Date: 2019-01-14 03:16 am (UTC)
punchmeitssubtext: (Gotcha.)
He rumbled a laugh, wheeling his suitcase up to the foot of the bed before closing the distance between them so he could wrap his arms around her from behind. Sometimes he simply liked to rest his chin on her head or her shoulder, just for the warm contact and the comfortable sensation of her familiar form against his.

"That sounds ideal for tonight, at least." His tone was playful, a promise rather than an immediate suggestion. "I take it that means we're getting room service so you can explore."

Having been raised casually posh, his encounters with the realities of money had long been rather odd--after all, it was the motive in more than half the murders he investigated and two-thirds of the total crimes he consulted on, and he'd always had more than enough of it. Sherlock suspected he'd never quite understand why the fuss was so intense or why Molly fretted about certain things. But it hadn't caused any real problems between them, and he liked that he had the means to indulge her.

Besides, there was a gorgeous, wondering look that tended to steal over her face when she was really fascinated with something (indulgence or not), and Sherlock was realizing he couldn't actually picture a future without opportunities to tease it out of her.
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Molly Hooper

February 2024

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