The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 42

            Coffee. Black with two sugars. That's what Molly awoke to every morning, it strong smell filling her flat, waking her up at just the right time each morning. Today was not unlike any other day. She smiled as her eyes opened and she took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of the freshly brewed coffee.

            As she sat up, she felt Toby at her side. He stretched from his curled up position, his claws grasping the air as he yawned, then rolled onto his back with what looked like a smile on his face. Molly's smile only grew, and she reached a hand down to his chest, balling it up. Toby grabbed onto her hand with his front paws as his back legs started to kick her hand. Though his nails grapping and kicking her was painful, it was always funny to watch him do this, so Molly laughed, earning a head cock from the feline.

            "Just woken up, and already you're so playful," Molly said, yanking her hand away from him and looking down at her battle wounds: Three scratches across the back of her hand and one lining her thumb. They didn't require bandages, though, so she shrugged them off and watched as Toby rolled from side to side.

            Molly shook her head at him and laughed. She pushed the covers away from her and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her feet resting on the floor. Then, she pushed herself onto her feet and walked towards the door. She heard the pitter-patter of Toby's paws on the hardwood floor behind her as she made her way to the kitchen.

            As she reached the counter where a mug of black coffee waited for her, Toby stopped in the middle of the floor and fell to his side, then rolled onto his back again, pawing at the air. Molly rolled her eyes and picked up the mug.

            "Later, Toby," she said, "I have to get ready."

            The cat rolled back onto his side and began to lick his paw. Meanwhile, Molly began to drink from the mug. It was almost too hot, and for a second she was afraid she had burnt her tongue on the coffee. After realising she hadn't, she decided to set it down anyway. She'd let it cool down as she got ready for work. So, she hopped in the shower, got dressed, and then returned to the now just warm enough coffee. She sipped it and smiled.

            Then, the door opened, and Sherlock stepped into the sitting room. Molly set down the mug again and walked to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and letting one ear press against his chest, as if she were checking his heartbeat.

            "Good morning, Sherlock," she said to him. When he didn't wrap his arms around her and she felt his heart beat speed up slightly in his chest, she stepped back, dropping her hands to her sides and blushing. She looked at his cold hard expression as he stared down at her. His coat wasn't on, so wherever he was, he hadn't planned on staying out there for long. Where had he been?

            "Sherlock?" Molly questioned, "where were you? Are you alright?" She held a hand out and placed it on his shoulder. "Sherlock, talk to me. Please."

            He shook his head, as if clearing a thought from his head. His hand came up and wrapped itself around the hand Molly had on him. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it again, rethinking his words, something he didn't usually do. "You'll be expecting a phone call today."

            "I will?" Molly asked, "From who?"

            "Don't worry about it." He gave her hand a pat and then lifted it off his shoulder, dropping it before making his way to the kitchen.

            Molly frowned and spun around, watching as he walked, and then took off after him. "Hey! You can't just say that."

            Sherlock slowly took his hand away from the coffee pot and spun around to where Molly now stood. He sighed, and his blue eyes flickered down to her. "Molly, don't worry about it."