How to Play a Game Called Murder

Chapter 20: The Good Valentine's Day

Sherlock heard Molly long before he saw her.

He grinned, listening to the shriek that announced her awakening in his bed, and the subsequent bumps and curse words as she stumbled out of his room into the kitchen. Her hair was a mess and there were remnant of makeup from the night before still on her face. She clutched his dressing gown around her otherwise naked body looking extremely awkward as she met his eyes. He was watching her from his chair, his laptop on his knees. She’d never looked more beautiful to him.

“Good morning Molly.” His voice was a little deeper than normal and he was acutely aware of why it was.

She smiled crookedly at him. “Uhm, g-good morning, Sherlock. I uhm, I’m just gonna get some clothes.” She dashed through the kitchen and up to her room.

Sherlock stared after her and sighed. And we’re back to the stuttering. He got to his feet and put his computer on the table before following her up to her room. He leaned on the doorframe, observing her movements as she tore through drawers, digging for clothes.

“You know, this would be easier if we moved your clothes into my closet.”

She stopped dead, pivoting to face him, dressed in only a bra and knickers. Pale green this time. He swallowed hard.

“What?” She stared at him with her mouth open in surprise.

He rolled his eyes at her, sighing. “Obviously, if we are going to share a bed, I can make room for your things.”

He studied her carefully as a rather attractive flush spread across her skin.

“Oh, uhm, are we going to be sharing a bed then?” She looked anywhere except his face so he crossed the room to take her in his arms, smirking at the tiny sigh of satisfaction that came from the woman.

Taking her chin in his hand, he lifted her face until he could look into her eyes and replied, “I had rather hoped we would. Are you opposed to the idea?”

“No!” she shrieked quickly, wincing as she realized just how fast she had replied. “I mean, no Sherlock, I am not opposed to that idea.”

He let go of her, ignoring the urge to throw her on the bed, and clapped his hands together, rubbing vigorously.

“Fantastic. Get dressed, we have things to do today!” At her perplexed gaze, he sighed. “I might not understand the sentiment of this day but I know that you wish to participate in it. Therefore, you need to break things off with whatever-his-name-is so we can spend the day together doing whatever inane things normal people do on this day.”

She shook her head, an exasperated, yet fond, grin on her face. “So close, Sherlock, so close.”

He rethought his words. “I mean, I wish to take you on a date for Valentine’s Day?”

“Better.” She beamed at him, and turned to gather up clothing to take into the bathroom with her. He took that as his cue, (though he was tempted to follow her into the bath,) and headed back down the stairs.

----------------------------------

Not quite an hour later, Sherlock and Molly left the flat, after an awkward encounter with Mrs. Hudson who insisted on hugging them both multiple times and congratulating them on their shag. Her exact words. Sherlock could feel his ears burn and Molly was red as well. He was sure the blush was more attractive on her than on himself.

He pulled a note card from his jacket pocket and proceeded to skim it quickly, before popping back into the pocket and grabbing Molly’s hand, practically hauling her down the street.