Stranger: After a moment, she stopped reading and looked up at Sherlock with a small smile. "Are you okay? You were staring at me?"
You: "I'm surprised that you ask me that question when you're the one who has the lesser experience in mentally taking in a field of freshly slaughtered human bodies," he replied, slightly unnerved, as well as mildly impressed, by her apparent nonchalance towards the day's most recent event. Perhaps she wasn't as weak-minded as he'd thought.
Stranger: Molly rolled her eyes and shook her head. She then turned her attention back to reading the article. "I was only being polite. And I was also curious as to why you're staring at me, because its freaking me out a little bit"
You: "I do believe that mutually unsettling one another in a relationship isn't quite the ideal scenario for a successful one," Sherlock joked, joining her by the fireplace. Molly shook her head and smiled, "I recall likewise, though success without effort isn't quite as fulfilling is it?" Sherlock nodded in agreement, looking nervously at his clasped hands in his lap. "I'm trusting your domestic fitting issues has been resolved? While I was in your apartment I couldn't help but notice the business card of an electrician who resides along Bond Street, along with the exposed wiring work that usually comes with his perfunctory service. Messy as he is with his tinkering, I'm inclined to believe the durable longevity of his work." He trailed off awkwardly, wondering if he had been subtle enough in his inquiry to her needing another overnight stay at Baker Street.
Stranger: She giggled and smirked, shaking her head. "Just because I have a business card on an electrician, doesn't mean that I fancy him, if that's what you think". Molly then rubbed at her eyes at little, before she looked up at him again. "Wait...were you implying that you don't mind me staying here tonight?" she asked quietly, her cheeks going a pale shade of red at the idea.
You: "Not quite," he noted the flushing of her cheeks, the dilated pupils of her eyes, and her grip on her phone lessening as she prompted the question, "I was really only asking. Unless you'd... want to stay the night," he could not help could anticipate a rejection as the previous night's events weren't ones of enjoyment. 'What a waste it would have been to shoo John away from the flat if she did end up doing just that,' he thought.
Stranger: Molly smiled and bit her lip. "Well actually I'd like to stay, yes". She then gave him a small nudge. "And we're adults, so we can both share your bed. We're not hormonal teenagers" she said with a small grin and a giggle. "Is that alright with you? Because if you feel uncomfortable with that, then I'm more than willing to take the sofa"
You: "I'm not sure if we'd fit in my bed," Sherlock recalled the single-sized-ness of his sleeping arrangements, inferring that to fit any more than one person in it, they'd have to be stacked like pancakes, "I've never had to allow for any more than a single occupant to use it." He glanced over at the sofa with its re-plumped cushions (most likely by the hospitable interference of Mrs Hudson) and wondered if it would be preferred by the pathologist. After all, he hadn't had to sleep with another person ever since he and Mycroft shared a bunk bed in their parent's log cabin; and never really looked forward to doing it again after Mycroft's corpulent belly had given way to the structural integrity of the aged wooden frame and collapsed on top of him in the middle of the night.
Stranger: She blushed. "Oh, I didn't realise". Molly then mentally kicked herself and looked down at her feet, shifting uneasily. "It's fine, never mind. I'll just sleep on the sofa again then" she answered, although she felt a little bit disappointed. Maybe it would've been easier if they could go to her's and share the double bed there. But maybe there would be another time for that.
You: "We could try," Sherlock shrugged, attempting to be casually disinterested, "where's your scientific curiosity? I would've thought your years in a morgue would allow for you to estimate the spacial volume of a two dimensional area." He arose from his chair and walked to his bedroom, looking out from the corner of his eye to ensure Molly followed him. Mrs Hudson's re-fluffing of his cushions might have to go to waste for tonight.
Stranger: Molly hesitated for a moment, not quite sure if she should follow him or not. She then gulped nervously and slowly followed him into his bedroom, her heart racing so fast that she thought that it might burst.
You: She entered to find him retracting a length of aluminium tape noisily by the foot of the bed. "Forty five inches by just under six feet," he looked up at Molly good-naturedly, "I really need to get a longer mattress, I've hung off the end of this old thing for far too long." Sherlock joined her by the doorframe, setting the tape measure on his bedside table. "Approximate person capacity doctor?" He joked, "It certainly is going to be a bit of a squeeze isn't it?"
Stranger: She giggled and blushed. "Probably. One of us will most likely end up on top of the other". Molly then went scarlet when she realised what she had said. Before she walked over to his bed and lay down on it, making herself comfortable.
You: Sherlock hid his embarrassment in the dwindling light of the evening, cautiously approaching the now-horizontal Molly and sitting down by her feet. "Do you usually sleep dressed?" he asked, removing his shoes and drawing his knees up to his chin, "I had you pinned down as a pyjama-type of person."
Stranger: Molly propped herself up on her elbows to look over at him. "Mmhm. Do you sleep naked?" she queried. "Because did tell me once that you were walking around the flat wrapped up in your bed sheet.”
You: "Just for that night," he admitted, "some eyeballs I was pressuring in the microwave imploded over my last clean set of pyjamas and I wasn't really expecting to be working the following morning." Sherlock wondered if he had put her off with the story of the detonating eyeballs, but reminded himself that her capacity for such sensationalism had just proved to be a lot more substantial that he had originally thought.
Stranger: She giggled and shook her head. Molly then crawled over to him, staying on her hands and knees when she reached him. Before she purposefully bit down on her bottom lip. "You're funny"
You: "Am I? I don't mean to be," Sherlock wondered why she constantly found her bottom lip so enticingly delicious, "I never did finish that experiment because Sergeant Donovan kept messing with my apparatus." He resisted the urge to frantically shimmy away from the advancing lady on his bed, clenching his fists by his sides as she cheekily pecked him on the nose.
Stranger: Molly smirked and shrugged. "Well, you could always experiment on me" she suggested, surprised with herself as she didn't know where this sort of behaviour had came from. She then grinned at him and leant forward, kissing him.
You: Sherlock found his fingers entangled in her auburn hair all of a sudden, her eyes closed in the passionate embrace he had yet to make mutual. He fell back on the bed, the wrong end of him hanging off it now, his thoughts scrambled as he attempted to analyse the situation as he would a dangerous standoff between enemies. Molly caught the darting movements of his eye line and rolled hers in amusement, playfully pulling the pair up to a sitting position on the bed as they broke their kiss. Sherlock subconsciously backed away from the voraciously frisky Molly, pushing his scraggly hair out of his now-dilated pupils.
Stranger: She moved away slightly and sat back on her haunches, blushing. Molly then cleared her throat and looked down at the bed, suddenly feeling a little bit embarrassed of what she had done. "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to freak you out. I don't know what came over me"
You: "I believe the chemical terms are dopamine and serotonin," Sherlock replied, his mind clearing as his breathlessness slowly recovered, "though at your age I'm surprised you have enough of it left to be as... assertive as you just was." Molly twiddled her thumbs while hanging her feet off the side of the bed, wondering if she had to erratically pause and unpause her actions every time he seemed to be out of his depth (which he nearly always was from what she had seen). Sherlock raised his arm slightly in an attempt to console the sheepish lady, only to find his eyes widening in surprise as Molly suddenly pulled herself towards him in an enthusiastic cuddle.
Stranger: Molly hugged him and sighed, resting her head on his chest. "I'm sorry for being all weird" she apologised. She then looked up at him and kissed his cheek, before she moved to get off of the bed. "I should probably head home and try and sort things out…"
You: "Wh- what do you have to sort out?" Sherlock unknowingly repeated her use of ineloquent slang in a stammer as he realised this was the rejection he had been anticipating, only several steps into the opposite reaction later. He couldn't figure what he had managed to muddle up in the confusing maze-like navigation of adult intimacy. "If you were concerned about the exposed wiring that Higgins left if I wouldn't worry too much about it. It's really only an issue if it gets wet," he added helpfully.
Stranger: "I mean..." she paused and sighed. "Nothing. I just...I feel stupid. I don't know what came over me earlier, and now I'm really embarrassed about it. I don't even feel like you want me anymore,” Molly told him honestly as she hugged herself, dropping her big brown eyes to look down at her feet.
You: "Why would you feel stupid for doing something that was more to the elevation of your embarrassment than an inadequate display of your intelligence?" Sherlock laughed, breathing an internal sigh of relief as she relaxed her motion to leave his bed. Hopefully he hadn't failed in his conquest to enter the dangerous realms of sharing sleeping arrangements. "Of course I enjoy your company Molly," he placed his arm around her in a friendly manner, resting his head on top of hers as she collapsed into his chest, "you're the only person whom I've allowed to sleep next to me... who isn't a drug-addicted junkie." He remembered the many nights he had spent undercover in a drug den while investigating the Magnussen case, "I hope my bed will be more comfortable than the tear-stained futons they had in that crack house."
Stranger: Molly frowned a little and shook her head. That wasn't exactly what she had thought he would say, but he was Sherlock after all, he never really tend to say the right things at the right time. "Okay..." she murmured, pulling away a moment later. Before she brushed it off and smiled up at him, gently playing with his fingers. "What time is it?"
You: Sherlock glanced at the circle of slightly lighter-coloured wall where his clock used to be, remembering that a client had smashed it in a rampage through his flat when he'd told their partner he'd been cheating on them on his most recent 'business trip'. He got up from the bed and rested his hands on the windowsill, watching the people of London going about their routine. The well-hatted business man who walked along the pavement opposite who worked fifteen minutes away, the taxi driver who rarely got customers this close to the start of his route in the adjacent street, the hawker who sold an average of five newspapers per hour during non-peak hours with thirty-seven newspapers left in his stall. "Half past eight," he concluded, mentally confirming his calculation by counting the minutes since he had last heard Big Ben chime seven times, "nope, half and three minutes past eight."
Stranger: She giggled quietly and sat down on his bed. Molly then smirked and lay down, stretching out. "I see. Thank you". The pathologist then looked over at him and tilted her head. Sherlock needed to loosen up a little, he seemed to uptight at that moment in time. "Sherlock, come and lay down beside me"
You: He obediently sat on the opposite side of the bed and rested his socked feet in the air that hung just beyond the foot of his bed. "See? Told you my bed was too short for me," he grinned. He made a mental note to make a measurement of the mattresses in the drug den. Though pungent and ominously sticky, they'd been the perfect length for him. His expression changed to one of confusion, was his mind quite so desperate to ignore the anomaly of the female in his bed that it was willing to deviate his train of thought as much as that? Sherlock shook his head quickly and took Molly's outstretched hand in his, squeezing it in what he perceived to be an affectionate manner.
Stranger: Molly smirked and rubbed her thumb over his knuckles. She then gently pulled on his hand, encouraging him to lie down. "How come you're so uptight about this whole thing? Because we could go to mine and sort things out so we can get into my flat, and lie on my bed instead? I just want you to relax and feel at ease with me"
You: "I find it difficult to relax completely," Sherlock ran through the list of things he kept constant awareness throughout his life, including his heartbeat fluctuating in the presence of a bedmate, as well as the undrawn curtains by the side of his bed that could only be looked through from the outside by passing commuters in the second level of a double-decker bus or an intruder of the abandoned shop buildings opposite his flat, "but you can be assured that I am trying my utmost to not seem as uptight as we've come to be so physically close to one another. Your place would be less well-known in the public eye and I suspect, with your inconsistent string of past lovers, that you might have a bed more suitably sized for two people than mine."
Stranger: She elbowed him in the ribs. "Hey!" Molly exclaimed in shock. The pathologist then blushed and nodded, getting up off his bed. "Anyways, come on then. Lets go over to mine" she told him with a smile, holding her hand out for his.
You: "I was only inferring from your incessant parading of the latest person whom you shared a night of passion with," Sherlock rubbed the spot where she had slugged him in pretend agony, letting her take him by the hand and lead him down the stairs. Good thing Mrs Hudson was out buying groceries, he couldn't have stood another lecture about leaving the flat vacated without properly checking the locks.
Stranger: Once outside, she hailed a cab for them. Molly then got inside and sat down, crossing her arms over her chest. "They are hardly 'nights of passion' Sherlock. It happens and then they just leave me at the end of it, there's nothing special about it all. It always feels wrong"
You: "Tom must be brimming with confidence right now," Sherlock teased, "I wouldn't be too bothered about your past relationships Molly. It's not as if we initiated ours with the intent of making it intimate, which makes this feel equally wrong... but in a nice sort of way." He jerked his face towards the window, realising the rising temperature in his cheeks.
Stranger: Molly frowned as she looked over at him. "Do you /want/ to initiate our relationship and make it intimate?" she asked him slowly, curiously wondering if he had been secretly thinking about doing that all along.
You: "I thought we'd done that the moment you started referring to myself as your boyfriend," he buried his head deeper in the shadows, feeling the colour deepen in his face despite his best efforts.
Stranger: She gulped. "Well...I suppose so. But erm when people initiate their relationship, to make it for definite they have sex, usually. Its almost like consummating a marriage, that sort of thing"
You: "Asexual marriages must be so difficult for the court to comprehend," Sherlock joked, relaxing at her nervousness, "initiations are rarely this complicated. Even university fraternities can be as simple as duct taping a pledge to an oak tree."
Stranger: Molly rubbed at her face and shook her head. She then sighed and looked out of the window. “Never mind, forget it" she said seriously.
You: "And you say I'm the uptight one," Sherlock grinned, "there's absolutely nothing to worry about. The worst that could happen would be that we have a terrible experience and the only difference would be that we'd be ignoring each other, rather than just I you. Besides," he rubbed her shoulder gently, "I trust your teaching skills."
Stranger: She gave him a small smile. Molly then slowly leant against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "My teaching skills aren't very good, you should know that now" she said softly. When they got to her flat, Molly got out and paid.
You: Sherlock entered her flat first, surveying the pristine condition he had remembered it being in. The untampered nature of the house assured his suspicions of its accessibility and desirability to would-be home intruders, as well as the booby trap of the electrician's half rate work on her asbestos ceiling. He walked purposefully towards her bedroom, opening it to find even more of her stuffed bear collection and predictably, a larger sized bed (with another teddy bear sitting in the middle of it). He shifted uneasily from foot to foot as he waited for Molly to join him in her flat, hoping that none of the bears would turn out to be a teddy cam.
Stranger: Molly followed him to room, freezing when she saw the teddy bears. "Oh God, sorry. I was supposed to erm...get rid of them" she stammered. She then ran over and scooped them up, stuffing them into the wardrobe. Before she closed the door and turned to look at him, smiling uneasily.
You: "John's the same with his 'work' file on his laptop," Sherlock shrugged, teetering indecisively at the side of the bed, unwilling to sit until she did. It was her bed after all. He took a deep breath and smiled, "I'm afraid I may not be as cuddly as some of your usual sleeping companions may be," he looked down at his near malnourished figure, "but I hope I'll certainly be a lot more receptive than most of them."
Stranger: She nodded slowly and took her shoes and coat off. Molly then lay down on her bed and got him to do the same again. "So, you wouldn't be willing to try and cuddle?" she asked, biting her lip.
You: Sherlock rolled over to face her and wordlessly placed an arm over her shoulder. "I never know what people do in a lying-down cuddle," he extracted his right arm from under his torso, "what do they do when they've lain on their other arm so long that it went to sleep? Do they just have nightmares about insane acupuncturists tormenting them with a box of drawing pins?" His query was answered quite abruptly as Molly swiftly brought his hand to her chest, her heartbeat resonating with his own as they were both shocked by the action.
Stranger: Molly then cleared her throat and dropped her hand. "Sorry". She then huffed and got up. "I just feel so....sexually frustrated! We've barely done anything yet and its starting to get to me. I want a proper, loving both sexually and affectionate relationship!" she cried.
You: Sherlock could only stare at his hand that had just unwillingly violated a lady's personal appendages. He swallowed loudly and shakily replied, "Mo- Molly, I really am trying my best," he rested the same hand on her leg as high as he dared, "We do have a loving relationship; not because we're affectionate every moment of the day to each other, or because we're writhing around on unironed sheets like animals, even if we were feeding each other through the arm holes of an over-sized sweat shirt. We have a loving relationship because love exists within in," he gulped, realising what he had just implied. "I... I love you Molly Hooper," he whispered inaudibly, dropping his gaze to the single hand that lay on his lap, slowly pulling the other from its suggestive position on Molly's.
Stranger: She nodded slowly. Molly then sighed and lay down. "Well, if it is really a loving relationship. Then just please show it. I'm begging you" she said desperately as she pulled on his hands, trying to get him to lean over her so that they could kiss.
You: Sherlock placed his hands on either side of her, carefully ensuring the only parts of them that touched were their lips. He winced as she dug her nails into the back of his shirt, causing them to break apart tensely, her gaze unwavering from his own. "I don't really know how to do that," he admitted, "the Internet has been very dodgy about the subject, especially since Mrs Hudson installed that parental lock on our service provider." He rolled over to the opposite side of the bed, staring up at her whitewashed ceiling. 'Oh if this ceiling could talk,' he thought, 'perhaps it could tell me what Molly usually expects from one of her lovers.'
Stranger: Molly groaned and sat up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Fine, forget it then. Forget that this relationship ever happened, it obviously isn't going to work. Maybe you just need to go home and take the parental lock off the internet, and look up everything that you need to know about in a relationship"
You: "I could just look it up here," Sherlock suggested genially. He hesitated before turning to face the fuming Molly beside him, "I must ask you to be patient with me Molly. I know I'm inexperienced and reluctant and goodness' knows how many more of my faults have yet to be uncovered as we become closer partners, but I am attempting to comprehend all of this information that only makes itself known after it could have proved to be useful." He sat up with her on the bed and stared at his propped up feet, which were for once, not hanging off the mattress.
Stranger: She nodded and bit her lip. "Okay, I'll go and get my laptop”.