"Molly."
She jerked awake to his voice, the disruption of her sleep shocking her.
"What?", she moaned sleepily.
He rolled his eyes. "Time to get up," he said.
She turned over and covered herself with the blankets. He muttered something incoherent, grabbing her by the foot and arm.
Sherlock!," she screamed as he pulled her off the bed and onto the floor. He collapsed on top of her and she yelled at him to get off, or she would shave his eyebrows the next time he went to his mind palace. Her laughter ruined the effect of the threat, however, and he stayed.
"Good morning Molly," he grinned, kissing her awake persuasively. She sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, welcoming the embrace, and he pulled her up to a standing position. "Go get dressed," he rasped, nipping at her bottom lip (and making her rather weak in the knees) before striding away with an infuriating swagger. Lord, he looked fabulous. Too fabulous. Was that a new suit?
"Sherlock, why do you look so good?"
"Good genes, I suppose. Don't know what happened to Mycroft. Maybe he's adopted."
"No, I mean -", she laughed, a hopeless yawn interrupting her explanation.
"Molly."
"Hmm?"
He gestured to the walk-in closet behind her. "Go get dressed."
She snuck her tongue out at him, lazily shuffling off to the room he had specified.
He smiled to watch her walk away, waiting for the shriek of delight he expected would come shortly.
He was not disappointed.
She rushed him, leaping into his arms with a new jumper in tow. He chuckled as she thanked him, gushing about how lovely it was to have clean clothes again.
"Don't thank me, thank Mycroft," he said, tossing his brother's credit card on the bed. Molly gave him a vixen's glance.
"Should I thank him for the new panties as well, then?"
Sherlock blushed deeply, and she continued, greatly enjoying the colour.
"They're lovely. Mycroft has exquisite taste."
"Shut up," he growled lowly, squeezing her waist as he kissed her again. She laughed and wiggled away from him, running to the bathroom to shower.
She moaned at the hot water coursing down her back. It felt so good to be clean, and warm. She could have stayed in forever, but she knew Sherlock would get impatient. Molly giggled to herself, still tasting his mouth on hers. She felt as if she would go completely mad from pure happiness. It was amazing what a bed, hot shower and clean clothes could do. Not to mention that man's kisses....
She wrapped a towel around herself, shyly heading back into the bedroom. He was sitting in the middle of the bed, texting. Who he even had to text, she didn't know. But he looked intently focused, so he must have been getting somewhere with his investigation. She turned her back to her man, opening the closet door, and the button-tapping stopped. She glanced over her shoulder and caught his eye.
He stared at her with a longing she'd never seen before. It made her skin tingle. "I'm just going to.... I'm changing, in there," she announced awkwardly.
He nodded vaguely, keeping his eyes on her. She blushed and closed the door behind her, leaning against it. It took a few seconds for her pulse to even out. As she changed, she felt herself growing increasingly self conscious. She was wearing an outfit that Sherlock bought her.
He laid facedown on the bed. Trying to focus on something other than the way her wet hair twisted into waves and fell down her bare back. Something other than her perfect glowing skin and the beads of water on it, taunting him as they rolled down, caressing her.
She stood in front of the mirror uncertainly. She looked good, really good. It was almost strange to her, to feel so confident. Especially being that Sherlock had picked these out. Did he grab the first thing he saw? Or did he look for something he thought would suit me, she wondered, fingering the edge of her new cashmere sweater. It wasn't something she would have picked out for herself, truthfully; she gravitated to bright colours and cheerful designs, a semiconscious attempt to balance the mood of her life. She worked in a morgue, after all.
But this was a deep foresty green, and it looked lovely. The v-neck accentuated her long and slender throat, and the colour contrasted with her skin beautifully.
The jeans he bought were tighter than she normally wore, but damn it all if her backside didn't look amazing in them. She didn't even want to think about him picking out the underwear; her face was scarlet as is.
She went out to him, watching his face light up to see her. "I thought they would suit you," he murmured, nodding appreciatively.
"How did you know my sizes?"
He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed. "Right. Genius Consulting Detective, specializes in observational skills." He half smiled, holding a hand out to her. She took it and let him pull her closer.
"You look fantastic."
"Maybe I should get Mycroft to dress me more often."
"You need to stop that."
She laughed, kissing his scowling face. "I'll be the only man to dress you," he declared sternly, and she nodded along, thoroughly enjoying his pout. He sat and pulled her into his lap, and she laughed. "Little possessive, mm?"
"Obviously."
She smirked at him, and he stroked her face. "Why would I ever want to share a treasure like you," he said, and she rolled her eyes to hide her growing awkwardness. He grinned wickedly, knowing full well how easy she was to tease. "No, I want you all to myself. Only one to kiss you," - he said in a low voice, sealing each demand with a peck - "only one to dress you, and the only one to undress you."
She nearly fell off his lap trying to extricate herself from the embarrassment. "Sh-sherlock," she stuttered as she jumped up, and his heart reacted gleefully to the adorable speech impediment. He stood next to her and tutted like an old woman. "Clumsy, Molly."
