Sherlock and Molly
The silence she was so used to was shattered by an all to familiar voice. Molly cheeks grew red, wondering in horror if he had heard what she had said about him, he always knew. Her second thought as to why he was in, she knew it was not social visit, he probably didn’t even know what those were. She turned in her chair just in time to see him shoot her a smile, that defiantly raised some questions but she smiled back never the less. “H-Hello Sherlock” she stammered at first, her nervousness taking over, she quietly crossed herself and spoke again “Sure, what do you need?.” Her brain went wild with what he might need now, what body part he wanted to take home and put in his refrigerator. She never questioned it, or him for that matter, it was just easier to go along with him. Molly hopped out of her chair, and walked up to Sherlock. She always felt so small in his presence, literally and figuratively, but it was just nice to be in his presence.
Molly blushed a clear red and Sherlock’s eyes focused on her, as if to figure out what it was about. There was clear embarrassment - it was evident both in her posture and how she held her hands, apart from the flushed cheeks. No, this was not the result of a quick run to work or similar. He mentally went back to his entrance, but still no indication of what might have caused the emotion. Conclusion: Data insufficient.
When she asked as to what he needed he merely frowned at her - had it not been obvious? He just told her, after all. Then again, people could be terribly slow and didn’t always listen too closely.
"Hands, Molly, do try to keep up."
He picked up his phone from the large coat pocket, spun it twice in his hand before putting it back and giving her an expectant look.
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