New Year’s Eve (Molly/Martin) (PG)
Title: New Year’s Eve
Author: Jenny Starseed
Rating: PG
Character(s): Molly/Martin
Fandom: Sherlock/Cabin Pressure Crossover
Summary: Martin is too tired to celebrate. Molly doesn’t mind it at all.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1058
Author's Notes: Yes! I’ve finally written a Molly/Martin fic! Another first? No one prompted this. It was just something I was itching to write while I was stressed out with school work. It’s a bit fluffy since I believe you can never have enough fics where someone takes care of Martin. The next fic will be NC-17 and I’ll likely post it in a couple of days.
None of the Characters are mine. One belongs to the Moffat and co., the other belongs to Mr. John Finnemore. Unbeta-ed and un-britpicked.
It was 10pm on New Year’s Eve and Molly was watching the telly alone in her flat. The bubbly wine was in the refrigerator and various assortments of crisps were on the table. She had baked Martin’s favourite chicken pie that was to be served with a side of toss salad. Martin had promised to spend New Years with her at her flat, but Carolyn had a last minute booking.
A group of Japanese millionaires suddenly had the urge to fly from Taiwan to Paris for New Year’s Eve. It had promised to be a lucrative trip since the millionaires were drunks who tipped big (according to Douglas that is, he apparently was an expert at predicting big tippers). The last minute nature of the flight meant that Carolyn could charge a very high price for their services. Martin had been bounced around the East Pacific for the last two weeks as a result of MJN Air doing holiday cargo flights and playing air chauffer to millionaires. Molly didn’t mind, it saved her the trouble of introducing Martin to her parents. He was always so nervous at the thought meeting them, but in Molly’s eyes, anyone was a step above Jim from IT. Still, she sometimes worried about Martin. He was always so overworked and tired whenever he saw her, despite the fact that he was finally making a living wage flying for MJN Air.
Molly’s thoughts were interrupted by a weak knock at the door. That must be Martin. Molly fixed her sparkly party dress and opened the door to find a very tired, red-eyed Martin Crieff at her door with his heavy bag slung over his shoulder. His usually pristine uniform was stained with what looked like vomit, his tie was loosened and his curly hair was longer and wilder than she had last seen it. There was a bit of stubble on him which made him adorably dishevelled. He was the very image of exhaustion.
“Oh Martin, you look awful,” cried Molly sympathetically. She pulled him inside her flat. “Here, let me take your bag and come in. I have your spare clothes in my room if you want to change into something more comfortable.”
“I’m sorry Molly,” said Martin. “I tried to get here as soon as I could. The train to London was delayed and the bloody Japanese millionaires would not get off the plane without an extra round of Christmas carols, sake and single malt whiskey. I really tried.”
“Do you want to use the shower?” asked Molly.
“No, that’s alright. I had showered yesterday and I’m too knackered to do much else,” explained Martin.
He took off his jacket and undid his tie as he tiredly walked to her bedroom where his comfortable spare clothes were. He took off his socks and trousers. He hunbuttoned his stained white shirt and quickly changed into a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms and a worn grey t-shirt. He self-consciously blushed as he did so, which Molly found adorable. It was anything she hadn’t seen before, but Molly supposed that Martin had never got over the change room embarrassment of changing in front of another person.
She directed him to the kitchen after he finished changing, where she handed him a plate of his favourite food that he ate with relish.
“This is such a welcome relief,” Martin said in between quick bites. “I hadn’t had anything substantial in over five hours. Long flights mean MJN Air had to self-cater, which meant suffering through Arthur’s leftover Boxing Day surprise Gravy and pie. A pie stuffed with spam and BBQ flavoured crisps with a white gravy, which was a tin of mushroom cream soup heated in the microwave. It was terrible, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Molly this is wonderful! Real, unadulterated chicken! How I missed it!”
Molly could only smile at Martin while she poured him a glass o his favourite fizzy drink.
“Don’t mind me, I’ve already had dinner,” said Molly when Martin gave her a quizzical look.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. You had to eat without me,” said Martin apologetically. “I know how rubbish it is to eat alone on a day like New Year’s Eve.”
“It’s not a problem Martin,” Molly assured him. “I’m glad to eventually have you home with me.”
Martin gave her one of his brilliant smiles that made Molly go all weak inside. “I’ve got the week off. Douglas was going to cry mutiny on the plane if Carolyn did not sign a paper promising us the next week off.”
Molly smiled at that. She loved him right then and there, sitting quietly in her kitchen while the telly was on in the other room. It was nearly 11pm and it was another hour before 2011 would pass. She had the telly on the BBC, showing a live outdoor New Year’s celebration that included many locally famous musical acts, dancing and singing to robotic, cheerful beats to roaring crowds. That was fine, they could have all the excitement they wanted outside, and Molly much preferred the quiet of her flat with her favourite person across from her.
Martin had finished eating and they washed and put away the dishes together, put the way the food and cleaned up. Martin was in no mood for bubbly wine or crisps. The food had improved his exhausted look, but he was still quite tired.
“Did you want to watch the countdown in my bedroom?”Molly asked shyly. “I know it’s bad, but I bought a small telly for my bedroom. I fall asleep on the sofa too much while watching television; I’d figured it would be better to fall asleep on my bed instead with the telly on.”
Martin nodded. “Bed sounds like a very good idea now.”
They settled on Molly’s bed, turned off the lights and turned on the telly. The music and the cheering crowd was still very loud and lively, taking up the whole room in its rambunctious enthusiasm for the New Year. Martin quietly embraced Molly, his long arm draped across her as he dosed quietly on her shoulder, his lightly freckled face illuminated by the eerie glow of the television. The poor man was so exhausted, he wasn’t going to be able to stay up for the countdown. That was alright. She can get her New Year’s kiss tomorrow.
Author: Jenny Starseed
Rating: PG
Character(s): Molly/Martin
Fandom: Sherlock/Cabin Pressure Crossover
Summary: Martin is too tired to celebrate. Molly doesn’t mind it at all.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1058
Author's Notes: Yes! I’ve finally written a Molly/Martin fic! Another first? No one prompted this. It was just something I was itching to write while I was stressed out with school work. It’s a bit fluffy since I believe you can never have enough fics where someone takes care of Martin. The next fic will be NC-17 and I’ll likely post it in a couple of days.
None of the Characters are mine. One belongs to the Moffat and co., the other belongs to Mr. John Finnemore. Unbeta-ed and un-britpicked.
It was 10pm on New Year’s Eve and Molly was watching the telly alone in her flat. The bubbly wine was in the refrigerator and various assortments of crisps were on the table. She had baked Martin’s favourite chicken pie that was to be served with a side of toss salad. Martin had promised to spend New Years with her at her flat, but Carolyn had a last minute booking.
A group of Japanese millionaires suddenly had the urge to fly from Taiwan to Paris for New Year’s Eve. It had promised to be a lucrative trip since the millionaires were drunks who tipped big (according to Douglas that is, he apparently was an expert at predicting big tippers). The last minute nature of the flight meant that Carolyn could charge a very high price for their services. Martin had been bounced around the East Pacific for the last two weeks as a result of MJN Air doing holiday cargo flights and playing air chauffer to millionaires. Molly didn’t mind, it saved her the trouble of introducing Martin to her parents. He was always so nervous at the thought meeting them, but in Molly’s eyes, anyone was a step above Jim from IT. Still, she sometimes worried about Martin. He was always so overworked and tired whenever he saw her, despite the fact that he was finally making a living wage flying for MJN Air.
Molly’s thoughts were interrupted by a weak knock at the door. That must be Martin. Molly fixed her sparkly party dress and opened the door to find a very tired, red-eyed Martin Crieff at her door with his heavy bag slung over his shoulder. His usually pristine uniform was stained with what looked like vomit, his tie was loosened and his curly hair was longer and wilder than she had last seen it. There was a bit of stubble on him which made him adorably dishevelled. He was the very image of exhaustion.
“Oh Martin, you look awful,” cried Molly sympathetically. She pulled him inside her flat. “Here, let me take your bag and come in. I have your spare clothes in my room if you want to change into something more comfortable.”
“I’m sorry Molly,” said Martin. “I tried to get here as soon as I could. The train to London was delayed and the bloody Japanese millionaires would not get off the plane without an extra round of Christmas carols, sake and single malt whiskey. I really tried.”
“Do you want to use the shower?” asked Molly.
“No, that’s alright. I had showered yesterday and I’m too knackered to do much else,” explained Martin.
He took off his jacket and undid his tie as he tiredly walked to her bedroom where his comfortable spare clothes were. He took off his socks and trousers. He hunbuttoned his stained white shirt and quickly changed into a fresh pair of pyjama bottoms and a worn grey t-shirt. He self-consciously blushed as he did so, which Molly found adorable. It was anything she hadn’t seen before, but Molly supposed that Martin had never got over the change room embarrassment of changing in front of another person.
She directed him to the kitchen after he finished changing, where she handed him a plate of his favourite food that he ate with relish.
“This is such a welcome relief,” Martin said in between quick bites. “I hadn’t had anything substantial in over five hours. Long flights mean MJN Air had to self-cater, which meant suffering through Arthur’s leftover Boxing Day surprise Gravy and pie. A pie stuffed with spam and BBQ flavoured crisps with a white gravy, which was a tin of mushroom cream soup heated in the microwave. It was terrible, but I didn’t have much of a choice. Molly this is wonderful! Real, unadulterated chicken! How I missed it!”
Molly could only smile at Martin while she poured him a glass o his favourite fizzy drink.
“Don’t mind me, I’ve already had dinner,” said Molly when Martin gave her a quizzical look.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. You had to eat without me,” said Martin apologetically. “I know how rubbish it is to eat alone on a day like New Year’s Eve.”
“It’s not a problem Martin,” Molly assured him. “I’m glad to eventually have you home with me.”
Martin gave her one of his brilliant smiles that made Molly go all weak inside. “I’ve got the week off. Douglas was going to cry mutiny on the plane if Carolyn did not sign a paper promising us the next week off.”
Molly smiled at that. She loved him right then and there, sitting quietly in her kitchen while the telly was on in the other room. It was nearly 11pm and it was another hour before 2011 would pass. She had the telly on the BBC, showing a live outdoor New Year’s celebration that included many locally famous musical acts, dancing and singing to robotic, cheerful beats to roaring crowds. That was fine, they could have all the excitement they wanted outside, and Molly much preferred the quiet of her flat with her favourite person across from her.
Martin had finished eating and they washed and put away the dishes together, put the way the food and cleaned up. Martin was in no mood for bubbly wine or crisps. The food had improved his exhausted look, but he was still quite tired.
“Did you want to watch the countdown in my bedroom?”Molly asked shyly. “I know it’s bad, but I bought a small telly for my bedroom. I fall asleep on the sofa too much while watching television; I’d figured it would be better to fall asleep on my bed instead with the telly on.”
Martin nodded. “Bed sounds like a very good idea now.”
They settled on Molly’s bed, turned off the lights and turned on the telly. The music and the cheering crowd was still very loud and lively, taking up the whole room in its rambunctious enthusiasm for the New Year. Martin quietly embraced Molly, his long arm draped across her as he dosed quietly on her shoulder, his lightly freckled face illuminated by the eerie glow of the television. The poor man was so exhausted, he wasn’t going to be able to stay up for the countdown. That was alright. She can get her New Year’s kiss tomorrow.