always elusive Sherlock Holmes, in her flat. In the morning, she had though it might have been just a dream - but he had left his blood stained shirt on her sofa. Charming.

Oh, there was no doubt he was absolutely exasperating. But it was useless denying that she was still head over heels with him, and had been since the first day he had entered her lab. He got her at "hello".

He had persistently ignored her invitations for coffee, he was above all that. But he wasn't against a bit of flirting when he needed a favour. And she would always give in. Because those incredible blue eyes had an almost hypnotic power over her.

He had seemed different the other day though, almost vulnerable. The explosion had obviously shaken him more than he wished to admit. And he did worry for John. Molly wondered if it was ok to call him for news, tell him that he could come back if he liked. But she didn't want to sound too desperate...

No, she decided that she wanted to play a little bit, so she texted him.

"You left your dirty laundry at my flat. Should I get rid of it? MH"

The answer came quickly:

"No, dry cleaner will do. SH"

"Typical", she giggled.

^/^

It was almost midnight when she finally came back home.

She prepared a little snack for herself and watched the late news on TV while petting Toby. Then she went to the bathroom, brushed her teeth and changed into her "Hello Kitty" nightgown.

She had the shock of her life when she turned on the light in her bedroom.

There was a man in her bed. And not any man, it was Him.

"OH MY GOD. WHAT THE… What are you doing here!?" she squawked, sounding completely panicked.

He opened a sleepy eye, obviously unhappy to have been disturbed.

"Well, as you can see, I'm trying to sleep", he answered, as if everything was perfectly normal.

"You can't… well... how did you even get in?"

"You didn't think seriously that a tea box was a good hiding place for a spare key?"

"I… look - you really can't stay here."

"Why not?"

"Because… you can't!" She was almost yelling now. "Didn't your parents teach you any manners at all? Sherlock, you can't just pop up at peoples' places and sleep in their bed".

He was still absolutely calm. "You didn't say anything on Sunday".

"It was the sofa, it's different. You can… go back there if you want. But this is MY bed".

"Your cat bothered me last time."

"Then I'll keep Toby with me in here."

"The sofa is uncomfortable. My back hurts".

"Well you know what, it's that's not good enough, you have your own flat."

This time he didn't answer anything.

"So?" she said, impatiently.

He sighed. "I can't sleep over there. My brain won't stop. But I fell asleep here the other day. I think your apartment or your presence has a soporific effect on me, you see?"

"No… Look I've been working all day, I'm exhausted and I don't have the energy to fight you. So do whatever you want, be quiet and I'm changing my locks tomorrow morning."

Molly went back to the bathroom even she didn't have anything to do there. She needed to breathe. God, god, god why is this happening? She wondered if she should sleep on the sofa. That would be the more reasonable solution. But it almost meant letting him win. And at that rate he would soon kick her out of her own apartment… Should she go to her bed then? It was… quite inappropriate. But... definitely tempting as well. Even if she knew she shouldn't expect anything to happen. From what she heard, he was not really interested in those things.

She went back to the bedroom and saw that he had closed his eyes again. She went to the other side of the bed and tried to settle as far from him as possible. She was staring at the wall when he interrupted:

"Can you turn off the light? I'd like to sleep"

"I was about to". She turned it off and said hesitantly "Good night".

She got no answer, but continued: "How's John?"

There was a moment of silence then he said: "Slightly better, apparently - intracranial pressure's falling. But they're still keeping him unconscious."

"That's good. I mean, I'll hope they'll wake him up soon."

"Yes"

"Oh, we didn't look at your bandages."

"It can wait."

"Did you get them changed?"

"No…"

"Sherlock! It's going to get infected!"

"It can wait until tomorrow. It is highly unlikely to turn into gangrene overnight. Are you done? I would really like to sleep now. I thought you were tired."

"You're really unbelievable. Seriously, I don't know how John manages to put up with you."

"Well, contrary to popular belief, John and I don't sleep in the same bed. Well, rarely."

"You know that's not what I meant…"

She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but she was too agitated. He really had quite upset her. Suddenly she turned on the light again and jumped out of bed.

"What is it now?" he exclaimed

"I'm the doctor in this room, and I've decided it's not waiting until tomorrow".

He buried his head in the pillow and mumbled something inaudible.

"So you won't leave me alone?"

"No; my bed, my rules", she said firmly, "Now get ready."

When she came back from the bathroom, he had stripped to his boxers and was staring at her with a defiant look.

"See doctor, I'm all yours."

Molly tried to keep her composure even if all her confidence was suddenly fading away at the sight of him. She took a deep breath and told him "Good, turn around."

She took care of the wounds. They looked better than the first time but still needed some cleaning. However her mind was invaded by complete different thoughts. The man of her dreams was in her bed, half naked and she was allowed to touch. She should have been happy and yet, she couldn't help feeling incredibly nervous. She could practically hear the sound of her heart bumping in her chest, and Sherlock was so observant, she was sure he'd pick up the signs of her agitation. She forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

Once she was done, she got up from the bed and said "No signs of gangrene... yet."

He stared at her for a moment and looked like he was searching for something to say.

"What?" she asked.

"I don't know, it's your hair, it looks good that way. When it's not attached or..."

She cut him short: "Please don't... You know, your pick-up lines are really terrible sometimes".

He looked slightly pissed off, but then burst out laughing. She found his laugh was absolutely ...cute. Now there's a word I never thought I'd connect with Sherlock, she mused.

"Touché! It's never been my forte. I bet John must know some really good ones."

"So what do you want? When you start paying me compliments, it's usually that you need something. What is it this time? A bedtime story?"

"Well, now that I'm awake and I have such an efficient nurse, I was more thinking of... playing doctors." The expression on his face had changed, his smile looking almost predatory.

"Oh" was her only answer. She started looking at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

Sherlock grabbed her hips and pulled her closer.

"Come here", he said softly.

He placed a finger under her chin and lifted her face - she was blushing furiously, and was about to say something but he didn't give her time - and then he kissed her.

Despite her surprise, she responded quickly. She had always found he had amazing lips and they felt delicious. He made her sit on top of him and they went on kissing.

Molly couldn't believe this was happening. His hands were sliding under her nightgown and she could feel that he was definitely aroused by now. Suddenly she broke the kiss and pulled back a little. She looked at him, slightly scared.

"What is it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I, I don't know... It's just going a bit fast for me."

"A bit fast? You've been wanting it for over two years. Come on, don't play prude with me."

She hated him for saying that. Because it was rude, but mostly because he was right. Of course she desired him; she had just imagined things would have happened differently. An invitation to coffee, a few dates... On the other hand, tonight might be her only chance. She met his hungry, impatient blue eyed gaze, and decided that for once, she could put her romantic expectations aside.

She stripped off her nightgown and waited for him to make the next move.

He looked at her body with his usual clinical precision, then whispered in her ear "You're beautiful".