Intimacy: Part 1

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He was making it increasingly difficult to leave.

The illness had somewhat jarred her detective of a husband into an overly affectionate lover. Questions and endearments had tumbled out of his pretty pink mouth one too many times. The words stirring little emotions within the pathologist. Emotions she thought had went into hibernation for the time being.

The doubt that resided at the back of her mind said it was the cold medications. Doubt told her it wasn't real, and that each time her husband paid attention to her, the drug like high would eventually pass. It was easier to blame the drugs, than realize he was being honest, and all too real with her.

If she could blame something other than Sherlock—it would make leaving him much easier. At least, she hoped it would.

The kindness she had shown her not-so-severely-ill husband wasn't anything of a game. Her adoration could match the affection in those bright blue eyes of his any day.

His questions were harmless, at first. Matter of fact, their small conversations, and chit chat was to merely kill time, and make the awkward rift between them more bearable. Alas, Molly did the sweet thing and played her wifely duties. Probably having said more to her husband now than the past half year or so. In a way, talking to him like this meant a small reward for her. Their small communications was stress relieving at most.

Yet, today he had to ask her something that was a bit too close to home. It wasn't his fault really. How harmless was it to ask one's wife if they had ever received love tokens from paramours beforehand? To Sherlock, it couldn't have been such a bad topic.

"No, I've never received flowers or any other token. Not once." Molly concentrated on cutting the apple into pieces for her handsome patient.

"My parents would always tell me that was something lovers did or for people who even remotely liked you. Not even my father gave me 'tokens' of his love for me. I guess I'm not lovable enough." It was a horrible ending joke, Molly knew. It wasn't meant to guilt trip her husband nor did she want the nostalgic memories come flooding back after having said such a thing. The reply was supposed to be harmless, but it wasn't.

Molly could feel Sherlock's eyes on her. He was obviously observing her and taking into account the way her body shifted and moved. He wouldn't be so easily distracted when she had handed him another slice of apple. If Sherlock was assuming that she was still receiving the same estranged and strained behavior from her parents to this day, then he was correct. Molly was sure her husband could feel the boredom ooze out from the Hoopers whenever he was near their company. Possibly would even dare to say that the boring Hoopers made his sort of nonchalance and indifference seem exciting.

"Is it something you'd want to experience even now?" Sherlock gently prodded with an inquiry.

Molly's face turned a pretty pink shade and she smiled up at him. The action itself made him feel guilty for what was to come. He knew her too well by now.

"I wouldn't mind it, but I'd never expect it from anyone." the reply made her seem pathetic, Molly secretly chided herself. "I've learned to not expect things like that. It's best, you see."

Sherlock could read in-between the lines and understand what his wife was telling him. It wasn't that hard to see, but it was hard to swallow.

Could you blame her though? Not being able to handle yourself like a mature woman, when it was kind of heartless that from the very start, not a single person had given her a manual for the adult world.

No warnings or helpful advice from friends or co-workers. Molly had just been thrown into the ever buzzing mixture of life and everyday hardships. Yet somewhere along the lines, the pathologist blamed herself for not seeking out answers. Books could only tell you so much, and give only so many meaningful words. But unless one experienced, and understood something first hand, words would just be that... words.

And now, Molly was sure that her words were holding on their own.

"Molly?" Sherlock reached out and touched his wife's hand gingerly. The movement shook the woman out from her personal pondering.

"I'm sorry. I was just imagining what..." Molly couldn't tell him what she was thinking. He couldn't have that hold above her. Sherlock couldn't have anymore from her nor take anything else conscious or otherwise. So Molly lied. "Our children would look like if we had any."

It could have been a better lie, she knew that. But Molly needed something—anything—to get the attention of those pretty blue eyes away from her. And on the concerned look she obviously wore on her face. However, this was worse. Sherlock was quiet—too quiet.

Molly had said too much. She must have. That was the only explanation for the silence.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make this uncomforta—"

"They would look like you, Molly." the detective looked her right in the eyes as he spoke. "The same gentle disposition and loving personality."

It seemed like the world was spinning and moving faster than she could comprehend.

Sherlock was moving closer, and so was his hand. How long had she waited for him to touch her face as he did now? The pads of his fingers gently caressing and stroking every bit of skin.

"Not a sad bone in their body nor a day cursing to be alive. They would be happy." Sherlock's deep voice had mesmerized her in the most intimate of ways. The mere action of him enunciating, and wrapping his tongue around each syllable drove her senses wild. The euphoria she felt was maddening.

"I'm sure our children would take after you. Their loving mother." Those very words broke the dam within her. And it wasn't fair just how he could unravel her like that. It wasn't fair that she sat here with tears running down her face. Not when she believed that the tears had run dry. Selfishly believing that she couldn't cry anymore for her Sherlock. How wrong Molly was.

A voice inside her wanted to scream at him. Don't touch me. Don't crawl out of bed to hold me. Don't show me what your love looks like. I'm scared that I might become addicted to it—to you. Don't hold me like you truly care. Don't love me anymore. Don't make it any harder for me to leave you. Just... don't.

"For the longest time, I couldn't love you." his voice was hot against her ear. "Because I didn't want you."

Molly had to push him away now or else her infatuation would overtake her. All those small things that had made her love him would come back. It hurt that her heart was blooming and bleeding at the same time.

"Molly, I want you so bad now." Sherlock's voice held a deeper meaning. The desperation in his soft kisses mimicked the yearning in his voice.

They both knew what would transpire next and they let it happen. Both willingly.

"Let me love you, Molly."

Next part will have the long awaited sex scene. It won't be nasty but it will be tasteful. As should love making be.

And yes, yes, I know that there are some loose threads here and there. What with Hamish and the whole 'you lied to me' and 'let me love you, baby' thing moving along kind of quick. Those kind of things weren't meant to really be the meat of the story. More like a supporting cast and crew to help usher in meatier things. Ahah!

Will the story have a happy ending?Yes... eventually.

I'm not going to flat out tear them away without them finding their way back to each other again. The main premise of this story was always to reflect real world ordeals. How love takes time, hurt only minutes, and forgiveness years. This story stuck to me more than I had expected. Originally, this was going to be a sappy romantic fanfiction. But what with the recent Sherlock season, I've come to notice that Molly is a woman you don't just fight for. No, you have to really chase her down and prove yourself to her. She's become stronger since the last few seasons. There's a bite and edge to her that's proven her to have matured.

Near the ending of this story, I want to somewhat reflect Molly's new found maturity and ability to just... let it go. Granted, Sherlock ain't gonna let it go that easily. Now that he's fallen for Molly, and ultimately is taken by her, Sherlock will fight for his wife.

Any thought, comment or review, my dear reader? Possibly... even flames?