It was not intentional on his part. On some basic level he knew that he should knock, that a closed door could have a multitude of meanings. However, at this particular moment, he could care less what it concealed. Desperate for cigarettes, having just consumed his last one, and feeling no specific urge to dawn any kind of disguise for a simple trip to the shops, left the detective at Molly’s bedroom door. There was no hesitation as he pushed it open, immediately shocked by the sight before him. Molly Hooper stood nude, brushing her hands down the curve of her hips as she examined herself in the mirror. She hadn’t noticed him yet and he couldn’t help himself from observing every inch of skin that was visible. He lingered on the slope of her breast, admitting that they were not too small, but perfect for her frame.
A sharp intake of breath from him did not go unnoticed. Molly turned her head and remained uncharacteristically calm. She made no move to cover herself. Instead, she rotated so she was facing him. “Most people knock, but then again you’re not most people are you Sherlock?”
“I need…um…cigarettes,” was all he could manage.
She stood close enough then for him to feel the heat of her skin. She leaned in slightly, one hand resting on his chest for unnecessary support. He began to suspect this was all staged for his benefit, but at the moment he could not find the will to be irritated with the woman.
“Just let me put something on first, or if you like, I could keep them off and we can stay right here.” She raised her brow and waited patiently for him to reply.