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“Good morning, John!” Mrs. Hudson’s loud, chipper announcement directed towards the stairway, rings in John’s ears as he sits up on the living room couch with a groan. “I’ve brought you your morning tea! Oh!”
The elderly woman stops short and stares down at John’s disheveled form that lay tangled up beneath a thick afghan blanket, obviously startled to see him downstairs this early. “Rough night, dear?” She hides a grin as the tea tray is lowered onto the coffee table in front of John.
“Hmmmph. You could say that.” John grunts, hazily reaching for one of the saucers on the tray. “Didn’t get back from our adventures until a little past midnight.” As he takes a sip, he grimaces as the heat singes the tip of his tongue. Let it cool, moron. He sets it back down and leans back, rubbing his palms into sleepy eyes in an attempt to refocus his brain. An early morning alcoholic fog is definitely something he was hoping to avoid, but Sherlock had insisted they followed Molly and Greg to the next bar… and the next…
***
“Don’t you find it suspicious they’ve been spending more and more time together? What do you think they’re up to? Personally, I believe there’s a chance Lestrade is buttering Molly up to help him with a case. If that’s the case, I’ll have to ask him tomorrow why he hasn’t come to me yet. After all, if we need Molly, I can always drop in and ask her. She’s always available to do me favors. But, that doesn’t explain her uncharacteristically short dress and his lack of shaving tonight.” Sherlock stopped yammering just long enough to down the rest of his brandy. As he sat it down, he heard the grunting of an amused man next to him. He turned and glared as John laughed.
“My honest opinion?” John interjected, all but slamming down his whiskey glass, “is that they’re just having fun. You know…” he attempted an exaggerated wink, but only managed to make his face contort as if he was about to sneeze. “Funnnn. Something I had hoped to be doing myself on such a wonderful Saturday night.”
Sherlock’s ears burned slightly at the suggestion. “I’d have thought Molly would have given up dating after what’s-his-name….. Tom?”
“You think so? Lovely, sweet, romantic Molly? The same Molly who’s been pining over you since, well, at least since I’ve known you two.” John wiggled his eyebrows suggestively at Sherlock and grinned when Sherlock looked taken aback.
Sherlock turned again to watch Molly and Greg dancing at the edge of the dance floor. His jaw clenched slightly as Greg spun her in a circle, pulling her close while she giggled. “But with Gary…?”
“Greg.” John corrected him, placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder. “Look. If you’re this jealous, why don’t you just go tell Molly how you feel?”
“I’m not jealous! And I don’t…. feel. Anything. For Molly.”
“Yes. Yes you do. You wouldn’t be following her like a stalker otherwise.”
“I’m not-“
“Just shut up and let’s go. It’s almost midnight and I’m getting irritated by this. Let them have fun if you’re not going to do anything about it.”
Sherlock relented after weighing his options. With a curt nod, he slid off the barstool and they both headed towards the exit. Just as they reached the door, Sherlock turned back one last time.
And met Molly’s eyes right before he ducked out into the cold London air.
***
“From all the ruckus I heard last night, I assumed you carried on well after!” Mrs. Hudson smiles as she starts to tidy up the front room.
John’s eyebrows furrow. “I passed out rather quickly after we arrived home. Hell, I was so tired I didn’t have the motivation to go to my own room. Hence, why I’m here on the couch at… What time is it anyway?”
“It’s almost eight, dear.”
John shakes his head and stands up, stretching out his arms as he does so. “I suppose that isn’t so bad. Seven hours on a lumpy couch.” John smiles to himself as he again grabs his cup, hobbling his way over to his armchair. “And, thanks for tea, Mrs. Hudson.”
“Of course! You know I always care about you boys and—“
“Mrs. Hudson, what are you doing here so early?” comes a deep baritone from behind them both. They turn and glance over at Sherlock, dressed in only his boxers and bathrobe. His hair sticks out in what appears to be every angle imaginable, just before he reaches up and runs his fingers through it.
“I was just bringing tea. I do this every day around this time.”
“What do you mean? Usually I’m gone way before you’re up doing goodness knows what each day.” Sherlock waves flippantly towards the doorway as he speaks, shuffling his way into the front room and wrapping up in the robe before flopping into his chair opposite John.
Mrs. Hudson chuckles and gestures towards the tray. “Every morning, eight o’clock sharp.”
Sherlock frowns. “No. It’s…” Inquisitively, he cranes his neck and glances up to look at the mantle clock. “Oh. That’s curious. So it is eight. Hmmmf.” As he looks back towards John and Mrs. Hudson, he flinches.
They’re staring at him with wide, shocked eyes.
“What?” Sherlock questions, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh! Nothing.” John clears his throat and places his cup down on the end table. He glances over at Mrs. Hudson and she only shrugs, her face turning red from suppressed noises. “We just, um, think it’s funny that you didn’t know the time. Unrelated question, but did you go somewhere last night? Mrs. Hudson said she was hearing noises way into the morning.”
“I only went for a walk. Had to clear the alcohol out of my mind before I could sleep.” He speaks slow, and instantly John knows he’s lying. “That’s why I don’t drink often. Losing the ability to keep a clear head is unacceptable, and if something had come up, I’d prefer to have been able to make rational decisions.”
“So, taking a… walk. At one in the morning. On a Saturday in downtown London. While drunk…. Rational?”
“Well… it wasn’t just… I mean, yes, I know it seems strange-“
“When don’t you do something strange, let’s be honest,” John interrupts, and he hears Mrs. Hudson giggle into her hand.
“-strange for me go walking alone but I promise you, that’s all I was doing. Clearing my head.”
“Of course.” John smirks, his eyes focused on something near Sherlock’s shoulder. “Now, I do think that it—“
As John begins to speak, the door buzzer sounds, startling all three of them.
“Oh! Who could that be?” Mrs. Hudson jumps up from her seat and rushes to the stairway. As she disappears downstairs, John turns to Sherlock and stares him down, his mood dropping from playful to serious in the blink of an eye.
“Now tell me the truth. Where did you go last night?”
“I told you. I went out and-“
“Sherlock.” His tone hardens and Sherlock snaps his mouth shut. “I know you better than you think.”
The detective pauses, still maintaining eye contact with John, but John can tell it’s a struggle. “I… I went to pay someone a visit.”
“Someone in particular?” John leans forward, resting his chin in his hand as he continues to stare at Sherlock, who is almost visibly fighting with himself to skirt around the issue. John will get the truth out of him one way or another.
“Well yes, leaving ones house with the intent to pay someone a visit usually warrants a decisive, singular, destination.”
John, to his credit, laughs. “Yeah, you got me. You know, I wonder how you would have fared as a lawyer.”
“What do you mean? I would think that I-“
John waves Sherlock off before he could answer. “It was a rhetorical observation.”
“Sherlock! Molly’s here to see you!” Mrs. Hudson’s voice rings up the stairway as both men back down from each other’s stubbornness, but not before John notices the subtle shade of pink creep into Sherlock’s neck and cheeks.
Intriguing, Mr. Detective. Never thought I’d see the day YOU were an easy read…
“Hello, Molly.” Sherlock says flatly, standing and adjusting his robe to cover as much of himself as he could. “What brings you around?”
Molly steps cautiously into the front room, and John can’t help but notice the tinge of embarrassment in her face.
“I uh… you left this in, um, in the lab… Thought you’d like it back. ‘tis a bit chilly today. Might want to, you know, cover up and bundle up.” She speaks softly and, without making a move forward, raises the hand holding Sherlock’s long blue scarf.
“Thank you Molly.” Sherlock says, again as flat as a wooden board, reaching for the proffered item. “I do hope this wasn’t an inconvenience for you, coming all the way over here.”
“N-No! No, I was on my way home because I forgot my tablet and I figured you’d be home since you told me last night you had no plans to ---“ Molly cuts herself off when Sherlock frantically shakes his head back and forth.
“He had no plans to what, Molly?” John intones, his eyes boring holes into Sherlock. Here it is…
“Oh! Um, nothing! He just, uh, oh…” She wracks her brain as quick as she can, a sure sign she’s attempting to formulate a story. A false story, John muses with a grin. “He uh, texted me. Told me he had no plans to leave the flat today since he was, uh… waiting on a package.” Molly smiles up proudly at Sherlock, but the smile waivers when she sees his hand come up to his face, his palm stretching over his eyes.
“You never told me about a package, Sherlock. I would have happily waited for it if you had pressing matters to attend to.” The playful tone in John’s voice only deepened the blush between the pair.
Mrs. Hudson, absolutely oblivious to the tension now filling the room, chimes in. “Oh, Sherlock! That reminds me! I was to tell you to call Lestrade this afternoon! He showed up around six and seemed a bit confused as to why you told him to meet you at the Yard so late last night, and then never showed!”
“Mrs. Hudson! Don’t you have some laundry or something to do, you know, not here in this room?” Sherlock barked, his face growing hotter. The stoic detective looked… flustered.
“Oh! Oh dear yes probably!” And with that, Mrs. Hudson jumps and skitters out the door.
For a moment, the three could hear her footsteps as she hurries back down the stairs. After the soft pattering of her footfalls fade, the only sound breaking the awkward silence between them is the quiet hum of the refrigerator coming from the kitchen.
Molly shuffles her feet when Sherlock clears his throat. All while John continues to openly stare at the interesting mark on Sherlock’s neck.
“So. Clearing your head, huh?” John finally speaks, making the other two jump.
“Look, John, before you go off on a tangent about my misplaced morality and-“
“Did you at least use protection?” John interjects, finally vocalizing his assumption. Sherlock’s head snaps up and his eyes grow wide. Bingo.
Molly gasps. “John! No it wasn’t anything like that!”
“No? Just stopped by to ‘accidentally’ leave his scarf on your bedroom floor and ask you to give his neck a few nibbles? I mean, assuming by left it in the lab, you meant left it in your bedroom.”
“John… you almost sound jealous.” He didn’t correct me… so that means…
John laughs, flashing Sherlock an amused look. “Jealous? No. But when I said to tell Molly how you feel, I didn’t mean go to her house in the middle of the night and snog her!”
“Why not? Isn’t that how people show affection to one another? I figured-“
Molly holds up her hands and whistles loudly. Both men stop and look down at Molly, who is now glowing a bright shade of red.
“John. Sherlock came over to talk. Yes. He told me he had followed me all night which, I admit, is a bit creepy,” she shoots Sherlock a sidelong glance, “but he meant well. It’s just… two drunk people admitting their feelings for each other… things can get, well, a bit heated.”
Sherlock mumbles under his breath as he stares off into the kitchen. Molly slaps him on the stomach and continues.
“So yes. He came over. Drunk. I was also drunk. And a bit lonely after Lestrade had to leave in a hurry,” Molly glares in Sherlock’s direction, “I probably made some poor decisions.”
“Look,” John interrupts, placing a hand on both of their arms, “it’s really none of my business. But, when Sherlock gets up late in the morning, looking frazzled as all hell, with a large hickey on the side of his throat-“
“What?” Sherlock cries out, reaching up to his neck. He turns and rushes to the side mirror above the mantle, examining the red bite-mark right below his ear. “Molly! I told you not to leave any marks!”
“I-I- I got c-carried away! You… you were doing certain… things… and I couldn’t—“ Molly stutters, somehow turning even redder by the second.
“No excuse! Oh, that explains why you and Hudders couldn’t stop staring at me.” Sherlock growls as he flings himself in his chair, while Molly slumps against the wall behind her.
John, on the other hand, is almost doubled over in laughter. “Y-you… you guys had a drunk make out session? The great detective Sherlock Holmes, Mr. I-Have-No-Feelings-For-Her…. My ass, by the way… got jealous of Greg and wanted to have the girl all to himself. Oh… oh this is priceless. I’m sorry Molly but… it’s just so… cute!” After his laughter dies down, he walks over to Molly and unexpectedly wraps her in a hug. He pulls away, and Molly is staring at him in confusion.
“Look, as I was saying, I’m not upset. I’m not jealous. Hell, I’m not even surprised if I can be completely fair.” John holds Molly at arm’s length, examining her with a smile. “I’m happy for you two.”
“It was just one little make out session,” Sherlock mumbles, but the tone in his voice is hopeful as he looks up out of the corner of his eye towards Molly.
John tilts his head and nods at Molly. In a hushed voice he whispers, “Go on.” With a small smile, Molly nods. She ducks underneath John’s arm and moves over to Sherlock’s chair, standing in front of his pouting frame.
“It doesn’t have to be just one,” she says gently as she slowly climbs into his lap. Confused, Sherlock stiffens and only stares while she settles into the chair with him, her hands reaching up to smooth out a few stray curls. “Sobriety in full effect, Mr. Holmes. Would you like to kiss me?”
Sherlock’s eyes travel down to Molly’s lips, and after a beat, his curl up in a soft smile as his body relaxes. An arm comes up to gently bring her closer to him.
“Like I said last night, Ms. Hooper. Whether we’re under the stars, or above the city lights, or nestled beside the fire, your lips will always entice me.” Sherlock’s words fade as his mouth connects with hers.
“Excuse me while I go off and gag somewhere,” John teases playfully as he turns and makes his way to his bedroom upstairs to give them their privacy.