30 Days (Kind of) to Fall in Love
The prompt is inspired by ericandy's 30 day OTP challenge on Tumblr.
AN: Sorry about not updating yesterday. Hopefully the extra length on this one should make up for it. Thanks once again to the reviewers and followers. Every time I get an email that somebody has followed or reviewed it brings a smile to my face! Enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes, the rest of the world would never see him Not mine.
6. Wearing each other's clothes
John Watson loved his morning routine. Perhaps it was left over from his days in the army, but he could imagine nothing more pleasant than waking early, drinking a cup of tea, showering, another cup of tea, breakfast, and then on with his day all within an hour of waking. Since living with Sherlock Holmes, he had had to adjust his expectations quite a bit. With Sherlock, it was rather difficult to fit in the his mantra of early to bed early to rise since the consulting detective had a habit of keeping him up late and waking him up at all hours of the night. At this point, he believed the best he could do was try to get at least 6-8 hours within a 24 hour period, and even this was challenging.
So when he awoke at 6 in the morning and made his way downstairs to the sound of absolute silence after having slept for 8 full hours, John was ecstatic. He was sure to keep the sound of his morning routine down, just in case the consulting detective should poke decide to get up and mess it all up.
After his shower, he was just sitting down to his second cup of tea in his favorite chair when he heard Sherlock's door open. Congratulating himself on having been able to last this long, he prepared himself for the oncoming onslaught. However, instead of the man himself, his girlfriend, Molly Hooper, quietly walked down the hall and into the kitchen. John couldn't help but notice that she wore one of Sherlock's shirts, the dark purple one in fact. Hiding beneath her hair, she made her way to the kettle and began preparing two cups of tea. John realized that she could not see him from his position and make a quick decision not to startle her.
When he began his relationship with Molly, Sherlock had turned to John as the source of all wisdom on women. After the night when he had made his initial inquiries, John had sat him down and had a rather lengthy discussion on the topic. As embarrassing as it was for him, he felt bad because he was fairly certain that no one had ever done that with Sherlock. He didn't know much about his parents, but after meeting Mycroft, he highly doubted that anyone would speak frankly enough with the man. Since then, he had butted in when he could to assure that something didn't happen that would ruin the couple.
The most awkward thing had happened when he had received an urgent text from Sherlock which asked him to come to the local pharmacist's. He had found him staring at the rack of condoms with a rather frustrated look on his face. Needless to say, he had no idea what to purchase and, rather than simply call John or ask the clerk, he had simply pointed at them and instructed John to "pick one." Rather than being upset, John was glad that Sherlock had had the foresight to at least attempt trying to do this for himself. After their purchase, at which the clerk gave them an exaggerated speech on how progressive the two of them were and at which John vehemently denied being gay and at which Sherlock smirked, the two had gone back to Baker Street. There, John mimicked something he had seen in a movie and made Sherlock practice on a banana. Once satisfied that he had the hang of it, John had dropped the subject and never brought it up again.
Now, drinking his tea and watching Molly prepare tea for the two of them, he hoped that things had gone well the night before. As he picked up his paper, forgetting to be quiet, he heard Molly gasp from the kitchen. "Morning Molly," he called, not looking up in order to keep the embarrassment to a minimum.
"M, m, morning John," she answered quietly. He could hear her continue to move about the kitchen.
"Sleep well," he asked without thinking. He hadn't meant to ask her about that.
"Yup," she replied rather cheerily. "But, but we just slept. We're taking things slow. Thanks, by the way."
"What for," he asked, still remaining engrossed in his paper. He was mildly surprised that the two still hadn't slept together. It was rather like two adolescents rather than two adults.
"For taking Sherlock under your wing, so to speak. I could have talked to him about sex and stuff, but I think it's easier when another man can do it," she responded. John was surprised that she could be frank about this but not about the fact that she was in his flatmate's shirt and not much else.
"You're welcome," he replied, but she had already disappeared back to the bedroom with the tea.
When Sherlock had texted Molly to come to Baker Street after her shift that had ended at midnight, she had wanted to refuse. She'd been awake for eighteen hours already and really needed to sleep. However, Sherlock had just finished with a case, which meant that he probably had not slept nor ate since he had started in on it two days ago. She picked him up some late night take away and figured that she would be able to sleep soon after.
She had been correct in her deductions, and after kissing her, he quickly delved into the take away as she helped herself to a bit. He had gone through the entire case with her as they ate, but seemed to be slowing as they finished. Molly took their plates and pulled him into his bedroom, intending to get him into bed and go home. However, once she got him into bed and turned to leave, he grabbed her hand and asked her to stay. She protested that she needed a shower and had no clothes, to which he replied that he had a shower and she could put on one of his shirts. Molly was too tired to protest, so she used his soap and conditioner and put on the first shirt she had grabbed out of his closet.
When she finally made her way back to his bed, it was after 1 and she was exhausted. As soon as she lay down, she felt Sherlock turn and wrap his arms around her. For a man who up to now had protested human contact, he certainly was clingy, especially in his sleep. Molly found herself nestled on his chest, just underneath his jaw. She wasn't one to complain though; not only was she comfortable warm, but she also felt safer than she had in a long time. After a moment of inhaling the comforting scent of her Sherlock, she fell blissfully asleep.
That was until her phone went off at half six with her alarm for work. She managed to reach over Sherlock to the nightstand where she had placed it before. Shutting it off, she buried her face back into Sherlock's chest and inhaled deeply. She really did not want to leave the comfort and warmth which being in his bed provided. She realized that this was the first time that they had "slept together," albeit in the literal sense. She smiled as his arms came around her and he mumbled something. "What is it love," she asked.
"Don't go in. Or go in late. I need you here," he said.
"Oh, and what exactly do you need me here for?"
"To help me sleep. I don't sleep as well when you aren't here and I need to catch up on my rest which I won't be able to do if you go into work," he murmured into her hair. Molly could tell that he was still half awake as he revealed that fact.
"How do you know that you don't sleep as well when I'm not here," she asked. "Last night was the first time we actually slept together."
"And last night I slept better than I ever have," he responded. Molly smiled at his words. As much as she would love to forget work and stay here all day, she knew that she had to go in. There were three autopsies she had scheduled for today and she had a mountain of paperwork on her desk that only seemed to increase in size. "I'll go make tea," she said, pulling out of his embrace. She gently kissed his forehead as she walked around the bed to go to the kitchen.
When Molly came back from the kitchen, Sherlock was sitting up in bed, texting rapidly on his phone. She handed his tea to him and slipped back into bed, laying her head on his shoulder as he fired off several texts in rapid succession. "So John knows I spent the night," she said, not looking at him to see his reaction.
"Yes, I heard the conversation. These walls are rather thin, as it happens," he responded. "It's not as if we had crazy monkey sex. You spending the night shouldn't be that unpredictable, given our current relationship trajectory."
"Sherlock, do you know what crazy monkey sex even is?" she asked, pulling her head up to look at him. Given his general ignorance about things in the bedroom, Molly hadn't anticipated talking about crazy monkey sex for quite some time.
"You wrote it in your dream diary. I googled it."
Molly sighed. "What would we do without the internet? Allright, I'm going to get changed. Shit! I have to go home and get clothes. Damn, I'm going to be late."
Sherlock was rather surprised at Molly's use of expletives. "Wear your trousers from yesterday and wear one of my shirts. No one will notice," he offered.
"Really, you're alright with me wearing your shirts out in public? I mean, as a nightshirt I understand, but to the morgue?" she asked. Not that the thought of wearing his clothes out in public didn't turn her on, but she knew that Sherlock wore designer everything. One of his shirts probably cost half of her wardrobe.
"Try not to spill anything on it," he said, looking at her quizzically. "And if anyone asks, just tell them that it's a new fashion trend. Or that it's mine, whatever you prefer." This last comment he said rather softly. Molly smiled from where she was pulling on her trousers. She buttoned them and went over to him. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she leaned forward till her lips were next to his ear.
"I'm happy to wear your clothes and I have no problem with telling people who they and I belong to," she whispered. Before she could pull back, she felt his hands on her waste, pulling her down to him. He crushed his mouth down upon hers, his tongue desperately seeking entrance to her mouth. She could taste the tea she had made for them as they allowed their passion to play out through their mouths. Sherlock enjoyed possessing things, and knowing that Molly had openly admitted to being his made him quite happy.
Just as he began to go for her clothes, Molly pulled back and out of his arms. "I have to get to work love. Otherwise I won't have a job and you'll have to work with another pathologist," she said with a smile. He sighed and let her go. Molly finished getting dressed and went back to him. "Get some sleep and I'll make you dinner tonight, if you like," she said. He hummed his agreement, and she left him with a soft kiss.