As Above As Below
Chapter 3
"Sherlock," Molly said exasperatedly, "Please, put this one on, it's much comfier!" She brandished her nephew's old Kermit t-shirt at Sherlock, who gave the Muppet a glare that would have made the older Sherlock proud.
"No, Muppets are insti…insi…shtupid."
Molly bit her cheek, trying not to giggle at the lisp that had crept into the three-year old Sherlock's tongue. He should be thanking his stars that Molly was a kind person by nature; this would have made great blackmail material otherwise. Not that she still had gotten her head around the fact that this stubborn, lisping toddler had only hours ago been the World's only supposedly dead Consulting Detective.
"Okay, we'll go shopping later, but for tonight, can't you just wear it as a night-shirt? No one will see you."
"Mycrwoft shaid he will bring my clothes."
As if on cue, Molly's mobile pinged, alerting her to a text.
Clothes will be sent in the morning. Also, he likes pirates.
M.H
Molly stared at the text for a long while, Sherlock making background noises while he waited most impatiently. After Molly had gotten her head around the fact that the elder Holmes probably had everyone's phone numbers at the palm of his hand (literally), she dug into the drawer, and found a rather battered old tee, by the size of it, it seemed to belong to her years back.
Molly made a mental note to clean the chest of drawers as soon as circumstances allowed.
Sherlock more or less pounced on the tee, grabbing the Pirates of the Caribbean shirt and hugging it to his chest.
"Sherlock, that thing is really old and smelly."
"I want to wear this."
"Sherlock-"
"Wear THIS!"
Having three nieces and nephews meant Molly Hooper knew when she was defeated. Sighing, she grabbed the helm of the coarse shirt Sherlock was wearing and tugged it over his head.
I'm undressing Sherlock Holmes in my bedroom, she thought and then mentally slapped herself.
Molly frowned as she felt Sherlock's prominent ribs. She would have to feed him up; it was unhealthy that he was this thin.
The Pirates tee was nearly a dress on Sherlock and it hung off his shoulders. He looked like a tiny scarecrow; hair mussed up and high cheekbones given his face unnatural shadows. The smell of camphol hung off him.
He spun around gleefully, face alight with a happiness Molly had only seen in the older Sherlock when there was a gruesome triple homicide. It warmed her heart that this Sherlock could find joy in the smaller things.
Note to self, she thought, find out what Mycroft meant by Sherlock retaining some of his mental faculties.
"Do you need help going to the loo?" She asked the toddler.
"No," he replied in the typical pride a toddler is capable of summoning, "I can go by myshelf."
"Alrighty then! I'll have some dinner ready by the time you come out, okay?"
Sherlock wrinkled his nose at her cheery tune and Molly made a mental note never to use 'alrighty' ever again.
Molly had just managed to get to that comfortable place between sleep and waking, when she peeked open her eyes a fraction to notice the orange bundle at the foot of her bed.
Sherlock had been quite taken with a hideous orange blanket her sister had given to her as a joke some years previous. She never used it (it reminded her too much of the police shock blankets) but refrained from throwing it away on mere sentiment.
"You alright, Sherlock?"
"I had a bad dream…" Sherlock said pitifully, and a closer inspection told Molly that he was holding back tears.
Oh God, if Sherlock was a child…and he were dreaming about John and Moriarty and the Fall…a child shouldn't have to experience…
"C'mere." She said, patting the space on the bed next to her. He crawled up to her gratefully and scooted closer.
Molly, by some maternal instinct (gender stereotype be damned) pulled him closer to her, wrapping her arms around him to give him a sense of security.
Sherlock buried his face into her chest and soon she could feel the spot get a little damp.
"Want…Jawn…"
Molly pulled him even tighter to her.
The next morning, Molly woke up to the warm feeling of a small body on top of her, dark curls near her face and calm breathes on her neck from where Sherlock had burrowed his face.
A/N: Another small chapter! I am so sorry, my wonderful readers, for not writing a wonderful chapter or updating "How to Keep Your Pathologist". It'll take a while for HTKYP, as the only thing I can really write right now is Chibi Sherlock fluff.
I'm doing alright, I have another surgery on the 14th, after which I'll be all yours!
Now, thank you, thank you for the wonderful response. I'm sorry if I couldn't thank you personally, so take this chapter, updated much sooner than decided, as a token of my appreciation.
Much love and thanks to all my reviewers- MadAsAHatterJayy, Cinnamon Pink, CaptainCat, Zora Arian (All will be revealed love), Emily, amirizar2003, MorbidbyDefault (Want more ginger midgets!), patemalah21,magicstrikes, Catindahat,The GoldenHairedMockingjay, Metal Unicorn and the two guests!
Special love to NoveraDeMedeci, for the cupcakes, flowers and sympathy!
See you very soon and hope you review!
Adi X