A (very overdue) new instalment! Enjoy.

Indecent, Insults, Insomnia

When Molly went to make herself a cup of tea to have before she left for work, she did not expect to find a consulting detective on her sofa. Let alone a sleeping consulting detective whose modesty was precariously kept by naught but a bed sheet with her cat snoozing on his head. She stared at the bizarre sight in front of her, why on Earth he was: firstly, asleep, secondly on her sofa, and thirdly with a cat on his head, was beyond her. It must have been quite a case. There was something else that wasn't quite right with the scenario in front of her, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it, so she left the pair on the sofa while she attended to making tea. Tom wouldn't be up for a while yet, and given his disinterest in finding Toby a few days ago she was inclined to let him be greeted by the scene in the living room, although given Toby's proximity to Sherlock's face, it may turn out worse for him if the cat was to startle when Tom inevitably made some sort of high pitched noise in response to the scene in front of him! She pondered this as the kettle took an age to boil, faffing about with tea bags and milk, when she was brought out of her musing by a groan from the other room that sounded suspiciously like the word 'coffee'. She rolled her eyes before realising that in her autopilot she'd made him coffee anyway. It had become a mildly embarrassing habit of late, she'd always have to make 3 cups whenever she did tea for her and Tom in the morning because if she only got out 2 mugs, no matter how hard she tried to concentrate, one would always end up as black coffee with two sugars. She sighed to herself, the story of her life played out by coffee mugs.

Upon her return to the lounge, tea in one hand, coffee in the other it finally occurred to her why the picture wasn't quite right- Sherlock had brought his own sheet. Molly looked at the coat rack next to the door- there was his signature coat and scarf, but there was no trace of any other clothing anywhere near the man.

"Did you get a cab in your coat and a sheet last night?" Molly asked, equally confused and tentative, she knew the curly haired man decidedly not a morning person.

"Problem?" He asked shortly, taking the coffee from her with an appreciative nod.

"No, just surprised someone took you," Molly tried to shrug nonchalantly; smiling as well as one can at 5 am. Sherlock shrugged and inhaled his coffee deeply, subconsciously stroking Toby who had moved to his lap.

"The cat was more of an issue" He said flatly, staring down at the ball of fluff in his lap.

"Toby was here," Molly stated slowly, confused as to why her cat could have been in a place for Sherlock to need to bring him over in a cab.

"No he wasn't, he keeps following you out of the door because he doesn't like being here without you, and then when you get to work he makes his way over to Baker Street. It's been going on for a couple of weeks now…"

Molly blinked at the news she had just received, how had she not noticed? It was a reasonable walk from her flat to work, with several major roads to cross! In her worry over negligence she hadn't noticed that Sherlock had continued talking, she could tell by his tone of voice he was whining about something and was quite pleased she'd missed the bulk of whatever the superfluous complaint was bound to be.

"What's the problem?" She asked, ignoring Sherlock's glare,

"Your cat has taken to sleeping on my head, to the point where I now can't sleep! Driven to insomnia by a bloody cat!" He exclaimed in an annoyed sulk.

"You were sleeping earlier," Molly wasn't sure what to say in answer to the strange proclamation about his sleeping habits, so she opted for something she knew would irritate him into fully explaining what he meant.

"That's my point Molly, do keep up, I have grown accustomed to your cat, and now need him around to have any chance of getting sleep. Unfortunately, he doesn't behave like a normal cat and only sleeps for about two to four hours at a time." He growled,

"Don't tell me the irony of that statement has been lost on you," Molly laughed lightly, she never thought she'd see the day Sherlock Holmes complained about someone's abnormal sleep patterns. He just gave her a look, and she chuckled to herself, taking a healthy gulp of tea.

The two adults and cat sat in amiable silence, hot drinks savoured, and peace enjoyed, until a rustling was heard from the bedroom. Molly swallowed the last of her tea and ran into the bathroom, locking the door just before Tom came out of the bedroom, Tom was not a morning person either and she didn't wish to be caught in the middle of whatever was likely to ensue in her lounge. Instead she elected to have a hot shower, and wash her hair- that should take enough time for Sherlock to insult Tom to the point of tears or an aneurysm. She could hear raised voices through the wall, and hoped desperately that upstairs were heavy sleepers, not many people would appreciate being woken at 5.30 am by quarrelling men. The snippets she caught were mostly Tom shouting about Sherlock's lack of clothing, then moving on to insulting his decency, insulting his unorthodox times of appearing, his lack of respect for most people, and anything else he felt he needed to rant about. Molly was not looking forward to what Sherlock would do in retaliation, it may not be now, or in the next couple of weeks, it would likely be when Tom least expected it. She certainly wasn't going to protect him from it; he'd definitely brought this all on himself.