Fanart: Signs (BBC Sherlock: Sherlock/Molly)
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It would be just her luck that the day of her first date with Sherlock Holmes, Molly gets called into work. She was already dressed to go when she received the frantic phone call: triple murders on their way to Bart's with a suspected nitric acid component and so time was of the essence. She didn't have to check her phone (she did anyway) to see that Sherlock had been called in on this case as well, so they probably wouldn't have gone out anyway.
He'd swept into the morgue, as usual, John and Lestrade at this heels as she processed the victims as quickly as possible. She didn't even really have the time to listen to the downpour of deductions, but over steaming cups of coffee managed to gather that he had leads to follow up on as he swept out of the room. If she hadn't been so busy herself, she might have minded that he didn't say goodbye (or noticed the way he'd tried to catch her attention at least twice as John would tell her later).
And so, she worked through the night, running on caffeine and adrenalin, willing the machines to process the work faster even as she managed to get most of it tidied up when the morning shift's pathologist and techs came in to take over. Molly was loathed to stop, but felt better about going home in the morning when she received the text from Sherlock telling her the case was solved. There would still be much more to do on her end, she knew (preparing evidence for trial was a tricky business), but that could wait until she'd had a decent amount of sleep.
She sighed loudly as she saw the downpour that greeted her upon exiting the building, knowing full well that having no protection against it would have her nice date clothes soaked in no time. Briefly, her sleep-deprived mind offered the suggestion that the universe might be giving her a sign that trying to date Sherlock Married-To-His-Work Holmes wasn't her most brilliant plan.
With a sigh and a barely stifled yawn, Molly walked through the downpour towards the underground, doing her best to keep those thoughts at bay and focusing instead on the delicious promise of a hot bath and uninterrupted sleep. At least there wouldn't be so many people on the commute mid-morning.
"Molly."
She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of her name, spinning around to see Sherlock standing behind her. He was squinting through water drops, sopping hair sticking to his face as if he'd been standing out there for a while, as if he'd been waiting for her. She must have walked right past him. Another universal sign of something, she was sure.
"Oh, good morning, Sherlock," she smiled lightly at him and he steered them both into an archway just to her right, shelter from the onslaught of the heavens.
"Molly, I just wanted to say," he started, hesitating for a moment, hands thrust deeply into his pockets. "I wanted to thank you for your help on this last case. I know that it wasn't how you wanted to spend your evening, but your help was invaluable."
Molly folded her arms over her chest in a mostly futile attempt to keep herself warm. She smiled at the detective though he didn't seem to want to meet her eyes. "It's okay, Sherlock. Not how I would have imagined a first date to go, but..." she trailed off as she thought about it. "Well, maybe a triple murder is what I was suspecting a first date with you might be like, actually." She giggled a bit at her own joke, remembering too late that he didn't seem to like her jokes very much, evidenced by the way that he was seriously staring at her now. Her laughter died quickly.
He was looking at her intently, as if trying to crack open something in her mind and Molly shifted a bit, wishing he'd go back to not meeting her gaze.
"Do you mean that last night," he said slowly and carefully, "Last night, you would still consider that a date?" The situation obviously baffled him, and Molly found it endearing to see.
She shrugged a bit. "Well, we spent time together, had a conversation, even shared coffee together while you were thinking. So...yes, I would say so. Maybe even one of my better dates, actually. Not that there was a kiss goodnight or anything--"
"Would you like there to be?" he interrupted, and it wasn't until that moment that she realized what her loose tongue had left slip. She felt the color rise to her cheeks.
"What?"
"A good night kiss, Molly," Sherlock said, taking a step towards her, his face falling in shadow in the dim archway. "Is that what you'd like after a date? I ask because as I told you before, I am trying to learn."
"Yes," she breathed, for once not hearing a voice inside her head telling her to take it back. She wasn't going to take it back. It's what she wanted.
Sherlock pulled his hands out his coat pockets, carefully and hesitantly placing one at her waist to draw her closer and the other up to her face, carefully running the cold pad of his thumb across her damp cheek. He leaned closer to her, tipping her chin up a bit, giving her a chance to stop this at any time she wanted. Molly slipped her eyes shut as she placed an encouraging hand on his arm, unconsciously parting her lips in anticipation, leaning her body towards his.
The tip of his nose was cold and wet, but his lips were warm and just as soft as she'd always dreamed they'd be as he carefully laid them over hers. He was careful and hesitant, spurring her to lean up a little closer, tilting her head just so and allowing them to settle into a comfortable and lingering kiss. It was perfect.
"Good night, Molly," he said in a low tone when breaking their kiss, but making no move to step away from her as he pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling and his hand still in her hair.
"Good night, Sherlock," she replied, trying her best to keep the face-splitting grin on her face in check but not managing to hold back a giddy giggle.
To her surprise, he chuckled as well. "Now Molly, would it be terribly forward of me to ask you to have breakfast with me?"
Molly did laugh at this. "Why? Are you hungry?"
He pulled back to look at her for a moment, pushing a damp piece of her behind her ear before leaning in placing another small kiss at the corner of her mouth. "I'm starving."
The universe might have been giving her signs, but as usual, Sherlock had other ideas as he opened his coat to shelter her from the rain as he ushered her into a cab he'd miraculously been able to flag down.
As Sherlock placed his hand beside hers on the seat of the cab, Molly smiled up at him. Maybe this wasn't what she had expected, but she wouldn't have it any other way.
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