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“Are you on drugs again?” The question that could have sounded angry or worried just sounded amused.
“No, of course not. Just because I don’t agree with you doesn’t mean I’m high!”
“How can you not agree? The smiley with the arrow looks like it has a huge nose. It’s just stupid.”
This argument had been going on for a while now. Sherlock and Molly had been waiting on a set of results for over an hour and were trying to keep themselves entertained. It was long after the end of the day shift and Molly should have been at home, soaking in a nice bath with a glass of wine, but she still wasn’t quite able to tell Sherlock no, especially when the work was for a Scotland Yard case. The lab was deserted and they weren’t going to be disturbed for a while. It was at times like these that Molly saw a different side to Sherlock. There wasn’t anyone else around, there was nothing else to do and Sherlock didn’t have to keep up his usual front. Since his return after the fall and the breakdown of her relationship with Tom, they had been spending a lot more time together. John was a doting dad and not always around for Sherlock to bother, so he had turned more to Molly. He didn’t really need someone to come to crime scenes with him any more, especially now Anderson was back at work and so apologetic for the part he played in Sherlock’s downfall. But he did still need someone to show off to, to listen while he explained how he was a genius and solved the mystery, to gasp in all the right places and look impressed. Molly was now fulfilling this role. Although, after the first few cases it became harder to gasp in the right places, she now just plastered on an impressed expression and nodded while he rambled on about his brilliant deductions. And they were brilliant, Molly had to admit, even if they lost their impact after a while. Familiarity breeding contempt and all that.
So now, she seemed to spend a few evenings a week helping Sherlock out with his experiments, or running tests for a case. And then there was at least one other evening where he came over to her flat as a ‘bolt hole’ when Baker Street became too lonely. Molly looked forward to those evenings, where they would get takeaway and curl up on the sofa, watching bad telly or funny films. She had even managed to get him to sit through a rom-com, although she wouldn’t be repeating that experience again. He had been a whiny toddler all through it, apart from the moments when he was explaining why the main characters would make an awful couple. But the rest of the time, Molly was rather enjoying having him around. She had convinced herself that she had gotten over her crush and they were now just good friends.
So here they were, alone in the lab at St Barts, arguing over the merits of text faces. The absurdity of it hit Molly and she gave a snort. The shocked look on Sherlock’s face was even funnier and she started laughing for real, great big laughs that made her cheeks hurt and tears fall from her eyes. Sherlock looked at her in consternation as she carried on laughing and laughing.
“I don’t see what’s so funny.” Sherlock was smiling along with her and Molly felt her heart give a little flip.
“It’s just … I never thought we would be friends. And now, here we are, arguing over stupid text faces and it just seems surreal.”
His smile faded and a shadow crossed his face. “I’m sorry you never thought we would be friends Molly. I know I haven’t always been the best at sentiment but,” he pause, looking for the right words, “I hope you know you’ve been my … rock… over the past few years.”
Molly patted his hand as it sat on the bench next to her and gave him a reassuring smile. “Thank you. You’ve got much better at sentiment, as you put it. And I am glad we are friends now.”
“Is that all we are Molly? Just friends?” Sherlock looked uncertain as he said this, a faint blush rising up his neck.
Molly felt a blush creeping up her neck. She didn’t quite know what to make of that and her brain had short-circuited. “Um ,” she squeaked, the stuttering mouse making a return. “Y…yes.”
“Oh …” Sherlock looked downcast. “I thought we had moved on from that, with all the time we have been spending together lately. I even suffered that awful ‘romantic’ film about that dreadful couple because you wanted to watch it.” He stopped and took a good look at Molly, his penetrating stare seeming to see right through her. “You do still like me, don’t you Molly?”
Molly noticed his voice was uncertain and hesitant and it cut right through her, that she could make the great detective unsure of himself.
“Of course I do. I have for years. I never stopped, even though I tried very hard to move on, because I thought you would never notice me,” she said this last bit very quietly.
“Notice you? I’ve always noticed you, Molly. I’m just sorry it has taken me so long to realise what I was seeing,” he said, leaning slightly towards her, capturing her gaze in his.
“What do you see?” Molly squeaked, terrified of the answer.
“My future,” he said with a smile. Slowly, as if afraid of her reaction, he lifted his hands to cup her face.
Molly was transfixed by the soft expression in his eyes as he gazed at her. Then his lips touched hers and all thought fled. His kiss was gentle and questioning and perfect. Molly never wanted it to end. As he drew back, a small frown formed on Molly’s brow and as Sherlock saw it, his own crinkled.
“Did you not like that? Did I do something wrong? I’m sorry, Molly, I wanted it to be perfect. Please, don’t hold it against me, I promise I can do better,” he said rapidly, starting to look slightly frantic.
“I just didn’t want it to end,” Molly said breathily, reaching for him again. This kiss was less gentle and far more passionate. Molly’s hands were in his hair and his were round her waist, lifting her up onto the counter so their heights were more equal, stepping between her knees. This changed the angle and Sherlock deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue across her teeth, making Molly shiver. They broke apart, gasping for breath. Molly kept her hands around his neck and rested her forehead against his. They stayed like that for a few moments, just enjoying the closeness.
~~~
Lestrade had hit a dead end with the investigation, there were no more leads to follow, his men had run out of options and he was really counting on Sherlock to have found something. Normally, he would have waited for Sherlock to come to him, or to text with the results, but he was avoiding going home tonight, after yet another argument with his wife. So here he was, outside the path lab at Barts, hoping against hope that there was a lead, both to solve the case and give him an excuse to not go home for a few more hours.
“Sher…” he said as he pushed the doors open, coming to an abrupt halt as he saw the couple, Molly sitting on the lab table, Sherlock wrapped around her, snogging like a couple of teenagers. With a smirk, he backed out of the door, quelling the impulse to take a quick photo. He really didn’t want to incur Molly’s wrath, he had heard the slap story and had no wish for it to be him. Pity, really, because no one was going to believe this.
~~~
Molly was called back to reality by the test results pinging into her inbox. Breathing deeply, she pulled away from Sherlock and hopped down off the bench. It took a few moments for her to regain her balance, as her knees felt like jelly. Sherlock took hold of her hand and started to pull her towards the exit.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Baker Street,” he said, as if it should have been obvious.
“But what about the results? You’ve got a case.”
“Oh … Yes… I forgot,” he said, looking slightly confused. He strode over to her computer, still holding her hand and dragging her with him. He opened the email with the results, scanned it briefly and let out a little whoop of joy, “Oh good, it’s positive. Can you text Gavin and let him know it was the brother? Please .” he added the please as an afterthought, but it made Molly smile.
She pulled out her phone and started typing out a message to Greg. Sherlock went over to the door, picking up his Belstaff and swishing it on, looping his scarf around his neck, before picking up Molly’s jacket and offering it to her. As she slipped it on and followed Sherlock out of the door, her phone pinged.
Thanks, Molly. I’m surprised you had time to run the tests, with all the making out you and a certain detective have been doing this evening. Good for you, I knew he would get his head out of his arse eventually +] - Greg
Sherlock looked around to see where Molly had got to. She was standing stock still looking at her phone. Sherlock stalked over to her and read it over her shoulder.
“Of course he uses such a silly smiley. How ridiculous,” said Sherlock, taking Molly’s hand and pulling her along behind him into the lift.
“Aren’t you worried about him telling everyone about us? So soon?” Molly was chewing her lip.
“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ in his annoying way. “I’m glad he knows, I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
“And you are mine,” Molly said, pulling his head down for a kiss as the lift doors drew closed.