Mr Holmes and Miss Hooper - a Sherlolly Story

Chapter 36

When Molly exited the bathroom, she felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders. The dirt of those awful men was washed away and Sherlock had held her hand through it all. He really was perfect for her. She turned and looked at him as they stood there in their fluffiest towels. She didn't say anything, she didn't have to, but as she nodded her head at him he understood what she meant. She was drawing her line. She was putting her foot down and leaving this experience behind. And as a smile lit up her face when he kissed her forehead, Sherlock knew she was strong enough to do so.

He reached up to her shoulders and turned her body before taking the spare towel in his hand and rubbing her hair with it, removing most of the water and leaving it damp across her shoulders. She grabbed a hairbrush and her hairdryer and set to drying it. She didn't mind leaving her hair damp normally, but she wanted to be as warm and as dry as possible. While she was busy, Sherlock pulled on a pair of joggers and a tee before slipping his feet into his slippers, making sure Molly's were ready for her to slip her feet into too. Then, he made his way over to the drawers to finish gathering clothes for Molly. She finished drying her hair and let out a belly laugh when she looked over at him. The image of Sherlock Holmes brandishing her most granny-like pair of comfy knickers with a cheeky grin on his face was one she wouldn't soon forget. She snatched them from his hands and pulled them on as he unravelled the towel from her body. He helped her guide the pyjama bottoms up her legs and pressed a kiss to her hip bone. He felt her shiver as his hands stayed on her waist. He stood to his full height, his body pressing against hers. As he towered over her, there was no air between their bodies nor within Molly's lungs. He ruffled his hair before he slowly brought his lips down to hers. He wouldn't rush her to be back to her normal self, but he simply could not refrain from touching and kissing her whenever he could and whenever she let him. Feeling her in his arms reminded him that she was okay, and he needed that more than he needed oxygen. He could feel her heart beating where her chest was pressed to his and she felt him smile against her lips. She smiled back when he pulled away.

He passed her her dad's jumper but she just giggled and pushed his hand out of the way. Sherlock's eyebrows raised but he was chuckling too as her fingers travelled to the hem of his t-shirt and started pulling it over his head. He acquiesced to her request and watched as she pulled the fabric over her own head. She couldn't help snuggling into it a bit as the warm cotton hung off of her body. He smirked.

"You know what I say about you in my clothes."

"Indeed I do." She smirked back. The look on his face stole her breath. It was a mix of pure desire and unbridled relief. But those great green-blue eyes had nothing but love swirling around in them. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes." It fell from her lips.

"And I you, Molly Hooper." He pressed the softest of kisses against her forehead and then her lips. "You ready?"

"Almost." She smiled and pulled her dad's jumper over her head. "What?" Sherlock was wearing that smirk again. "Double the comfort."

He tilted his head and pursed his lips in a 'fair enough' kind of way. Molly's eyes finally travelled down his bare chest as he did. She found her fingers reaching out to touch him and she traced over the bullet wound and small surgical scars. He jumped a bit but then reached out to gently caress the bruise on her forehead, barely applying any pressure.

"We're okay." She had tears in her eyes as she whispered to him.

"We're okay."

He grabbed another t-shirt and her hand and led her downstairs. Once more into the fray.

***

Molly had been more than grateful when she walked into her living room. Loo had run straight into her arms and she'd held her sister whilst taking a whiff of the steaming hot take-away that awaited her. As they ate, no one pushed her to talk about what happened. No one asked her if she was okay. No one treated her any differently than normal and she loved them for it. Sure, everyone was a bit more attentive. Everyone seemed desperate to touch her every now and again but she knew they were only reminding themselves that she was there. She was safe. And she allowed it to remind herself of the same thing. She was safe and she was loved and that's what mattered. Line drawn .