It's Been a Long Day

Molly closed the door softly behind her, tiredness weighing her down and making her steps heavy. She just wanted to stand there with her back against the door for a moment, but she knew if she stood still at all she wouldn't be able to move again. It had been a long day, full of paperwork, examinations, appointments, and errands that had the audacity to pile up on her and demand to be completed immediately.

She let out a soft sigh as she walked into the kitchen, wanting nothing more than to make a quick dinner and go to bed. Her strong resolve to just keep moving crumbled when she saw the state of her kitchen. Pots and pans were strewn all over the place and there was some odd white liquid bubbling on her stove. The air reeked, of something she couldn't quite determine, and packages of meat were sitting out on the table in different stages of some sort of experiment. Good meat. Meat she had bought with her own hard earned money to eat one day not find mutilated in her kitchen by some… she sighed. What she really wanted to do was cry, but that would be unacceptable. She tries not to cry in front of people, especially him.

"Sherlock," she called out her eyes still transfixed on the mess before her. "Sherlock, what have you done?"

There was no answer, just the hum of the stove and the bubbles exploding and spilling onto its top. She tore her gaze away and walked into her living room to find Sherlock lying on the sofa, his arm across his face. He looked like a sulky toddler. She really couldn't deal with this right now.

"Sherlock," she said again irritation creeping into her voice. This is not what she had signed up for when she told him he could stay with her for a while. She set her bags down next to the couch and prodded him in the shoulder.

He slowly sat up and looked at her in annoyance, "What?"

Her heart stopped for a beat, it wasn't fair, she was so mad at him and yet he could still take her breath away at how beautiful he was. None of this was fair. "What did you do to my kitchen?"

"I was bored," he replied as if that said it all.

She clenched her teeth, trying not to let her emotions get the better of her. "Are you better now?"

For a moment she thought she might have seen a look of surprise or confusion cross his face at her question, but the moment passed and he looked as he always did. She must have been imagining things.

"I'm still bored," he replied with a dramatic sigh.

She smiled, "Well I know just the thing to keep you occupied." He looked at her with little interest but that didn't deter her, her smile dropped from her face as she added, "Clean up your mess."

He flopped back down on the couch, his head landing on the armrest. "No."

She folded her arms, "Sit up and look at me." He didn't move. "Sherlock, I've had a long day would you just,"

He cut her off, still staring at the ceiling, "Obviously. You've brought three bags home each from different stores. There's a recent stain of ketchup on your shirt which means you were eating and driving again, which you have no dexterity for. You also,"

"Stop it. Stop it right now." She ordered. Sherlock paid her no mind and continued to deduce her day so she did the first thing she could think of, she put her hand over his mouth.

He stopped talking then.

"Sherlock," she said looking down at him, her hand still keeping his mouth quiet. "I don't need you to deduce that I've had a long day, I lived it, and I've also just told you I have so I'd really appreciate it if you'd just shut up."

Sherlock removed her hand from his mouth and sat up, "Is that all?"

She brushed the palm of her hand against her jeans trying to get rid of the soft feel of his lips. "No, you need to clean up that kitchen now. And don't ever use my food to play with again."

He touched his fingertips together as if in prayer, "No."

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She knew he was difficult but she had lost all her patience and human kindness four hours ago when that jerk had nearly run her down as he sped through a red light. "Yes. You will clean up my kitchen and you will do it now. I'm going to go to my room and then I'm going to take a long hot shower. If it isn't cleaned up by the time I get out, I'm kicking you out. You may think I'm bluffing but just try me. I've had a bad day." With those final words she picked up her bags and walked out of the room.

The next forty-five minutes were pure bliss as she let her troubles and annoyances wash down the drain with the suds from her hair. The beat of the scalding hot water on her body relaxed her and for a moment she didn't think about the annoying kid in the checkout line at the store or her boss who had scolded her for a mistake someone else had made or even her disaster of a kitchen. She just let her mind go blank, almost as if she were asleep.

But then the water began to turn cold and her fingers became wrinkly so she reluctantly got out of the shower. She wrapped a towel around her body and made her way back to her bedroom to get dressed. As she stepped out of her room, clothed in comfy pajama bottoms and an old band t-shirt, she thought she smelled something delicious coming from down the hall.

Molly walked into the kitchen to find Sherlock setting down a plate of food, granted it was just a plate of reheated leftovers but the thought still counted. Her kitchen was spotless and dinner was waiting. She sank into her chair. "Thank you."

He didn't reply, he simply sat down across from her and began to eat. She followed his lead and soon they were eating in companionable silence. Once she was finished with her dinner she looked at Sherlock the words just spilling out as if she were thinking aloud, "You know I did bring home a surprise for you. I thought you'd be bored out of your mind so I got… well it doesn't matter. But then I came home and you had… so I became… I just forgot about it until now. Would you like it?"

"What is it?" He questioned.

"I'm not telling you that would ruin the surprise," she answered before taking her dishes over to the sink and then walking out of the room. She grabbed a book from one of the bags in her bedroom and walked back to the kitchen.

"Here," she said handing him it before taking his dishes and starting to wash them.

He examined the thick book titled, The World's Hardest Unsolved Cases. His gaze flicked from the book to her, whose back was still turned at the moment while she did the dishes. "Why did you get me this?"

She shrugged, not bothering to turn around, "I was at the store and I just saw it. I figured you can't leave the house for a while but this might keep your mind occupied, solving unsolvable cases. It sounded right up your alley."

He flipped the book open to a case and walked over to the sofa as he began to read. Solving these cases would be no problem.

Molly put the last dish away and walked into the living room to find Sherlock engrossed in thought. She sighed and tiredly rubbed her eyes. Today was not what she had expected it to be, but then again that could be said about most of her life.

"Goodnight, Sherlock." She called out before walking to her bedroom. She climbed into her bed, pulled her covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. It had been a long day and she was glad it was over. Hopefully, tomorrow would be better.

Sherlock looked up from the book in order to puzzle something out when he realized how quiet it was. He looked around and found no sign of Molly. Quickly, he walked down the hall to her bedroom and peered inside. There she was sleeping peacefully, her hair splayed out on her pillowcase while her chest rose and fell with each breath. It struck him that he hadn't noticed when she had left to go to bed, but then just as suddenly he decided it didn't matter. He had more important things to think about. So he turned around and strode purposefully back to the living room thinking about the seven possible solutions to the unsolved case, carefully narrowing it down to the correct one.