Sherlolly Oneshots

Aggravation

Requested by mainmuffin

The words "updating schedule" are no longer a part of my vocabulary.

Ah fuck it, sorry if it's not what you hoped for mainmuffin , I tried my best.

Enjoy?

~

Sherlock Holmes stood outside the door to the lab, tapping his pointer rapidly on his pant leg before taking a deep breath and letting his hand hover over the doorknob. His other hand curled into a fist as he slowly turned the knob and stepped inside, his icy eyes quick to find Molly. She sat, fiddling with her latest experiment, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration and her lip-

Sherlock turned around and walked right back outside, letting the door slam shut behind him. He ran a hand through his curls, sighing. Molly was inside biting her lip, a new habit that she seemed to have subconsciously taken up. A new habit that never failed to, oddly enough, make Sherlock's heart throb in his chest.

Muttering under his breath, Sherlock calmed his nerves and reopened the door, inwardly sighing in relief to find Molly jolted back to a state of awareness and watching him with an eyebrow raised.

"Was that you that just slammed the door shut?" She asked.

"No clue," was Sherlock's hurried reply as he plopped down beside at the microscope beside her. Molly blinked in confusion, though it was soon forgotten when Sherlock began talking.

"Explain to me what you're working on." He said, not really a question and more as a demand. He needed a distraction, and Molly's voice was the best he could think of.

"I- uh- okay." She stuttered, beginning to explain the experiment she was working on. Sherlock let out a breathy sigh as he stared into the microscope. Shit. Her voice really does do wonders on the nerves, the detective thought as Molly finished up her brief explanation.

"What do you think?" She asked, snapping Sherlock from his daze.

"It's alright," Sherlock replied dully, not looking up from the microscope. Molly raised an eyebrow but only one thought was racing through the detectives mind.

Shit. Mask the feelings. Mask the feelings. Mask the feelings.

"What's 'alright' about it?" The pathologist asked. Sherlock was surprised to hear a more sarcastic tone and he held back a sigh at the realization that he must have caught her in a bad mood.

Sherlock opted to not answer and focus on the microscope, truthfully unsure about what his reaction would be of he were to look up and find Molly biting her lip again. A loud sigh sounded from beside the detective. Sherlock couldn't stop the words as they streamed from his mouth.

"Please, Molly. Some of us have work to do." Molly visibly stiffened and Sherlock spared a look up. Whoops.

"I'm going to get some chips," she hissed between gritted teeth. Guilt rose like bile in Sherlock's thirst and he stood up.

"Molly I..." he began to say. The pathologist turned around, an eyebrow raised expectantly. Sherlock began to speak but words failed him when he realized Molly was biting her lip. Again. Instead, the detective floundered and blinked, his mouth hanging slightly open. The pathologist let out an annoyed sigh and rested her hand on the handle of the door.

Sherlock inwardly moaned and in one swift move he'd stepped forward and pressed his palm on the door. "Don't leave," he seethed. Molly scoffed.

"Then tell me what's 'alright' about it. Because, seriously, I'm getting tired of this."