Stand

Disclaimer: I own the complete works of Sherlock Holmes, a deerstalker cap, and every adaptation of Holmes on DVD I can get my hands on, but I do not own Sherlock.

Summary: "If he rattles that door one more time I'm going to give him a piece of my mind and I hope he chokes on it." She growled, wide awake now. No sooner spoken did the sound of shoulder to wood reach them. Established Sherlolly. Oneshot. Rated T for language and content.

This piece features a relationship with strong controlling overtones. It's not violent but it is not a healthy dynamic, please be careful.

Across the hall the door rattled loudly on its hinges. Wood creaked on the old metal and in the silence of night the clatter of knob struggling against lock was ominous and jarring.

"Open the door Lindsay!" A male voice whined. Beside him Molly stirred, her brow furrowing slightly in her sleep. "You're being a damn child, Lindsay, open the door!"

Her breath, once deep and even was now shallow as she began to wake. The commotion in the hall robbing her of precious sleep. Gently he ran a large hand along the line and dip of her back, petting her much in the same way he petted Toby when she wasn't looking. She needed to relax; she had more than earned a proper sleep after working time and a half with a triple homicide fast tracked. On her feet all day she'd also had to deal with Donovan dogging her for results and his own requests. He felt guilty about that now, seeing how exhausted she was, seeing how she'd skipped lunch to finish paperwork and help him with a heart. Lavender suited her, except when it formed rings under her eyes.

"You can't do this to me, Lindsay; you have to open the door. You can't just do this to me!" Sherlock pulled the duvet up around them both drawing it tight, wishing to cocoon them away from the world and the selfish git snapping at his girlfriend in the hall, alternating between accusing and guilting her.

"I love you Lindsay, I'll go crazy if I don't see you, just open the door for a minute then I'll leave, I just want to say goodnight. I'll sleep in the hall if I have to I can't not see you. You're the only girl I'll ever love, open the door Lindsay. You have to open this door!"

"Oh for the sake of all fucks!" Molly exclaimed flipping onto her back and tugging at her hair. Sherlock set his jaw. The git was not only pestering his own girlfriend but he'd succeeded in annoying his Molly.

"Why weren't you answering your phone Lindsay? Why were you hiding? Why, why, WHY?" He whined shaking the knob next door and beating his open palm against the door. Sherlock raised himself up on an elbow to see the soft glowing numbers of her clock – 2:30am.

"Lindsay, please, don't do this to me. I'm begging you, don't do this to me!" In the glow of the clock Sherlock could make out Molly twisting her hair, the strand going around and around her fair fingers.

"Lindsay! Stop being a child! Open the fucking door!"

"If he rattles that door one more time I'm going to give him a piece of my mind and I hope he chokes on it." She growled, wide awake now. No sooner spoken did the sound of shoulder to wood reach them.

"That's it." Molly declared, swigging her feet over the edge of her double bed. Sherlock reached for her hand.

"Molly," He began. Stay he wanted to say it could be dangerous, don't go. Stay here with me. Selfish words rolled through his mind. She ignored him, slipping on her glasses and heading for the door. Sherlock got up as well, wrapping her dressing gown around himself as he followed. If he was going to continue to spend the night with her he decided he was going to either leave one of his robes in her closet or purchase her a more acceptable one, the pink and white polka dot terry monstrosity that she owned was both hideous and too short for him.

Molly's hair was wild, she'd lost a sock in her sleep, and the oversized tee shirt she wore as pajamas only came to mid-thigh (shorter still in the back). She'd taken her contacts out earlier and her rarely seen glasses only completed the image that made his heart beat and protective side flair. This moment, this image, so authentic and intimate was about to be shared with a man who clearly had no respect for his girlfriend or her neighbors. Standing but five foot three in one sock Molly appeared so small and yet as she moved through her flat she seemed much larger. The velvet was slipping from the iron fist and as much as he would like to coddle her he knew the one who would really need protecting was the ass outside in the hall now crying because he would be "so, so lost without you Lindsay."

Sherlock watched as she clicked on the light over the door and slid the chain lock from the door. He wished her tiny flat had better security; the chain lock was so easy to break if a person had any sort of muscle and the will to do so. He'd been trying to convince her to by a second lock for ages and she'd always demurred. Any changes to her apartment, including locks, had to go through her landlord; Molly had once told him she'd rather eat glass than deal with the man. She squared her shoulders and turned the knob lock and Sherlock pondered for neither the first nor last time the pros and cons of having Mycroft step into the landlord-lock saga. His connections made him horribly annoying and more arrogant than he had been in his younger years but those connections did come in handy every now and again.

"LIND-SAYYYY!" The git was howling "You have to open this door! You have to let me in! I moved here just to be with - I have no friends here! You owe m- Why'd you lie to me? I love you!" Sherlock's thoughts turned back to the present and the woman throwing open her front door.

"It's 2:30 in the morning Joey!" Molly called over the git's crying. He was a slight man standing with his forehead pressed against the wood, long hand beating on the door emphasizing his words; his other hand was wrapped around the knob. At Molly's voice he pulled away from the door, wheeling around to look at her, his eyes red with tears narrowed as she spoke.

"It's 2:30 in the morning Joey and Lindsay doesn't have to do anything it's her apartment, but you should probably take the hint and Go Home." Her voice was even, cold, and forceful. It was her morgue voice, the one she only used when she needed to establish total dominance in her autopsies. It was mainly for Anderson and Donovan and any other detective or tech that tried to rush her unnecessarily or tell her how to handle her post-mortems. She'd used it on him only a few times, if he made her cross she preferred to correct him in other ways. Namely the sofa.

"Molly, stay out of this, Lindsay would be mortified if she knew you came out here." The git, Joey, said coldly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"I don't think it's possible for her to be more embarrassed given the way you're acting." Molly replied, crossing her arms over her chest and planting her feet firmly. "Now, this is just a friendly suggestion, but I say you call it a night and pick up your discussion" She used the word with palpable sarcasm, "later. She doesn't owe you anything and since she has made it clear she doesn't want you in her house I would say you're the one that has to do something – go home." The man took a step closer to her, then another. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and also took a step closer to Molly, preparing to intervene if he needed to. Molly could take care of herself if she needed to. He'd seen her muscles flex under her skin as they made love, he'd felt her strength, and he knew all about her kickboxing classes and self-defense seminars; but call him old fashioned, even though she could take care of herself if she needed to he refused to allow her be in that kind of situation. She would not be putting her skills into practical use on his watch.

The git was as tall as he was but also very thin, an unathletic sort of thin. The weakness that came from sitting behind a desk all day. His face was long and oval shaped, his jaw sported dark stubble, he was wearing an ugly polo shirt and ill-fitting pants. He looked young and immature and he behaved as such. Molly looked up at him, holding her ground, her head tipping back so that what hair that was left in her ponytail brushed Sherlock's chest behind her.

"It's none of your damn business Molly." The git said, using his height against her.

"False." Molly replied. Sherlock could feel her body shaking with tension as she spoke. She did not appreciate how close the bastard was but Sherlock also knew she would not appreciate him butting in like a cave man even though all he wanted to do in that moment was slam the ass into the wall behind him and give him a lesson. "It is my business; you're in the public hallway outside my flat at nearly three o'clock in the morning. Any one of us on this side of the building could call you in for being a nuisance. So why don't you. Go. Home. And talk to Lindsay later." For a long moment the git stared down at Molly, who stared right back. He then turned abruptly; having stood so close to her he nearly clocked her in the nose with his arm, but Molly avoided it. Sherlock gnashed his teeth painfully.

"I'm going home because your neighbor thinks we should continue our conversation later I hope you take this time to think about how much I love you and how much I want to be with you." He positively spat the word 'neighbor' before turning again and stalking to the stairs, muttering things under his breath that made Sherlock's blood roar in his ears. Molly stepped back into her flat, bumping him lightly with her bum to get him to back up, and shut the door firmly behind her. She slid the chain into place, locked the door, and clicked off the light.

She then turned to him and buried her face in his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, feeling the adrenaline and tension coursing through her body and making it tremble. He clung to her, pressing them tightly together until they were all but one. He rubbed her back, writing messages with her fingertips. Shhh shhh I am here I am with you over and over again. Sherlock pressed a kiss to her crown and kept his face buried there breaking in deeply the smell of her shampoo and of her skin. After a long moment Molly pulled away slightly, her arms slacking to settle loosely around his narrow hips. She looked up at him with a small crooked smile.

"Now I understand why I never liked him." She said with an unfunny sort of humor. Sherlock kissed her forehead and then her lips. Pulling away from her slowly he gave her a small smile of his own full of pride. He now understood a little bit more why he loved her.

"Well, let's not allow him to ruin any more of our night. You've more than earned a proper sleep. Shall we go back to bed?"