This may be the final chapter, but it was one of the first I wrote, and I dedicate it to those who have followed and reviewed right the way through the (almost) 3 years this has been going. Thank you to everyone else who has taken the time to read, and review, it means an awful lot to me.
If I was to write a bonus chapter or two, do you reckon we could get this little fic up to 400 reviews? Deal?
(Note, Zzzz Part 2 will be the first chapter of the sequel)
Z is for Zzzzz (Part 1)
The last few months had taken their toll on Tom, he wasn't sleeping well, afraid that he'd wake up and Sherlock Holmes would be climbing in the window, or setting fire to the living room – not to mention the explosive rows he'd been having with Molly lately. He sighed and looked at the clock, 4:25 am. He got up and got himself a glass of water, deciding that maybe a few minutes reading would help him get back to sleep. He read a couple of chapters, before his eyes began to droop again, and he made his way back into the bedroom, hoping for a little more sleep before he had to get up to get ready for work.
"Oh for crying out loud." He sighed, greeted by the sight of curly hair poking out of the covers, facing away from Molly thankfully. He got into bed and pulled her closer to him, waking her up in the process
"You alright?" Molly mumbled, Tom wasn't one to cuddle in bed.
"Molly, turn over," Tom whispered,
"Errrgghhh. He does that." She dismissed, turning back over and snuggling down to get comfortable again.
"You aren't going to tell him to get out of our bed?" Tom hissed, unaware of just how often Sherlock had done this over the last year or so.
"He doesn't sleep, if he's here, and sleeping then waking him up isn't a good idea." She mumbled, irritated that she could feel herself waking up properly, "You really think asking him to leave will work?" She rolled her eyes, sensing another argument brewing.
"We talked about this, Molly!" Tom whined,
"I believe she told you that I'm a stubborn arse and don't listen. Baker Street is under quarantine and John abjectly refuses to let me stay with him. Something to do with his impending sex holiday. Besides, Molly's bed is very comfortable." Sherlock grumbled,
"Can we talk about this in the morning?" Molly yawned, wanting to go back to sleep.
"Technically Molly, it is the morning." Sherlock interrupted, flinching slightly as Molly kicked him in the ankle.
"Can it wait until breakfast?" Molly snapped, unimpressed by the pair of them,
"I guess so." Tom sulked, lying back down, and closing his eyes, lest he get a kick too.
Sherlock vacated Molly's flat before either Molly or Tom had re-awoken, needing to be at Baker Street when the builders arrived at 8 am. He rang John to ascertain just why Tom was so bothered by his and Molly's long-standing bed arrangement, he'd not complained before.
"What do you mean not good? There was enough room for three people. You're the one who wouldn't let me stay with you!" Sherlock groused, it wasn't his fault that they didn't have a bed in their spare bedroom and that he didn't fit on the sofa.
"How is this my fault? I have to catch a plane in three hours! For my sodding honeymoon!" John shouted, stressed enough without having to deal with this. "It is not socially acceptable to sleep in the same bed as an engaged couple without both party's express permission. What happened to Baker Street anyway?" John asked, knowing he'd regret it,
"I may have dissolved the floor in the kitchen." Sherlock replied shortly,
"I knew I shouldn't have asked. Just make them breakfast to make up for it." John rolled his eyes, and hung up, wondering if his friend was genuinely oblivious to this particular social custom, or if he was being wilfully ignorant.
Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket, it wasn't unusual for John to hang up on him, and continued on his way to Baker Street, using the time to think of the perfect non-apology breakfast.
Tom had woken up shortly after Sherlock had left, and with only an hour until his alarm went off for work, he opted to get up and dressed. Molly was on the afternoon shift, so he left her to sleep, and hoped that the consultant of chaos wouldn't be returning today. As it transpired, his shower woke Molly up anyway, and she was just sitting down, having made coffee, upon his return to the living space. He went to pick up his own mug from the kitchen, were Molly always left it, as she could never get the right amount of milk in it, and noticed something that made his blood boil: two cups. Both were black, and after tasting, he discovered that both had two sugars in. Tom didn't take sugar. He made himself a fresh cup, and marched over to the sofa, already halfway through his rant.
"I don't know how much more of this I can handle, Molls! He waltzes in here any time he likes, he has you followed, your flat is bugged, and there is a day a year specifically set up so he has to be nice to you. He set fire to your underwear and you barely blinked an eyelid! He stole your cat, you have takeaway coffee cups for when he turns up demands coffee and then disappears again. You keep spare clothes for him here, and to top it all off- you let him sleep in your bed! With you!" Tom raged, gesticulating to the point of nearly spilling his coffee,
"That's just the way it's always been," She shrugged, giving him the answer she always gave, ready for the next rant, when the door was flung open to reveal a wind-swept detective laden with pastry based goods.
"Breakfast? John's treat." He proclaimed, marching through the flat into the kitchen and picking up his coffee,
"So is this how it'll be then?" Tom asked pointedly, unwilling to be a third wheel in his own marriage,
"What?" Molly furrowed her eyebrows, confused about what he had found to complain about now.
"This! Waking up in the middle of the night to find the two of you in bed, to be fobbed off with croissants in the morning? Exploding toes in the shower?" Tom mocked,
"You seem to misunderstand, that is normal in her life. She's accepted many things she finds annoying about you, I was under the impression relationships were about compromise" Sherlock said nonchalantly, taking a large bite of a pain au chocolat.
"Compromise?! What do you know about compromise?" Tom exclaimed, amazed the detective even knew the word.
"ENOUGH!" Molly shouted, thoroughly fed up. She took a deep breath, ready to read to riot act to the pair when there was a knock at the door. She hoped it wasn't Mr Jones from downstairs complaining at the noise again. Thankfully, it turned out to be a very harassed looking John, who didn't even step foot into her flat, or say hello, addressing Sherlock directly from the doorway.
"Come on, they've replaced your floor." He ordered, deeming this pseudo toddler tantrum good practise for his and Mary's impending child.
"I have kept my mouth shut." He said, answering Tom's semi-rhetorical question about compromise. "You think that I don't compromise. There are many things I could tell Molly about you that would have made her run for the hills months ago. I didn't."
"I did warn you." John muttered, irritated that his bet in the break-up sweep-stake was for next week. Mary would be insufferable, she had it down to the day.
Molly took advantage of the brief lull in the argument to take back a little control in her life. Her voice was deadly quiet, she'd had enough of shouting.
"That's it you two, I've had quite enough. If you don't like my life, you can get out of it. This is who I am, I work with dead bodies, I have friends who are unusual, and I don't mind the strange things I come home to. Every day is different and exciting and if you can't hack a little excitement in your life, then I'm sorry Tom, but this isn't going to work. I've tried to be patient with you, and give you time, I appreciate it's not easy. When I met you, when I agreed to marry you the world was different. I suppose I needed a distraction from the lies and uncertainty surrounding the last few days we had as a group two years ago. I'm sorry Tom, if you can't accept my life, then I'm going to have to ask you to leave. To leave your key, take your things and find someone who you don't want to change. You dislike my job and my friends, two of the most important things in the world to me, and I wouldn't swap them for anyone."
FIN