Sherlolly Appreciation Week - Day Three: “First Kiss”
A/N: I didn’t actually think I was going to be able to write anything for today - woo hoo for last minute bursts of inspiration! Keep in mind that I’ve literally just finished this and have only read it over once, so please forgive any errors or timeline discrepancies. This starts out during HLV.
Molly’s steps faltered slightly as she entered the morgue and saw Sherlock standing in the middle of the room. She hadn’t seen much of the man recently. Not since the day John had dragged the Consulting Detective into Barts for a drugs test. It had been weeks since then, but Molly still felt a bit tense around Sherlock. She had gotten so heated in that moment only to be abruptly cut off before really having a chance to cool down. Things still felt a bit unresolved and Molly wasn’t entirely comfortable just yet with the idea of going back to business as usual.
“Oh, hello Sherlock,” Molly said politely, her voice was a bit more formal than it usually was when she spoke to him.
“Hello Molly,” Sherlock replied, his own voice quiet, the raw sound of it giving Molly pause.
Her heart plummeted as she recalled the last time she’d heard him sound like that. Oh god.
“What’s wrong?” She demanded, any bitterness she was feeling towards Sherlock a second before completely forgotten. “Tell me what’s wrong.” The words, echoing in her mind from the memory of that fateful night years ago, spilled from her mouth again now.
A/N: I was
stuck for an idea for today’s fic, so @lilsherlockian1975 very kindly gave me
one. “Molly and Sherlock running
into Wiggins - he’s all smug because ‘he knew it!’ (maybe because an all
drugged up Sherlock spoke very highly of his pathologist and her perky little t*ts”. I modified the prompt a tiny bit. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, there
is a tiny bit of naughty language in this one. Unbeta’d.
It’s not my best work, but I only had three hours to knock it out if I wanted to get it done today so …
“Sherlock? I know I’m early, but you said it was
important that I come over after my shift and Doctor Rich-“ Molly came to a dead stand still in the
doorway to Sherlock’s kitchen. She took
in the strange man standing in front of the hob stirring something in a pan
with a wooden spoon. Whatever was in the
pan smelled absolutely lovely, some kind of mouth-watering curry. But still … “You’re not Sherlock.”
“Hullo, Missus. Home early?”
He brought the spoon up to his mouth, tasted the sauce, and grimaced. His hand hovered over a row of spice jars
before snatching one up and shaking a sprinkle of seasoning into the pan; then
he shrugged and shook the jar twice more.
“Curry powder. I told him the
sauce was too bland the way he’d done it, but Shezza insisted on following the
recipe to the letter.” The man winked at
her over his shoulder. “I won’t tell him
we gave it a bit of a tweak if you don’t.”
What?” Molly had no idea what was going
on. She didn’t think she’d ever even
seen Sherlock’s kitchen used to prepare food before. Add to that oddity, the lanky man who seemed
to have made himself at home and who appeared to be wearing a frilly pink pinny
over his jeans and thread-bare jumper.
I literally have like six or eight unfinished bluepulse drabbles sittin’ on my computer. (Even a second part to the Laundromat au.) Plus, I just realized I’m almost to 100 followers. What a life, haha. I’ll try to do something special for you guys when I reach that point.