Offering Comfort
May. 11th, 2018 10:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darnedchildSummary: Neither spoke, comfortable in the silence.
Rating: G
A/N - One word prompt request – “Catlike” for Sherlolly, from @musicprincess1990.
Offering Comfort
She had always thought his movements were graceful. Powerful. Catlike.
When he’d hopped over the table during his best man speech, she’d caught her breath.
She’d hoped to find him on the dancefloor later, although she had no idea if she would have had the courage to ask him to dance. In the end, it didn’t matter. He’d slipped from the ballroom without a word.
Guilt was the only thing that kept her from shaking off Tom’s hand and following.
Hours later, after she’d sent Tom off with the excuse of a headache, she found herself at Baker Street.
She had curled up on the sofa and let Sherlock rest his head on her lap, the stiff yellow dress traded for soft flannel pyjamas. He let her run her fingers through his hair, petting him as she would her cat. Neither spoke, comfortable with the silence.
She reluctantly gathered her things in the pre-dawn light, and he walked her to the door.
“Thank you, Molly.”
“Sherlock, I-“
He shook his head. “You should leave before we do something we will both regret.”
She didn’t see him for another month, and by then everything was different.
And still so heartbreakingly familiar.
Rating: G
A/N - One word prompt request – “Catlike” for Sherlolly, from @musicprincess1990.
Offering Comfort
She had always thought his movements were graceful. Powerful. Catlike.
When he’d hopped over the table during his best man speech, she’d caught her breath.
She’d hoped to find him on the dancefloor later, although she had no idea if she would have had the courage to ask him to dance. In the end, it didn’t matter. He’d slipped from the ballroom without a word.
Guilt was the only thing that kept her from shaking off Tom’s hand and following.
Hours later, after she’d sent Tom off with the excuse of a headache, she found herself at Baker Street.
She had curled up on the sofa and let Sherlock rest his head on her lap, the stiff yellow dress traded for soft flannel pyjamas. He let her run her fingers through his hair, petting him as she would her cat. Neither spoke, comfortable with the silence.
She reluctantly gathered her things in the pre-dawn light, and he walked her to the door.
“Thank you, Molly.”
“Sherlock, I-“
He shook his head. “You should leave before we do something we will both regret.”
She didn’t see him for another month, and by then everything was different.
And still so heartbreakingly familiar.