mollie the saturdays

~If Tom didn't exist~

*In the morgue*

Sherlock: So, Molly, I was wondering if you’d like to be my date to John’s wedding on Saturday?

Molly: *looks up from her post mortem* …Are you asking me out next to a dead person?

Sherlock: Yes…but I thought it would be okay since it doesn’t really smell.

Pairing:  Molly Hooper/Sherlock Holmes
For:  Anon Prompter
Prompt:  #16.  Blankets

Molly rolled over on her side, taking most of the blankets with her.

Sherlock sighed.  This was very much the reason he gave for not sharing a bed with another human being.  Dr. Hooper was very much the blanket hog.  

Of course, this gave him the opportunity to press himself against her very lovely backside, so mental complaints aside, it was shaping up to be a lovely night regardless.  

He tucked his head down into her hair and inhaled deeply, reaching across her body and tugging some of the blankets back.  Enough to cover his arse at least.  

My Muse - Sherlock x Fem! Reader

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Fem! Reader
Warnings: none? i think?
Rating: T, just to be safe
Word Count: 1828
Author’s Note: This is for @sherlockourhero who requested this:

Heyy, I loved your last moriarty x reader imagine!<3 If u don’t mind, here’s a Sherlockxreader request for you:) Soo, the reader really enjoys to draw but she runs out of ideas but then she decides to draw Sherlock and she’s so keen of the idea so from this moment forth she’s currently drawing him. One day(maybe when she’s on a date) Sherlock needs something from her and searches for it but finds the drawings and is totally flattered and doesn’t know how to handle it when she comes in? Fluff? <3

Hopefully you liked this! I’m sorry if you don’t, but I tried my best! :)

“I’ve been gone for three hours and you still haven’t moved from the floor!” John exclaimed when he entered the flat of 221B Baker Street. Y/N Y/L/N lay sprawled on the floor with her eyes closed. It was a lazy Saturday afternoon and the sunlight poured in from the open window. Mrs Hudson was probably downstairs watching telly, Sherlock… somewhere and Y/N was normally sketching away. Except she wasn’t. Her signature sketch book and her pencil were no where to be seen.

“You took Rosie away from me,” Y/N replied sorrowfully, her eyes still closed. “My wittle Wosie. My sunshine, the light of my life.” John groaned and set his shopping on the table, which wasn’t cluttered with experiments, surprisingly. “If she were around, I could have gone with Molly and we’d have bought more toys and clothes for her.”

“I’m starting to think you have an obsession with Rosie,” he rolled his eyes at her. Y/N hummed back in response and continued to lie on the floor.

“She’s my favourite thing in this whole world,” she spoke loudly after some time, finally getting up and plopped herself onto the sofa. “I would gladly quit my job for her, but I can’t or else I’d be broke, and then I can’t buy her nice things,” John sat down next to her and seizing the opportunity, she put her legs on his lap. He made a motion to shove her legs away but changed his mind at the last minute.

“You ramble a lot when you’re bored,” he finally spoke, after looking at her for some time. John grabbed the newspaper that was on the coffee table and began to read it.

“I am aware,” was her reply.

“We need to find something you can do on Saturday afternoons,” John shook his head and turned the page. “What about… going out with Molly? She’s your best friend.”

“Firstly,” Y/N held up a finger. “Molly works on Saturdays, who does that? And I’d love to go out with her, it’s just that we’re not-“

“Yeah yeah whatever,” John cut her off. “Rosie isn’t with me… What about drawing?”

“There’s nothing for me to draw!” Y/N complained loudly. “I have over a dozen drawings of Rosie, couple of Molly, some of you…” she trailed off, sneaking him a look. He chose to ignore the last statement and turned a page. A couple of silent minutes passed when John realised that something was missing. Or rather someone.

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asked, looking around. “He’s the one who normally causing the ruckus.”

“Probably visiting Eurus,” she replied, looking at the grocery John had bought in a new found interest. “Did you get jam?”

“Stop telling everyone I’ve gone to visit Eurus!” Sherlock called loudly from the bedroom. John groaned and held his head in his hands when he heard something hit the door.

“Sometimes I can still hear him,” the woman mock pondered, pouting slightly in the process.

“Sod off Y/N,” he yelled back, emerging briefly throwing her sketchbook and pencil at her from the room. “I don’t visit her all the time!” He then looked at the kitchen and slowly turned his head, with a murderous glare in his eyes. “Did you remove all my experiments?” he asked softly.

“I do what I want Sherlock!” Y/N hollered back, picking up the sketch book and pencil from the floor. She frowned when she saw that the tip of the pencil had broken off. “Stop throwing my things and breaking them you… you man-child!” She yelled at him once more. Sherlock emerged from the bedroom, like a dragon emerging from a cave, and glared at Y/N.

“Remind me why you’re here again?” Sherlock asked waspishly. All of a sudden, the army doctor wished he wasn’t such a frequent visitor to Baker Street. It was fine enough having two babies to handle, he had to handle Y/N now that she had to stay.

“Someone blew up my kitchen when Mrs Hudson said that special someone couldn’t use the one in 221B,” she stuck her tongue out at him. “So I have to stay at yours.”

“SHUT UP!” John finally yelled at both of them. He was tired of their constant bickering. “BOTH OF YOU JUST, SHUT UP!” The flat was in total silence for several minutes as Sherlock sat down on his chair and Y/N began to doodle on her sketch book. The light in the room suddenly brightened and it hit Sherlock in such a way, he seemed like a heavenly celestial being. It suddenly struck Y/N as she realised she hadn’t drawn him before. The doorbell buzzed and John and Sherlock immediately looked at each other.



John and Sherlock spent the next couple of hours meeting the clients that were lined up at their door. Y/N remained in the same room, but instead on listening to the clients’ stories, she sketched Sherlock. She first started on his face, lightly drawing his face in first. After their first two clients, she had finished the basic features of his face and started to draw his eyes. Y/N loved his eyes the best of all. They were so exquisitely beautiful, one could get lost in them. An idea struck her and she promptly left the room, much to the surprise of their client, and she returned with several colour pencils of varying shades of blue and green. Slowly, yet carefully, she started to fill the vibrant colour into his eyes. Once his eyes were done, she shaded in his face, highlighting his cheekbones, smudging the shadows with her thumbs and redefining several lines. Sherlock was too engrossed in his clients that he failed to notice Y/N’s quick glances at him.


“Y/N you’ve got a notification,” John was typing away furiously at his laptop at the latest case. It had been a couple of weeks since the fiasco in the living room. Sherlock had disappeared for a case a couple of days ago. When no reply came, he peered into the screen of her phone. “It’s from Molly!” He rolled his eyes when he heard a crash and a bang; a frazzled Y/N came in, her fingers were blackened from the charcoal. She walked through the living room and unlocked the phone. When no reply came from her again, John looked at her with concern, she had a strange look on her face. “What’s the matter?”
“I’ve gotten date,” a small smile was on her face. “Tonight. At seven.” Her expression dropped a little. “When’s Sherlock getting back?” John looked at her sadly and closed his laptop lid. He walked over to where she was standing and gently gripped her by the shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter now,” he spoke softly. “He’s a bit of a prick, go enjoy your date.” Y/N hugged him tightly and kissed him on the cheek.

Couple of hours later

“I need your sketch book Y/N!” Sherlock thundered up the stairs and burst into the flat. John nor Y/N were anywhere to be seen. Bestride needed a person who could sketch and he had immediately thought of Y/N. She was likeable, she got unbearable when she didn’t have anything to do. A slip of paper on the fridge caught his eyes and he strode over to where it was was and quickly scanned it.

I’m with Rose and Y/N’s gone for a date. DON’T RUIN IT AGAIN OR NO ROSIE FOR A MONTH.

Dinner’s in the fridge, or just get take away.


Sherlock crumpled the piece of paper in his hand and threw it away. He needed Y/N so she could sketch the portrait of the murderer, but he couldn’t ruin the date. There was an alternate option of… messaging her. He wouldn’t be ruining the dat after all.

Sherlock: If you’re not terribly busy in your date, I need you ASAP.

Stuffing the phone in his Belfast, Sherlock started to look through Y/N’s room. He heard the John in his head going, “Stop going through her stuff! It’s private you prick!”. Sherlock chose to ignore it; a buzz indicated he had a new message.

John: Did you ruin her date again? I told you not to.

The consulting detective rolled his eyes and typed out a reply

Sherlock: I just said if she wasn’t busy, I needed her ASAP.

John: No Rosie for a month.

In his peripheral vision, he saw a dark, leather-bound notebook, which was precariously on the edge of her dressing table. It was a Eureka moment for Sherlock as he reached out to grab it. However, it fell to the floor and Sherlock stopped for a moment when it saw what page it had opened on. It was a portrait of him.

Sherlock gently ran this fingers over the papers, lingering on his eyes. He knew Y/N was talented, but he didn’t know she was this talented. She had cleverly used charcoal for his hair and outlined individual strands using a mechanical pencil. He could make out the softness of the tissue she had used for shading his cheek-

“Turns out I wasn’t so terribly busy on my date!” He heard a familiar voice call from the living room. “He was frankly lovely, but he didn’t like books! Imagine that! A man who didn’t like…” Y/N trailed off when she entered her own room and found her sketchbook in Sherlock’s hands.

“Books,” he completed for her. “Y/N I-I’m so…” the detective found himself lost for words; he was incredibly flustered.

“I can explain,” Y/N’s face was flushed from embarrassment. “I swear it’s nothing stalker-“

“It’s beautiful,” he cut her off again, setting the book aside. “But why me? Only deduction I can make is that-“

“I never drew you before,” Y/N admitted shyly. “That sketch was my first time, the nose is a little off and the eyes…“ she was interrupted in her rambling when he stood right in front of her; Sherlock gazed at her fondly and cupped her cheek with a gloved hand.

“Thank you,” he had a small smile on his face. Y/N, suddenly feeling a rush of bravery in her, gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she grinned shyly, from ear to ear. “For being my muse. You’re an interesting person to draw.”

“Can I be your muse more often?” he asked, with a cocky smirk on his face. Y/N laughed and elbowed him in his ribs.

“Only if you stop complaining about me all the time,” she looked over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. “What did you need? Was it Lestrade? He messaged me too!” Sherlock had stopped listening and held his hand on his cheek where she had kissed him with a small, secret knowing smile.

Requests Open!

all to myself

Pairing:  Arthur Weasley/Molly Prewett Weasley
For:  @rpepperpotshipssciencebros
Prompt:  #5.  Corn Maze

Her hand tightened around his.  "Which way, darling?“

"You know, I can’t seem to recall if we’ve gone this way or not…” Arthur peered down the path to their left.  "And I can’t seem to find the ability to care if we have…"

Molly smiled and gripped his hand all the tighter.  "I wonder why that is, Arthur Weasley.“  

"I can’t imagine, Molly Prewett Weasley. It couldn’t possibly be that it’s taken twenty-five years of marriage, seven children and a bloody corn maze to get you all to myself…”

Arthur…” she chided, with none of the vinegar that was usually present.