Bolthole Mix Tape
13 Oct 2017
The third rule, “…and this is sacrosanct, Sherlock, so do try to muster a bit of enthusiasm for the lesson: avoid private residences at all costs. You may opt for institutions at off hours, a derelict boat house or perhaps a cemetery. You may even be so bold at to secure spiffy digs behind the clock face of Big Ben for all I care. Good luck with that, by the way. But never,” Mycroft warned, “a private residence. People are so problematic," he paused, letting the syllables fall into Sherlock's lap. "Best to remove all possibility of emotion.”
He never liked following the rules...
- Part 1 of Bolthole Mix Tape
22 Oct 2017
“Em…what about tea? You take tea…and biscuits? Don’t you?”
Sherlock's translucent lids fluttered over eyes gone vapor-gray in the ambient glow of the lab's under-cupboard lighting.
He trained that pale gaze on her, a big cat circling his prey. His eyes pinned her in place and not at all against her will.
Molly floated in the quiet, small hands frozen to the stainless steel worktop, and waited for him to pounce. He didn't. Instead, he spun the long seconds between them, weaving a spell around her.
She’d linger there for hours, if necessary, just to hear his voice again.
“Tea. Yes. I take tea,” he said, a corner of his mouth inching upward.
The muscles in her stomach fought the pull of his unintentional seduction.
He'd meant it unintentionally... right?
- Part 2 of Bolthole Mix Tape
29 Oct 2017
She knew the answer without Sherlock’s fictional baritone lecturing her as she brushed her hair. Molly listened anyway, liking the way his reverb sank into her follicles. Thick with sleep. Mumbly.
Shirtless, too. Or so she'd imagined. Multiple times.
“Molly, jealousy is a useless emotion and doesn’t equate to fondness in the slightest (‘fondness’ because he’d never use the word ‘love’ - not in a million years - even in her hypothetical). It’s a clear sign of low self-esteem, extreme dependence on one’s partner, feelings of inadequacy…”
And on his phantom voice went, ticking off a laundry list of traits with the aid of his long, apparitional fingers.
- Part 3 of Bolthole Mix Tape
18 Jan 2018
They stood almost toe-to-toe, neither of them in a hurry to restart the tour.
His eyes roamed over her face, from the severe part of her ponytail to the softer edges of her hairline then slid across her temple. Lower, to the hollow of her neck. To the tiny mole just under her jaw.
He followed the big muscle - her sternocleidomastoid - to where it wrapped around her clavicle. When he lost sight of those slender bones, hidden under the heavy rolled neck of her sweater, Sherlock’s imagination took over.
"I haven't had a flatmate since uni," she mused, "but...it's not like... I don't think of you as my flatmate or anything...I just meant it'd might be fun to order a pizza or maybe watch a movie, after Bart's..."
- Part 4 of Bolthole Mix Tape