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DC's Sherlock Drabbles

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Part 1 : Table of Contents

Part 2 : The Sound of Thunder - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Thunderstorm" - Molly, Sherlock, and a thunderstorm

Part 3 : I'm the Captain - 200 word drabble, Molly Hooper/Martin Crieff (Cabin Pressure), Theme is "Mechanic" - Molly meets a helpful "Man With a Van who is also a pilot" while on vacation in Fitton.

Part 4 : Delicate Lace - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Lace" - Molly, Sherlock, and delicate lace

Part 5 : Cover of Night- 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Sleepwalking" - Sherlock sleepwalks

Part 6 : Old Friend - 200 word drabble, Sherlock & John (friendship), Theme is "Skull" - Sherlock has a conversation with Billy the Skull.

Part 7 : A Good Boy - 200 word drabble, Sherlock, Theme is "Puppy" - No one had anticipated that there would be a problem, least of all Sherlock.

Part 8 : Firetrucks and Teddy Bears - 200 word drabble, Molly Hooper & Hermione Granger (crossover with Harry Potter), Theme is "Shopping" - It's amazing what you can find at a toy store.

Part 9 : Fish and Chips - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Possessive" - Detective Dimmock is moving in on the wrong pathologist.

Part 10 : Wanting What He Couldn't Have - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Masquerade" - Molly comes to a realization at the Watson Wedding.

Part 11 : Who Is the Real Monster? - 200 word drabble, Holmes brother, Theme is "Sister" - Mycroft Holmes regrets his newest responsibility.

Part 12 : Sure. Fine. Whatever. - 200 word drabble, anyone, Theme is "Syzygy" - "It's not Satanists," Sherlock bellowed as he swept into the morgue.

Part 13 : Offering Comfort - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Catlike" - Neither spoke, comfortable in the silence.

Part 14 : Kismet - 200 word drabble, Mycroft/Molly, Theme is "Fate" - Kismet links Sherlock to Molly, and Mycroft has no compunction with taking advantage of it. (Unrequited feelings. Not a HEA)

Part 15 : Doctorin' the TARDIS - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "TARDIS" -Molly had been missing for nearly a year. Where did she go, and Who was she with?

Part 16 : Doctorin' the TARDIS (Part Two) - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "TARDIS" - Sherlock meets the Doctor and gets his first view of the TARDIS interior.

Part 17 : Doctorin' the TARDIS (Part Three) - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "TARDIS" - Saying goodbye is never easy. Even for the Holmes’ brothers.

Part 18 : Doctorin' the TARDIS (Part Four) - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "TARDIS" - John takes the news well. For the most part.

Part 19 : Doctorin' the TARDIS (Part Five) - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "TARDIS" - Sherlock and Molly officially become Companions to the Doctor. The fifth and final part of the TARDIS drabble series.

Part 20 : It's Never Lupus - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Doctor" - How Sherlock had managed to talk her into sneaking into the Wokingham morgue, she didn’t know.

Part 21 : The City of Love - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Undercover" - What could be more romantic than a proposal in the City of Love?

Part 22 : Her Special Day - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Wish" - Sherlock attends Molly’s wedding rehearsal.

Part 23 : Toby - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Fluffy" - A cantankerous ball of fluff with a broken purr.

Part 24 : Knitted Vengeance - 200 word drabble, Holmes' Brothers, Theme is "Knitting" - “Is this really necessary?” If Mycroft Holmes would ever admit to whinging, it would have sounded exactly like this.

Part 25 : Nobody of Importance - 200 word drabble, John Harrison-Khan (Star Trek AOS)/Molly Hooper, Theme is "Dreams" - She was supposed to be a nobody.

Part 26 : Guardian Angel - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Time" - Sherlock has a guardian angel.

Part 27 : Positively Filthy - 200 word drabble, Sherlock/Molly, Theme is "Mud" - Molly gets dirty.

Part 28 : Peaches and Honey - 200 word drabble, Molly Hooper, Theme is "Honey" - She’d taste like the honey she’d stirred into her tea.

Chapter Text

The Sound of Thunder

Another burst of thunder rattled the windows. Molly whimpered and burrowed deeper under the covers; seeking comfort rather than warmth. The sound of rain nearly masked the creak of her door. She stilled, then sighed as a familiar form crossed her room and slid into bed beside her. Strong arms curled around her, soothing her, holding her close.

Sherlock rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I wanted to come back sooner, before the worst of the storm, but I couldn’t get a cab.”

“It’s all right.”

“No.” He shook his head, pressed his lips to her temple. “I shouldn’t have left. It was a pointless argument. I don’t really care where we live—here or Baker Street or somewhere completely new—as long as we’re together. I was just . . .”

“Scared,” Molly finished for him. She reached for his hand and laced their fingers together.

“I am, too. It’s a big change. Maybe we’re not ready?”

His fingers tightened around hers. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. We’re ready.”

She raised her chin and he kissed her softly, reverently.

Molly smiled. “I love you, too. We’ve got time, we’ll figure it out.”

Chapter Text

I Am the Captain

Molly studied the man behind the wheel. “Thank you for the lift. Again. Bloody rental car.”

Martin pulled the van into another intersection and nodded. “No problem. It’s not as if I could have left you on the side of the road.”

“Everyone else did.”

He glanced her way and caught her staring. Both of them blushed.

“So, you’re staying at a hotel?”

Molly nodded. “Mmm, here on vacation.”

“What, in Fitton?!”

She laughed at the sheer disbelief in his voice. “Needed to get away from the city and relax for a bit. You?”

“Permanent resident.“ He seemed a little depressed about it.

She wanted to distract him from whatever was making him melancholy. “Are you a mechanic? You figured out the car was a lost cause awfully quickly.”

“No, but my dad was. I’m pilot. Most of the time.” That seemed to perk him up. “Captain, actually. It’s, uh, it’s a small plane. Charter and cargo flights. But I get to travel all over the world.”

“Sounds exciting. I’ve never flown in something like that before.”

“Would you like to?” he asked in all seriousness.

Molly beamed at him. “Are you serious? Can we?”

“Well, I am the captain.”

Chapter Text

Delicate Lace

Her skin was pale and promised a softness that he hadn’t experienced in years; a direct contrast to the delicate black lace that peeked over the gaudy rhinestones that decorated her dress.

She was, as always, pretty. But with her hair down and her lips painted vivid red, for the first time Sherlock saw that she could be truly beautiful. The potential was there; had always been there, even though he’d refused to acknowledge it before that moment. Were Molly draped across his bed, wearing only that tantalizing lace with her hair spread across his pillow, the urge to fall to his knees in supplication before her would have been impossible to resist.

The ache of want that rolled across his nerves made him uncomfortable. He needed to put a stop to those sorts of intrusive thoughts. Immediately. His gaze took in every detail of the room and Molly, looking for something to draw his focus.

There. Her bag of presents.

His eyes narrowed as he took in the perfectly wrapped gift, and his skin went cold with the shock of an emotion he dared not name.

“I see you’ve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you’re serious about him.”

Chapter Text

Cover of Night

“Molly, dear. In case no one has mentioned it, sometimes Sherlock sleepwalks. Rarely. Only when he’s pushed himself to the point of exhaustion, or he’s very stressed.” Mrs Hudson shrugged apologetically.

Molly understood what the other woman’s silent gesture meant. Sherlock had barely been out of hospital for a week, and was still dealing with withdrawal and his injuries. He was both stressed and exhausted; and since this was Molly’s first overnight shift on Sherlock Watch, Mrs Hudson wanted Molly to know what to expect.

She promptly forgot all about the warning in the face of an irritable, jumpy Sherlock intent on pushing away everyone in his life.

It wasn’t until she woke up with Sherlock kneeling beside the sofa, his head pillowed on her chest and his arm draped across her waist, that she remembered. She lifted his chin and gazed into his unfocused eyes, and realized he was sleepwalking.

Molly tried to sit up; but he pulled her closer, held her tighter, and they somehow ended up in a tangle on the floor.

“Stay with me,” he asked, utterly unguarded and fragile.

“Always,” she whispered.

She was not surprised when he barely tolerated her presence the next morning.

Chapter Text

Old Friend

Sherlock studied the skull on his mantel, the worn dips and curves as familiar to him as his own face. His eyes were sad, his tone resigned as he spoke to his silent companion. “It’s just you and me again, old friend.

“I don’t know if John will ever really forgive me. Even if he does, it won’t be like before. He’s got a job, a flat, a fiancé. All that boring stability ordinary people seem to crave. He’s moved on. They all have.”

He shook his head and sighed, forcing himself away from that train of thought.

“Mary is interesting. Intelligent, unlike most of the others. I like her. I think she’ll make him happy, Billy.”

“She does. And she likes you, too.”

Sherlock spun on his heel. “John? You’re here?”

The other man shrugged. “Someone’s got to update the blog if we’re going to get any good cases.”

They both grinned for a moment, then John sat in his old chair.

“So, what are you going to call this one?” Sherlock asked as he bounced into his own seat.

“I was thinking ‘The Empty Hearse’ in honour of Anderson’s little fan club. Has a nice ring to it.”

Chapter Text

A Good Boy

No one had anticipated that there would be a problem, least of all Sherlock. He had been around dogs dozens of times over the years. Played with them, petted them, even sunk to his knees to accept sloppy doggy kisses from them. But not, he realized, since Sherrinford and the devastating revelation at Musgrave Hall.

So when his Goddaughter asked for a puppy for her third birthday, no one even thought to consider how Sherlock would react. Not even Sherlock.

The puppy is eager and wriggly, with soft tufts of reddish-gold fur that already promised to be the Hoover’s arch nemesis. He was sweet and perfect. Sherlock couldn’t look at him for more than two seconds without feeling ill.

Molly figures it out first, ever observant when it comes to Sherlock. John takes a bit longer, but his sudden pallor tells Sherlock that he’s put two and two together and come up with Redbeard.

Rosie, however, doesn’t understand why her Godfather doesn’t want to cuddle with her present.

How could he turn down her beseeching eyes?

He does the only thing he can, he drops to the carpet and lets the puppy tumble into his lap.

“There’s a good boy.”

Chapter Text

Firetrucks and Teddy Bears

Hermione stared at the wall of toy trucks and cars in defeat. Harry’s youngest was fascinated with Muggle firemen at the moment. It should have been easy enough to find him a birthday gift, lots of kids loved firemen; so why wasn’t there a single firetruck in the entire blood toy department?

She was just trying to decide if a police car would be an adequate substitute when her skin prickled into goosebumps.

Hermione rounded the corner to the next aisle, and froze at the sight of a blonde girl in the arms of a woman wearing an obscenely bright jumper. The girl laughed as a teddy bear slowly wobbled through the air into her hands. The woman smiled indulgently until she saw Hermione.

“It’s-it’s not what it looks like,” she stammered, eyes wide and apprehensive.

“Isn’t it?” Hermione made a split-second decision and gently took the bear. She uttered an incantation, and wandlessly sent it back to the shelf. “I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Molly Hooper.” She protectively hugged the girl closer.

“I imagine you have some questions,” Hermione asked.

Molly swallowed hard and nodded. “You could say that. I should call Rosie’s father. He’s going to want to hear this.”

Chapter Text

Fish and Chips

Dimmock was back.

The first time Sherlock had found the detective hovering around Molly in the morgue, he had dismissed it. More and more detectives were following Lestrade’s example and had begun to take advantage of Molly’s considerable skills. It would stand to reason that Dimmock would be one of them.

The second and third times, Dimmock had been on his way out when Sherlock had arrived; and with a case in progress, there had been little time to consider the other man’s presence.

But now it was crystal clear to Sherlock that Dimmock was loitering around for the sole purpose of chatting up Molly.

His Molly!

Sherlock interrupted their conversation just as Dimmock asked if she was free that evening.

“’Fraid not, Durwood. She’s got plans.”

“I do?” Molly frowned.

“Yep,” Sherlock replied with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes. “Nope. I’m pretty sure I would remember if someone asked me to make plans tonight.”

Sherlock swallowed hard and squared his shoulders. “I’m asking now. Fish and chips?”

“Off Marlyebone?”

“Of course.”

“Shelves?”

“Extra portions.”

“Uh, guys?” Dimmock interrupted, unable to follow their verbal shorthand.

“Get out,” Sherlock growled.

“Right. On it.” Neither one of them noticed Dimmock leave.

Chapter Text

Wanting What He Couldn’t Have

The Watson wedding reception was still going strong when Molly slipped outside for some air.

It had been a lovely wedding and an extremely eventful reception: an attempted murder, Sherlock’s beautiful best man speech, the surprise pregnancy announcement . . . and the less surprising realization that she couldn’t marry Tom.

From the corner of her eye she saw a familiar form moving through the dark garden. Tom must have come looking for her.

She knew this was probably the worst timing imaginable, but the thought of going back inside and trying to pretend that everything was fine . . .

“I love you.” Her voice wavered.

He froze, still shrouded in shadows.

“But I can’t marry you. There’s someone else. I thought I was over him, but I’m not. And you don’t deserve to spend the rest of our lives wondering if you were my consolation prize.”

Molly scrubbed a tear off her cheek. “I’d like to go home now. I’ll get my purse.”

Sherlock knew she’d figure out her mistake as soon as she saw Tom inside. He should have spoken up, told her not to throw away her future with the other man, but he selfishly remained silent.

Wanting what he couldn’t have.

Chapter Text

Who Is the Real Monster?

Regardless of what others might think, it nearly breaks him.

As cold and dangerous as Eurus is, she’s still his baby sister. Finding out what Uncle Rudy had done, what he was now expected to do . . .

She’s been locked away for nearly two-thirds of her life. Her face has changed, matured; but her eyes are the same. Cold. Watchful. Always too old, too intelligent, too calculating.

She is a predator, there was no doubt about that.

Rather than break her and make her docile, her captivity has honed her terrible skills to a deadly, razor sharp point judging from the incidents listed in her files.

And now it is his responsibility to weld the key to the cage.

Only he sees the woman behind the monster. Only he remembers the girlish voice asking why Sherlock wouldn’t come play, crying because it wasn’t Mycroft’s attention she wanted. Only he sees his little sister, lost and alone.

Perhaps he is the monster, allowing her to remain locked away and used.

Mycroft turned off the CCTV feed to her cell. He hides his shattered heart behind a practiced mask of indifference, and accepts the responsibility of safeguarding the asset known only as Eurus.

Chapter Text

Sure. Fine. Whatever.

“It’s not Satanists,” Sherlock bellowed as he swept into the morgue. Molly assumed from his tone that it wasn’t the first time he’d made that assertation.

“How do you know, though? You haven’t even looked at the brand,” Greg grumbled as he pushed his way past the other man.

“Because I’m not an idiot,” Sherlock bit out. He leaned down to kiss Molly’s cheek as he joined Greg next to the exam table. “Tell him it’s not Satanists.”

“It’s not Satanists,” Molly echoed in a way that made it clear she was humouring Sherlock. “It is a bit odd, though.” She pointed at a shape that had been burnt onto the chest of the victim.

Greg leaned back and folded his arms. “That’s clearly a goat in a pentagram.”

Sherlock scoffed. “No, it isn’t.”

Both men turned to Molly.

“Some kind of horned beast, maybe,” she tentatively offered. “I thought it looked a bit like the cartoon cow logo they use at the horrible steak place we went to last month.”

“That’s it!” Sherlock paused on the way out. “Molly? Baker Street tonight? You can help me solve the mystery of the horny beast.”

“Oi!” Greg shuddered. “I’m right here.”

Chapter Text

Offering Comfort

She had always thought his movements were graceful. Powerful. Catlike.

When he’d hopped over the table during his best man speech, she’d caught her breath.

She’d hoped to find him on the dancefloor later, although she had no idea if she would have had the courage to ask him to dance. In the end, it didn’t matter. He’d slipped from the ballroom without a word.

Guilt was the only thing that kept her from shaking off Tom’s hand and following.

Hours later, after she’d sent Tom off with the excuse of a headache, she found herself at Baker Street.

She had curled up on the sofa and let Sherlock rest his head on her lap, the stiff yellow dress traded for soft flannel pyjamas. He let her run her fingers through his hair, petting him as she would her cat. Neither spoke, comfortable with the silence.

She reluctantly gathered her things in the pre-dawn light, and he walked her to the door.

“Thank you, Molly.”

“Sherlock, I-“

He shook his head. “You should leave before we do something we will both regret.”

She didn’t see him for another month, and by then everything was different.

And still so heartbreakingly familiar.

Chapter Text

Kismet

It starts with monthly check-ins. One brother looking after the other. Sherlock knows, of course; but he encourages anything that means not having to speak with Mycroft directly.

Kismet links Sherlock to Molly, and Mycroft has no compunction with taking advantage of it.

Molly rarely asks for anything in repayment, just the odd dinner or tickets to a play (Mycroft occasionally joins her for the former and never for the latter).

He comes to her house the night after she’s broken up with Jim and tells her everything. She asks why he’s bothered to show up in person, he could have sent one of his men, and Mycroft remains silent. He wonders if he even knows the answer.

He considers ending the visits after Sherlock jumps. He doesn’t, but the conversations change. Sherlock’s name is rarely ever mentioned.

He knows when she meets Tom and secretly vets him, looking for any flaws. He silently rejoices when they breakup.

Eurus deduces that Molly Hooper is one of Sherlock’s greatest weaknesses.

She misses that Molly is Mycroft’s as well.

Fate brought her to him, but Fate is a fickle mistress. Mycroft knows her precious whispered words will never be meant for him.

Chapter Text

Doctorin’ the TARDIS

It couldn’t be.

There was no way that Molly Hooper—the woman who had gone missing without a trace nearly a year ago—was standing in front of that police box, smiling at another woman as if they were old friends.

No way that she could be standing there, looking exactly as she had when she’d stormed out of Baker Street. He’d lied about The Phone Call, said it had only been for her safety, that it meant nothing; and even though it had only taken ten minutes for him to realize what a fool he’d been and run after her, she’d disappeared.

She wasn’t angry now. She was laughing at the oddly dressed blonde woman who kept gesturing toward the blue police box.

Sherlock couldn’t take it anymore.

He quickly approached. “Molly?”

The only woman he’d ever loved turned to face him. “Thank God, Molly. I’m sorry, I was wrong. I do love you. I think I always have. Please don’t leave me again. These past eleven months-“

“Eleven months!”

She turned to glare at the other woman who shrugged. “Eleven hours, eleven months. I was close.”

Molly huffed, then grinned. “Sherlock, I’d like you to meet the Doctor.”

Chapter Text

Doctorin’ the TARDIS (Part Two)

It was bigger on the inside.

The woman—the Doctor, according to Molly, although not the version of the Doctor that Sherlock had last seen in the news—had an annoyingly expectant look, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking and was just waiting for the words to burst forth so she could roll her eyes. Sherlock bit his tongue and followed Molly deeper into the TARDIS.

Somehow, in only eleven hours (months on his end), Molly had become fast friends with the Doctor.

She continued to nervously rattled off a tale of visiting another world. “So pretty and peaceful, it put a lot of things into perspective and I just couldn’t stay angry anymore,” offered Molly as she hesitantly reached for his hand. “I do love you, Sherlock, but-”

He felt his blood run cold. “You’re leaving again.”

The Doctor nodded, watching them both closely.

“I thought it would be for the best.” Molly bit her lip and squeezed his fingers. “Then I saw you again. Do you want me to stay?”

“No.” He swallowed hard and made a split-second decision that was going to change his life forever. “I want you to take me with you.”

Chapter Text

Doctorin’ the TARDIS (Part Three)

Mycroft understood long before Sherlock finished explaining where Molly had disappeared to for those eleven months. He had routinely received reports from UNIT and Torchwood over the years and was well acquainted with the whims of the Doctor. “As per the usual protocols, arrangements will be made to provide assistance for your reintegration once you and Ms Hooper return. Whenever that may be. When do you leave?”

Trust the British government to already have protocols prepared for that sort of thing. “Somehow Molly managed to convince the Doctor to give us a few hours.”

“Not very long at all, then. Not enough time to visit Mummy and Father to tell them in person.”

“Surely you can do that.” The thought of looking his mother in the eye while Sherlock told them he was leaving yet again was utterly unappealing. “Tell them . . . Tell them about Molly. Father will understand.”

Mycroft nodded, silently agreeing. Their father was a romantic at heart. “And our sister?”

“Probably best not to mention Molly to her.” Sherlock glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Goodbye, Mycroft.”

Mycroft whispered to himself as he watched Sherlock leave. “Until we meet again, I will miss you, brother mine.”

Chapter Text

Doctorin’ the TARDIS (Part Four)

John took some convincing. At first, he thought Sherlock and Molly were having him on. It took peeking through the door of the TARDIS for the truth of the situation to sink in.

“How? How is—It’s bigger on the inside!”

“And there it is.” The Doctor shared a mutual eye roll with Sherlock.

He’d moved to step inside, Rosie on his hip and a look of awe on his face, when the Doctor slid in front to block him with wide open arms. “No, no, nooo, no more children in here! Who knows what the TARDIS will do if given half a chance, and I will not be held responsible for a bout of premature puberty.”

Molly rushed in to take Rosie for some last minute cuddles, leaving the men alone.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” John asked.

“I want to be with Molly,” Sherlock immediately replied. “I don’t care about the where or when.”

“I’m happy for you, mate. I truly am.”

Molly handed Rosie back and gave John a kiss on the cheek. “It’s not forever, John. We’ll be back.”

Rosie leaned her head against her father’s. “Promise?”

“We promise,” Sherlock solemnly reassured her.

Chapter Text

Doctorin’ the TARDIS (Part Five)

The stars spun past in a blur.

Intellectually, Sherlock knew the stars weren’t actually moving. It was the rotation of the TARDIS as it moved through time and space that caused the bursts of colour and trails of light to speed across the view screen.

Still, it was rather . . .

“Breathtaking,” Molly whispered.

“It is striking,” the Doctor agreed. She nudged Sherlock out of the way to fiddle with numerous controls on the console. “Where to? Any special requests or shall it be pilot’s choice?”

Molly continued to watch the whirling lights, fascinated, and blindly reached for Sherlock’s hand. He squeezed her fingers in response. “I’ve always wanted to go to the Forest Moon of Endor. Do you know of any places like that?” she asked.

Sherlock blinked. “The what?”

The Doctor beamed. “I watched those with Bill.”

Sherlock blinked again. “Who?”

The Doctor immediately began to flip switches and spin dials (some of which had to be purely decorative, Sherlock thought). “Do you want the little bears or no?”

“Ewoks are real?” Molly gasped. Sherlock was utterly confused, but Molly’s enthusiasm made him smile.

“Of course not,” the Doctor scoffed. “But I know where to find the next best thing.”

Chapter Text

It's Never Lupus

Molly ducked her head to avoid making eye contact with the three doctors heading her way. She hoped they were too engrossed in their conversation to notice the ID clipped to her scrubs had been issued by Barts rather than the Wokingham hospital they were in.

How Sherlock had managed to talk her into sneaking into the Wokingham morgue, she didn’t know.

Her gaze flicked to the side to glare at her partner in crime and she froze.

He wasn’t there.

Molly swore under her breath and spun to find him arguing with the doctors they’d just passed.

She approached them in time to hear Sherlock. “-ridiculous. It wasn’t complications from Lupus.”

Lupus? He had to be talking about his case and the body she’d just examined at his request.

“Her kidneys failed because she’d been poisoned. Mostly likely her bro-“

Molly tugged on the back of Sherlock’s scrubs. “Doctor, the consult? We should really get going.”

“Who did you say you were?” one of the doctors asked, eyes narrowing.

“The consult! Must go, can’t be late.” Sherlock took a step back and reached for Molly’s hand, tugging her toward the stairs. “Now would be a good time to run.”

Chapter Text

The City of Love

“I’m going to kill you,” Molly whispered through gritted teeth and lips that were twisted into the parody of a smile. She bent down to press her lips against those of the man before her, the one on bended knee with the Eiffel Tower as his dramatic backdrop. “Straight up murder you in the slowest, most painful way I know how,” as if she were murmuring words of love.

Molly straightened and giggled loud enough for the nearby tourists to hear, “Of course I’ll marry you!”

Sherlock sprang to his feet, put the ring on her finger, brushed his lips against hers, whispered “There he is.”, then took off like a shot in pursuit of the Parisian murderer they’d been tracking for the last two weeks.

Several gawkers gasped.

“He’ll be back. Severe anxiety.” She shrugged. “Nervous bowel.”

That scattered the small crowd fairly quickly.

She settled onto a bench and pulled out her phone, prepared for a long wait.

An hour later, someone plopped down onto the bench beside her.

“Did you catch him?”

“Her.” Sherlock frowned. “I always miss something.”

He nodded at the ring she still wore. “I meant it. The proposal.”

“So did I. The yes.”

Chapter Text

Her Special Day

He shouldn’t even be there.

He’d offered his excuse days ago. A feeble one that no one actually believed, but she’d accepted because she understood how much he despised these sorts of social interactions.

She understood him. Full stop.

God, it was going to kill him, but it’s what she wanted. When it came down to it, he could refuse her nothing.

Except the one thing she’d wanted most. The one thing he wished he could give her.

As he watched her walk down the aisle, wearing the pretty sundress she’d carefully chosen for her wedding rehearsal, he felt his heart begin to shatter.

Fuck it.

He’d been planning to wait until after her wedding, wanting to be sober on her special day, but there was no way he’d be able to sit through the ceremony without being high as a kite.

There was no way he was going to sit through it at all, he decided.

Sherlock stood and slipped out the back of the chapel, unaware of the sad brown eyes that followed his departure.

It would be a week before someone let slip the wedding had been called off, and by then it was far too late.

Chapter Text

Toby

The cat purred under his hand, a raspy sound that stuttered in an almost imperceptible rhythm.

Sherlock had been alarmed the first time Molly’s cat had finally deigned to crawl into his lap. He’d called out to Molly, convinced that Toby was in the midst of some sort of respiratory distress and needed to be taken to the vet immediately.

“Oh, no, he always sounds like that when he’s happy,” Molly had assured him.

Her words had left him momentarily speechless.

It was still a difficult concept for him to accept, that he could make someone else happy simply by existing. The cat demanded nothing more from him than a warm lap and a soft touch.

It took the cantankerous ball of fluff with the broken purr and a propensity to shed fur all over his trousers for Sherlock to fully realize that the simple moments he shared with Molly—her head on his shoulder as they watched crap telly, her playing with his hair while he got lost in his thoughts, the contented way she curled into his arms as they talked—held some of the deepest meaning.

He loved her, but just as importantly, he made her happy.

Chapter Text

Knitted Vengeance

“Is this really necessary?” If Mycroft Holmes would ever admit to whinging, it would have sounded exactly like this.

He held up his arms, most of a skein of 12-ply wool yarn wrapped around his hands. The tail stretched toward Mrs Hudson, who was seated in Sherlock’s chair with a contented look upon her face and a pair of large knitting needles in her hands.

“Hmm,” Sherlock hummed. He looked up from his laptop to smirk at his brother. “It was your exceptionally poor judgement that ultimately lead to Baker Street getting blown up and Mrs Hudson losing so many of her things.”

“The ground floor was hardly touched,” Mycroft insisted.

Mrs Hudson yanked on the yarn, nearly pulling him off balance. “Smoke and water damage, as you are well aware,” she reminded him. “All of my lovely handknit things, ruined.”

Mycroft huffed. “I will gladly pay to replace-“

She narrowed her eyes. “Hand. Knit.”

Sherlock leaned back and continued to gloat. “Mrs Hudson takes great pride in her needlecrafts.”

“Don’t look so pleased, young man. I’m planning to work on a cardigan for Molly after this blanket is finished and that means it will be your turn.”

Sherlock paled.

Chapter Text

Nobody of Importance

She was supposed to be a nobody.

He had dismissed her from his thoughts seconds after they met. She’d stammered, blushed, and wouldn’t meet his eyes as someone introduced them. Her research was unimportant to his mission; therefore, she was unimportant.

And yet, his sleep cycle had been tainted with images of a tiny brunette with fierce eyes, a regal bearing, and a sharp tongue. Obviously, it could not be the Doctor Hooper he had been introduced to but merely a fantasy that bore a remarkable resemblance.

The second time he saw her, she was in her element. She had no idea he was there; something had drawn him into her department and compelled him not to announce his presence.

She moved through her domain with grace, instructing her subordinates with confidence.

One dared to contradict her and she quelled his insubordination with a mere look and a sharply spoken “Anderson”. No cajoling or explanations offered. She silently demanded respect and obedience, and her people gave it to her.

Khan reviewed his timeline. It would be months before the Vengeance would be ready and his plans set into motion.

Months to see if there was any weight to his dreams.

Chapter Text

Guardian Angel

“Oh, Sherlock,” a voice—soft and gentle—caressed his ears. He felt small, warm hands wipe grime and blood from his cheeks.

His eyes fluttered open just enough to see a familiar face bent over his, blocking the icy rain. “Molly?”

“Look at you, bleeding out, all alone. How many times?” Her hands pulled his soaked shirt open. “You have to be more careful. I can’t keep doing this.”

He tried to scream as her fingers examined the knife wound on his side. “I can’t keep healing you every time you nearly get yourself killed. They’re going to notice eventually. There are rules, Sherlock.”

“Th-they?” he stuttered.

“The Masters.” Molly groaned as she curled over him. Her hands burned against his skin as the wound begin to close. Her jumper shredded under the strain of her shifting form, folded white wings burst from her back.

“Angel?”

“No.” Her voice was velvet, dark and enticing. She smiled as she stroked his brow, and he saw sharp teeth behind her parted lips. He smelled a hint of brimstone as her pale wings unfurled. Instead of feathers, they were leathery and iridescent under the stars, tipped in razor sharp claws. “Not an angel.”

Chapter Text

Positively Filthy

“I smell like sewage.”

Sherlock tilted his head for a moment to consider it, then nodded. “An accurate assessment, Molly.”

“I smell like sewage because you made me crawl through a partially clogged stormwater bypass,” she hissed as she stormed up the stairs to 221b.

“You were the only one who could fit through the intake pipe,” Sherlock reminded her as he followed her into his rooms, only just managing to dodge the sopping wet jacket she threw at his head. “What are you doing?”

Molly continued to wrestle with her nasty clothes as she stomped toward the bathroom, dropping items onto the floor the second she managed to remove them. “I’m taking a shower.”

He froze in place as she pulled her shirt over her head. “Here?”

“I’m filthy.” She put her hands on her hip and stood there in only her bra and mud-caked jeans. “Surely you don’t expect me to wait until I get home to wash up?”

Sherlock blinked. Then blinked again. Then grinned. “You’re right. It’s my fault you got dirty.” He began to pop open the buttons on his shirt. “Therefore, it’s my responsibility to make sure you get scrubbed clean, don’t you agree?”

Chapter Text

Peaches and Honey

She’d taste like the honey she’d stirred into her tea.

Sweet and earthy.

Dark and complicated.

Like the golden flecks in her deep brown eyes.

Like the chestnut and auburn strands hidden amongst the brown locks of her hair.

What was it about Molly Hooper that made them uncharacteristically poetic?

Her laugh, unbridled and genuine, made them smile. That it was in response to something they’d said made it even more delightful.

She cradled her mug between her hands.

They pictured her small but strong fingers on their skin, her nails digging into their back in a moment of passion.

It would be easy to give in. To seduce her. To love her.

Far too easy.

Molly added another spoonful of honey to her tea then licked the spoon with visible delight. She had a sweet tooth.

They had long ago made a point to remember that. It could be useful information to have some day.

Gloss made her lips appear wet, stained the most tempting blush. Like a ripened peach just begging to be devoured.

They masked their shudder of long denied want—need—behind a calm, casual sip from their own mug.

Some fruit would always remain forbidden.