The Sleepover

She'd never been able to turn him down. It really didn't matter that it was after a twelve hour shift, an incredibly busy shift at that, no when one Sherlock Holmes invited her over to get her opinion on his latest home experiment she went willingly.

It was one such night, where the two had gotten caught up in the results of different battery acids on ears that Molly Hooper had brought that she realized just how exhausted she was and how late the hour had become. She gave a huge yawn that went ignored by Sherlock. Then she stood and stretched the back muscles that screamed for respite, turning as she did so to carry the left over take alway boxes to the trash. Turning back, she surveyed the man focused on his pipettes and dripping the corrosive liquid onto the eroding flesh he was in his zone and showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. As another massive yawn shook her body, Molly Hooper made an impulsive decision. "I'm sleeping here tonight."

Sherlock stilled momentarily before looking over his shoulder at her through his heavy googles. He shifted his eyes across her person and seemed a bit perplexed. "Why would you do that?"

Molly stepped closer to the table, removing her own gloves and googles. "Because, I am exhausted. It's nearly half one and I should have gone home hours ago."

Sherlock stayed exactly as he was, looking at her closely "You mean to sleep where exactly?"

Molly's first thought was to demure and say the couch. But she knew he was still going to be working and she would stay awake with him so near. "I'll take Johns old bedroom or yours would do fine."

Sherlock froze and paused as he considered. "There's no sheets on the bed upstairs. And it's covered in boxes from that case a few weeks back besides."

"So your room then?" Molly still stood awkward and waiting for Sherlock to say yes.

"The couch is perfectly comfortable." He reasoned.

"Yes, but you are still working though. I'd never be able to rest with the lights on. So, your bed it is. Is it cleaned off or not?" Molly huffed. The beds owner was still, lost in thought. Something Molly did not have the patience for at that late an hour. "Honestly, I just want sleep. Can I sleep here or not?"

"I just don't see why you want to." Sherlock finally admitted.

"Because I am tired! I don't want to wait 20 minutes for a cab for another 20 minute ride when there's a bed unoccupied 20 feet away! Besides, it's not like we've never slept in the same flat before. You've used MY bed many times. What's the difference in me borrowing your bed for once?!" Molly demanded.

"Well when you put it that way..." Sherlock rambled then stood making a move to pull off his own lab equipment. Breathing in a calming breath he looked at her. "Do you... Have need of anything?"

Molly thought then blushed a bit before she spoke. "I have a toothbrush with me, but um, perhaps you have something I can borrow to... Um. Well to sleep in?"

"Ah." He let his eyes roam over her and Molly suddenly felt small as if he was reading her mentally to get her exact measurements. Was it to find something to fit? It was tremendously disconcerting given his harsh criticism in the past of her figure. The fact that inappropriate thoughts she'd long held onto of wearing his signature dress shirts flashed in her mind and color flew to her cheeks. Thankfully she was saved be him and his own embarrassment. "Let me see if I can find something that will fit your..." He didn't finish just flourished his hands toward her general direction before dropping them and huffing of towards his room.

Molly took a head clearing deep breath and followed him the few steps over to his room. Sherlock went in and clicked the light spilling parts of the room with warm light. He strode over to the wardrobe and opened it up, pulling out an item here and there. Molly took the opportunity and studied the room that she had very well coerced her way into tonight. A large grand bed stood largely beside her. A pristine white coverlet graced it with equally unexpected fine, elegant sheets. The walls were the papered behind the it in a golden fluer de lise that was a companion to the striking Victorian paper in the living room while the other walls were covered in the same love jade paper. All together it looked deceptively luxurious. The dark mahogany and white linens it created an almost elegant flair. Definitely not what she would have thought Sherlock would have chosen for himself.

The room was rich and elaborate in its essentials, but it's accessories were varied and eclectic. With this and that decorating each spare surface, odds and ends that showed there'd been no real attempt to decorate the space I thing that even resembled an attempt to decorate the space. Nothing about the Chinese print over the bed screamed Sherlock, nor did the mid century record cabinet but turning around she spotted something that suited his taste perfectly. The thought of it being the last thing he looked at each night made her giggle.

"What?" Asked the owner, strutting back to stop right before her, folded bed clothes in his hands.

Smiling, Molly pointed to the period table on the wall behind the door. "Function over form." It was a joke, but not one that Sherlock appeared to be getting. Laughing Molly started to explain, "In interior design the theory of 'form vs-."

"Function. Yes, I am aware." He raised a brow at her quizzically. Curious as to why it should be so amusing.

"Oh. Sorry. Of course." She looked down, self-consciously. But up again in her own slight confusion. "But you have them all memorized already. I know you do." Looking at the chart closer Molly noted the absence of all the most recent elements. It dated the chart considerably. "It's sentimental isn't it?"

Sherlock was taken aback by the deduction and lifted the features of his in face in surprise, eyebrows shooting up and his lips soon following. Pride shined out, not the chagrin she feared would wash his face. "Pinched it from my primary public school." He admitted with a childish grin.

"You little thief." Molly chided, smiling in-spite of herself up at him. They stood smiling and standing close to one another.

"Says the woman stealing my bed tonight." Sherlock said, his voice full of false indignation that a tone of what Molly would have called flirting if she hadn't known better. But she was more than likely just mistaken. He did have a sense of humor that peeked out occasionally.

Reaching out to take the clothes, and finally breaking eye contact. She couldn't help but tease him back though "Well, I did learn from the best." Her hands stilled as she felt Sherlocks own warm and soft between fabric. The quiet intimacy filled the moment. So near to one another, neither stepping away. Molly chanced a look up at the tumultuous eyes above her. Green, refracting the light and color around them. So enthralovely study case one of these days...

Their owner however couldn't take in enough of the face of the woman in front of him. The warm light making her skin glow and make her own brown eyes come aglow with light. Lashes sweeping across her cheeks every so often. "Lovely." He whispered softly.

Molly's face avowed her immense confusion. "Sorry, what?"

Sherlock swallowed thickly. "I said lovely. I've created a monster." Molly's shock seemed to dissipate and something that looked and a great deal like disappointment colored her face, before a smile came up to mask it.

"Ah." She breathed deeply. "Well thank you for these. I'll just get changed and wash up. Thank you."

Sherlock nodded then impulsively leaned towards her before stilling and turning out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

Molly waited a second before turning to look at the room before she began undressing. I'm undressing in Sherlocks room! She giggledto herself like a teenager over that prospect before reaching to pull the closes he given her to borrow. Pulling the unbelievably soft fabric up to her nose she took a sniff. God but he smelled amazing."Stupid pheromones." Even stupider Molly. She sighed and pulled the shirt down on her head, trying to ignore the intimacy of wearing something that belonged to him andof the overwhelming scent coming off the shirt of Sherlock. Picking up the pair of pajama pants Molly held them out and eyed them, wondering how she was going to even fit them. She slipped her own trousers off, before pulling on the cashmere soft flannel. Wondering, not for the first time how Sherlock was able to afford such fine clothing.

They threatened to fall down on her, but a few rolls of the waist and they nearly fit. Grappling her small kit bag out of her larger bag she slipped out to the adjoining bathroom. Sherlock never looked up from the table, although Molly wondered if it was a pretense. She knew he was uncomfortable with the idea of her sleeping over, although she was a bit unsure as to why. After all, they had shared the same residence for many, many nights. This was just her at his, rather than him at hers. Simple.

So why did it have to feel so awkward?

Clean faced, and fresh breathed and hair wrapped up into a messy, yet comfortable top knot, Molly emerged from the bath, Sherlock still refused to look toward her. "All set." The man child merely grunted towards her. "Sherlock..."

Stilling he shifted his eyes toward her taking her in, head to toe in his sleep clothes. "Did you need anything from the bedroom before I go to sleep?" Sherlock continued to peer at her before giving a small shake. Molly nodded once and murmured a repeatedly goodnight. She walked to the bedroom door before turning back around to say "Thank you Sherlock, for letting me stay." Sherlock ignores her till the door closed. As it clicked shut, he turned to stare at the door. It was going to be a long night.