Driver I

Author's Note: Written from a prompt. This is an edit of driver with the flow and other things adjusted to make it more reader friendly and to take out any mistakes. It is also now almost half as long as it used to be.

Molly Hooper was officially thirty-two and nowhere near where she wanted to be in life. At least she could accomplish one short-term goal tonight: falling asleep with Toby and a bottle of wine. Okay, several bottles of wine.

A profound knock at the door roused her from the edge of sleep. Had she imagined it? There was a long silence, except for thundering inside her head. Just my imagination.

"Molly! Open up!" She was sure she imagined that. Sherlock would never come to her flat."Molly! I need your help!" The real Sherlock always wanted something.

She was too upset to be kind. If she couldn't feel his eyes burrowing into her she would be able to escape his power. She hated being unable to be herself around him. Hated how shy and mousey he made her.

"I know you're there, Molly. Please, open up." Was he begging?

Molly placed Toby off to her side and went to the door. She pulled the chain from her door and yanked it open. "It's half three." Her words lacked their usual kindness.

Drunk Molly was immune to his charms. But it was warm and he wore a mauve shirt that was showing a lot of chest. She peeked. Mostly immune, anyway…

"You can't just come over anytime. What if I had been busy?"

A soft kiss on the cheek drained the anger from her. Apology accepted. This had been his way of taming her since Christmas. It was torture—she knew there'd never be a payoff.

"What's the emergency?" she asked.

"Do you have a car? Or can you drive rather; I can procure a car—that's the easy part?"

"Yeah, it was a gift. I don't usually drive it."

"Gift? Can't be a boyfriend, too expensive, and you've never been married. So I take it was from your father, possibly a rich uncle—possibly with an ulterior motive…"

"It came from my dad, he's a—"

"Neurosurgeon, I know."

"You need a ride?"

"I need you to drive me somewhere and wear this. You're a size two, right?" asked Sherlock and it was only then that Molly noticed the bagged suit that was draped over his shoulder. Damn his sexy chest.

"A four," Molly said.

"Maybe in the hips."

The suit was navy blue. It didn't have any trousers. "That's why it looks like you've got no body…you're hiding it under oversized outfits."

"What's that?"

"It's a uniform. I need a driver that has a uniform."

"There's no trousers," Molly said.

"There's a skirt under the coat." He pushed the uniform into her hands and stepped through the door to wait for her inside. Toby wound himself around Sherlock's leg, purring lightly.

Molly struck off for the toilet with the outfit. She changed with the lights dimmed. The skirt made her bum poke out and she seemed to have a chest. There was more leg that she liked to have out. Molly always felt nude in front of Sherlock, being half nude wouldn't help.

"Where's the rest of it?" Molly called through the door.

"That's all of it."

"They didn't have one with trousers or at least a skirt that reached my knee?"

"You've got lovely legs. Now please, hurry?"

Molly reentered the room with her cheeks burning hot. This was the effect Sherlock had on her.

"Time is of the essence." He grasped her at the elbow and towed her out of the flat.