Sherlolly Oneshots

An Orchestra for You (Neko!Lock)

So I wasn't going to publish this because it's really REALLY bad and I wrote it when I was on an intense sugar high (😅) but then I was like "screw it" and published it anyway.

I'll give you guys a better Neko!Lock though don't worry 😂 this crappy oneshot isn't all you'll see of our Sherkitty.

~

Truthfully, it had been quite annoying, how Sherlock Holmes's thoughts had recently been occupied.  One minute he'd be thinking about a case or something important, and the next his mind had wandered to her. 

All he could think about was her, it seemed.  The way her hair rippled down her back, soft and smooth at the same time.  The way her eyes looked like scorched topaz, gold and brown and lovely.  She was so different from him, but at the same time, he'd never felt so understood by someone before.

She noticed him, Sherlock knew.  She admired him, hell, maybe even had a little crush on him, but it was just a nothing right?  Just a feeling to be shoved down and forgot about.  Right?  Sherlock was so different from her, so... odd.  What she felt must have been just a small, little petty crush.  They couldn't have been feelings worth reciprocating.  Sherlock couldn't be with her.  She was so innocent and pure and he was... well... he was him.

Yet still Sherlock Holmes's mind wandered to Molly Hooper.  Constantly.

He wasn't quite sure when it had started, he'd only noticed he was doing it about a week ago.  It had been quite the shocking realization.  He'd contemplated these feelings and thoughts for hours before ultimately deciding to ignore it.

But they kept popping up, over and over again.

So yes, it was annoying.  It was like the feeling he had forgotten something but didn't know what, a constant nagging that itched at the back of his mind.  The last straw was when Sherlock caught himself doing it when he was supposed to be working on a case.

It was a Thursday, John was at the grocery store getting milk, and Sherlock was home alone.  He was supposed to be working on a case involving some rare type of frog but still, his mind wandered.

Sherlock blinked, quickly erasing the image of a smiling Molly from his mind.  His tail lashed out in anger and Sherlock sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and standing abruptly.

He couldn't ignore the constant pricking and nagging of the feeling, it was becoming overwhelming.  Sherlock groaned and picked up his violin, resisting the urge to chuck it at the wall.  Instead Sherlock let out a shaky breath and drew the bow across the strings.

It wasn't enough.  He let out a frustrated yell and scratched at a string mercilessly, producing a high pitched screech from the violin.  His black ears pressed to his head and Sherlock immediately set the violin down, backing away from it as if it were a bomb.

Alright rage playing proved ineffective apparently. 

Sherlock sighed and cautiously made his way back to the violin, picking it up and eyeing it suspiciously.  It had been the cure to all of his problems for longer than he could remember, yet now it failed to solve the case of Molly Hooper.

Sherlock's tail twitched and he raised the violin, taking a deep sigh and playing randomly.  The notes produced from the violin were odd.  Scratchy and random.  Yet at the same time, he could make It flow beautifully.  It really is quite odd, Sherlock realized, I don't think I've ever played anything like this.

When Sherlock wrapped up the piece he blinked in surprise.  It had been stunning, he didn't care how random It seemed.  It could only take a pure someone to decipher It and appreciate It.  Someone like Molly Hooper.

The tip of Sherlock's tail twitched excitedly and his ears were pricked as he scrambled for papers, recounting over and over again the notes in his mind.  He willed It to be fresh, marking down all of the notes he could remember.  It took a good six pages before Sherlock was sure he'd gotten It down to the very last note.

Pride made a smile creep up on Sherlock's lips and he held his tail high.  He paused, tilting his head to the side as he pondered what to call the piece.  With a small shrug Sherlock simply decided on calling It 'Molly'.  It was simple and elegant and complex and intense all at the same time.  And It was lovely.

Absolutely lovely.

That morning Sherlock got up early, planning out a very specific route in mind.  His tail twitching in apprehension Sherlock gathered Molly and rushed out the door, carefully taking twists and turns.  Just as he had planned Sherlock came upon a familiar sight walking among the crowds ahead of his. 

She was a seemingly ordinary face in a crowd full of ordinary people, but Sherlock picked her out instantly.  She was different from them in so many ways, her effulgent beauty struck him down to his very bone marrow.  Not just anybody could affect Sherlock Holmes quite like Molly Hooper had managed to do.

At this point he couldn't care less if she didn't return his feelings, they were his, would always be his, and would forever wander his brain, the little itch he couldn't quite scratch.  Sherlock ran a hand through his hair, his ears plastered down on his head.  Now Sherlock's tail twitched with fear.  No, Sherlock decided, no I suppose nobody will ever affect me like Molly Hooper.

Sherlock flipped up his coat collar and heads down barreled through the crowd.  He got shoves and a few unpleasant words but he kept his destination in mind.  Sherlock clipped shoulders with Molly Hooper, "accidentally" sending his things flying.  The folder with It fell onto the ground.

Molly cried a few hurried apologies as Sherlock gathered his things, bending down to help.  Sherlock however gathered all of his things, purposefully except for one item in particular, and rushed away before Molly could recognize him.

Molly blinked at the man who fled from the scene, his long black tail streaming behind him.  She lashed out her tabby tail at his rudeness and raised an eyebrow, until something on the ground caught her eye.  Molly blinked and picked up a slightly damp folder.

Hesitantly she opened, though let out a small gasp.  Her ears pricked as Molly Hooper gazed upon a quite interesting looking piece.

Molly It was titled.  She peered up, searching for the man who had dropped this behind, though to no avail.  Molly shrugged, her ears still pricked, and tucked the folder into her bag. 

With that Molly made her way to Bart's, not knowing at all what the piece in her bag had done to the dark-furred man whose heart she filled.