Disclaimed.
I know that my chapters are already tiny, but I think that this one is probably the shortest by far. Please don't hate it because its so little. I'm trying to keep different viewpoints in separate chapters as much as possible.
Chapter 9
Sherlock frowned as he sniffed the air in the flat. A woman's perfume had left the trace scent in the air. It smelled like lavender, which could mean only one thing- Molly. His frown deepened.
What was Molly doing in his flat? It was her day off, a fact that the working pathologist had brought up multiple times not more than an hour ago as he tried to get into the morgue. John had made it abundantly clear that he was not to disturb her for the purpose of his own comfort, as she and Mary were in the final stages of wedding planning. He would just have to make do with the pathologist on hand. Sherlock had reluctantly accepted, the case having been too time sensitive to argue this point.
He quickly glanced over at the stairs as John greeted his fiancé with a kiss on the cheek. Sentiment. The word had taken on an even more bitter tone in his mind as of late, surrounded as he was by it. It seemed that wherever he went, there it was, always taunting him and getting in the way of what he needed to do. It frustrated Sherlock to no end.
He was drawn out of his thoughts by a long, low whistle, and glanced again at the stairs, where something held his gaze. He came closer, unable to tear his eyes away from what he saw.
Molly slowly descended, her cheeks growing an ever brighter shade of pink from John's whistle. She was wearing a deep purple dress with a pair of black heels. The curves she hid so well under shapeless jumpers and a lab coat were now on full display, and they were surprisingly flawless. Her auburn hair fell in curls down past her shoulders, and one side of it was tucked shyly behind her ear. It was Molly at her finest.
A small, unsure smile played across her lips. She was obviously uncomfortable with all the attention. She stumbled on the last step, pitching forward, and Sherlock rushed to catch her before she fell.
He looked down at the pathologist in his arms, flustered by the intensity of her gaze and the scent of her perfume- lavender. Abruptly he set her back on her feet, looked her up and down once, and said, "For God's sake, Molly, do try to save us all from the embarrassment of your clumsiness and wear a smaller heel." He deafened himself to the audible gasps from Mary and John's outrage and walked swiftly to his bedroom, shutting the door.
Worth it? I hope so. Reviews please!