'Hi, Meena. Do you have plans tonight?' Molly sighed into the street phone's reciver with a heavy heart.
'Oh, hi, sweetie. No, nothing particular. Are you all right?' Meena asked concerned.
'No, not really.' And a sob burst out of Molly.
'Oh, God. Where are you?'
'I'm just...wandering around. I can't be home when he used to...'
'Oh, God. Okay, go to my flat, key is behind the plant on the left, make yourself a tea, or better, pour yourself a glass of whiskey, top cabinet on the right, and I'll be there in an hour.' Meena was almost sputtering in concern.
'Okay, okay.' Molly nodded sobbing.
Molly was curled up on Meena's large red sofa, covered by a fluffy beige blanket, besetting a glass of whiskey and staring at some celebrity show still sobbing when she heard the key turn in the lock. Meena entered her living room, saw her friend and her heart sank. The once constantly cheerful, smiling friend was a pitiful mess in front of her. She knew how Molly was deeply in love with that detective who jumped off the exact hospital's roof Molly had been working, but that was month ago. She expected a long grieving time but not this long and not this intensive.
Molly raised her eyes at her friend and sighed.
'I am sorry, I am a complete disaster.'
'Molly, you should talk about it.' Meena lumped down next ro her and took a sip from Molly's glass who was just shaking her head.
'I can't. I'm sorry.' And her tears begin to flow again. Meena sighed.
'Fine. Then let's get drunk, eat cookies and in the morning you will forget about your heartache because you will have the worst hangover of your life. Meena smiled at Molly and clapped her hand. Molly forced a weak smile, but her friend took it as an encouragement, anyway.
Three hours later the girls were laughing at some old embarrassing story from high school sitting on the floor, their back supported by the couch.
'Thanks, Meena. I feel absolutely better. Now I should go.'
'Nooo, the party has just started.' Meena chuckled and poured another glass of wine for both of them.
So Molly stayed the night and actually half a day in addition to get over her worst hangover ever.
As she was turning her keys in the lock she heard Sherlock shouting inside. Brilliant, she thought, he's in the mood again. She silently closed the door behind her, trying to invisibly sneak into the kitchen, but she miserably failed, naturally. Sherlock paced up and down while holding his phone to his ear tightly but as he turned and saw Molly he pushed his lips together in annoyance.
'She's returned, you can counterback your minions, Mycroft.' Then he hung up, slowly took down his phone on the table and took a few steps towards Molly only to stand in front of her just a few inches away. He was tall and overtopped her as he bent his head.
'Where the hell have you been during almost a whole day?' he hissed with narrowed eyes. 'You didn't even took your bloody phone with you.' He was angry, Molly had never saw him being this furious. The little muscles around his mouth were tensed as he clenched his teeth.
As Molly was looking up at him through her long eyelashes and she murmured something about Meena and whiskey he was getting closer and closer. At one point Sherlock stopped closed his eyes to take a shaky breath, Molly could feel the air smoothing her forehead, his face showed big effort, when suddenly his eyes snapped opened only to look into Molly's big brown ones. His words were barely audible.
'Oh, damn it. I give up.' And what was the last thing Molly had ever thought would happen was happening. With one hand Sherlock decisively turned her face upwards and with the other he drew Molly as close as he could to himself and kissed her with so deep passion Molly had never thought he had possessed. She responded with all her love and desire she had felt through the years.
'I bloody give up, ' he whispered again against her mouth and kissed her with tightly closed eyes as his hands were all over her body frantically searching for the hem of her jumper as she was unbuttoning his shirt with equal impatience.
Molly felt the urge to tell she loved him, that she had been in love with him since the first time she saw him, that she would do anything for him. But the words remained unspoken, she didn't have the courage to pour out everything, probably spoil the mood with her overflowing sentimentality. So she swallowed her words down and tried to give everything she was, show everything he meant to her.
Sherlock felt Molly's soft body slowly melting against his. She felt so good, she was warm, welcoming and so responsive with her shivers and sweet gasps. He felt her every muscle tensing and relaxing under his fingertips. Her every touch, every caress, every kiss was full of tenderness and devotion. He had never felt so loved in his whole life. He wanted to tell her how his whole body and mind was committed to her, how long he had longed for her possessive embrace. But his voice betrayed him for once and the words stuck inside somewhere on the way between his clenching heart and drying lips.