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[theonewhocounted]

The Bright Spot Meme


(Was there every a more suitable meme for dear Molly?)

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[punchmeitssubtext]

He watches her face go serious, watches her interpret something he did and didn't intend, and before he can catch up and clarify she's kissing him hard and his brain starts flickering like a bulb getting too much current. Her hands are tangled in his hair and it makes this strange not-quite-a-chill go down his spine, a long and watery slide.

His heart is pounding.

It jumps under his skin where he and Molly touch. He doesn't know how to control it anymore. It's not just an internal organ, it's a heart, and Molly makes it do things he doesn't understand.

[theonewhocounted]

Molly hopes this is what he intended when he told her to come over there because if he was just looking for a cuddle, she's giving him quite a bit more. Up until now, she's been very reserved for someone who has been waiting bloody years to get her hands on this gorgeous, infuriating, unattainable man, and had all but given up hope that she ever would. She still won't let herself go too far without them having a chat about it, but, god, she needs to snog him silly right now. He needs to know that her love doesn't end at words.

[punchmeitssubtext]

She's taking long, drugging tastes of his mouth, pulling his capacity for rational thought up from the roots of his hair and into her fingers. His hands flatten against her back, slide up to curl around her shoulderblades and tug her closer. Why does this feel so similar to hauling himself onto a stranger's motorcycle and tearing towards danger at high speed?

[theonewhocounted]

She makes a noise into his mouth as he pulls her close and any worry about his intentions is put aside. It is clear he is on board. His hands blaze a trail of fire as they touch her and that's still through two layers of cloth. She's regretting not divesting herself of her jumper when he took off his jacket. Not that it would much make a difference to the fire that's burning on the inside.

[punchmeitssubtext]

A sudden, powerful thought strikes him, one that somehow runs down his right arm as a pulse of electricity that guides his hand up and into her loose ponytail to tug her hair free.

He wants to know what it sounds like when she says it and she's not crying.

[theonewhocounted]

Her eyes open up as she feels him take down her hair and she leans away from him to shake it out and let the strands fall around her shoulders. She smiles at him. Her lips are red from their kisses and her eyes have become deep pools. Her breath comes out in small pants as she attempts to catch it. It doesn't take a genius to see that she is aroused.

[punchmeitssubtext]

He has to run his hand through the soft sweep of her hair, a slide that makes his fingers prickle with excitement and makes his heart rattle faster. His own face is flushed, eyes dark and startled as he realizes how her body is reacting to his.

"Molly." It somehow seems urgent that he lets her know, even if all he can manage is a whisper. "I think--I think I have to say it."

[theonewhocounted]

It feels like ages since someone has run their fingers through her hair. Her eyes close for a moment in enjoyment but open up when he says her name.

The look on her face changes to one of surprise and then quickly slides into one of adoration. Her hand comes up to press against his cheek fondly.

"Then say it."

The words don't hold the bite they had when she spoke with him on the phone. You say it first. They are permission, not a demand. Right now she only wants him to do what he feels comfortable with.

[punchmeitssubtext]

He's never seen her look like this before. Not with anyone. Not under any circumstances. It's new, and somehow she saved it up for him, for this moment, and that's what finally sends the truth spilling into this small warm space between them.

"I love you," he says, and means it.

[theonewhocounted]

Somehow hearing it, even though she knows it's coming, still catches her off guard and her mouth forms a surprised 'o.' His expression is so earnest, so open, it makes her heart constrict. He means it and it's so much to process. Tears spring to her eyes immediately.

"I love...you, too," she says and her voice cracks in the middle of it. So many emotions.

[punchmeitssubtext]

Oh god. That's not good. That's not good, he's making Molly Hooper cry again and that's not why he came here tonight at all, and--

--and it sounds so different this time, even though her eyes are too bright and her voice cracks. It sounds different because there's a future tangled up in it, because this is something beginning, because it's just the two of them this time and it's still true.

His fingers card through her hair again, tracing the shape of her skull. The sensation keeps the dizziness of relief from overwhelming him. He's in love, he's loved back, and nothing has exploded. And he can't pinpoint the source of the urge, but something makes him pull his hand free gently and trace his fingertips over her carotid artery.

[theonewhocounted]

When his fingers slide back into her hair, she closes her eyes again and the tears that had filled them up, fall down her cheeks. These are good tears. They are happy tears. They are tears of absolute amazement and some disbelief and joy.

"I love you," she whispers again, this time her voice steady. When his fingers trace her neck, she tilts her head to the side, pliant under his touch. He'll feel her heartbeat strong and quick.

[punchmeitssubtext]

Again it's different. This is like tackling a language whose roots he's never heard before. Every new piece of information is equally significant.

She tips her head for him, inviting his touch, and all at once he needs to kiss the bitter wetness away from under her eyes. His hand settles a little more firmly on her throat, and he traces a slow line down towards the collar of her jumper, mapping the terrain inch by inch.

[punchmeitssubtext]

((ooc: looping the comment thread because haha what 350 comments))

(Well, for today, it's largely calling in favors and actually making sure that the clean-up will be able to run smoothly for at least the next forty-eight hours without him. Sherlock is capable of planning ahead, when it's important enough to him, and this is important enough that he doesn't want anything or anyone pulling him away from it.)

"Okay. I'll stop by. Go have lunch, I'll text you when I'm close."

*

It turns out that while Molly's phone was otherwise occupied, John's actually texted her.

To: Molly
From: John

12:40: Okay, one thing. Before I left you said he's been lovely. I just want you to know, we've talked about it a little and from what I can tell he really does want this to work. So I just want you to know, if he's lovely, it's because he means it. And good on you.

12:43: Anyway, see you later. :)

He's actually not the only one. One of her coworkers at Barts is, it turns out, too intrigued by the sudden change in her to keep quiet.

To: Molly
From: Sophie (Work)

12:38: Molls I can't help it, I'm dying of curiosity. Tell me about him!!

*

It's almost two and a half hours before her phone goes off with one of Sherlock's text alerts again.

To: Molly
From: Sherlock

3:34 PM: John gets upset when I pick his lock. Let me in, I come bearing gifts.

[theonewhocounted]

[ooc: haha. go us! We could also continue in a new thread at any point if you wanted.]

"Okay, I'll see you later," she says to Sherlock before she hangs up. The desire to say "I love you" before she says goodbye is strong, but she's not sure they're there yet. There's one thing to say it with great emotional context during serious conversations, it's another to start using it as part of regular conversation. She's not sure if that'll ever be in the cards with Sherlock, the casual "Love you" before saying goodbye, but maybe she's wrong.

After Molly hangs up with Sherlock, she sees John's text and feels guilty that she's been having phone sex instead of keeping an eye on Rosie. She checks the monitor again though and she's still sleeping soundly. No harm then, she supposes.

To: John
From: Molly

1:00 PM: Thanks John. It's nice even just to know that he's talking about it with you. Even better to know that he's talking about it in the long term. Feels more real I guess. It's still a bit surreal all of it.

1:02 PM: You're a good friend John. A lot of this change in him is due to you. I hope you realize that.

Molly sees Sophie's text along with John's but avoids it for the time being. She's not sure what to say and she needs to go get washed up and order herself some food before Rosie wakes up.

She finally texts her after she's had lunch and got Rosie changed and in her bouncy chair that she loves. It plays music and has hanging things she can try to play with and it means Molly isn't holding her all the time.

To: Sophie (Work)
From: Molly

2:30 PM: It's very new. We haven't told most people yet. So far he's wonderful though.

Molly is giving Rosie another bottle when her phone chimes with a text from Sherlock. She's not sure why he can't knock on the door like everyone else, but she stands up, putting Rosie on her hip as she goes to let him in.

"Hey," she says with a huge smile as she sees him for the first time since they said good night outside her flat on Saturday. Her stomach feels like someone just let out a jar of butterflies into it and her heart rate picks up just from the sight of him and from knowing he's hers.

[punchmeitssubtext]

(She won't know it for a while, but John has to excuse himself for a minute to swallow back a sudden lump in his throat when he gets her texts. He'd never have expected this kind of emotional growth from his best friend, and while objectively he's aware it couldn't have happened without him... well, it's different to hear it, and it touches him, and makes him miss Mary because he knows she'd have been proud of them both.)

To: Molly
From: John

2:31 PM: Thanks Molly.

To: Molly
From: Sophie (Work)

Well, that much I can tell just by looking at you! ;) Is there ANYTHING you can tell me?? Otherwise I'll just keep imagining it's Daniel Craig.

When he sees her again, Sherlock's face lights with the same kind of slow smile he usually reserves for John--only because it's aimed at Molly, it's different, its warmth just a single degree softer than he lets anyone see.

"Hi," he replies, and because it's been approximately three days too many since the last time, he bends to kiss her. Right there, on the front step, in full view of the surveillance camera he knows his brother has pointed at the door. (Hell, if Kitty Riley is still bitter that his reputation's been redeemed twice over by now, she'd be welcome to watch and tweet about it too. He's been through a shattering ordeal and somehow emerged from it having earned the privilege of being the only person who gets to kiss Molly Hooper like this. Sherlock thinks he's more than allowed to show off.)

The kiss doesn't last long, though. Rosie isn't quite big enough to reach Sherlock's curls yet, but she does manage to get a fistful of his coat lapel and yank on it insistently, burbling excitedly.

"Ow," he says fondly as he pulls back. "Manners, tiny Watson."

[theonewhocounted]

To: Sophie (Work)
From: Molly

2:35 PM: Oh my god, Soph, how did you know about Dan?! ;) Kidding. He's better. To me anyway. But I just can't say anything yet. Sorry. :/

The smile on Sherlock's face tells her everything she needs to know about how he feels about her and what they're doing. He's missed her. And more than just what she can do with her hands.

His kiss right out on the stoop in broad daylight surprises and pleases her. Molly's the one who has every reason to shout this new relationship from the rooftops (although she doesn't look forward to the scrutiny and probable cruel opinions she'll be subject to when the relationship is inevitably written about in the gossip rags) and Sherlock's got every reason to keep it under his hat (so to speak) for as long as possible. Although, their date tonight might get some people talking. People who have nothing better to do but speculate about others' lives.

Molly returns the kiss and then laughs when it's inevitably interrupted by Rosie.

"Be nice to Uncle Sher," Molly says to her before kissing his downy head. She's taken to shortening his name, knowing Rosie won't be able to manage 'Sherlock" until she's approximately 5 or 6. "He's going to change your next nappy."

She smiles at Sherlock as she leads them into the flat. Rosie is still gurgling and swinging her little fists at her newest visitor.

"We're in the middle of bottle time," Molly says as she brings Rosie back to the couch to finish her feeding.

[punchmeitssubtext]

Sherlock notices that abbreviation, by the way--notices how she means it as a private joke and not as some misguided term of endearment--and promptly decides he's going to get his revenge on all of them by giving Rosie a violin when she turns three. Granted, if she turns out to be a musical genius and not just a toddler with a string instrument then it'll just make him the favorite godparent (he hopes), so whatever the inevitable outcome, he wins.

He hangs his coat and scarf on the back of the door, the way he would if he were at home, and after he wheels his suitcase over to the threshold of his room he heads back over to settle in next to her.

"So I see. I'd have brought you a souvenir, Rosamund," he chided, "but I know you're still hazy on object permanence, so instead I'll read you something later. Treasure Island, maybe. You'll like that one."

His gaze flicks upwards to catch Molly's, and in the same moment he realizes three things: he's just been talking to an infant like she can understand him; he's done it in front of someone other than John (or Mary) for the first time; and Molly isn't going to say anything barbed about it.

[theonewhocounted]

No, Molly certainly isn't. In fact, what he'll find when he looks at her is absolute adoration on her face. Sherlock Holmes talking to a baby is in fact, her new favourite Sherlock Holmes. She has many. Later it might be Sherlock Holmes who spends a lot of time with her in her bed. He's new. Right now, though this one is her favourite.

She smiles at him before she cradles Rosie into the bend of her arm and against her chest as she gives her the rest of her bottle.

"How was the case?" she asks him as Rosie suckles away.

[punchmeitssubtext]

"Well, most of being in Cardiff was waiting around for one thing or another, but it went well. Caught someone who was trying to gaslight their way into a massive inheritance, which I wasn't actually expecting. No doubt John'll have it up on the blog soon; we had a couple of remote consults while I was there, since someone needed seeing to back in London."

He gives Rosie a wry look. She blinks up at him and Molly with huge dark-blue eyes as if to say, What? I'm innocent.

"Work's been going well for you, I see." He leans into her warmth a little. "Certainly sounded productive from your texts."

[theonewhocounted]

"Not getting into too much trouble on your own?" she teases but it's an actual concern of hers - him running around without John there to help him or keep him out of the worst of it. She looks down at Rosie and can't fault John for working remotely, she just wishes he had someone else to watch his back when John wasn't around.

Molly maneuvers Rosie around so she's over one shoulder so she can burp her.

"Yes, things are good. And I saved one of your experiments from being binned on Sunday. You're welcome. You've apparently got 2 days to do something with them or they're going out to make way for some official lab business that needs space in the fridge."

[punchmeitssubtext]

"One of--oh, shit, I'd completely forgotten." He's had a lot going on--they both have--and quite a few things dropped to the bottom of his priority list during the very recent reorganization it's had over the weekend. "Hang on, let me put an alert in my phone..."

He grabs his mobile out of his pocket to do exactly that, but before he unlocks it, he glances over at her again. There's something important to do here, something that matters because he knows it's a way to communicate at least part of the tangle of emotion that underscores everything he's thinking right now.

"Thank you, Molly."

Sherlock Holmes says thank you the way another man would tell her I love you.

[theonewhocounted]

"It's alright, I'd forgotten about them too," she says as she pats Rosie's back. "And really, they're my responsibility as the person who's actually employed by Bart's."

Really it's him who is her responsibility. He's been given a ton of leeway there thanks to his brother, but for years Molly has been his unofficial minder (at least that's how the rest of her department sees it).

Although, if things keep going the way they have with him, she may be out of her unofficial job. He's actually concerned that he's putting them out by forgetting about his experiment and he's even going to remind himself to see to it. Old Sherlock would have either ignored her or waved her off and she would end up cleaning his mess. She feels like maybe she should have given him a handjob ages ago.

She almost laughs at her own awful, internal joke before he punctuates everything with the most sincere thank you she's ever been given for doing something really rather small. It makes her blush. A thank you. She doesn't know how he does it.

"You're very welcome, Sherlock," she says warmly in return.

Rosie chooses that moment to let out a burp that could come from a much larger human and Molly laughs.

"Oh, good one, baby girl."

[punchmeitssubtext]

Her laughter is contagious, drawing a low, helpless giggle out of him. It's the same kind of relieved, surprised giggling that seized him after their first kiss.

"God, we've got a disgusting goddaughter."

The sentence slips out of him before he can really grasp the full impact of what he's said. They're all tied together now, a strange little human network of people who've chosen to share parts of their lives despite (and, let's be honest, because of) the danger involved. But Sherlock's not quite ready to process an emotional revelation like this today, especially since Molly's laughing and that's a sight he tucks away as proudly as any really clever scientific insight.

[theonewhocounted]

"Wait 'til you see what she does to her nappies," she says, still laughing and enjoying his own participation. Molly registers the way that their appointed titles sort of tie them together even without any further emotional context on their part. No matter what happens, they will be Rosie's godparents. She also decides not to follow that path of thinking too far at this point.

She lays Rosie on her back on her lap and tickles her belly so she can laugh with them. Her smile is her mum's and it's gorgeous. Her little uncoordinated limbs flail about.

"She's been so happy today," Molly says as she smiles down at her and then looks over to Sherlock. "Do you want to hold her?"