fic for scandalbaby: A New Addition (or Two)
Title: A New Addition (or Two)
Recipient: scandalbaby (gifted to afteriwake on AO3)
Author: sherlollyfan119
Verse: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper (Established Relationship); John Watson/Mary Morstan mentioned
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Summary: Sherlock decides to pick Molly up from work after she's had a hard day.
Also on AO3: A New Addition (or Two)
Molly straightened up as she finished her last autopsy of the day and groaned as she rolled her shoulders back, stretching her stiff muscles. She had moved on the rolling her head back from side to side when she heard the tell-tale bang of the one and only consulting detective entering the morgue. She shook her head disbelievingly. Even after all these years he insisted on making a sudden entrance, making everyone in the room jump. Molly left the interns that had been helping her to close up the body and clean up after the procedure.
“Hey you.” She smiled at her boyfriend as she stripped off her gloves, goggles and protective wear and rubbed the back of her neck to ease the pain.
“Long day?” He asked, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
She blinked tiredly. “More mentally and emotionally exhausting than physically. Five autopsies, all the same family.” She shook her head trying to shake off the sadness. “What are you doing here?” Molly changed the subject.
Sherlock sighed. “Lestrade told me about the car accident and the victims. I figured I would pick you up, we could walk home, go past the park, maybe pick up something to eat, unless you prefer to eat out tonight?” He prodded gently, rubbing her shoulders in just the right spots.
She relaxed into his touch. “All of that sounds really lovely, I’d prefer a takeaway to cooking and I’m not in the mood for going out. Too much effort.” She joked. “I clock out in about twenty minutes. Let me wash up, get my things, and we can go.” Half an hour later they were walking out of the hospital’s front doors, hand in hand (much to Molly’s delight) and headed towards Regent’s Park.
The day was grey, dull, and dreary but neither one of them minded. The brisk air was refreshing against their faces and in their lungs. For the most part, Molly listened to Sherlock recounting how he’d solved his latest string of cases, both knowing she didn’t want to talk about work. It was at times like these that Molly really appreciated how hard Sherlock tried for the sake of their relationship. Although it usually didn’t take much for him to brag about how brilliant he was at solving a case, she knew that it wasn’t particularly easy for him to make small talk, which he seemed to be doing intermittently. Apparently he’d even asked after Lestrade’s sick daughter which really showed how far he’d come, considering there were times when he would delete the fact that the DI had two children from his mind altogether.
At the park they decided to buy some chips from a kiosk and nibble on them as they people-watched. It was an activity they had developed together since Molly had moved into Baker Street eight months before. It combined Sherlock’s love of showing off and deduction and Molly’s perfect idea of sitting back and watching the world go by. For Sherlock though it was an insight into who she was and, essentially, a way to get her know her better. She tended to romanticise the backgrounds of the people walking by.
“Your turn to start. Who is the man in the disgustingly brown, extremely outdated, corduroy jacket?” Sherlock pointed out as he munched on another chip.
“It’s not his jacket, it’s his grandfather’s.” Molly guessed. “He’s on his way to a job interview, to be a… sous chef. He’s down on his luck and can’t afford to buy his own jacket, but that’s not why he’s wearing that particular jacket. His dad is a lawyer so surely he’s got something better than that. But his dad doesn’t approve of… Jeremy becoming a chef. It was Jeremy’s maternal grandfather who inspired him to take on the culinary arts after he moved here from… France, as a young man.” Molly finished dipping the end of a long fry into the ketchup. “So how’d I do?”
“Not bad. The jacket was definitely pre-owned, most probably by a family member. Grandfather is definitely more likely, though I would not agree with maternal, most probably paternal, and he seems far to nervous to be going to a job interview. The meeting he has is of a far more personal nature.” Sherlock leaned back onto the grass. Thunder suddenly started rumbling above them. Molly’s gaze shot skyward towards the black clouds quickly gathering in the sky, noticing how much dimmer the day had grown as they chatted.
“Uh oh.” She said with a hint of humour. “We better get of here before we get soaked. Those clouds look like they’re ready to burst any sec-oh!” Molly didn’t have time to finish her sentence before she felt the first huge droplets which quickly increased into a heavy shower. Sherlock and Molly quickly jumped up, abandoning the last stray chips in the cardboard box as they ran off to the closest exit. They crossed the street and ducked down under a nearby shop canopy while they put their coats on properly and Molly fished an umbrella out of her handbag, though it didn’t look like it would be much help against the current downpour. “Right, deep breath and run.” She laughed.
Sherlock took her hand back in his, they both ducked under the umbrella as best they could and ran out from under the canopy. It didn’t appear as though the umbrella was able to shield them from anything since the rain seemed to be coming down at an angle.
As they passed the first block Sherlock stopped in his tracks and pulled Molly to a stop as well. “Wait.” He said. “Wasn’t this one of the things on your list?” he wondered.
“My list?” She repeated, not sure what he meant.
“Yes. You know the list you gave me when you first moved in. The one I asked you for. Of all the silly ‘romantic’ things people did when they were in a relationship. I believe ‘Kissing in the rain’ was number seven.” He clarified.
Molly stood there, mouth agape. “You remembered?” she said in wonderment.
“It’s your list. Of course I remembered. I apologise I haven’t exactly been working on all the things on the list but I never forgot.” He reassured her, pulling her closer by the waist. She lowered her umbrella with a laugh because apparently her boyfriend had given up completely on staying the least bit dry. “So?”
“So what?” Molly wondered with a laugh.
“Do you want to kiss? In the rain?” He asked her lovingly.
Molly answered him by reaching up on her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his lips.
When she pulled back Sherlock’s eyebrow’s knitted over his nose. “Given the severity of the rain, I would have thought it would be a more passionate kiss. They certainly seem to make a bigger deal of it in the movies we watched together.” He explained.
“Hang on. You have to work up to something like that. Or are we in a bit of a rush, love?” She playfully goaded him on.
“Come here.” He brought one of his hands up from her waist to cup the back of her neck, pulling her as close as he could. She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers twisting into the stray curls at the top of his neck as they always did. Sherlock ran his tongue along Molly’s bottom lip and she sighed into his mouth. Their hair was plastered to the sides of their faces and water drops ran down their noses and cheeks, wetting their lips. Molly felt her clothes cling to her body and Sherlock wrapped his coat around her because of course the perfect git wasn’t getting wet under it. Molly ran her tongue along the roof of his mouth, knowing how much he loved it when she did that. Sherlock’s mind buzzed and lost focus at the sensation. He came back down to Earth when he heard her giggle.
“You okay?” she beamed up at him, nudging his jaw with her wet nose. “You spaced out there for a few minutes.”
“Yes, my sweet. How about we go back home and get out of these wet clothes?” He suggested, his eyes twinkling. He turned around, leading them further down the road. “Where are we?”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Sherlock Holmes lost in London. Go figure!”
“I haven’t been on this street before.” He defended himself, looking around the street to find any identifying markers, pulling Molly along behind him. They passed an alleyway and heard a bang. Molly pulled Sherlock back, grabbing his attention.
“Did you hear that?” She asked him.
“Rain on the bins.” Sherlock waved off, but they heard it again. A loud metallic bang that seemed to be coming from inside the bin.
“Something’s trapped inside.” Molly insisted, letting go of his hand and walking into the alley.
“Molly are you really going to go through a random bin in an alleyway because you think something might be trapped inside?” Sherlock questioned her sanity.
“Sherlock if it’s a stray they’ll freeze to death in this weather.” Molly reasoned before she turned back towards the alley.
Sherlock sighed and followed her in because of course Molly would rescue a stray from freezing to death. Of course Molly would do that in the middle of a torrential downpour when she was already soaking wet because she was Molly and that’s why he loved her, so he followed her like the sentimental, wet, fool he was.
“Shh. Listen.” Molly put her forefinger to her lips. They heard squeaks and rustling coming from a bin. With a roll of his eyes, Sherlock stepped forward and pulled the lid off the bin and they both peered inside. At the top of the bin there was a cardboard box, with seven kittens pattering around. “Oh, darlings! Molly cried, picking up one of the kittens in her hands. The feline nipped at her fingertips, licking the water dripping off them. “Sweetheart, you must be dying of thirst. Sherlock, I don’t think they’re older than a month.”
Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her, because how the hell could she accurately guess the age of a kitten.
“Don’t look at me like that. I thought long and hard about getting a cat before Toby landed on my doorstep so I learned all I could about them. These look like Calico kittens. Help me get them out.” She instructed.
Sherlock’s impressed expression turned into an incredulous one. “We’re not taking them home?”
“What else do you want to do? Who knows how long they’ve been in that bin, they’re starving, thirsty and cold. If we don’t take them in they will die and you will be to blame for the end of seven kitty lives before they even got a proper chance to live.”
“They’re cats, they have nine lives.” Sherlock retorted.
“Not funny. Grab that one before he falls.” She warned. Sherlock reacted quickly and caught one of the strays that had launched itself off the edge of the bin.
“Fine.” Sherlock gave in, stuffing the kitten he’d caught into one of the Belstaff’s many pockets. “Take the box. We might as well make sure there aren’t any more in the bin.” It turned out that Sherlock was right and an eighth kitten had managed to get out of the box only to be trapped between it and the various pieces of garbage in the trash. They managed to stuff all eight into Sherlock’s four coat pockets and Molly took the opportunity of a sneaky photo when Sherlock wasn’t looking, because she knew a drenched Sherlock with kittens sprouting out of his jacket pockets was exactly the kind of thing John and Lestrade had to see.
Once the felines were settled, a couple of them already purring against the warmth, they exited the alley back onto the main street to find their way towards Baker Street.
“How are you doing with them?” Molly asked at one point when they had figured out which direction they should walk in.
“It’s actually quite pleasant. The purring is extremely relaxing, not the mention the added warmth of eight extra little bodies.” Sherlock answered with a surprised smile on his face.
“Now you see why I love Toby. The best thing to have on a day like this is a furry purry thing in your lap. I could probably take a couple off your hands.” She offered.
“No, I’m quite fine as I am. We’re nearly there anyway.” Sherlock waved off. They gave up on running and simply let the rain continue to pelt them. It didn’t particularly matter since they were already soaked to their underwear. The kittens squirmed in Sherlock’s pocket and Molly felt one of them jump when more thunder was heard.
They finally got to Baker Street and rushed up to the flat upstairs. Molly gathered up some towels and placed them in front of the fireplace to form a makeshift nest of sorts. “Put them here so we’ll keep them warm.” She instructed Sherlock before she darted back to the bathroom, shedding her soaked clothing in the bath. She blasted the hot water and darted under it, warming her freezing skin. She didn’t take long in the shower, knowing Sherlock probably wanted his turn.
She got into a pair of her cosiest pyjamas and fluffy dressing gown before finding a large plastic basin and filling it with warm water. She brought it back out to the living room, where Sherlock was trying to make sure the kittens didn’t get everywhere.
“I’ll take care of them, you go have your wash. Dump your wet clothes in the bath with mine and I’ll throw them in the wash later.” Molly told Sherlock.
“I have to wash this coat, it smells like garbage and wet cat.” Sherlock muttered making Molly laugh as she gathered up the first of the kittens and held him in the water to clean.
“Hoo, hoo.” Mrs Hudson sang from the door. “Did you say you wanted to wash your coat dear? Give it here I’ll have it back to you soon.” Mrs Hudson offered. Sherlock handed it to her with a nod. “Change out of those wet clothes and give them to me too, I’ll get them washed. Looks like you’ve got your hands full there, dear.” She nodded towards the squirming animal in Molly’s hands as Sherlock darted to the bathroom to give Mrs Hudson the laundry.
“Yes, we found them abandoned in a bin. In this weather they’d have surely died. Do you have any extra milk we could warm up for them? I’m not sure we have enough.” Molly asked.
“Oh, I did the shopping earlier but you can have some if you need it. I also have some leftover salmon you can give the little dears. Ooh, looks like you’ve got a runner.” Mrs Hudson pointed to one of the kittens that had managed to crawl out of the nest of towels and was about to get under the armchair. Molly quickly darted ahead of him and picked him up for his own wash, wrapping the other, wet kitten snugly in a towel.
By the time Sherlock came out of the bathroom, wearing pyjamas and one of his silk dressing gowns, Molly had washed all of the felines.
“What’s the latest update?” He asked. Molly gauged his expression. He genuinely seemed interested in the cats’ health. Then again, if one carried eight kittens in the pockets of his coat across London in the pouring rain, it shouldn’t be surprising if they were then emotionally invested in the creatures’ welfare.
“Congratulations, Mr Holmes. We have four boys and four girls, all clean but still hungry. Can you take care of dinner while I get them a blanket and make some tea?” She pleaded with her eyes, stroking the last two cats dry.
“Well since we didn’t manage to pick anything up, shall we do pizza? They generally deliver in cars so less chance of it getting soaked.” He suggested.
“Mmm, Pizza Express! You know my order; can you watch them for a bit? They scurry.” She kissed the tip of his nose before she took the soaked towels back to the bathroom and in search of an extra blanket.
“Spicy salami and sausage with extra onions. Looks like I’m not getting lucky tonight.” He joked.
Toby inquisitively crouched out from his hiding place under the couch, the kittens catching his sight. He approached cautiously and Sherlock watched on as he ordered pizza. Toby sniffed at one of the cats, who was reaching its little head up to get a closer look at the big cat. As soon as the kitten touched Toby’s nose, he pulled his head back, looking over at Sherlock for an explanation. Sherlock had finished ordering and hung up. “Don’t look at me, it’s your mistress’ fault.” He told the ginger.
“What’s my fault?” Molly asked cheerily returning with a cane basket, a pillow and two blankets.
“Toby’s enquiring as to the new arrivals. Isn’t that your hair thing?” He pointed to the basket.
“Yes, I emptied it to use as a bed. I borrowed one of the extra pillows too.” She explained. “Toby come help with the babies.” She scratched behind her pet’s ear, giving him the attention he craved. Toby stayed close as he watched Molly stuffing the pillow into the basket and covering it with a folded blanket, transferring the kittens on top of the yellow fleece, before covering them with the second, brown blanket, while they waited for their dinner.
In the kitchen, Sherlock prepared the food. He made sure to give Toby his first, not wanting the regular to feel replaced. Then set about mashing the salmon and cat food mix for the eight. Molly joined him after a minute and set out the tea things and heating up some milk while she waited.
“This should be enough for the little dears. The milk should warm them up nice too.” Molly commented. Sherlock had to admit that Molly seemed to know what she was doing, and thank God, too, because he would have found it in himself to rescue the strays (if he’d found them in the first place) but he certainly had no idea how to take care of them. He gathered up the plate of food and bowl of milk and headed over to the living room while Molly finished their teas and warmed up some more milk for a jealous mewing Toby. The little squeaks of hunger coming from the basket increased as the little noses picked up the scent of food coming towards them. Sherlock kept a watchful eye over the cats as they fed, not wanting any of them to get lost in the mayhem that was his living room. Toby jingled over to the living room, took a casual look at the ‘babies’ as Molly had called them and jumped onto Molly’s red armchair, rubbing his face into the sides to mark his territory. Sherlock had a feeling the flat was going to smell a lot more like cat by the morning.
Molly came in and handed him the tea and they sipped at it, revelling in the warmth that travelled down their throats as they held each other, watching the tiny cats lap up their dinner. When dinner arrived they set it out on the small table in the living room and eat their pizza in silence as they continued to watch the cats. Eventually they settled the cats back into their basket and went to bed, Toby following close behind.
*****
The next morning, they woke up to even more horrible weather, if that was even possible. They attempted to call the animal shelter but apparently there were some lines that had been damaged due to the storm, so they were going to have to wait at least until the storm passed to take the kittens in, since Sherlock was adamant that they couldn’t keep all of them.
“Did you say all?” Molly pried.
“Yes.” Sherlock clipped, realising his slip up as he turned another page of the newspaper. One of the aforementioned cats was currently nipping at his pant leg. “Nine cats is entirely too much.”
“Okay, we can keep four.” Molly reasoned.
“Three. A total of four.” Sherlock bargained.
“Four and you can have free reign of the lab for the next month.” She added.
“Two and I’ll give you a back and neck massage after every second shift for the next month.” He countered.
“Fine, but I get to pick both of them.” Molly relented.
“A boy and a girl.” Sherlock suggested.
“Two boys. Girls go into heat and they keep you up in the middle of the night for a week.” Molly explained. “Also these two brothers absolutely love you. They haven’t stopped trying to get your attention.” She giggled as she saw a second kitten join the first at Sherlock’s heel. “Sugar and Spice?”
“What?” Sherlock’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Their names. Sugar and Spice?” Molly explained.
“I suppose.” He shrugged.
“What is your issue?” Molly huffed.
“It doesn’t matter what their names are. They could be socks and shoes for all I care, they seem to be fond of mine.”
“How about something crime related?” Molly suggested. “Ooh! Bonnie and Clyde!” she seemed far too proud of herself for that one.
“If you don’t mind naming a male cat Bonnie, go with it.” Sherlock bit back a smile. “Though the other cats might pick on him.” He joked.
“It will build his confidence.” Molly waved off walking over to answer her phone that was ringing. Sherlock phased out for a second, taking the opportunity of Molly’s distraction to delve into his mind palace and make a place for Bonnie and Clyde because the little furballs were adorable and he really did love them, much as he had learned to love Toby. He went into the room where he kept Redbeard and Toby and conjured up two small cat trees and cat beds before he felt Bonnie and Clyde scratching at his ankles. Sherlock picked the two up and placed them on top of the trees in the room before he came back out of his mind palace just in time to hear Molly ending her phone conversation.
“It’s settled then. I’ll see you soon. Bye.” She said. He looked at the back of the door and noticed his clean Belstaff hanging there. Mrs Hudson must have brought it up while he was in his Mind Palace.
“That was John and Mary. Their place is flooded so I said they could come stay here while the storm died down. They might even adopt a kitty or two. What were you up to?” She wondered.
Sherlock shrugged, standing up to check his Belstaff. He checked his inside jacket pocket to see if his magnifying glass was still there. He felt a tugging on the jacket and looked down to see Bonnie and Clyde climbing into the pocket. Molly laughed. “Yeah you’re never gonna get their smell out of that coat, that’s their new favourite thing now.” She explained.
“No, you can’t sleep in a coat.” Sherlock said as he fished them out. One clasped onto the sleeve of his dressing gown while the other stayed seated in his palm. “You’re going to be handfuls, aren’t you?” He brought his hand up to eye level to look the creatures in their faces. The kitten in his hand mewed in response. “Come on.” He carried the cats over to his armchair and sat them in his lap. Molly sat on the arm and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, stroking the head of a cat with her other hand.
“You know, Sherlock, you’re a really great dad.” She told him.
“I don’t think dealing with some kittens for under 24 hours constitutes the perfect father.” Sherlock disagreed.
“Well, there’s still time to work on it.” She reassured him, kissing his temple.
“What do you mean?” He pulled back to look at her properly.
Her smile grew wider. “Sherlock, I’m four weeks pregnant.” She announced.
He pulled her close, off the arm and into the seat next to him, kissing along her neck and then her lips. Clyde biting hard on his finger brought him out of his dream. “I don’t know how, but this is somehow your fault.” He scowled at the cat, who continued nipping at his finger. “I think he’s hungry.” Sherlock noted.
“See you’re getting better already.” Molly patted his shoulder.
Recipient: scandalbaby (gifted to afteriwake on AO3)
Author: sherlollyfan119
Verse: BBC Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper (Established Relationship); John Watson/Mary Morstan mentioned
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Summary: Sherlock decides to pick Molly up from work after she's had a hard day.
Also on AO3: A New Addition (or Two)
Molly straightened up as she finished her last autopsy of the day and groaned as she rolled her shoulders back, stretching her stiff muscles. She had moved on the rolling her head back from side to side when she heard the tell-tale bang of the one and only consulting detective entering the morgue. She shook her head disbelievingly. Even after all these years he insisted on making a sudden entrance, making everyone in the room jump. Molly left the interns that had been helping her to close up the body and clean up after the procedure.
“Hey you.” She smiled at her boyfriend as she stripped off her gloves, goggles and protective wear and rubbed the back of her neck to ease the pain.
“Long day?” He asked, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
She blinked tiredly. “More mentally and emotionally exhausting than physically. Five autopsies, all the same family.” She shook her head trying to shake off the sadness. “What are you doing here?” Molly changed the subject.
Sherlock sighed. “Lestrade told me about the car accident and the victims. I figured I would pick you up, we could walk home, go past the park, maybe pick up something to eat, unless you prefer to eat out tonight?” He prodded gently, rubbing her shoulders in just the right spots.
She relaxed into his touch. “All of that sounds really lovely, I’d prefer a takeaway to cooking and I’m not in the mood for going out. Too much effort.” She joked. “I clock out in about twenty minutes. Let me wash up, get my things, and we can go.” Half an hour later they were walking out of the hospital’s front doors, hand in hand (much to Molly’s delight) and headed towards Regent’s Park.
The day was grey, dull, and dreary but neither one of them minded. The brisk air was refreshing against their faces and in their lungs. For the most part, Molly listened to Sherlock recounting how he’d solved his latest string of cases, both knowing she didn’t want to talk about work. It was at times like these that Molly really appreciated how hard Sherlock tried for the sake of their relationship. Although it usually didn’t take much for him to brag about how brilliant he was at solving a case, she knew that it wasn’t particularly easy for him to make small talk, which he seemed to be doing intermittently. Apparently he’d even asked after Lestrade’s sick daughter which really showed how far he’d come, considering there were times when he would delete the fact that the DI had two children from his mind altogether.
At the park they decided to buy some chips from a kiosk and nibble on them as they people-watched. It was an activity they had developed together since Molly had moved into Baker Street eight months before. It combined Sherlock’s love of showing off and deduction and Molly’s perfect idea of sitting back and watching the world go by. For Sherlock though it was an insight into who she was and, essentially, a way to get her know her better. She tended to romanticise the backgrounds of the people walking by.
“Your turn to start. Who is the man in the disgustingly brown, extremely outdated, corduroy jacket?” Sherlock pointed out as he munched on another chip.
“It’s not his jacket, it’s his grandfather’s.” Molly guessed. “He’s on his way to a job interview, to be a… sous chef. He’s down on his luck and can’t afford to buy his own jacket, but that’s not why he’s wearing that particular jacket. His dad is a lawyer so surely he’s got something better than that. But his dad doesn’t approve of… Jeremy becoming a chef. It was Jeremy’s maternal grandfather who inspired him to take on the culinary arts after he moved here from… France, as a young man.” Molly finished dipping the end of a long fry into the ketchup. “So how’d I do?”
“Not bad. The jacket was definitely pre-owned, most probably by a family member. Grandfather is definitely more likely, though I would not agree with maternal, most probably paternal, and he seems far to nervous to be going to a job interview. The meeting he has is of a far more personal nature.” Sherlock leaned back onto the grass. Thunder suddenly started rumbling above them. Molly’s gaze shot skyward towards the black clouds quickly gathering in the sky, noticing how much dimmer the day had grown as they chatted.
“Uh oh.” She said with a hint of humour. “We better get of here before we get soaked. Those clouds look like they’re ready to burst any sec-oh!” Molly didn’t have time to finish her sentence before she felt the first huge droplets which quickly increased into a heavy shower. Sherlock and Molly quickly jumped up, abandoning the last stray chips in the cardboard box as they ran off to the closest exit. They crossed the street and ducked down under a nearby shop canopy while they put their coats on properly and Molly fished an umbrella out of her handbag, though it didn’t look like it would be much help against the current downpour. “Right, deep breath and run.” She laughed.
Sherlock took her hand back in his, they both ducked under the umbrella as best they could and ran out from under the canopy. It didn’t appear as though the umbrella was able to shield them from anything since the rain seemed to be coming down at an angle.
As they passed the first block Sherlock stopped in his tracks and pulled Molly to a stop as well. “Wait.” He said. “Wasn’t this one of the things on your list?” he wondered.
“My list?” She repeated, not sure what he meant.
“Yes. You know the list you gave me when you first moved in. The one I asked you for. Of all the silly ‘romantic’ things people did when they were in a relationship. I believe ‘Kissing in the rain’ was number seven.” He clarified.
Molly stood there, mouth agape. “You remembered?” she said in wonderment.
“It’s your list. Of course I remembered. I apologise I haven’t exactly been working on all the things on the list but I never forgot.” He reassured her, pulling her closer by the waist. She lowered her umbrella with a laugh because apparently her boyfriend had given up completely on staying the least bit dry. “So?”
“So what?” Molly wondered with a laugh.
“Do you want to kiss? In the rain?” He asked her lovingly.
Molly answered him by reaching up on her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his lips.
When she pulled back Sherlock’s eyebrow’s knitted over his nose. “Given the severity of the rain, I would have thought it would be a more passionate kiss. They certainly seem to make a bigger deal of it in the movies we watched together.” He explained.
“Hang on. You have to work up to something like that. Or are we in a bit of a rush, love?” She playfully goaded him on.
“Come here.” He brought one of his hands up from her waist to cup the back of her neck, pulling her as close as he could. She wound her arms around his neck, her fingers twisting into the stray curls at the top of his neck as they always did. Sherlock ran his tongue along Molly’s bottom lip and she sighed into his mouth. Their hair was plastered to the sides of their faces and water drops ran down their noses and cheeks, wetting their lips. Molly felt her clothes cling to her body and Sherlock wrapped his coat around her because of course the perfect git wasn’t getting wet under it. Molly ran her tongue along the roof of his mouth, knowing how much he loved it when she did that. Sherlock’s mind buzzed and lost focus at the sensation. He came back down to Earth when he heard her giggle.
“You okay?” she beamed up at him, nudging his jaw with her wet nose. “You spaced out there for a few minutes.”
“Yes, my sweet. How about we go back home and get out of these wet clothes?” He suggested, his eyes twinkling. He turned around, leading them further down the road. “Where are we?”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Sherlock Holmes lost in London. Go figure!”
“I haven’t been on this street before.” He defended himself, looking around the street to find any identifying markers, pulling Molly along behind him. They passed an alleyway and heard a bang. Molly pulled Sherlock back, grabbing his attention.
“Did you hear that?” She asked him.
“Rain on the bins.” Sherlock waved off, but they heard it again. A loud metallic bang that seemed to be coming from inside the bin.
“Something’s trapped inside.” Molly insisted, letting go of his hand and walking into the alley.
“Molly are you really going to go through a random bin in an alleyway because you think something might be trapped inside?” Sherlock questioned her sanity.
“Sherlock if it’s a stray they’ll freeze to death in this weather.” Molly reasoned before she turned back towards the alley.
Sherlock sighed and followed her in because of course Molly would rescue a stray from freezing to death. Of course Molly would do that in the middle of a torrential downpour when she was already soaking wet because she was Molly and that’s why he loved her, so he followed her like the sentimental, wet, fool he was.
“Shh. Listen.” Molly put her forefinger to her lips. They heard squeaks and rustling coming from a bin. With a roll of his eyes, Sherlock stepped forward and pulled the lid off the bin and they both peered inside. At the top of the bin there was a cardboard box, with seven kittens pattering around. “Oh, darlings! Molly cried, picking up one of the kittens in her hands. The feline nipped at her fingertips, licking the water dripping off them. “Sweetheart, you must be dying of thirst. Sherlock, I don’t think they’re older than a month.”
Sherlock raised his eyebrows at her, because how the hell could she accurately guess the age of a kitten.
“Don’t look at me like that. I thought long and hard about getting a cat before Toby landed on my doorstep so I learned all I could about them. These look like Calico kittens. Help me get them out.” She instructed.
Sherlock’s impressed expression turned into an incredulous one. “We’re not taking them home?”
“What else do you want to do? Who knows how long they’ve been in that bin, they’re starving, thirsty and cold. If we don’t take them in they will die and you will be to blame for the end of seven kitty lives before they even got a proper chance to live.”
“They’re cats, they have nine lives.” Sherlock retorted.
“Not funny. Grab that one before he falls.” She warned. Sherlock reacted quickly and caught one of the strays that had launched itself off the edge of the bin.
“Fine.” Sherlock gave in, stuffing the kitten he’d caught into one of the Belstaff’s many pockets. “Take the box. We might as well make sure there aren’t any more in the bin.” It turned out that Sherlock was right and an eighth kitten had managed to get out of the box only to be trapped between it and the various pieces of garbage in the trash. They managed to stuff all eight into Sherlock’s four coat pockets and Molly took the opportunity of a sneaky photo when Sherlock wasn’t looking, because she knew a drenched Sherlock with kittens sprouting out of his jacket pockets was exactly the kind of thing John and Lestrade had to see.
Once the felines were settled, a couple of them already purring against the warmth, they exited the alley back onto the main street to find their way towards Baker Street.
“How are you doing with them?” Molly asked at one point when they had figured out which direction they should walk in.
“It’s actually quite pleasant. The purring is extremely relaxing, not the mention the added warmth of eight extra little bodies.” Sherlock answered with a surprised smile on his face.
“Now you see why I love Toby. The best thing to have on a day like this is a furry purry thing in your lap. I could probably take a couple off your hands.” She offered.
“No, I’m quite fine as I am. We’re nearly there anyway.” Sherlock waved off. They gave up on running and simply let the rain continue to pelt them. It didn’t particularly matter since they were already soaked to their underwear. The kittens squirmed in Sherlock’s pocket and Molly felt one of them jump when more thunder was heard.
They finally got to Baker Street and rushed up to the flat upstairs. Molly gathered up some towels and placed them in front of the fireplace to form a makeshift nest of sorts. “Put them here so we’ll keep them warm.” She instructed Sherlock before she darted back to the bathroom, shedding her soaked clothing in the bath. She blasted the hot water and darted under it, warming her freezing skin. She didn’t take long in the shower, knowing Sherlock probably wanted his turn.
She got into a pair of her cosiest pyjamas and fluffy dressing gown before finding a large plastic basin and filling it with warm water. She brought it back out to the living room, where Sherlock was trying to make sure the kittens didn’t get everywhere.
“I’ll take care of them, you go have your wash. Dump your wet clothes in the bath with mine and I’ll throw them in the wash later.” Molly told Sherlock.
“I have to wash this coat, it smells like garbage and wet cat.” Sherlock muttered making Molly laugh as she gathered up the first of the kittens and held him in the water to clean.
“Hoo, hoo.” Mrs Hudson sang from the door. “Did you say you wanted to wash your coat dear? Give it here I’ll have it back to you soon.” Mrs Hudson offered. Sherlock handed it to her with a nod. “Change out of those wet clothes and give them to me too, I’ll get them washed. Looks like you’ve got your hands full there, dear.” She nodded towards the squirming animal in Molly’s hands as Sherlock darted to the bathroom to give Mrs Hudson the laundry.
“Yes, we found them abandoned in a bin. In this weather they’d have surely died. Do you have any extra milk we could warm up for them? I’m not sure we have enough.” Molly asked.
“Oh, I did the shopping earlier but you can have some if you need it. I also have some leftover salmon you can give the little dears. Ooh, looks like you’ve got a runner.” Mrs Hudson pointed to one of the kittens that had managed to crawl out of the nest of towels and was about to get under the armchair. Molly quickly darted ahead of him and picked him up for his own wash, wrapping the other, wet kitten snugly in a towel.
By the time Sherlock came out of the bathroom, wearing pyjamas and one of his silk dressing gowns, Molly had washed all of the felines.
“What’s the latest update?” He asked. Molly gauged his expression. He genuinely seemed interested in the cats’ health. Then again, if one carried eight kittens in the pockets of his coat across London in the pouring rain, it shouldn’t be surprising if they were then emotionally invested in the creatures’ welfare.
“Congratulations, Mr Holmes. We have four boys and four girls, all clean but still hungry. Can you take care of dinner while I get them a blanket and make some tea?” She pleaded with her eyes, stroking the last two cats dry.
“Well since we didn’t manage to pick anything up, shall we do pizza? They generally deliver in cars so less chance of it getting soaked.” He suggested.
“Mmm, Pizza Express! You know my order; can you watch them for a bit? They scurry.” She kissed the tip of his nose before she took the soaked towels back to the bathroom and in search of an extra blanket.
“Spicy salami and sausage with extra onions. Looks like I’m not getting lucky tonight.” He joked.
Toby inquisitively crouched out from his hiding place under the couch, the kittens catching his sight. He approached cautiously and Sherlock watched on as he ordered pizza. Toby sniffed at one of the cats, who was reaching its little head up to get a closer look at the big cat. As soon as the kitten touched Toby’s nose, he pulled his head back, looking over at Sherlock for an explanation. Sherlock had finished ordering and hung up. “Don’t look at me, it’s your mistress’ fault.” He told the ginger.
“What’s my fault?” Molly asked cheerily returning with a cane basket, a pillow and two blankets.
“Toby’s enquiring as to the new arrivals. Isn’t that your hair thing?” He pointed to the basket.
“Yes, I emptied it to use as a bed. I borrowed one of the extra pillows too.” She explained. “Toby come help with the babies.” She scratched behind her pet’s ear, giving him the attention he craved. Toby stayed close as he watched Molly stuffing the pillow into the basket and covering it with a folded blanket, transferring the kittens on top of the yellow fleece, before covering them with the second, brown blanket, while they waited for their dinner.
In the kitchen, Sherlock prepared the food. He made sure to give Toby his first, not wanting the regular to feel replaced. Then set about mashing the salmon and cat food mix for the eight. Molly joined him after a minute and set out the tea things and heating up some milk while she waited.
“This should be enough for the little dears. The milk should warm them up nice too.” Molly commented. Sherlock had to admit that Molly seemed to know what she was doing, and thank God, too, because he would have found it in himself to rescue the strays (if he’d found them in the first place) but he certainly had no idea how to take care of them. He gathered up the plate of food and bowl of milk and headed over to the living room while Molly finished their teas and warmed up some more milk for a jealous mewing Toby. The little squeaks of hunger coming from the basket increased as the little noses picked up the scent of food coming towards them. Sherlock kept a watchful eye over the cats as they fed, not wanting any of them to get lost in the mayhem that was his living room. Toby jingled over to the living room, took a casual look at the ‘babies’ as Molly had called them and jumped onto Molly’s red armchair, rubbing his face into the sides to mark his territory. Sherlock had a feeling the flat was going to smell a lot more like cat by the morning.
Molly came in and handed him the tea and they sipped at it, revelling in the warmth that travelled down their throats as they held each other, watching the tiny cats lap up their dinner. When dinner arrived they set it out on the small table in the living room and eat their pizza in silence as they continued to watch the cats. Eventually they settled the cats back into their basket and went to bed, Toby following close behind.
*****
The next morning, they woke up to even more horrible weather, if that was even possible. They attempted to call the animal shelter but apparently there were some lines that had been damaged due to the storm, so they were going to have to wait at least until the storm passed to take the kittens in, since Sherlock was adamant that they couldn’t keep all of them.
“Did you say all?” Molly pried.
“Yes.” Sherlock clipped, realising his slip up as he turned another page of the newspaper. One of the aforementioned cats was currently nipping at his pant leg. “Nine cats is entirely too much.”
“Okay, we can keep four.” Molly reasoned.
“Three. A total of four.” Sherlock bargained.
“Four and you can have free reign of the lab for the next month.” She added.
“Two and I’ll give you a back and neck massage after every second shift for the next month.” He countered.
“Fine, but I get to pick both of them.” Molly relented.
“A boy and a girl.” Sherlock suggested.
“Two boys. Girls go into heat and they keep you up in the middle of the night for a week.” Molly explained. “Also these two brothers absolutely love you. They haven’t stopped trying to get your attention.” She giggled as she saw a second kitten join the first at Sherlock’s heel. “Sugar and Spice?”
“What?” Sherlock’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Their names. Sugar and Spice?” Molly explained.
“I suppose.” He shrugged.
“What is your issue?” Molly huffed.
“It doesn’t matter what their names are. They could be socks and shoes for all I care, they seem to be fond of mine.”
“How about something crime related?” Molly suggested. “Ooh! Bonnie and Clyde!” she seemed far too proud of herself for that one.
“If you don’t mind naming a male cat Bonnie, go with it.” Sherlock bit back a smile. “Though the other cats might pick on him.” He joked.
“It will build his confidence.” Molly waved off walking over to answer her phone that was ringing. Sherlock phased out for a second, taking the opportunity of Molly’s distraction to delve into his mind palace and make a place for Bonnie and Clyde because the little furballs were adorable and he really did love them, much as he had learned to love Toby. He went into the room where he kept Redbeard and Toby and conjured up two small cat trees and cat beds before he felt Bonnie and Clyde scratching at his ankles. Sherlock picked the two up and placed them on top of the trees in the room before he came back out of his mind palace just in time to hear Molly ending her phone conversation.
“It’s settled then. I’ll see you soon. Bye.” She said. He looked at the back of the door and noticed his clean Belstaff hanging there. Mrs Hudson must have brought it up while he was in his Mind Palace.
“That was John and Mary. Their place is flooded so I said they could come stay here while the storm died down. They might even adopt a kitty or two. What were you up to?” She wondered.
Sherlock shrugged, standing up to check his Belstaff. He checked his inside jacket pocket to see if his magnifying glass was still there. He felt a tugging on the jacket and looked down to see Bonnie and Clyde climbing into the pocket. Molly laughed. “Yeah you’re never gonna get their smell out of that coat, that’s their new favourite thing now.” She explained.
“No, you can’t sleep in a coat.” Sherlock said as he fished them out. One clasped onto the sleeve of his dressing gown while the other stayed seated in his palm. “You’re going to be handfuls, aren’t you?” He brought his hand up to eye level to look the creatures in their faces. The kitten in his hand mewed in response. “Come on.” He carried the cats over to his armchair and sat them in his lap. Molly sat on the arm and wrapped her arm around his shoulders, stroking the head of a cat with her other hand.
“You know, Sherlock, you’re a really great dad.” She told him.
“I don’t think dealing with some kittens for under 24 hours constitutes the perfect father.” Sherlock disagreed.
“Well, there’s still time to work on it.” She reassured him, kissing his temple.
“What do you mean?” He pulled back to look at her properly.
Her smile grew wider. “Sherlock, I’m four weeks pregnant.” She announced.
He pulled her close, off the arm and into the seat next to him, kissing along her neck and then her lips. Clyde biting hard on his finger brought him out of his dream. “I don’t know how, but this is somehow your fault.” He scowled at the cat, who continued nipping at his finger. “I think he’s hungry.” Sherlock noted.
“See you’re getting better already.” Molly patted his shoulder.