Notes: I'm just now getting around to uploading this, but it was a Valentine's Day gift for my dear friend Andreia aka lokiilockk on tumblr. It's just a harmless bit of fluff. It was inspired by the revelation that Molly's bedroom is one of Sherlock's boltholes. Hope that you enjoy!
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize does not belong to me. I just like playing in the sandbox.
Before becoming friends with Sherlock Holmes (at least she was fairly certain that they were friends by this point), Molly Hooper would have been terrified at the sound of someone picking her locks at 2am. She'd been having a bit of trouble getting to sleep again and she'd only just drifted off to sleep when she heard the, unfortunately, familiar sounds. She groaned and buried her face in her pillow. She rolled over onto her back and called out just as she heard the door open, "Sherlock, I swear to God, why don't you just knock?"
He appeared in her doorway only a moment later and moved into her bedroom, taking off his coat and lying it on the chair next to her dresser. She almost chuckled when she noticed that he was wearing his pajamas underneath his coat. The image of him riding in a cab to her flat in his pajamas and dramatic coat certainly amused her.
He shut the door behind him to insure that Toby couldn't get in. Molly didn't mind her cat's presence in her bedroom, but Sherlock abhorred it. Molly made a face as Sherlock came closer and stood at the foot of her bed, looking at her expectantly. "No," she said simply, sprawling out on her back and taking up as much room on her bed as possible.
"Molly," he said, condescendingly, as if speaking to a child. Molly pouted and attempting to stretch her limbs even further.
"Sherlock, I'm tired. I had just drifted off to sleep when I heard you. I'm not giving up my bed just so you can think." She closed her eyes in defiance, as if she was hoping that she could will herself to sleep immediately and get him to leave her alone.
She heard Sherlock huff and waited for the sound of her door opening and closing, but it never came. Instead, she heard him kick off his shoes and walk over to the side of the bed that she didn't usually sleep on. She felt him sit down on the bed and push her over so that she mostly took up the space on "her" side of the bed. Daring to crack an eye open, Molly looked over at him curiously.
She turned onto her side and propped her head up with a hand. "Seriously?"
Sherlock was laid out on the other side of her bed, his eyes closed and his hands to his chin. His "Mind Palace" pose as he called it. "You refuse to give up your bed, but surely you can spare half of it. It's ridiculously large for just you, now that you are single again. Now quiet, Molly. I need to think," he said, all without opening his eyes to look at her.
Molly stared at him for a moment before finally shaking her head and settling back into bed. She couldn't deny that Sherlock Holmes was an odd one, but he was allowing her to keep her bed for the night, so she really couldn't complain. Years ago, Molly would have been far too nervous to sleep while Sherlock Holmes was in her bed. But now, she nodded off within fifteen minutes, with Sherlock still beside her.
She woke up hours later and blearily looked to the clock on her nightstand. Squinting, she saw that it was nearly 9 and she sighed heavily as she realized that she should get up. Her head fell back to her pillow and that's when she noticed the arm slung around her waist. Craning her neck, she looked over her shoulder and smiled when she saw Sherlock, asleep beside her. His arm tightened around her waist and dragged her backwards, as she realized with a start that at some point during the morning, he had slipped underneath the covers. He nestled against her, sighing against her shoulder.
Molly didn't want to move. She wasn't even sure if she could move. Sherlock Holmes was asleep in her bed (not that unusual – she just wasn't usually there with him) and cuddling with her (EXTREMELY unusual – she was fairly certain that Sherlock avoided physical contact on purpose). One of her hands traveled down to his and lightly covered it. Sherlock lifted up his fingers and caught hers with his own, intertwining them. "You might as well just come out with it, Molly. I can practically hear you over-analyzing this," he muttered against her shoulder.
"Wait, you're awake? How long have you been awake?"
She heard him chuckle behind her and she jerked her hand out of his hold, slapping his hand lightly. Twisting around to face him, she was tempted to smack the smug smirk off his face, but she managed to refrain. "Only about forty-five minutes. I didn't want to wake you after you made such a fuss earlier about needing your sleep," he said and she felt that the eyeroll, although not physically present, was implied.
"Well…thanks," she muttered, just realizing that he had continued to keep contact with her, his hand now resting on her hip. "So…did you solve the case then?"
"Case?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow in a clear question.
"Yeah. Whatever you were thinking about last night…the reason that you needed to commandeer my bedroom. I just assumed it was for a case. I guess you never really said."
Sherlock's eyes widened and he nodded slightly. "Yes, of course. The case. Texted Lestrade. He'll apprehend the murderer. Shouldn't be a problem." He suddenly leaned forward and gently kissed her lips, before scooting back and sitting up, swinging his legs over and down to the floor.
Molly was certain she was doing her best impression of a fish, but couldn't quite figure out how to stop.
"So shall we fix breakfast here or go somewhere? I know a lovely little place a few blocks from your place and…Molly, why are you staring at me like that?"
Molly's mouth snapped shut as she continued to stare at him. Finally, after a few moments, she worked up the courage to speak. "You kissed me, Sherlock. You just kissed me, after spending the night in my bed and cuddling with me and now you want to go get breakfast…right after you kissed me!"
He tilted his head and regarded her curiously. Swinging his legs back over, he laid out on the bed once more, hovering slightly over her. "Well…yes," he said, as if it was obvious. And she supposed it was obvious – she wasn't stating anything that wasn't true. But she didn't understand why it was true. What in the world was going on inside that funny old head of his?
"Explain," she said flatly, sitting up and crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Sherlock sat up as well, facing her. That insufferable smug smirk appeared on his face again. "I thought that's what we were supposed to do. We've just spent the night together and now I'm offering breakfast. Isn't that what most couples do?"
"Couples?" she managed to squeak out.
Sherlock really did roll his eyes this time. "Honestly, Molly, I thought we were past the squeaking stage. Yes. Couples. A couple that is involved romantically. Isn't that what we are?" For a split second, she caught the vulnerability in his eyes, before he quickly covered it up with his usual apathetic façade.
"I don't…what?" she sputtered out, still completely confused.
"I spend a few nights a week here, we share meals, you attend social functions with me, we go on dates…in our situation they're cases, but those are much more interesting than normal dates – I'd say that we tick off the same boxes that other couples do, Molly. Did you honestly believe that your bed was any better for brain work than your couch? Or your spare bedroom? Or any surface in my flat?" Sherlock spoke as if he was explaining something to a child, but Molly was too bewildered to be offended.
"Yes! Oh my god, yes, that's exactly what I thought! I don't know how your mind works, Sherlock!" she exclaimed. He actually looked surprised at her outburst and he appeared even more startled when she started giggling uncontrollably, her head falling into her hands.
"Molly?" he asked quietly, clearly concerned.
"Sherlock," she gasped out, pressing a hand to her chest as she tried to calm herself, "When you're a couple, the other half of the couple has to be aware of it. Why didn't you say anything?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and that set off another round of giggles from Molly. "I did think that you were rather clever, Molly, and that you could figure it out on your own."
"Just assume that when it comes to you, Sherlock, I'm an idiot. Complete and total dunce."
He actually looked offended at her comment. "But that's not at all true!"
Molly simply shook her head exasperatedly and smiled sweetly at him. "So…just to be completely clear, you want to be romantically involved. With me. We're in a relationship."
Straightening, he sniffed slightly, forcing a put-upon air. "Well, yes, Molly. I was under the impression that we already were engaged in such an arrangement but apparently you needed it spelled out for you."
She swallowed another giggle-fit and bit her lip, gazing up at Sherlock with a soft look in her eyes. "So now that we're on the same page…would you have any desire to repeat that kissing thing? Usually there's a lot more kissing in a relationship…I think we have to make up for lost time."
That little smirk appeared on his face again. "Well I suppose if you insist…" he said, trailing off as he leaned forward, one of his hands coming up to the back of her neck and pulling her towards him. She grinned against his lips as they met softly.
After a few minutes, Molly realized that she'd laid back on her bed and Sherlock was hovering over her, as they continued to kiss. She pressed lightly against his chest but when he didn't stop kissing her, she pressed a bit harder. Sherlock groaned and lifted his head. "What?"
Molly giggled, sliding her hands up to his shoulders and squeezing slightly. "I was just wondering if you still wanted to go get breakfast or if you were just offering because you thought that's what you were supposed to do. Because it'd be rather easy to get…a bit carried away." Her hands drifted down to his chest, running over the soft material of his t-shirt.
"This seems much more interesting than eating. Eating's boring," he murmured, before ducking his head and pressing his lips against her neck, exploring her soft skin with his lips and tongue. He chuckled against her neck as his lips found a particularly sensitive spot and she gasped and arched up towards him. "Molly, I do believe that your bed will prove to be useful for more things than just sleeping and thinking."
She laughed and tugged him down, causing him to lose his balance and fall onto her, covering her body fully. Arching her back, she pressed into him, delighting in the soft groan that escaped him. He started kissing her again, just as his hands slipped under her t-shirt and stroked her soft skin. She felt him nudge his thigh in between hers, pressing against her intimately. Molly slipped her hands underneath his shirt and slid upwards and Sherlock leaned back slightly in order to pull it off.
Molly grinned greedily as Sherlock's chest was fully revealed to her, but sobered slightly when she remembered hearing John talk about Sherlock's experience with the fairer sex…or lack of experience. "Sherlock," she murmured, unable to keep her hands off of him, brushing them against his shoulders and upper arms. "Are we moving too fast? We can stop if you want."
He looked down at her curiously, propping himself up slightly and relieving her of some of his weight. "From my point of view, Molly, we've been in a relationship for two months. I believe that the popular opinion would be that we've been moving at a glacial pace."
She couldn't help the laughter that escaped from her. Never in a million years would she have imagined that being in a relationship with Sherlock Holmes would inspire so much laughter in her. "You've been waiting for me to make a move, haven't you?" she muttered, shaking her head in amusement. Her hands ran up his neck and then her fingers tangled themselves in his hair. Sherlock practically purred as she tugged on his curls and pulled him down to her, kissing him passionately.
Nearly two hours later, they both lay in Molly's bed, panting, sweaty, and fully sated. Molly was curled around Sherlock and he lightly ran his fingertips up and down her back. She grinned happily as she stroked his chest. "You know," she muttered absently, "I could give you a key to the flat. That way you wouldn't have to keep picking the locks."
Sherlock shrugged. "I don't want to let my skills deteriorate." Molly hummed in response, snuggling against him further. They were silent for a few more minutes before Sherlock spoke once again. "You are aware of the fact that I love you, aren't you, Molly?"
She shot up, braced on one arm as she looked down at him incredulously. "What?"
Sherlock's hand came up and he wrapped it in her hair, tugging her down slightly. "Molly, honestly," he said simply, as if she should have known better.
Shaking her head, she settled back down beside him. "You're a git, Sherlock. And I love you too."