#mayacakaia

[sincerelydayyy]

Thank you for the reblog. Your tags and kind words always warm my heart. : )

Of course darling! Your art makes me very happy. <3

P.S. You really made my morning with this because I haven’t had the best morning so far. Thank you!

[soyeahso]

A prompt for you, Mary and Sherlock BrOTP. Bruised, breakfast, volka. Thank you.

So. This prompt is from April.  But here it is.  

———

Sherlock stared at the drink sitting in front of his companion. The smell of the tomato juice, the vodka, the Worcestershire and the cayenne overpowered the aroma of the various breakfast foods being brought round to the neighboring tables.

“Now, John told me to make sure you eat at least once every two days. Rhubarb is in season so I’m thinking pancakes with fresh strawberry rhubarb syrup and a side of bacon.”

Sherlock’s stomach lurched but he decided to appease her.

“It’s all the same to me.”

Mary summoned the waitress and placed the order, along with sausage and eggs and potatoes and biscuits for herself, reverting to her childhood accent seamlessly.  He hadn’t been surprised when Mary insisted on accompanying him on this case but it didn’t lessen the shock of all those flat vowels and hard Rs. 

 “Why did you bother ordering breakfast?”

“Hmm?” Mary asked, engrossed in her phone.

“You’ve practically got a meal perched on the rim of that glass.  Why do you need sausage and eggs, too?”

Mary plucked the green olive off the end of the toothpick in her glass, which was also laden with a pickle, several cubes of cheese, a few slices of pepperoni and a pickled Brussels sprout.

“It’s an appetizer,” she said.

 “It’s not particularly appetizing.”

“That’s because you’re hungover. Now put that ice pack back on your eye.”

“It’s cold.”

“That’s the point.  It won’t help the bruising at this point but it will help the swelling.”

Sherlock sighed, eliciting that wry half smile from Mary that he never failed to return. He watched the trucks pulling in and out of the parking lot as she finished checking her email. 

“They’re going to do it again before we catch them,” he said. “Neither of us can decipher their pattern, which means they’re truly striking at random.  The police don’t care enough and so far none of the girls has the kind of family that can raise enough of a fuss.”

“Because obviously a couple of truck stop serial killers can’t possibly be smart enough to outwit you?  I thought you’d be less of a snob after—“

“After what?”

“The cabbie,” she said, popping the last of her cheese cubes in her mouth.

“Jefferson Hope was in another class altogether.”  He froze, eyes darting to the parking lot, to Mary’s face, her phone, and back.  “Oh.”

“Sherlock, what?”

He dropped the ice pack on the table, hopped up and kissed her on the forehead.  “You’re brilliant, Mary.  Thank you.”  He leapt out the diner door, the bell jangling as it closed behind him. 

Their waitress appeared, balancing their tray of food on her shoulder.  “Did he forget his wallet or somethin’?” she asked.

“Forgot he had an appointment,” Mary said.  “Can we get it to go?”

[cosmic-creeper]

Name Game

Author: Mrs.Monster Pairing: Sherlolly Word count: 853 Prompt: mayacakaia wanted: he's so into crap telly (of course he denies it) and Molly doesn't think naming their baby after TV characters is a very good idea. Looking back on your prompt, I don't really think this is what you wanted, but I hope you enjoy anyway. * “Do you have that list I asked you to put together?” Molly Hooper asked her partner, Sherlock Holmes. “I'm meeting Mary for lunch and I'd like to take it with.” Sherlock was sitting in his chair, knees pulled up to his chest, eyes riveted on the television. Molly had to repeat his name twice before he waved his hand toward the mantle in response. “Yes, yes, it's right there.” After she retrieved it from under the skull, Molly folded it twice and slipped it in her trouser pocket. “I do wish you'd take this a tad more seriously. It is the name of our child we're contemplating here.” “I am taking it seriously! Made the list, didn't I? Put a lot of thought into it too. There's a whole page of names.” Sherlock turned his face toward her, but his eyes were still glued to the episode of Big Brother that he was watching- he had a whole season's worth recorded. Molly stopped and dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I'll be back after awhile.” “Do you have your taser?” “Yes, Sherlock.” Molly didn't stop her course for the door. “And your pepper spray?” “It's illegal.” “Yes, and?” Molly gave him an indulgent smile. “It's just lunch- we'll be fine. Don't worry.” The closing door didn't muffle his sound of derision. When Molly had first told her partner of nearly two years that she was pregnant, to say that he had made her safety a priority would be a severe understatement. When she found him standing guard at the bottom of the steps with his harpoon after nearly a week without sleep, Molly and John had staged a quiet intervention. It'd taken a lot to convince Sherlock that while it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that an old foe would target Molly and their unborn child in an attempt of vengeance, he might be taking his constant vigilance just a tad too far. A short cab ride found Molly at the cafe she and Mary frequented. She sat across from Mary at a table near the back of the cafe, greeting her friend with a smile and ordering a glass of water with lemon from the waiter. “I've finally got the list of names from Sherlock. Hope you don't mind if I take a look- he's been ages getting it to me, and we haven't got a whole lot of time left,” Molly said, dropping her hand to her rather large belly before retrieving the paper from her pocket. “Not at all! I'd love to see what he came up with.” Mary craned her neck to scan over the chicken-scratch list. “Well, some of these are certainly... interesting, aren't they?” Molly couldn’t help but agree. Some were lovely, but others were- she felt a stab of familiarity the further she read. He wouldn't- “If you'll excuse me, Mary. I need to get back to the flat.” Molly pushed her chair up and began to lever herself out of it. “Oh but we haven't even eaten yet-” “I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I have a certain bone-headed detective to murder.” * Molly stomped her way upstairs and knew that she must look horrible- huffing and puffing, she knew that her face was flushed red. But just in that moment she didn't really care. “I thought you said that you took this seriously!?” she demanded, shouldering through the door and into the sitting room. Sherlock looked up, startled. “What on earth are you going on about? I did take it seriously!” Sherlock insisted when Molly waved his list of names in front of his face. “We are not naming our child after bloody Big Brother contestants!” Molly shouted, face darkening from strained red to apocalyptic purple. “They are perfectly good names-” “No. I should have known better than to leave this in your hands.” She balled up the paper and tossed it into the unlit fireplace. “We are naming her Lillian and that's final!” Molly dropped down into the chair across from him but when she turned to glare at him, Sherlock was smiling. The pieces clicked into place. “Sherlock Holmes, did you do that on purpose?” “I told you from the beginning that I liked the name, but you were the one who insisted that I didn't have enough of a say in your pregnancy and decided that I should name her.” “Why in the world didn't you say anything?” Molly asked, an entirely different type of irritation welling up inside of her. Sherlock looked at her incredulously. “I did! Your hormonal brain just blocked it out.” “You really are a git sometimes,” Molly said, like she did every time he brought her pregnancy hormones up. He shrugged and remoted off the television. “Yes, but you love me anyway.” Someone help her, but she did.

[sundance201]

Are you still asking for a song prompt? How about 'Making a Memory' by Plain White T's?

Sorry this took so long!  But here is your prompt fill!  :)  It’s a university AU, I hope that’s all right.  

This prompt fill is safe for work.  

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

“Molly, wait!” Sherlock called out as he jogged down the hall, grabbing her arm before she made it to the stairs and spinning her around.  “Molly, I’m sorry, please don’t go.” 

Molly sniffled and set her little suitcase down on the floor and folded her arms across her chest.  “What, you suddenly want me to stay now?  Not so worried about me failing my history exam anymore?”

Sherlock sighed.  “I didn’t mean it like that, Molly.  I appreciate the fact that you came down to London just to see me, but…you are under a great deal of stress over this exam.  You’ve expressed that exact sentiment to me multiple times.  I assumed I would be…a distraction, rather than an aid.”  Suddenly his neighbor, a rather shady looking fellow by the name of Randy who he was fairly certain was an arms dealer, opened his door and glared at the couple in the hall before brushing past Molly and heading down the stairs.  “Molly, please come back inside,” he pleaded with her. 

Molly, a bit shaken by Randy’s appearance, nodded reluctantly and Sherlock bent down to pick up her suitcase.  They went back into his flat and he dropped her suitcase off in his bedroom and then headed to the kitchen, starting to make tea.  Molly sat on the ragged couch he had in the corner, her feet tucked up underneath her. 

A few minutes later, he came out and handed her the tea, as if it was a peace offering.  She accepted it with a small smile.  He perched on the arm at the opposite end of the sofa and watched her carefully as she sipped at her tea.  Finally, Molly sighed and set her cup down on the small coffee table in front of the sofa.  “I feel…calmer when I’m around you.  Because I know that you think I can pass this class.”

“You can,” he said immediately. 

Molly smiled at him and then shrugged.  “See, that sort of certainty – it makes me feel better.  I wanted to feel like that while I’m heading into the home stretch here, so I thought that I could spend the last few days of the revising period here…with you.  But then when you saw me and immediately asked me what I was doing here,” she paused and looked down at her lap, her fingers playing with the hem of her corduroy skirt, “You just didn’t seem very happy to see me.  And I am rather stressed so maybe I overreacted a bit…I’m sorry.”

Sherlock slid down onto the sofa and reached out tentatively to cup Molly’s cheek.  “Rest assured, Molly Hooper, I am always happy to see you.  I was just a bit surprised – like I said, I wasn’t expecting to see you until after your exams were over.  I would have come up if you had made it known that you wanted me there, but I assumed I would just be a distraction, as I stated before.”  He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers. 

Molly’s eyes drifted shut and Sherlock couldn’t help but smile as she let out a shuddering breath.  “You are welcome here for as long as you’d like, Molly.  Anytime.  Always.  I’ll even help you revise.”

She giggled and her eyes opened, as she nearly went cross eyed looking at him.  “You’re rubbish at history.”

He grinned.  “True.  But I can at least help quiz you with all those notecards you made.”  Molly grinned back at him and scooted closer to him, burying herself against his side.  His arms wrapped around her and Molly sighed happily. 

“Thank you, Sherlock,” she murmured.  “See, this is what I mean!  You calm me down.  You always know the right thing to say.”

Sherlock couldn’t help but laugh and Molly shifted her position to look up at him.  “I believe that you are quite the anomaly, Miss Hooper.  Most would argue that I infuriate them and that I constantly say exactly the wrong thing.”

“Not with me,” she murmured, leaning into him for a kiss.  

[as-sane-as-avenging-sherlock]

Hello, a parent!lock prompt for you. Thank you. Sherlock forgot to pick up their child from daycare (lost track of time in his mind palace). Molly was very upset and he had to beg for her forgiveness. Bonus points if he apologized to his toddler as well.

Hullo! Sorry for the long wait! I hope I have given justice this awesome prompt! Thankyou so much for giving me your trust for this :). An early apology for grammatical errors, OCness, horrible dialogues, and for my suckishness. Sorry lovely :(. I'm also sorry for not reading this right after I finished it, it's already 10:30 pm and I'm really dizzy ahhhhh @.@. Warning: Mentions of C section pregnancy-.-.-.9:00 A.M.Sherlock automatically opened his eyes as soon as he felt a pair of wet lips collide to the skin of his cheek. Instead of going stiff and harsh-like how he would've reacted five years ago, he instead, mumbled a morning between his smiling lips. The culprit giggled and whispered a breathless greeting next to his ear. The voice was too familiar that he didn't even looked for her face, he just wrapped his arm around her and buried his face to the crook of her neck, inhaling the smell of her bathed state, especially the smell of her daisy scented body scrub. Normally, whenever Sherlock would act like this, she would tilt her head, plant a few kisses on his face, and scoot closer to him. But today, he sensed that it would be different. When his arm had connected to her skin, he felt her body went stiff and her breath quickened. He clenched his jaw, getting suspicious all over everything. The way he felt her eyes clench and the way she woke up earlier than him made him have no choice but to deduce her. "Anything you have to tell me Molly?" "..Deduce it Sherlock"He opened his mouth, about to tell her to spill it already. But then, he decided that he likes a turned-on Molly rather than an annoyed Molly.She stood up, turning her back to him and he followed suit. Not bothering to look to him, she walked straight to the slightly opened bathroom door and sighed. "Well?" she askedHis eyes trailed to the opened room, too narrow to reveal the entire space but was enough to reveal what she intend for him to witness. Below the pristine sink sat the trashcan with a white stick sticking out, staring at him as if mocking him. He inhaled a deep breath, his heart tugging erratically inside his chest."You are with child" he said. She nodded weakly with hot tears pouring down her smooth skin. They had always been scared with child birth. It was 5 years ago, a week before he proposed, they had their first child, Johanna Blithe- First name came from John's name; Sherlock's choice, and the second name was Molly's. She was unexpected, produced after the night Molly was rescued from Moriarty's grasps. Johanna, the little miracle had been brought to the world by C section. Everything was risky. Every moment counted like a clock ticking. Surprisingly, everything went alright. When he thought that Johanna was a luck, Molly believed that God had answered her prayers. But both of them have believed that if ever they would have another child, it will all be easier.In the spun of two years, while getting in synch with parenthood and taking care of little Johanna, came Greglyn Lucille; Greglyn came from Lestrade's name-Sherlock's choice, and again, the second was Molly's own doing. Her entrance to the world was hard. Everything was so critical. Molly had been knocked unconscious through the whole process. He had seen it all; Molly's hardships throughout her labor. The painkillers might have eased her senses but her internal being have experienced being stirred to oblivion. It was all to painful, the way she would silently stare at the ceiling, her eyes blank with no familiar sparks in them. She had been in that 50-50 state. Right after the doctor had cut the umbilical cord, everything slowed down, especially her heart. It was almost as if she just really wanted her child to be brought to the world then she was ready. He had begged, gripped, and cried, but the heart monitoring device had slowed down. Along with the five seconds of her heart lost it's function, Sherlock was so nervous, so worried, so scared. He could not think. He could not breathe at all.On that day, right after her heart pulse grew pulsing little by little. He promised not to hurt her ever again."Sherlock-" Molly sobbed, clenching her eyes shut as soon as she felt him drift away from her. She knows that look too well. The absent eyes and stiff form. She knows that she had lost Sherlock in the midst of the announcement. She would've accepted it, been used to Sherlock locking himself away inside his mind palace, but today, right after his deduction was announced, she felt a pang of sadness and disappointment. If only he knew how much she really needed him right now."I'm having brunch with Mary today, so I'm probably out for the rest of the afternoon. I hope you won't forget, it's your turn to pick up Greglyn from day care-since Johanna will be spending her evening with Shawn. Erm, Sherlock-" She cleared her throat, blinking away the tears from her eyes. She stared at his stiff back for a moment, waiting for him to say something. The tears from her eyes were being cleared away by the back of her hand, almost angry with herself for being so angry with him. After a moment of silence, she finally shrugged and twisted the knob of their door. With the clicking noise of the door being closed, she scurried off of 221B Baker street with a sad smile in place.2:00 P.M.Miss Lewis, the daycare teacher, was about to go home when she saw the little genius sitting alone at the swings of the playground,absentmindedly humming a tune she once shared in-front of her daycare mates. With her face imprinted a surprised expression, she approached the three year old child. "Are you alright there little Greglyn? Why are you still here? Where's mummy or daddy?" She crouched down to her height, making eye contact to the child's green-slightly-blue eyes. Little Greglyn only shrugged, her fingers getting lost to her thick curly hair."They're still not here, aren't they? I can give you a ride if you want, dearie" Not waiting for a response, Miss Lewis made herself comfortable to the swing next to Greglyn's. She looked to her left and right, searching for the complicated consulting detective or his sweet pathologist. Most of the time, Greglyn would be one of the first ones to ever get the opportunity to leave the daycare; God knows just how much a worried father Sherlock is. But surprisingly, the slightly complicated father was no where in sight. The little lady nodded, her curls bouncing softly along with her action. "We wait fo' Daddy. An' not call Grewyn. Want Lucille" she responded, flashing the teacher her annoyed look; Miss Lewis pursed her lips together, amazed by how the little girl assemble a lot like her father. Greglyn, who would rather be called Lucille, continued to hum from her nose, her feet dangling from the space between her swing and the ground.4:00 P.M.Greglyn had grown impatient after all of the waiting. First, she stopped her humming. Then, she jumped out from her swing and started crying silently. The daycare teacher, who's only in her late twenties, automatically went into motherly mode. She stood up and gathered the child inside her arms, cradling the little Holmes back and forth. "Is Daddy o'wight? Does he has bwuses fwom cwime scene?" Greglyn whispered, her lips quivering as her tears soaked her pinkish cheekbones. The teacher felt her heart ache as she felt the love pouring down from the eyes of the little girl. It was a rare sight to witness, for such a young age, little Greglyn cares and loves too deeply. And what surprised her even more was that the little girl understood what her parents actually do for a living. At first, she was concerned for the child. Crime scene pictures pinned on the walls, animal body parts in a restricted refrigerator, a skull for a friend, she feared for the growth of little Greglyn Lucille. Yet, when the child speaks about her parents, her eyes twinkles and her lips forms an excited grin as if they were talking about her favorite; the solar system. In those moments, she would always grin, disbelieved with how she seem to forgot that the child was the production of the famous Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper. It was all clear that she has no reason to be worried. "Daddy wikes murder, he wis stwong. Like David fwighting Gowiath" 5:00 P.M.Miss Lewis sighed as she carried the sleeping toddler in her arms. When the clock turned to 5:00, the child gave up and decided to just let her daycare teacher do all the work."Hello, Is this St. Bart's? Yes, I'm looking for Molly Holmes. Is she still in her work shift?" "Ah, she had just went home a few seconds before you rang. Any emergencies Ma'am?""Erm, no. Nothing. Thank you"5:15 P.M.Molly stood in front of Sherlock, furrowing her eyebrows as she looked at her still frozen husband. She felt migraine taking it's course inside her head, immediately stressing over what had just happened- or the lack of it there of.She strode left to right, then, back and forth repeatedly."I'm going to strangle you William Sherlock Scott Holmes, just you w-" she stopped as a knock began to fill the room. Giving one long hard glance at her husband, she strode off to open the door."Mummy?" one word and Molly Hooper Holmes came crashing down into a fitful of worried sobs. Immediately, the child latched to her mother, burying her chubby face to the comforts of her shoulder blade. The little lady, who was tired just a moment ago, has sprung to life as if she didn't got tired. She smiled as if the waiting didn't took her a great deal of her time. "Mummy, why're you cryin'? Mummy, I'm oday! Daddy's odaay!" the girl squealed as her mother's tears connected to her neck; she is very ticklish. She hugged Molly as tight as how a little three year old can, showing her affection and appreciation to her mother, in hopes of making her better. Instead, Molly absent-mindedly turned her eyes to Sherlock, a frown automatically set on her tear streaked face. The scene went noticed by Greglyn and she pouted in response. She hated it whenever the Queen and King disagrees with each other. "Daddy?" Greglyn turned to look at her father's stiff form and frowned. She knew that there was a dragon in her daddy's mind palace, and she has to do something about it. "Daddy, carry me" she used her much more higher voice, grabbing his trousers with her open palm. "Daaaddy" she shook the fabric as hard as she could, trying to reach for her distracted father. At first, it didn't work. But as she shook him much harder with an even higher volume of voice, his muscles twitched and eyes blinked twice."Greglyn?" his voice trembled, frowning in confusion as to why her daughter is already in his presence. He thought he only had his conversation with Molly a few seconds ago?.Unless.. Oh, bastard."Miss Lewis was kind enough to help Lucille-" Molly said, her voice as soft and as low as a whisper. Sherlock nodded lamely, opening his mouth as if about to say something but eventually closed it, deciding that he has 99 percent of probability of getting her feelings hurt. "Daddy? Wha's wong wif you and mummy?" Greglyn spoke right after Molly slid into the comforts of their bedroom. He glanced towards the girl, lifting her up into his arms as she continuously stare at him. He smiled sheepishly to his daughter, feeling guilty of what he had done to his younger child. He felt lucky though, for having such brilliant children such as Johanna, Greglyn, and soon, the growing baby; whom no doubt, is also going to be brilliant and undeniably lovable. He deserved to be left behind. Yet, here he was, carrying his second child as if nothing had happened and all the waiting was a normal thing to accomplish. "Forgive me my sweet, I have done you wrong" he caressed her curly hair, tightening his grip to her young body as he fought the urge to tremble in her presence. "Are you twuly sowy daddy?" she pushed herself to look at her father, blue-slightly-green pair of eyes met the same ones, and Sherlock nodded sincerely."You aw' silly daddy. Oh course, I wove you" "And I to you-" he laid a kiss on her forehead, and with hesitation;fearing for the answer for his question, he added: "-Your mummy is still mad at me, isn't she? ""You aw' silly, so silly. Bu' mummy woves you too"9:00 P.M."Molly?""..Yes?""-Speak to me" "I'm already talking to you, Sherlock" She said, turning to her side for a comfortable position; or just trying to avoid the imbalance of her hormones."Yes, but I know that you do not want to" He climbed to their bed, wrapping his arm around her. "It's not that I don't want to-" Molly turned to face him, a feeling of calmness inside her system as soon as his warmth was wrapped around her. She clenched her eyes shut, balancing out her annoyance and the need to just snog him out off of her negative mood."-I understand that it would be risky. To be fair, I'm really nervous for my life. But look at what we had received with all of these taken chances-" she raised herself up, sitting upright and Sherlock followed her lead. They were infront of each other on the center of their bed, reading each other with curiosity and understanding inside their eyes. Molly smiled, lifting her hand to set aside the curls that were threatening to fell to his forehead. "-our children, Sherlock" she added."I cannot allow myself to watch you getting hurt, Molly. Especially when I know it is I who is at fault. I had promised myself not to ever hurt you again. Do you know what would happen to me if something would happen? A broken man" Sherlock's lips parted, swallowing the air that his lungs could muster. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tries to control the rapid flow of his emotions. Molly sensed his distress for her decision. She moved closer to him, cupping his face inside her palms as she rested her forehead to his."Your denying with this child is already hurting me-" she said plainly, trying to swallow the bitterness form her voice. Sherlock swallowed and began to speak up , to fight for what he thought, but Molly hushed him with a peck to his lips. When she was sure that he was silenced, she started again"-I know, and I am afraid too Sherlock. But this child is ours to love and protect. Another half you and half me. It will be difficult yes, but it will all be worth it. I love this child of ours already and I know that you will too" He gazed to her eyes, seeing confidence and hope in her sweet brown orbs. He is scared, afraid for what would have to come. But with that he had hurted her. He knows deep in his logical functioning brain, it will be more dangerous that the second pregnancy. But then, as Molly turned to him without any hidden anger but with pure trust and love, he feels himself believing that maybe it will all be alright too. He closed his eyes and laid a lingering kiss to her forehead. Slowly, Molly's arms went around him, and his found their way around her waist. "Alright""Thank you darling"9:30 P.M."Mummy? Daddy? I can't sweep. Johanna's not there""There's always a room for you love"10:00 P.M.Sherlock was caressing his daughter's curls, staring at her sleeping state as he was finishing his thoughts. He finally agreed, and he knows deep inside that the new member of their little family has already earned their father's love. Yes, it will be hard."Drawons, Donut faiwy" Greglyn muttered in her sleep, giggling as her dreaming state went on. Shelock sighed from his lips, closing his eyes as he finally let go of every doubting thought inside his head. "Cwime scene.. pwincess"And yes, it will all be worth it.

[chrisizzle]

Established sherlolly. Sherlock kidnapsToby and asks Molly for a ransom, be his wife. A little prompt for you, be creative and enjoy writing! ^^

Okay, let me start this off by saying that I am so sorry it took me this long to do your prompt. I swear I started this like 7 different times, I’ve just been focusing on my original writing lately. Also *warning* I got completely carried away and this is 2,500+ words. Whoops.

Molly walked up the steps to her apartment, humming softly as she jangled her keys. She’d just worked a full shift at St. Bart’s and was ready to be home, to snuggle her cat and drink some tea. She knew something was off as soon as she clicked the door open and didn’t immediately hear the insistent mewing around her feet. Molly walked in a bit slower. He was probably just sleeping in the back room, she assured herself. “Toby…” She called out, shaking his food container. She bit her lip in apprehension, but refused to allow herself to panic as she quickly searched the rest of her flat.

She didn’t find Toby. But as she ducked behind the sofa, to check his favorite little cubby, she did find a note. As she stared at the note, typed in an ambiguous font and attached to the worn purple collar, Molly let out a strangled scream. Why would someone want her cat, for heavens sake? But still, those words remained on the page, refusing to arrange themselves in a more sensical order:

"7:00. Old Operating Theatre Museum & Herb Garret, St. Thomas Street. Come alone."

If she couldn’t have the man himself, Molly figured she might as well make use of his resources. She dialed up his number quickly, and waited patiently as it rung through.

"Molly!" Well he sounded rather chipper. Must be a murder after all. "What are you calling about?"

"Oh…" How did she explain the situation without bothering him too much? "Well, I was just wondering if I could borrow your fingerprint scanner."

"Yes, of course, but if I might ask…" There was a slight pause and for some reason Molly had the strangest feeling he was smirking. "Why?"

Molly Hooper had never been a good liar. Ever. Probably never would be either. “Well, oh you know. I just need it for…. a thing.”

Now he was definitely smirking. “A thing? Really? Sounds fascinating. What kind of thing?” 

"Oh, a work thing. Terribly boring, really. I shouldn’t waste your time, so where is it, exactly?"

He seemed to have sobered up a bit, and replied with a succinct “In the cabinet at 221b, right above the beakers.”

"Thank you so much." She paused for a second, always unsure of affection with Sherlock. "…love you."

There was silence on the other end, and Molly suddenly felt a bit sick on the inside. She thought their relationship had been going well, but obviously she’d overestimated everything and he was really just humoring her. They’d only ever mentioned the L-word once before. Oh god, why had she decided to sign off a stupid phone conversation like that?

Then, finally, “I love you too, Molly Hooper.” And he said with such distinct conviction, it warmed her straight down to her toes. “See you soon.” The conversation was over, but Molly still felt the giddy after effects.

Now she just had a criminal to catch.

As Molly entered the familiar building, she noticed that Mrs. Hudson’s lights were out. That was odd. She must be out. She walked up the rickety old stairs with purpose, setting up the station with a bit less precision than usual. It was already 6:30. As she scanned the paper, she found it professionally free of prints or residue. So most likely not the year 9 boy who lived in the flat next door, Molly thought. She began to examine the collar, not expecting to find anything different, but determined to check anyways. Lo and behold, however, there was a single print, centered directly in the middle of the clip. Molly ran it through the database (the one she was afraid to ask Sherlock how he had access to it) with a bothersome feeling of suspicion and waited impatiently on the results. She stared at the loading screen intently, and read the first and only name quickly. Sherlock Holmes…?

There was only one way to solve this mystery.

Molly walked down St. Thomas Street, carefully taking in the quiet brownstones that lined the road. She’d always loved this museum, tucked away and unusual, with a sort of quiet energy to it. It was here on a family outing, eyes wide and ears listening, that Molly had first decided that she was not like other little girls. She did not want to be a veterinarian or a school teacher. She wanted to be a pathologist. Oh, how she’d loved the sound of it when she heard that name. The memory made her smile, despite the knowledge there something very real and very frightening could be just inside.

She knocked on the door uncertainly, recalling the museum was only open to the public until 5. As the door swung open, the creaks of the old building suddenly felt less welcoming and more horror film. Well, what was she supposed to have done? It’s not like she could have very well called the Scotland Yard and told them her cat was missing.

She walked in cautiously, stopping as she reached the main operating room. Seeing no one, she turned to leave, but stopped as she heard “You came.” From the back of the room. Molly jumped a bit and spun around.

“Sherlock! What are you…?” Molly left the question to dangle unfinished as she saw he was holding a suspiciously furry bundle. Sherlock never held Toby. “I thought you hated cats. I recall you telling me distinctly that ‘Pets are inconvenient and sentimental.’” She imitated him, with eyebrows raised.

“And that remains very true, “ Sherlock replied with a half-smile. “But as a means to an end, I can’t deny their usefulness. People will do practically anything for their pets.” The smile broadened to a Cheshire grin.

“Oh,” Molly found herself smiling as well. “What kind of a thing, exactly?” 

“Nothing much. Just the answer to a question.” Sherlock sobered up a bit and for a second, something flashed in his eyes. Did she dare call it….scared? “Molly Hooper. Would you do me the tremendous honor of being my wife?”

Molly froze completely, and watched his face crumble and fall as if it was happening somewhere else, somewhere far, far away. Only as he began to turn away did she break out of the shock enough to grab onto his arm, taking Toby and placing him gently on the ground to wander. Sherlock’s face had turned to stone, and he was once again attempting to leave. “No! Sherlock, wait! Are you….” She stumbled over her words, once again feeling like that girl he met in the lab, the mousy one he asked to get his coffee. “Serious?” Molly cringed internally as she watched him react to the word.

“No. I wanted to make a complete idiot out of myself as a joke.” His tone was bitter and sarcastic, the tone Molly now knew was just a wall. One he used to keep others out and himself in. “Obviously I misjudged our relationship.” He pulled his arm from her grasp. “I would appreciate it if you would allow me to leave.”

The only thing she could do was watch as he walked out of her life. No. It wasn’t the only thing. In one moment of sheer adrenaline, she again grabbed his arm. And this time, she pulled him back to her and kissed him with all of the feelings she could never quite put into words right. She laughed a little bit, shocked at her own bravery. “Don’t be stupid.”

Sherlock, for once in his life, was entirely speechless. “Does this mean….”

Molly rolled her eyes. For someone so vastly intelligent, he could certainly be thick. “Of course I’ll marry you.” There a moment of silence and Sherlock just stared at her, smiling. Suddenly, Molly heard a shuffling from behind one of the doors and an insistent:

“Psssst. The ring, you git!”

Sherlock looked mildly surprised, and started patting his pockets. “Right. Now, where did I… Ah!” He pulled it out. “Now, I suppose I should get down on one knee for this….” It was awkward, but it was Sherlock. So Molly loved it.

“Was that….” Molly began, just as she heard more shuffling and a “where’s the bloody confetti?”

John, Mary, and Mrs. Hudson all quickly tumbled out. Molly couldn’t help but laugh as they were congratulated and handed champagne in celebration.

As they walked out later that evening, Molly remained quiet, swinging their interlocked hands rhythmically. “Alright, I just have two questions. First, how did you get us into the museum after hours?”

Sherlock shrugged. “Sometimes it’s nice to have a brother who’s practically the British government. And the second question?”

She hesitated. “How did you know? About that place being so special to me? I didn’t think I’d told you.”

He smiled mysteriously. “I have my ways.”

A slightly drunk John yelled from behind them, “He asked your mum!” Sherlock glanced backwards with a glare and looked a bit embarrassed as he turned back to Molly.

“I just wanted it to be special.”

She squeezed his hand tighter and smiled. “And it was.” It had been more than special. It was the perfect, messy start to the new phase of their perfectly messy relationship.

[as-sane-as-avenging-sherlock]

I got a prompt for you. Sherlolly, a late night walk. Thank you.

Thank you for the prompt :D I was about to post this yesterday but something went wrong with our internet so yup... :). A very early apology if it sucks or if the characters are a bit (or a lot) oc.. Sorry :(Hope you like it :).------------"Come on Sherlock, it is already bloody midnight!" John scolded him with eyes sending daggers straight to his own ones. He didn't need to check his wristwatch just to know the proof of the time-judging by the darkness that surrounds the streets, and the seemingly empty road, it was to be deduced that it is now the time of what young children would fear; the start of the danger, when their nightmares and fears would slowly creep out from their dark places if they are still awake. ."Oh it's fine, I can handle walking alone-" Molly responded, a hint of fear written behind her words. Sherlock raised his eyebrow, impressed about the sudden bravery of the small petite woman. He grazed his eyes to her frame, observing her as she tries to squirm out from his pointed glare. She inhaled a sharp breath and tilted her head, making sure to straighten herself as her eyes met his. Immediately, her back went stiff from the contact, and Sherlock was sure that he was the one who caused it; he deduced that it was not because of the chilly air that passed through the skin of her exposed collar bone. It was something else. Was it attraction?. Or the aftermath of her 'moved on' state?. "-N-Not that I'm making you f-feel guilty. It's fine.. really" "No, I insist." he nodded his head, and automatically , his curls bounced along with the action. "Good luck with the baby John-" his eyes turned to the receiver of his sentence, a small smile visible to his lips. With that gesture, John returned a much more genuine back and the two shared a familiarity such as a nod. Molly stared at Sherlock through the sides of her eyelids, she saw the way his lips twitched and eyes lost it's fiery nature when John's attention wasn't on theirs anymore. She knows that gesture, it was all too familiar. That special day; John and Mary's wedding. She saw that look on him. It was truly heartbreaking. With that face and eyes, she remembered being certain that she can't just move on from someone as complicated as Sherlock Holmes. No matter how dismissive and cold he is to her, she will never leave that bastard. She knows what it was like to feel so alone. To feel like you were left by people you cared about. It was something she had welcomed with open arms. On that saddest day of her life; when her father died, she had always knew that she had to move on, but things aren't that simple. Not even if you have a mind palace.As quick as the raw emotion came, it was gone with a blink of an eye. "-Mary. I will visit you lot as soon as I can" She watched him plant a peck on Mary's cheek, waiting for her turn to exchange familiarities with the pregnant woman. When he was done, she mentally shrugged the thought of Sherlock Holmes off of her mind and smiled brightly to Mary, whispering her congratulations and deep gratitude for even bothering to invite her in their party.-----"You really didn't have to if you're just forced to participate Sherlock, I can hail a taxi for myself" She spoke, her voice squeaking at the end of her sentence. The chilly wind made it's way to them, playing out with the hair that she had difficulty to curl. "Nonsense, it is my duty to take care of someone I value with my trust-" she clenched the collar of her oversized jacket to her body, trying to soothe herself as his words registered themselves in the data of her mind. "-And have you seen your reflection? Collarbones and a hint of legs visible, dress hugging the curves hidden beneath, a complicated undergarment women uses to push up the breasts to make them look fuller, thin lips were applied with red lipstick; again, to make them look fuller, and hair styled to curl freely to your back; I deduce that you are trying to impress somebody. You rarely wear things such as cosmetics, and judging by your choice of hairstyle, you chose a different approach. I can say that this person that you are trying to impress is a special one since you never liked to apply anything that can ruin your natural straight hair. Having your hair curled is not a coincidence. I assume that you have had a rival with natural curly hair, and you fear that the one you are trying to impress has a type" they stopped walking as he inhaled a deep intake of breath. Molly stared dumbfounded at him, mind whining with embarrassment as Sherlock Holmes once again spoke the truth of something she had thought about when she was just dressing up a few hours ago. "Janine and well.. erm, the 'Woman' have curly hair, and I cannot do anything to miraculously make my breasts and lips bigger." she whispered, too embarrassed to reveal her insecurity with the two dashing women. She hugged the jacket to her body closer, if that was even possible. She hoped that she would choke to unconsciousness to escape this conversation, she was not prepared for this. But then, when will she even be prepared with the subject such as Sherlock Holmes anyway?."My deepest apology that I made you feel that way. However, Molly, this is not you. Honestly, I prefer the pathologist inside the morgue, minus the stuttering that is. I am fond with the Molly who slapped me to oblivion. And besides to that revelation, having you dressed up like that can endanger you. And I do not want you in harm's reach" he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Little did he knew, she was having a hard time to squeeze inside her daddy's jacket. Trying hard not to squeal with joy as he was so close to admitting that she looked strangely beautiful. However, she didn't want to push him on. She never liked pushing Sherlock's buttons, Sherlock being uncomfortable is something that she tried a really long time to mend. So instead of making him admit things straight, she shrugged it off. Thankful for his way of caring. Or atleast, that was what she is trying to believe on.They continued to walk, hands on either sides of their bodies. Once or twice, she had felt his eyes dart to her face, but she pretended to be oblivious to the whole scene. She can feel him trying to fight to say something, just like how she was currently doing. She raised her head and darted her eyes towards the gleaming moon. Concentrating to stop her thoughts from nagging her further.But what if he would pull back from her? her subconsciousness said.'He needs to know that you care Molly.' and her nagging thoughts replied.She sighed, deciding that it was now or never. Growing up the courage and releasing the doubt, she finally spoke:"Sherlock, you're not alone-""Your lips and breasts are fine Molly, no need to get insecure about them-"The playful smile on his lips that was applied along his playful confession disappeared, but he didn't made any move that he would remove his eyes from hers. She held his gaze, the courage that she is trying to have is erupting inside her body, strong as how she desperately wanted it to be. "Alone is what protects me, Molly Hooper" His voice went cold and body went stiff. He turned his head straight and began walking faster that her strides. She rolled his eyes to herself, mentally slapping her own cheek as she forgot how Sherlock is the most complicated person she would have ever met."I saw it in your eyes. The way you look at John" She tilted her head on an upward gesture, her eyes looking for his own ones. "Is that why you fell back to cocaine Sherlock?. You fear that he is going to leave you, and you are scared that maybe, you will feel so alone again. You're scared that the feeling would spread to your system that it would destroy you like how it did before" the quietness was what she had received from him. She felt like she needed to ignore it. However, the silence was too much that it felt like it was banging right to her ears. Images of her dad shoving themselves inside the conscience of her own mind. The guilt. The sadness. The regret. Immediately, she felt tears beginning to well on the sides of her eyelids. "You remind me so much of my dad-" "Molly, don't-""-He died. It was during my graduation in medical school. He felt so useless.. so alone. And everyday, I feel like I have to blame myself. For not making him feel loved enough.. Oh, I don't know why I'm telling you all of these-" she grasped the jacket tighter to her body, imagining her dad wrapping his arms around her, the way he did that day before the incident. "-What I really want to say is, I don't want anyone I care about to feel like that. You will always have a way to me, Sherlock. You always say such horrible things, yet, you never fail to creep in to my system. I may mean nothing close to a friend to you, but I care. And I will do everything in my power to help you" She blinked her brown eyes, offering a small smile to his way. Slowly, her hand that was next his raised, hesitating for a moment, but soon found it's way to his palm and pianist liked fingers. He stood shocked for a moment, clearly not expecting the contact, but eases as soon as he recovered. "You have always seen me Molly. I.. am in deep gratitude for your patience and loyalty. I have always trusted you. Do not think for one second that you mean nothing to me" She nodded, a small sigh came out from her parted lips. The hand inside hers gave her a squeeze, which she returned with a much more meaningful one."I'm sorry, should I remove my hand from yours?" she asked"No, no. This is quite... lovely""Ah" there was a slight tease visible inside her voice, making him roll his eyes at her."For science Molly, for science" But instead of seeing irritation inside his eyes, she was surprised that she saw a hint of playfulness in them. And she just smiled back.Yes. For science.They continued their way to the streets in silence, wild thoughts ringing inside their minds. Her flat is a few blocks away from them, a thought that she had found herself being disappointed to. Walking under the moonlight with Sherlock Holmes was something that she had imagined about when she was a year younger. Her imaginations have always got the best of her. When she was just that Molly with a school girl crush on Sherlock Holmes, she imagined flirty smiles, and all of that teenage dreams. But tonight is real. Not some Sherlock Holmes that her infatuated mind had produced. This is better. The Sherlock Holmes standing beside her is human. Complicated, clever, and slightly an arse. To see him right now is a new match being lit. He is indeed beautiful.Not the most charming liar like Moriarty, not the sweetest man like Tom. He is The Beautiful and mysterious Sherlock Holmes."Molly?" They stopped as they reached the bottom of the stairs of her flat. She had already stepped on the first stair when he registered her name on his lips."Yes Sherlock?""I'm really glad with the lack of ring"

[lightening-lillies-blog]

"Pigs and Bubbles"

He did it again!

Running off on a whim and leaving the flat is a complete train wreck. Clothes tosses wherever they might have landed when tossed off, the smell of rotting tai somewhere in the mix of small body parts, and a sink piled high with dishes. How did one man managed to make the mess of an army in two days. She had taken the only weekend she had off in a month and went to visit family and came back to baker street after stopping at the market for fresh fruit and came home to .....well...THIS! When she agreed to move in she had not expect it to get this bad but now she was feeling like she was a cheap replacement to Mrs.Hudson....whom of course was not his housekeeper.

Rolling up her sleeves she got to work.

Clothes washes, fold, hung and stored away in the proper closet and drawers. Tai trashed along with any and all moldy food in the fridge, experiment or not. Body part removed from the oven, microwave, table, end table, john's old chair, fireplace mantle, and a cup of luke warm coke; all placed in zip-lock bags and tossed in the deep freeze. The floors swept and mopped and now all that was left was....the horrid dishes. She could clean house all day but when it came to dishes. Something about it bothered her. But Molly Hooper was a tough and hardheaded lady and she would not her place of living look like this.

A sink of hot warm and a bit of soap later she was off busy washing the scum of a set of mix-match china plates, when the front door could be heard slamming close. Taking the step two at a time Sherlock strolled through the room into the sitting room and jumped up cheerfully. Any other day Molly would have this stupid grin on her face as she watched the man of her dreams enjoy a private victory and she did have that stupid grin on. No she was mad! Stay firm Molly Hooper! She quickly remind herself she was ticked and resume a stern face. Turning away from him she continued on the sink of dishes.

"Oh Molly! It was brilliant! Just bloody brilliant! A case John was sure was a simple 4 at most turned out to be at least a 8 1/2! How could they not see that the tiger hair found on the old woman will was not connect to her gambling way-to-far-in-debt taxidermy obsessed son-in-law? So simple!" He came up be hide her and wrapped his long arms around her pulling her petite frame against him. It was hard not to enjoy the way he took in a deep scent of her hair, but she did and butted him away. "Is something wrong?"

Molly spun around fast as lighting and glared him down.

"Really? Sherlock Holmes?! Take a look around. What is missing?" Molly gritted her teeth together trying with all her might not to scream at him.

"hmmm." He took his time glancing around the flat checking the most important items off his list. Skull....check....laptop...check....chair...check....stacks of books...check....body part.........."Oh you cleaned...thank you."

Molly growled and stomped her foot tossing down her dish rag. "Bloody damn right I did...I can stand living with a pig whom doesnt bother to even clean after himself!" She turned grabbing a pan and scrummed it with force...she was determined to scrum it pure sliver again.

She hadnt notice Sherlock be hide her when she turned around, she figured he go off to the bedroom, but there he stood. A moment later a blob of Soap suds rolled over her forehead and down to her nose. She gasped out and stared wide eyed at the soon-to-be dead consulting detective.

"You did not just..."

"Oink....which is 'Yes I Did' in pig." Sherlock was trying not to smirk.

Molly grabbed a blob and planted it in the mix of his curls taking her time to spread it across his cheeks and dabbing a bit on the tip of his nose.

Oh...how a war just started....

Sherlock turned and reached for the flour jar and Molly shook her head.

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes......DONT YOU DARE!" Molly reached for the jar but a hand off of white powder was tossed in the air at her and covered her in a blanket of flour.

She nodded at the mess he made and sighed...she might as well join him if she was not going to beat him. Grabbing the water nozzle sprayer she turned the water on and let loose a steady spray at him nearly soaking him in the first few shot of water she got out before she was met with more flour.

Sherlock moved towards her and slipped on the water and being drown in the hard sprayed yelled "Surrender!". Molly stood back and took pride in her handy work. Grabbing a handful of blackberries from the fresh fruit she bought at the market and squished them across the face of Sherlock Holmes. She grin and took a seat in his lap. Sherlock smirked and kissed Molly soundly on the lips covered the remainder of clean face with blackberry. They giggled and snogged a bit more.

"I guess we have to re-clean this mess." Sherlock stated looking around the kitchen.

"Ehhh....after you tell me about the case.."

THE END

((PROMPT REQUEST FOR  mayacakaia : Sherlolly doing dishes and gets in bubble fight ))