A/N: For the May 8th prompt - "Write about a cold snap." Rated T. Takes place about a month after HLV/TAB. Stand-alone.
Two more hours, Molly thought. She was determined to wait it out like a self-sufficient adult. Two more hours then the heat's supposed to be fixed. I can do this. She let out a sigh and winced when she realized she could see her breath. On second thought, maybe not. Shivering despite the long underwear, jeans, two jumpers, two pairs of socks, and the fingerless gloves she wore underneath the blanket around her shoulders, she grabbed her mobile and hit the speed dial button for Sherlock, grateful she didn't have to actually dial. I doubt I can with hands this cold.
Sherlock answered on the first ring. "Molly? What's wrong?"
He actually sounds concerned, she thought, feeling better already. "Hi, Sherlock. Um, can I come over? The heat is out in my building and they're saying it won't be fixed for hours."
"Of course." There was a pause. "It'll be dark soon. Bring everything you'll need to spend the night. And don't argue, it'll take time for the heat to build up anyway."
Molly smiled to herself. Like I would. "Thanks, Sherlock. I owe you."
"We can talk about repayment when you get here." She could hear the smile in his voice.
Probably helping with whatever experiment he's running. "Sure thing. I'll see you in a few."
After packing an overnight bag and making sure her elderly neighbor also had somewhere warm to go, she took a cab to Baker Street. The inside of the cab was a great deal warmer than her flat but she still couldn't shake the chill. It's like it's in my bones, despite that being a physical impossibility.
As the cab pulled up to the building, she could see the lights were on in Sherlock's sitting room. Feeling better by the moment, she paid the cabbie then got out and carried her overnight bag and purse up the front steps. As soon as she reached the door, it was opened by a concerned Sherlock.
"How long did you wait before you gave in and called me?" he asked casually as he let her in. By the knowing look in his eyes, she could tell that he'd already deduced it.
I might as well say it. "An hour," she admitted sheepishly as she took off her hat, scarf, and coat.
Sherlock hung them up for her then he grabbed her overnight bag. "After you. On the way up, you can tell me why you waited so long."
"I didn't want to bother you," she said as she started up the stairs.
"You're never a bother, Molly. If you ever need anything from me, no matter what it is, just ask."
Molly smiled to herself, glad that he couldn't see it. "I'll remember that."
"See that you do." She could hear the smugness in his voice.
Molly stopped at the open door to Sherlock's sitting room and closed her eyes, loving the wall of heat she encountered. Any warmer and it would have been stifling, but she was too busy thawing to care. After a moment, she felt warmth behind her and she realized it was Sherlock's body heat.
He's so close. If I leaned back even the slightest bit, I'd touch him.
His chuckle warmed her even further. "It's even warmer inside the room," he murmured.
Her face warmed even more as her cheeks flushed. "Um, right." She stepped into the room and went straight to the blazing fire in the fireplace. Holding out her still-chilled hands to the heat, she turned her head to look at Sherlock as he came over to her. "This is just what I needed, thank you."
He grinned. "You're welcome. There's soup in the kitchen and I'll make tea in a bit."
That sounds heavenly. "I could kiss you right now."
The smirk he gave her spoke volumes. "Perhaps later. Right now, we've got to get you warmed up. Have a seat." He chuckled when she simply plopped down in front of the fire. "That works." He went into the kitchen and came back with a tray which he set down next to her then he sat in his chair.
Molly smiled up at him. "You're not eating?"
"I'll probably grab something from the fridge later."
She chuckled as she started on the chicken noodle soup. "As long as it's not something from Bart's."
Sherlock smirked. "You're the only person I know who can joke about cannibalism as they eat."
Molly grinned cheekily. "Yep, that's what you love about me."
The look he gave her was unreadable, or as she liked to think of it, Sherlockian. Shrugging, she turned her attention back to her soup. "Mmm, this is so good. I should call you every time something in my building breaks down."
Sherlock cleared his throat. "There is … another solution."
She looked up at him, curious. "What would that be?"
"You could move in here."
She nearly choked on her soup. "Sherlock, what-"
"John's old room is available, of course, though I was hoping…"
Molly felt her breath catch. "Ye … yes?"
He gave her a lopsided grin. "I was hoping you wouldn't need it. I'm normally very possessive about my things, but I thought that we could … perhaps … if you want…"
"Yes?"
"Share my room?"
She decided to play with him a little. "I don't know, my bed won't fit in there."
"Er, when I said I wanted to share my room, I meant-"
"I know exactly what you meant, Sherlock," she said warmly, grinning at him. "I was only teasing."
He grinned back. "So, you'll consider it?"
"You know, now that I think about it, I've never seen your room. Why don't you give me the grand tour? We can start with your closet (I've always wanted to wear your aubergine shirt and nothing else) and end with your bed."
Sherlock chuckled. "I never could refuse you, Molly."