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helsinkibabyFic: Muppets and Molly
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: Molly/Lestrade
Word Count: 573
Spoilers: None
Rating : PG
Notes: Written in the cafe at Cardiff Airport after![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
maggis had left me! For the prompt "grooming someone" on my Cotton Candy Bingo card. I accept that the link may be tenuous but I think it still fits!
ETA: And now with cut tag!
"He's an idiot."
Molly spits the words out with extreme venom as she slams the door of the kitchen cupboard, banging two mugs so hard on the counter that Greg's surprised they don't split in two.
"I'm sure he's not as bad as all that," he begins, in a tone that's supposed to be comforting and conciliatory. It seems to have the opposite effect though, at least if the glare that Molly turns his way is any indication.
"He could barely find the pointy end of a scalpel," she observes witheringly. "Let alone know what to do with it. "
Truth be told, Greg's met the morgue attendant she's ranting about and he's not so sure she's wrong. There's also no way he's going to admit that, because while normally he's quite a fan of Molly going all fire and brimstone, finds the flush of her cheeks and the flash of her eyes quite the turn on, at the moment he's actually quite worried about what the consequences might be.
"Molly," he says gently, "This is the third replacement in three weeks. You don't think you're being...well...a bit over-exacting?"
"No, I bloody well don't," she replies, knuckles going white around her mug and he's ready to duck in case it goes flying in his direction. "You can't expect me to leave my morgue in the care of some incompetent!"
"I don't, sweetheart, honest." Either the endearment or the tone of his voice has her looking down, shoulders rising and falling in a deep breath. He takes advantage of the moment of stillness to approach her, lay a hand on her lower back, kneading the muscles there gently. She lets out a small moan as his fingers move, leans into his body and he realises that at least part of her temper is born of aching limbs and tiredness.
"I'm not asking you to put up with an incompetent replacement, Molly," he tells her after a couple of minutes. "I'm just getting worried..." His free hand finds her swollen stomach, moves gently up and down, smiles as the baby pushes against his touch. "I mean, you're eight months gone, yeah? If you don't get a replacement soon, this little one's going to be making his entrance-"
"Her entrance." Molly interrupts him more out of habit than genuine annoyance, a small smile twitching her lips. Her reaction makes him grin too because he only says stuff like that to wind her up, doesn't care what they have as long as it's healthy.
"His, her, what does it matter if they make their entrance in the morgue and the first face they see is Sherlock bloody Holmes?" A decidedly inelegant snort of laughter escapes her at that and she collapses against him giggling, arms going around his waist, face buried in his shoulder. "Oh, laugh all you want, but if our child is scarred for life, I'm blaming you."
She giggles again. "At least John is a doctor," she observes and while it might be true, it's still cold comfort.
"Just give someone else a chance to be as brilliant as you are, love. That's all I'm saying"
She takes another deep breath, exhales a tired, "OK." There's a pause. "But not Sam. He's a muppet."
Greg smiles. "He is a bit of a muppet," he agrees and then they're both laughing together, wrapped up in one another as the baby moves again under his hand.
Author: helsinkibaby
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Pairing: Molly/Lestrade
Word Count: 573
Spoilers: None
Rating : PG
Notes: Written in the cafe at Cardiff Airport after
maggis had left me! For the prompt "grooming someone" on my Cotton Candy Bingo card. I accept that the link may be tenuous but I think it still fits!ETA: And now with cut tag!
"He's an idiot."
Molly spits the words out with extreme venom as she slams the door of the kitchen cupboard, banging two mugs so hard on the counter that Greg's surprised they don't split in two.
"I'm sure he's not as bad as all that," he begins, in a tone that's supposed to be comforting and conciliatory. It seems to have the opposite effect though, at least if the glare that Molly turns his way is any indication.
"He could barely find the pointy end of a scalpel," she observes witheringly. "Let alone know what to do with it. "
Truth be told, Greg's met the morgue attendant she's ranting about and he's not so sure she's wrong. There's also no way he's going to admit that, because while normally he's quite a fan of Molly going all fire and brimstone, finds the flush of her cheeks and the flash of her eyes quite the turn on, at the moment he's actually quite worried about what the consequences might be.
"Molly," he says gently, "This is the third replacement in three weeks. You don't think you're being...well...a bit over-exacting?"
"No, I bloody well don't," she replies, knuckles going white around her mug and he's ready to duck in case it goes flying in his direction. "You can't expect me to leave my morgue in the care of some incompetent!"
"I don't, sweetheart, honest." Either the endearment or the tone of his voice has her looking down, shoulders rising and falling in a deep breath. He takes advantage of the moment of stillness to approach her, lay a hand on her lower back, kneading the muscles there gently. She lets out a small moan as his fingers move, leans into his body and he realises that at least part of her temper is born of aching limbs and tiredness.
"I'm not asking you to put up with an incompetent replacement, Molly," he tells her after a couple of minutes. "I'm just getting worried..." His free hand finds her swollen stomach, moves gently up and down, smiles as the baby pushes against his touch. "I mean, you're eight months gone, yeah? If you don't get a replacement soon, this little one's going to be making his entrance-"
"Her entrance." Molly interrupts him more out of habit than genuine annoyance, a small smile twitching her lips. Her reaction makes him grin too because he only says stuff like that to wind her up, doesn't care what they have as long as it's healthy.
"His, her, what does it matter if they make their entrance in the morgue and the first face they see is Sherlock bloody Holmes?" A decidedly inelegant snort of laughter escapes her at that and she collapses against him giggling, arms going around his waist, face buried in his shoulder. "Oh, laugh all you want, but if our child is scarred for life, I'm blaming you."
She giggles again. "At least John is a doctor," she observes and while it might be true, it's still cold comfort.
"Just give someone else a chance to be as brilliant as you are, love. That's all I'm saying"
She takes another deep breath, exhales a tired, "OK." There's a pause. "But not Sam. He's a muppet."
Greg smiles. "He is a bit of a muppet," he agrees and then they're both laughing together, wrapped up in one another as the baby moves again under his hand.
