Sherlolly Oneshots

Of Body Parts and Blushes

Mmm nope.

"Yes, of course I'm sure, Molly.  Now please, I have things to do."  He winced at his own bitterness but Molly seemed unfazed.  Sherlock felt his heart drop a bit when he realized it was because she was now used to his rash outbursts.  The pathologist sighed and turned to leave, Sherlock watching through narrowed eyes as she walked past.

Go get her and apologize you complete tosser.

Sherlock bit his lip, closing his eyes as he spun around in the chair.  "Molly, wait."

The brunette paused and turned towards him, unamusement clear on her face.  Sherlock felt his breath tighten in his chest as he opened his mouth to speak.

Molly sighed, "yes?"

Say you're sorry and that you'd like to go to lunch with her. 

"I- uh.  I apologize... Molly Hooper."

The surprise was evident on her face as Sherlock took a small breath.

Halfway there...

"And I was wondering if..." Molly raised an eyebrow as Sherlock pressed on, her eyes wide, "if- uh, if you could examine this body- the cadaver- for me?"  A small shadow of disappointment fell across Molly's face but the disappointment Sherlock felt in himself was no doubt stronger.

Smooth, you moron.

"Uh- sure," Molly said with a small nod, "what do you need to know?"

If you're free tomorrow.

"Just tell me what you know about him, perhaps I missed something," at the shock that appeared on Molly face Sherlock quickly added, "your insight is useful to me."

A small smile spread on her lips and Sherlock couldn't help but feel pleased that he was the one to have caused it.  Molly crossed over to the other side of the table, peering down on the corpse.  She reached on the table for the clipboard but without thinking Sherlock reached over and stopped her hand, feeling his cheeks heat when he realized what he'd done.

Look at you making the first move.  Keep it up.

Quickly retracting his hand, Sherlock cleared his throat.  "Without looking at the clipboard," he explained hurriedly, "tell me what you can see without looking at the clipboard."

Not what I meant.

A small blush rose on Molly's cheeks and she nodded quickly, "a-alright."

She let her gaze rake over the cadaver and Sherlock found himself watching her intently, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips as he watched Molly furrow her brows in concentration.

Stop staring, weirdo.

"He looks old when you'd first look at him, but I don't think he was at all."  Sherlock tilted his head Molly continued, "he has a lot of wrinkles, around his eyes, his mouth," her finger hovered over the crows feet that crinkled the cadaver's eyes.

Sherlock nodded, "but..."

But you're stalling.

"But look at his hair and facial hair; there's a lot of it and there's no grey anywhere.  He's just spent a lifetime squinting, probably had bad eyes and was a worrier."

Ooh, she's good.  Ask her out now.

"Impressive," Sherlock rumbled, trying not to meet her gaze for he knew that if he did he wouldn't be able to fight down his affections any longer.  Molly grinned brightly.

"What else?"

The pathologist squinted, "what else?  He took two shots to the chest, non fatal but he bled out within minutes."

"Long-range or short-range?"

"Long-range, you couldn't not immediately kill someone with two short-range shots to the chest." 

Sherlock sniffed, nodding, "obviously." 

Molly copied his nod, a small smile on her lips, "obviously."

They fell into a silence, Sherlock could feel his palms begin to get sweaty but he bit his lip.

Now's your chance!

"Uh, Molly," Sherlock looked up, his breath catching in his throat.  She looked up and it was then when he realized they were mere centimeters apart, Molly's breath warm against Sherlock's flushed skin.

She blinked in surprise at the situation, freezing up.  Sherlock could feel his shaky breath become labored and he gulped.  They both sat, staring at each other over a dead cadaver and the nagging voice that had badgered the detective earlier was suddenly gone.  One thought and one thought only rang through Sherlock's mind.

Molly.

Without thinking, Sherlock suddenly leaned forward, bringing his lips to Molly's.  Every sense in him hummed, a hot searing feeling raking through his body.  Molly stiffened, the shock she felt evident by the small gasp that escaped her lips.

Sherlock, however, didn't back down.  He didn't think he could.  Not when Molly, the shy pathologist who had recently brought him to near insanity at the mere thought of her, was so close to him.  Not when every sense in his body was Molly.  Her smell, her sound, the feeling of her soft lips on his.  She tasted like how it felt to want something for so long and then to finally have it in your grasp, except a thousand times better. 

So no, Sherlock Holmes didn't back down. 

And the only thing that felt better than the feeling that erupted through his body once Sherlock's lips were on hers was when she started kissing him back.