A/N: This prompt was something I just COULD NOT wrap my brain around or get the right idea. And then I watched the first five minutes of 'The Empty Hearse' and the best onscreen kiss EVER…and suddenly this prompt was VERY easy to get inspired by. Please enjoy this bit of fluff!
In this one-shot, Tom does not exist. Nothing against the guy, but he has no place in this one-shot.
Sherlock Holmes was rinsing his razor in the faucet's downpour when one of his favorite sounds in the world reached his ears. It was the sound of Molly's soft laughter, and the corners of his mouth turned upwards in an automatic reaction. He did so love it when Molly was happy, considering the countless times in the past that he had made her sad. In the six months that he had been back in London, and had been in a romantic relationship with Molly, he'd had the pleasure of seeing so many moments of happiness in Molly – also himself, since his happiness might as well be synonymous with hers.
His curiosity piqued, Sherlock turned from the bathroom mirror to look at Molly in the next room. She was sitting on his bed with crossed legs, wearing just her pants and one of his plain grey t-shirts. Her hair, not yet brushed or pulled back, fell in messy waves down her back. Sherlock walked to the open doorway and leaned against the frame, looking at her. In the morning light pouring in through the window, she was truly lovely.
Seeing that she had his laptop open in front of her, Sherlock immediately knew why she had laughed. Rolling his eyes but smirking in amusement, he said: "This new theory must be truly outlandish to obtain this reaction."
Molly looked up and beamed a smile at her consulting detective. "Not outlandish, really, just…" Her smile turned a bit mischievous. "…like something out of James Bond, really."
Sherlock knitted his eyebrows for a minute, his gaze becoming distant. Then he snapped out of his momentary trance with a small shake of the head. "The name sounds familiar, but no matter," he said, walking back to the sink in the bathroom. "I know you want to tell me all about it, anyway." He lifted the razor to finish his shave, but paused and turned back to her. "This doesn't involve that flying blue box again, does it?"
Molly laughed again. "No, the T.A.R.D.I.S. is not involved." She turned back to the illuminated screen, which showed the theories forum of "The Empty Hearse" website. "No, this one involves you, not falling, but bungee jumping, off the roof."
Sherlock snorted and resumed his task. "Oh, brilliant. This must be one of Anderson's many theories. Even when I tell him the real one, the idiot won't believe me. Does he explain how Moriarty never noticed the alleged bungee rope, or does he believe Moriarty just didn't mind it was there?"
"Nope, that isn't covered," said Molly, smiling fondly at her lover as he shaved before looking back at the screen. "Anyway, you bungee jump off the roof while I watch from a window. After nearly hitting the pavement, the rope pulls you back up and you dramatically crash through the window of the room I am in while I dramatically gasp in awe."
"Ha! The perfect definition of an idiot! Did he never take into account all of the shards of glass I would send flying in your direction, let alone the danger they posed to me? I may have been careless about you in many ways before, Molly, but I certainly would never go that far."
"I know, love," Molly murmured quietly, so he almost didn't hear her. But he did, and picked up his speed in his shaving: the sooner he was finished, the sooner he could kiss her. Molly then resumed speaking: "But Anderson certainly makes up for a lot with his ending."
Sherlock could hear the gleeful smile in her voice, and his curiosity piqued again. "Let's hear it, then."
"Well, after you land on your feet in the room and unhook the bungee cable, you shake the glass from your coat and hair, approach me, take my head in your hands, and kiss me passionately before leaving the room." Molly giggled. "He even adds the detail that I can 'barely contain a happy grin as you walk away.'"
Sherlock finished his shave with a last swipe of his razor and was rubbing his face with a towel, not trying to conceal his smirk. "Hmm…while I may always miss something, it seems that Anderson can, very rarely, get something right. However," Sherlock tossed the towel by the sink and walked into the bedroom, "I recall that our first kiss was rather different than that, which still proves that Anderson is still a very big idiot." This made Sherlock look very pleased indeed.
Molly laughed and shut the laptop. "Yes, it was quite different than that, but for me just as unexpected."
A soft and almost sad look came into Sherlock's eyes as he approached the bed, set the laptop down on the floor, and knelt on the bed in front of her. When he didn't speak, Molly took his hands with hers and squeezed them, prompting him with her eyes and a soft smile. When he spoke, his tone was as soft and sad as his eyes.
"You really thought I would leave without seeing you one more time."
A lump rose in Molly's throat, but she pushed it down. She sighed and looked at their hands. "Well…it wouldn't have surprised me. I was still shocked to learn that I really counted after believing for three years that I didn't." She looked back up at him. "But I was so happy to be proven wrong."
Sherlock leaned forward and touched his forehead to hers, as both remembered their first kiss…
He had found her in the lab, setting up several beakers and test tubes to begin a bit of standard lab work. She had given a jump and shriek in surprise at the sight of him, promptly dropping the two glass beakers she had been holding, both of which shattered at her feet. This had then prompted her to begin stuttering and blushing nonsense as Sherlock continued to approach her, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Molly had only stopped talking when he had put his finger to her lips, while his other hand let loose her ponytail so he could play with her hair (which he had been wanting to do since first seeing it down that dreadful Christmas several months ago). Unable to find any words to accurately express his gratitude, let alone what his heart had only just discovered, all Sherlock could do was murmur her name in a tone that let Molly know exactly what he couldn't say. And Molly, who could understand Sherlock on a level no one else could, had responded by saying his name with her entire heart in her voice. The kiss they then shared was soft, innocent, but held all the promise in the world. She'd told him to come back; he'd agreed. He'd asked her to wait for him; she'd agreed. And then he had left, with a heart as full as hers.
"I hope you kept your gloves on when you cleaned up the remnants of those beakers," Sherlock said after both had indulged in the memory.
Molly's laughter was full and bright; Sherlock's reactionary smile was even brighter. "Yes, I did, smarty-pants."
Sherlock chuckled and leaned in for a kiss, but Molly scooted back. Her eyes sparkled mischief again at Sherlock's annoyed groan.
"Something's missing," Molly said innocently, but the teasing was written all over her face. "In reality, it was two glass beakers. In Anderson's crazy theory, it's a glass window. I feel like some glass needs to shatter in order for us to be able to kiss."
Without breaking eye contact with Molly, Sherlock's arm reached out past Molly's shoulder and knocked the nearly empty water glass on the bedside table to the ground, shattering it quite effectively.
"Sherlock!" Molly shrieked, though she barely managed that through her laughter.
The grin on Sherlock's face was the equivalent of a boy who had successfully gotten away with stealing all the cookies from the cookie jar. "We're going to need more glasses," he murmured before kissing her more passionately than any kiss dreamed up in Anderson's crazy mind could be.