New Beginnings || A Sherlolly Tale

VI

Molly woke up alone in a different room than she had fallen asleep in. Maisie was no longer in bed, she could be heard babbling down the hallway.

Honestly, Molly didn't want to get up. It felt so nice being able to relax and stay in bed, not being bothered by Maisie. Plus, Sherlock's bed was pretty comfortable and Molly wouldn't get the opportunity to wake up in his bed everyday, so she wanted to savour the feeling.

She lay in bed for a few more minutes, pulling the duvet tighter around her and, though she'd never admit it to anybody except maybe Meena, smelling him in the sheets. She wasn't meaning to, she wasn't whiffing up his scent, but she definitely couldn't complain when every breath she took smelled faintly of beech trees (which she knew by heart due to the trees she grew up with) and something like almonds. The smells were lovely and comforting and him. And while she would have loved to stay there all day she heard a few words shared between her daughter and Sherlock that made her nearly skyrocket out of bed.

"What the smell?"

"That, Maisie Bronwyn, is formaldehyde."

"Foam aldie hi?"

"Formaldehyde."

"Foam owie hide!"

Molly rushed into the kitchen, relieved to see that Sherlock was taking a carton of eggs out of the fridge rather than blowtorching a tongue or microwaving two year old kidney stones.

Sherlock didn't turn to her, instead he grabbed a pan from the cupboard and set it on the cooker, opening the carton of eggs as he spoke. "Goodmorning Molly. Sleep well?"

"Quite. Whatcha doing?"

"Breakfast," he said, cracking two eggs into the pan at once. "That's what father's do, yes?"

Maisie cocked her head. "Fah-ter?"

"Father, yeah." Molly picked her up. "I told you, darling. That's your daddy."

"Daddy?"

"Mmhm." Molly kissed her on the cheek and set her down again.

"How many would you like, Molly?"

"Oh, Sherlock, you don't have to-"

"I insist. How many?"

Molly smiled, brushing her hair behind an ear. "Two should be fine, thanks."

"Anytime."

Molly walked to the cooker, leaning against the counter next to it as Sherlock added another egg into the pan. "Why are you being so...."

He raised a brow. "Hm?"

"Lovely?"

He seemed amused, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he looked over at her. "I rather thought I was always lovely."

She raised a skeptical brow. "Really?"

"Nope. I know I'm an arsehole."

"Sherlock!"

"Hm?"

"Child!" She gestured to Maisie, who was now babbling to Ginny the Rabbit. Sherlock resumed making the eggs, scrambling them and adding turkey, smirk still on his lips.

Molly took a seat at the centre table, watching him as Maisie began making Ginny climb her leg. She rest her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow on the table, ignoring the climbing purple rabbit. After a couple minutes, Sherlock separated the eggs onto two plates.

"Not eating?"

He shook his head. "Later." He picked up the plates and headed to the sitting room, where he set them on the dining table which, somehow, wasn't a complete mess of photographs and case files. There was a strange photograph of Harry Houdini hiding under Sherlock's laptop, but Molly ignored it. Maybe Sherlock had a thing for shirtless, chained up men that she was unaware of. That was fine, of course. It's all good. Whatever ... floats his boat.