Ok so this is my first fanfiction that I've ever fully completed, even though it's just a one-shot. I was really nervous to post this because it's my first, so if you left me a review telling me how I could improve that would be amazing!
Disclaimer: I don't own any characters, they belong to the BBC, Moffat and Gatiss, and Toby belongs to the molly hooper fandom
Also, I'm not from England, so please excuse my Americanisms and such :) thanks
"Sherlock, what the HELL do you think you're doing?" Molly screeched. She had just walked into her flat, exhausted after her long day, to see Sherlock standing at the window, with her cat Toby dangling above the busy London traffic. Turning around with a confused look on his face, he said, "I was merely conducting an experiment to see if cats truly land on their feet. I was getting bored, all of my other experiments are at the morgue, and you told me this morning to keep busy. So I am."
"Not by dropping my cat out the bloody window!" Molly yelled, furious that she had to explain this to him. "You could have killed him!"
"But I didn't even drop him yet. Honestly, Molly, I don't know why you get worked up over the silliest little things." Sherlock replied with a shrug.
Molly froze. She took a few deep breaths, and then replied, "Sherlock, I don't need to deal with this right now. I just had the longest and most stressful day at work in a month, and I did NOT need to come home to see you dropping my cat out the window. When I agreed to let you stay here after I helped you.." She paused for a moment. "…fake your death, I did not agree to you tampering with my flat, like you've been doing for the past month, and now you've gone and almost killed my cat."
"Yes, almost." Sherlock muttered under his breath. Not muttering anymore, he said, "If when you say 'tampering with your flat' you're referring to when I set the coffee table on fire-"
"Set it on fire? It exploded and practically destroyed the living room!" Molly interjected angrily. "You know what? I'm not about to have an argument with you about whether or not you set my flat on fire. I'm going to bed and you better not do ANY more experiments tonight, or any more with my cat!" She grabbed Toby and stormed off to her room, leaving Sherlock alone, a bit dazed as to what had just occurred.
Hmm, I seem to have upset her in some way, Sherlock thought as he pondered what just happened. Although he didn't know exactly what he had done, Sherlock knew he had done something to make Molly angry. And quite surprisingly, he felt quite guilty because of it. In all the time that he had known her, Sherlock had, admittedly, taken advantage of her and hurt her. It never really bothered him before, all he knew was that he got access to the morgue and his experiments, and that was all he really needed. But after the fall, Sherlock noticed a change in Molly that he had never seen before. She became more assertive around him, not just sitting idly by and saying nothing if he did something to upset her. She let him know that it was the wrong thing to do, usually by way of yelling at him angrily. Quite honestly, this bothered him to no end. He wasn't used to this Molly that he had come to know over the last month, and wasn't sure if he ever did want to get used to it.
However, what he was sure of was that he didn't want to hurt her anymore. Of course out of gratitude, after all, she had saved his life. But there was something else. Something he wasn't sure of. But, because he was unsure, and he hated to be unsure, Sherlock stored it away without giving it a second thought.
What he was sure of was that he had to do was make it up to her somehow. He knew that somewhere in his mind palace was the key to making Molly forgive him. He just had to find it.
Quite some time later, Sherlock was still in his mind palace, searching for a solution to his Molly problem. Finally, he came across a memory of few months before the fall, when Molly had been dating some surgeon from St. Bart's. She had apparently caught him cheating on her with a nurse from the ER. Although he had deduced it long before, he knew she wouldn't listen to him anyway. When she found out she was inconsolable. Only her best friend Mary, who also worked at Bart's, was able to talk to her for about a week. Then, Molly came back into the morgue with a smile on her face, all sadness over her discovery seemingly gone. Sherlock discovered that the reason for her regained happiness was actually the fact that Mary had baked her best friend cookies. Not just any cookies, apparently they were the ones Molly's mother baked for her when she was a child. Snickerdoodles, or some silly thing like that. Or at least it seemed silly to Sherlock at the time. Maybe it still was, but Sherlock knew he had found the answer.
The next day, after Molly left for work, Sherlock sprang into action. He researched recipes all morning, and called Mycroft to get ingredients delivered to the flat. All afternoon he toiled away, oddly excited in anticipation to see Molly's reaction to his surprise.
Several hours later Molly came home from Bart's.
"Sherlock?" she called as she walked into the flat. "Can I, um, talk you for a second?"
"I just wanted to apologize for my little outburst yesterday. I was upset that you almost killed my cat, but I know you do hate being cooped up in here all day and I was being insensitive. I am sorry," she said sheepishly.
Sherlock just looked at her for a moment, and then said, "No need for you to apologize, Molly. It was I who was being insensitive. This is your flat, and your belongings, and you were kind enough to let me stay here, so I shouldn't have tried to drop your cat out the window. For that, I'm truly sorry."
Molly just stared at him for a moment. Sherlock Holmes apologizing? To her of all people? She just stood there in disbelief, thinking how it could get any weirder.
It apparently could. Because as soon as she thought this, he said, "In addition, after a bit of consideration, I felt I needed a way to, well, make it up to you." He turned around and picked up a plate -Wait. Were those snickerdoodles?- and handed it to her.
"I remembered how these made you feel better when you, um, broke it off with that surgeon a few months back. I decided this was the best way to amend the argument, based on your previous change in demeanor when these were made for you."
Molly stared at him for quite a while, long enough that Sherlock began to feel a bit uncomfortable.
When she finally spoke, she said, almost whispering, "Um, I really don't know what to say, Sherlock, other than, well, thank you. I'm touched, really I am." She smiled at him, the biggest smile on her that he had seen in days, in fact, and then, without even thinking, stood on her tiptoes and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Realizing what she had done, she ran into her room, feeling quite embarrassed.
Sherlock was a bit stunned for a moment, but then breathed a sigh of relief that she had accepted his apology. He was still kind of dazed from Molly's quick kiss. However, he wasn't really sure why he was in the first place. He pondered this for most of the night, then to his surprise he fell asleep, thinking about Molly Hooper.
The next morning Sherlock awoke to find that Molly had already left for work. After he got up from the couch where he had fallen asleep, he walked into the kitchen. On the counter, he found a quickly written note. It read:
I just wanted to thank you again for the cookies. It really was a lovely gesture. They were delicious by the way.
Sherlock walked out and sat back down on the couch, with the note in his hand. He smiled.
Molly Hooper liked my cookies.
Thank you so much for reading!