Title: How to Wear Sherlock's Shirt
Pairing: Established Sherlock/Molly
Warnings: References to sex. Fetishizing of Sherlock's clothing. Wanton abuse of the Purple Shirt of Sex.
Summary: Sherlock and Molly have differing opinions of her wardrobe. They eventually reach a compromise.
Disclaimer: Arthur Conan Doyle, The Grand Moff and Mark Gatiss have a tight hold on these things. If I had it, Season Three would open with Sherlock and Molly's wedding.
Author's Notes: This is what happens when Lexie and I talk. We should either never talk to each other... Or talk ALL the time. She's the one that mentioned the How to Wear a Men's Shirt meme to me. This is standalone from "The Full House" and can be read without reading that, however I like to think of it as taking place in the same continuity.
There is a picture that goes along with it (done by me). Check it out once you're done with the fic. Just replace the dots and slashes with... Well, actual dots and slashes: media -dot- tumblr -dot- com -slash- tumblr_m215nde9rq1qdhxty -dot- jpg
After Molly Hooper moved in with Sherlock, she noticed something strange.
Well, to the truth, after moving in with Sherlock, Molly noticed a lot of things were strange. It was just part and parcel with being in love with the world's only Consulting Detective. He also had a firm hold on the title of 'Weirdest Individual Ever'. Every other day she found him doing something odd: whether it be dissecting a brain on the kitchen table or spending the day recording every movement of the cat.
What Molly found truly strange- and downright irritable- was the fact her clothing seemed to be systematically disappearing. At first, she chalked this up to the move. She had probably just forgotten to pack things when she'd left her apartment in favour of 221B.
However, the longer she stayed with Sherlock, the more she noticed things continuing to disappear. Things she had worn since moving into the flat.
Then one day on her way to the tube stop (Sherlock still chastised her for not taking cabs), she noticed a member of Sherlock's homeless network wearing one of her jumpers. One she'd always found quite comfortable, with a large cat on the front.
Finally, having had enough, Molly decided to confront her boyfriend about this new development. John beat a hasty path for the door, seeing that there was going to be a row between the pair. Molly had gotten quite a bit better at standing up to Sherlock. It was a girlfriend's prerogative after all, especially in a situation such as this.
Molly put her hands on her hips, giving him a stern look. "Sherlock, have you been getting rid of my clothing?"
"Mmhm." Sherlock nodded, not even looking up from his microscope. He hadn't registered- or perhaps he didn't care- about Molly's foul mood. "Can you hand me my phone, Molly?"
"No I can't!" Molly squeaked. "We need to talk about this! Why are you getting rid of my clothing?"
Finally, Sherlock looked away from his microscope to look up at Molly. "You are a grown woman with a medical degree who chooses to dress like a seven-year-old. And having had the opportunity to see you unclothed on numerous occasions, it is all just very unflattering on you."
"It's-It's my choice if I want to look like a seven-year-old!" Molly protested, her voice faltering for only a moment. She pulled herself to her full and not very imposing height. "And-And you wanted to sleep with me even though I dressed like a seven-year-old. What does that say about you?" She then thought about what he- and she- had just said. "And I did not look like a seven-year-old!"
Sherlock sighed, gripping Molly by the shoulders. "Honestly, Molly... I had homeless people who didn't want to wear them. I had to bin most of it."
Molly shook her head. "Well, what am I supposed to do now that you've gotten rid of most of my clothes? Just walk around naked?"
Sherlock seemed to consider this for far longer than Molly felt comfortable. "It would certainly make things go faster."
Sherlock sighed. "All right then. Wear my clothing."
Molly opened her mouth to protest, but she shrank down slightly as what he said really penetrated. "Your clothing?"
She had to admit, she did enjoy wearing his clothing and had started to do so just around the flat. His large frame made the clothes loose and comfortable on her, despite how tight fitting they were on him. It also gave her this odd sense of his presence even when he was dashing about London.
Sherlock arched a brow at Molly, his ice blue eyes smouldering as he stared at her. "Yes. Wear my clothing."
Molly felt her cheeks burning and she gulped. It seemed Sherlock Holmes had fetishes aside from displays of intelligence.
At first, Molly stuck to just wearing Sherlock's clothing around the flat, but she did it with more frequency. He had a massive collection of dressing gowns they'd taken to sharing between them. Whenever John saw her wearing another, he'd just shake his head at the pair of them.
She also wore Sherlock's t-shirts to bed, with little else. It might not have been naked, but she had to admit it did make things a bit quicker. Not that she would admit that to Sherlock. Or that she needed to, he was Sherlock after all.
Eventually, she decided to wear one of Sherlock's shirts to work. His trousers would just look too ridiculous on her.
It took her about three attempts to actually do the buttons up with her hands shaking from nerves. It felt somehow dirty.
As it was, no one had noticed. It was just regular old Molly, wearing a nicer shirt than usual.
That was until Inspector Lestrade came in to examine a body. He took one look at her attire and nodded. "So things are going well with Sherlock, then?"
Molly thought she would die of embarrassment. Then, Sherlock swept in with John by his side. He raked his gaze over Molly and asked her to get him a cup of coffee brusquely. Molly was taken aback by the request- or rather, demand. As soon as she was in the corridor, Sherlock came up behind her, pinned her to the wall and kissed her firmly. When he finally withdrew, he told her he didn't want coffee and they should get back to the post-mortem.
After that, she made it a point to wear Sherlock's shirts at least three times a week.
Eventually, Molly decided to do some research into fun ways she could wear Sherlock's clothing. Things that would not just make her a girl in a bloke's shirt. She'd worn them in combination with waistcoats and tied at the waist or with a camisole beneath.
She got on her laptop- which was conveniently and rather frustratingly left open by Sherlock- and typed "How to Wear a Man's Shirt" into google.
The pictures that came up certainly were interesting. A lot of them looked ridiculous. But some of them- Well, some of them were sexy.
Sherlock was not the type of man who noticed fancy knickers. But considering his reaction to her wearing his shirt normally, how would he react to this?
Molly heard the door to 221B slam shut as she stood in the bedroom, biting her lower lip. She tugged at the hem of Sherlock's shirt self-consciously.
"Molly?" Sherlock called out.
"Is John with you?" Molly called back, feeling her face grow hotter still at the idea of John seeing her like that.
"No," Sherlock replied. "Why?"
"Because I'm wearing one of your shirts!" Molly called back, going to the door and peering out.
Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "John has seen you in my shirt. In fact, most of the hospital staff at Barts and half of Scotland Yard have seen you in my shirt. Maybe a newspaper or two..."
Molly opened the door all the way and stepped out, still tugging on the hem of one of Sherlock's purple shirts, which had been twisted and knotted in a makeshift minidress.
Sherlock blinked at Molly impassively.
Molly smiled nervously, still tugging at Sherlock's shirt. "He hasn't seen me in your shirt like this."
Sherlock sighed. "John is well aware we are in a sexual relationship, Molly. He has also seen you in far less. At this point, it's ridiculous to continue to conform to a silly social taboo."
Molly finally stopped tugging at the hem of Sherlock's shirt and took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Well, John doesn't like to be reminded of such, now does he? And I don't much like John seeing me undressed, thank you very much. And-" Her cheeks still felt warm. "Don't you have an opinion of how I look?"
Sherlock's gaze moved over her. He then tilted his head to the side. "Well, Molly Hooper... Why don't you deduce me?" A small smile curled on his lips.
Molly giggled and moved back into the bedroom, Sherlock crossing the room quickly to meet her. She only hoped she could get the knot out of the shirt.