She giggled into the pillow, letting her laughter become muffled by the patterns of the constellations. Molly tried not to think about the current barrier between her and the consulting detective. He had of course taken it literally instead of sleeping on her sofa or even in her guest bedroom - the latter which even had a bed in it.
No, instead he felt like claiming every spot in her flat like her cat Toby. She had not expected to find Sherlock on her settee after a harrowing fourteen hour shift, especially lounged out swearing at her television, bouncing a packet of crisps on his stomach. Her packet of crisps. Her packet of perfectly salted with a dash of mozzarella crisps, which she had to go to a specific Marks & Spencers to bloody get. Empty. Just salty little crumbs that he was licking out of the bag, his long fingers dipped in salt and his expression almost that of Toby who she once found in her underwear drawer trying to eat a pair of knickers. “Sherlock!”
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