Thank you so much for reading/reviewing/favouriting etc, it means a lot to me. Here's a short one for you today, enjoy!
Inappropriate Ice-cream Interruptions
After the incident with the handcuffs, Sherlock had avoided Molly's flat on John's advice. Personally, he wasn't sure what the problem was, but apparently it was causing issues between Molly and Tom, and John had told him to leave the situation well alone. John and Molly may not have been the closest of friends, especially since the fallout of the faked suicide, but they still looked out for one another, especially where the non-existent social nous of a certain detective was involved. Sherlock had managed to avoid her flat for a whole 72 hours before barging in, ice-cream in one hand and a rather dishevelled looking cat hiding in his coat.
Earlier
Molly had had enough of Tom's dog, as ever since it moved in Toby was becoming more and more upset. Tom had said things would settle eventually, and she had wanted to believe him, but as this was the third time her beloved cat had run away, she had almost given up hope of the two living in harmony. There was more hope of Sherlock and Sally Donovan eloping than those animals living in peace. Molly had taken a rare day off work (which was surprisingly easy given Sherlock's wariness of her lately) and spent the entire time, in the pouring rain, trying to find her moggy. She moped in shortly after the street lights had turned on to find Tom on the sofa with the dog lolloped next to him. Molly was a little unimpressed to say the least, Tom was supposed to be helping find Toby, and that dog was not allowed on the furniture. She was beginning to wonder if Sherlock hadn't come back if she'd be having problems in her relationship anyway, she loved that cat unhealthy amounts and her fiancé definitely didn't share the sentiment. She sighed to herself, even Sherlock liked Toby, enough to have stopped experimenting on him when she'd asked. She chuckled to herself, at least if Sherlock messed this up it sounded better to friends and relatives than 'he didn't like my cat'. Her chuckle caught the attention of her absent-minded husband-to-be,
"Where have you been Molls? You look drowned!" He exclaimed,
"I've been looking for my cat! No thanks to you! I still can't find him." She half-shouted half sobbed. Tom stood up from the sofa and stood next to her awkwardly,
"He'll turn up, he always does," Tom said in a soft voice, trying to calm her down. She glared up at him, not quite achieving the menacing look she was going for with teary, mascara blotched eyes.
"What if he doesn't this time?" She muttered to herself, letting the tears fall freely. Tom embraced her and stroked her hair, whilst inside desperately hoping the cat had been adopted on the other side of London. He kissed her softly on the top of the head, moving down slowly to her forehead, laying more small affectionate (and distracting) kisses on each of her cheeks, the tip of her nose, before crashing his lips down on hers.
The present
So Sherlock stood, dripping wet, with a tub of chocolate ice-cream in one hand and Toby tucked under the other inside his coat. Without even clearing his throat, he thrust the cat at Molly, and marched off towards the kitchen.
It isn't often that a couple's intimate moments are broken up by having a cat put in between them, a cold, wet, displeased looking cat that immediately began clawing at Tom's face.
"No, no Toby! Naughty cat, why did you run away, you had mummy so worried!" Molly cooed, Tom could have been writhing on the floor, bleeding out of both eyes and she wouldn't have noticed she was so pleased to have her cat back.
Before Tom could get a word in, Sherlock had returned with a dish of cat food, the ice-cream and a spoon. He deposited the food next to the sofa; untangled Toby from his mistress so he could eat said food, shoved the ice-cream at Molly and disappeared out of the door again, leaving Tom to wonder how long it would take to get back in her good books this time.