As the two raggedy travelers walked, the sun rose from behind the hills and bathed them in a golden light. Sherlock began to talk about cases he'd solved pre-John, and Molly watched him as he described each detail with fire in his voice. He was thrilling to listen to, and even more so to watch. She couldn't take her eyes off of him.
The sun made his black hair gleam like a raven's wing, the dark shine in contrast to his light skin. She bit her lip to keep from squeaking with delight as the morning brightness emphasized his softly-placed freckles. The sun had left tiny kisses all over his nose and cheekbones. She wanted to retrace them herself, and force him out into the sun more often so the perfect spots would grow more noticeable. He caught her staring and hesitated. "Am I boring you?" She shook her head vehemently and he smirked at the action.
"I was just admiring you," she admitted softly, reaching up to run a hand through his wild curls. He grimaced and she giggled slightly, bringing her hand back to his. "How long were you at that school?", she questioned, and he glanced sideways at her. "Too long."
She stayed silent and he gave in with a groan. "Two years, four months, six days." He rubbed his eyes tiredly. "I came at fourteen and left at sixteen. It was.... not the highlight of my adolescence. One day–"
"The sixth day."
He glared at her and she chuckled, apologizing. "One day, I decided I had had enough. I concocted a scheme to get myself expelled, and enacted it on the sixth day."
"Why couldn't you just switch schools?"
"That school was at one time considered one of the best preparatories in the country. My parents wanted a good education for me, and my teachers didn't want to lose a prodigy. They let me get away with a lot more than other children. Likely that contributed to the general dislike for me."
"What did you do?"
"I made a bomb in the science room."
Molly gaped at him, stopping dead in her tracks. "You what?"
Sherlock sighed, darkness crossing his face. "I lit the bloody lab on fire."
