Overflow Post II
This post is for responding to prompts from prompt posts that are full, or continuing WIPs that were started on prompt posts that have since filled up or are close to full.
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"It's fine, you know. I don't always - you know, anyway. With another person. Especially not the first time - not - not that I'm saying there has to be a second time," she adds hastily.
"Molly," he says with a faint hint of warning, because he really needs her to stop rambling, but then dread curls in his belly at the thought that she might slip away from him, contract back into that smaller, quieter version of herself. Awkwardly, he tries to slip his arm beneath her shoulders to make her turn towards him, to keep her close. Molly knows, of course. She kisses his shoulder and tries to nestle against him without disturbing his injuries, her thin hand resting over his heart. The sensation is at once foreign and pleasant, but then he has never been averse to touch so much as extremely selective about who is allowed close enough to do so.
"I don't think I've ever been so tired, Molly," he mutters, and Molly sweeps her fingers affectionately along his sternum in an unconscious Y-incision.
"Mmmm. Well, prolactin, you know. And you did have a bit of a day," she adds, and the understatement nearly makes him smile. The ghosts of his impossible day hover at the periphery of Sherlock's mind, but the soft rhythm of her breath across his collarbone lets him drift off again with only a fleeting thought of what his life might be like tomorrow, with the soft weight of Molly's hand on his chest as his lone remaining anchor.
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