Bottled up inside — Chapter 13: Everything's alright

Dumped by her boyfriend, fired from Bart's, Molly is in a mess thanks to our detective.Will he be able to amend the state of affairs before Molly does something drastic? Read on to know. Slightly AU, post Reichenbach. Bits of Sherolly fluff. Please read and review!

The first thing that Molly noticed when she woke up was the extreme cold. True, her bed felt cold every morning, but today it felt even more so, since it was now deprived of the warmth of a certain person who had shared it with her. Thinking about the previous night made her sigh wistfully. Without a doubt, it had been one of the most perfect nights of her existence. She got up reluctantly, with just a sheet wrapped around herself. Stretching herself like a cat, she sauntered over to the window. The sun had not risen yet but the sky was changing colour, from a deep endless black to the pleasant colour of diluted royal blue ink. She smiled. She had always liked this part of the day when night and day were blending into one another. Feeling a shiver go through her body, she threw on a pair of denim shorts and a shirt that lay draped on her armchair, and stepped into the living room. She found him on the armchair, reading the newspaper, wearing his trousers and her brother's white full sleeved tshirt. Deciding against asking him how he had found that, she walked to the tiny kitchen. 'Morning' he muttered in that low voice of his, without looking up. 'Coffee?' she asked, unsure of his mood. He was so much like a closed book to her, except on a few choice ocassions, one of them being last night. That was one of the only times he had been so open about his feelings, all his emotions laid bare for her to see. And she had liked what she had seen. There was no mistaking the reason behind his actions, when he held her closer than was necessary, his arms around her the whole night, the way he had stroked her hair and kissed her cheek when he thought she had been sleeping... She was jolted out of her reverie the sound of the electric kettle announcing that the water had boiled. She added two sugars and handed him the mug of coffee. 'Thanks' he muttered looking at her once, a brief flickering glance, before returning his gaze to the newspaper and then quickly looking at her again. 'Oh' was the only thing he said. 'What?' she frowned wondering what was wrong. His expression smug with streaks of guilt. 'You're absolutely covered in purple marks' he smirked. 'And whose fault is that?' she said playfully. He smirked once again before standing up and walking towards her so that he towered over her. He pulled open the first button of the shirt to reveal another large bruise that adorned her pale shoulder. He ducked down and pressed his lips on her skin whispering 'Completely mine' before straightening up again, and winding his arms around her waist. She smiled up at him, putting her arms around his neck and resting her head over his heart, listening to the beats that had sped up just like her own due to their proximity. His hand left her waist for a moment to switch on the radio and Sinatra crooned in the background as Sherlock swayed her around , occasionally planting a kiss to her forehead and enjoying the way her arms tightened around his neck every time he did that. 'Oh and by the way' he whispered in her ear, 'you look very attractive in my shirt'. She looked down at herself, surprised, before looking back at him and asked hesitatingly 'You don't mind?' He laughed for real, for the first time in many months and planted a kiss over her lips. 'Not at all' he said before pulling her close for another dance. For once, everything was going to be alright.

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