She had been sulking on the couch since he got home. Sherlock had learned too become weary of Molly’s dark moods. They didn’t happen often, but when they did, he understood to tread carefully.
He hovered around her for a moment when she finally let out an exasperated sigh.
“Just get over here and hold me,” she snapped, shifting enough to make some room for him. Carefully, he gathered her up in his arms, burying his nose in her hair and placing a small kiss there.
“Not a word, ” she commanded, her grip on his arms tight. “Just hold me.”
He was more than happy to comply.
For howterrifying who writes almost everyday for this ship and is having a danger night.
As I sashay through the valley of the shadow of death
CAN WE JUST TALK ABOUT THE LOUBOUTINS IRENE SHOULD HAVE WORN FOR A SEC…
To listen to us geek out at Lara about her Sherlock costuming on our podcast, clicky click the linkage…
A heart to go with the mind.
But she wasn’t supposed to be like that. Why is she like that?
John closed the cab door behind him, berating himself for once again not having the courage to just bloody ask her out already. But no, this had been been weeks of just politely offering to split a cab after work, bringing her coffee because “he’d already been out”, of enjoying smiling and laughing with her over lunch while discussing the sometimes eccentric patients that came through the practice.
“John Watson, you’re a coward,” he mumbled to himself and he stuck his hands in his pockets, turning to walk briskly down the pavement.
He turned back around to see Mary, hanging out the open window of the cab, waving him back over to her. His eyes opened wide in surprise as she pulled him to her as soon as he was within her arm’s reach and brought his mouth to hers, kissing him more openly than he’d ever been kissed in his life.
It felt wonderful and John couldn’t think of anything at the moment other than Mary, Mary, Mary (how wonderful her lips felt, how strong her hands were as she held onto his shoulders, how it all felt right for once).
They pulled away at the same time, their faces still hovering close together and they both stared at each other for a moment—
“Oi, this is romantic and all, but in or out, mate?” the cabbie’s gruff and impatient voice had them letting out a short burst of giggles.
Composing herself a bit, Mary looked directly at John. “So, coming home with me then?”
Her voice didn’t hold a drop of uncertainty and but her still smiling lips held the hint of nervousness of his answer.
John knew his answering smile put her mind at ease. “Absolutely.”
She tucked herself back into the cab, opening the door for him to climb in beside her and he didn’t wait for the door to even properly close behind him before wrapping his arms around her and kissing her all the way back to her flat.John Watson x Mary Morstan: First Kiss
(just a sketch)
Are you guys bored with my Victorian!Sherlolly yet? Because I’m not and I’m not even sorry….
'The great artisans say the more the teapot is used, the more beautiful it becomes. The pot is seasoned by repeatedly pouring tea over the surface. The deposit left on the clay creates this beautiful patina over time. Some pots, the clay has been burnished by tea made over four hundred years ago.'