Clothes

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He rubbed the chiffon between his thumb and forefinger; his left hand mimicking the same action with his white cotton collared shirt. Molly had numerous colored cotton shirts, a couple chiffon, and handful of silk blouses embellished with delicate beige lace. The rest of her casual clothes were thrown without regard in the drawers next to the wardrobe. A sign that she hadn't shaken off the old habit.

The main bedroom didn't smell like Molly in the least; this disappointed Sherlock. He quite liked the warm amber and peach body mist she had hid within her purse. The scent fits her personality rather well. And secretly Sherlock had grown accustomed to smelling it on rare occasions. Sherlock presumed that his wife was trying to preserve the original smell of the room. As if she wanted the room to smell like him and only him.

Molly had kept to herself as of late. Naturally, Sherlock had to investigate—his own wife. It was the simple things that had piqued the detective's interests. Whenever their eyes met; Molly was always the first to quickly look away and busy herself. Almost as if it burned to look at him.

"I got you peaches." Sherlock had said as he placed a plate of the evenly sliced fruit in front of his wife. It was easy to see how Molly's face lit up, and how her lips formed the smallest of grins.

"Thank you." Molly had replied softly, but she didn't look up when she spoke. Why was she trying to avoid him?

And then one day, Sherlock had called his mother-in-law in the guise of a friendly, and loving phone call. The detective's real intentions were to gain information about his loving wife. Interesting... After all this time—he still didn't know her. It bothered the man enough to stoop so low.

Sherlock wasn't completely oblivious to the fact that, Mr. & Mrs. Hooper, could have really cared less about their daughter. It seemed to be a rather well known fact, that the Hoopers, had always wanted boys, but instead they were gifted with a little bundle of joy. Hence the strange parenting of Sherlock's in-laws. He wasn't sure if it was spite or utter confusion in raising a girl in almost strange obscurity from society's norms.

"If you ask me it's almost surprising how she turned out!" Mrs. Hooper said in a shocked tone of voice. "Strong and independent! That was what I told Thomas our girl would raise up to be! But was she? Oh no! Not in the least! When she was nineteen she had gotten so emotional after her father had forgotten about the opera they were supposed to attend! The pitiful girl sat alone through-out the entire thing while Thomas was out with the chaps having a bit of fun. In all honesty, I believe Molly knew very well her father always went out on Fridays. Trying to wiggle her selfish ways into the poor man's hobbies, she was!" Mrs. Hooper rambled without stopping for air.

"The real shocker came when she saw you at that formal party your parents held many years ago! We had always taught her to not be interested in such frivolous things!" Sherlock's ears picked up eagerly on where the subject was going. "Molly begged me to let her talk to you, but at that time I was protective of her reputation, and self worth. It's nothing against you, my dear boy. Merely, I was being what a good mother should be! She was always asking about you, and wondering what you were interested in, et cetera! I'd always have to push her harder on her studies, and not to focus on you so her grades wouldn't fail! Eventually, I said to her that if her school reports were good, and that she excelled well, that I'd try and let her meet you. I never wanted to bother you or your dear mother with such a besotted child!"

The conversation went on as such: Sherlock listened, and Mrs. Hooper spilled every little detail about her daughter without much thought. Or remorse.

"Later down the road I told Molly that if she were a lady, and behaved well as such, then she could come along when I met your mother for tea at your parents' estate. Oh, you should have seen her! Dressed prim and proper with such poise that you'd wonder if she were capable of such things now!" Mrs. Hooper laughed and sighed at the fond memory. "I always knew she had done it just to impress you and your brother. Even though I appall such a show of blatant seduction! Fortunately for you, and I, Molly would rarely see you. That, or she'd be too busy gorging herself on food in the breakfast nook that she would miss you when you came to pay your mother your respects. Though, I can't say that I didn't have a personal hand in making sure she wouldn't bother any of us!" Mrs. Hooper had a haughty way in how she spoke. The woman thought she was amazing in her tactical skill. No, she was a horrible person. Regardless of how much she wanted to protect her child. No, Mrs. Hooper wasn't preparing or helping Molly for the future or real world. The woman was just keeping Molly out of her and everyone else's way. Perhaps in her mind the woman was doing the world some good—but in all reality—she proved to be the hindering rock in the middle of the road for her own daughter.

It made much more sense now. Why Molly had such a peculiar personality, and a very anxious, and awkward feel about her.

Thankfully the conversation ended before Sherlock lost his patience.

Dare he think it, Sherlock saw his wife in a slightly whole new light. The pieces were finally falling together. Molly became a much more relatable human being. For Sherlock, Molly became even easier to read now. There was one thing that her parents failed to cover up though... Molly's child-like innocence. Molly found good in even the most soiled person. At least, she believed so. But it took a special kind of person to see some good in another human... Sherlock pondered for a moment if the womanly aspect of his wife was slowly starting to push herself forward. And if there was a constant battle between Molly's mature female instincts, and her much more innocent self. He was intrigued now. Very. The subject of his experiment never seemed dull. Not for long, at least.

Molly hadn't any time to fidget with the door knob as she held two grocery bags in each hand. What with the weight of her purse on her shoulder and the bags in both hands; the poor female was tired as she was being weighed down. When Sherlock had opened the door and reached for not only the bags but for Molly's purse as well—she hadn't any time to be shocked as Sherlock held the door with his foot and motioned her to come in first.

By the time Molly had taken off her coat and shoes she stood behind the kitchen table staring hard at her husband. Oh no... he was wearing that shirt.

The deep purple did nothing, but accentuate the sort of masculine sex appeal Sherlock openly oozed, the way the fabric clung to his torso was illegal (Molly was sure of it!), and finally—the shirt paired with the fitted black pants were a dangerous combination of making a heart combust within any female's chest cavity.

Good grief, Molly couldn't even mutter a 'thank you' without averting her gaze that was NOT in Sherlock's general direction. Molly swore that if she stared anymore at her husband with such wanton eyes that her insomnia may never let up!

"Thank you for that." Molly blushed, and she clasped her hands together in front of her. "For opening the door and getting all the bags and things." Lord have mercy! Molly was rambling!

It took a minute before Sherlock realized why Molly was acting so strangely. He couldn't help but smile and bully her a little bit more.

"You're most welcome." Sherlock said in a low and smooth voice. Molly backed away as he advanced. "What kind of a man, let alone husband, would I be if I were to let you do such a task all by yourself."

Molly's face became abnormally red, and she bit her lip. She loved the way his voice could be so perfect.

"W-w-well," Sherlock watched amused as his wife stuttered, and he brought a red hair lock up to his mouth and ran it along his lips. He was sure Molly saw this because when he made a show to twirl the hair around his fingers the poor female ran away in embarrassment; she slammed the bedroom door with force and locked it for good measure!

It just wasn't fair! Molly fumed. He wasn't allowed to be that handsome! Let alone in clothes! Oh, Molly was for certain she would die a young virgin if Sherlock kept up to such mind games!

I had to throw in the 'Purple Shirt of Sex' for everyone. Because that shirt is infamous! Hahaha!

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