Work Text:
“Sir.”
The voice seemed far away, muffled almost.
“Sir.”
It was a little louder now, and clearer. Clear enough to call Jim out from his deep swim in an ocean of thought.
“We’re all set up, Sir. Ready to activate.”
“Good, good…” said Jim, somewhat distractedly.
The peon stood awkwardly by the door to one of Jim’s lavish little offices, awaiting the instruction she was expecting the big boss to give as per the plan.
“Sir, we need these bombs to go off within the hour so the rest of the operation can continue.”
“Do we?” answered Jim, swiveling his chair back to the window he had been facing before the interruption.
“Your specific instructions, Sir. Only you have the device that can launch them.”
“Within the hour? God, that isspecific.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Well, postpone it.”
“I’m sorry, postpone it, Sir?”
“Yes. You heard me.”
“But the client, Sir, how will we get the—”
“They’re just paintings,” Jim interrupted, waving the peon away.
“Valuable paintings, Sir, that our client has paid a vast…”
“Maybe I’ll just kill our client…” Jim remarked nonchalantly as he got up suddenly from his seat.
The peon merely stared back at her boss, slightly perplexed but still obediently awaiting his next mad instruction.
“Yes…” Jim smiled, happy he had arrived at a solution.
“Sir?”
“Kill the client. I’m not in the mood today.”
With that final instruction, Jim called for his car and sped off to where his mind had been for some time.
::
The door to Molly Hooper’s lab had been left ajar, which was a little unusual. Nevertheless, Jim was pleased because it allowed him to a quicker view of the one who had caused him to abort this most recent (and very well-paying) heist.
With one foot through the doorway, he rapped his knuckles against the door that had been left open and cleared his throat.
“Go away, Sherlock,” came Molly’s sharp response, “You can’t expeditebloodwork. You of all geniusesshould know that…”
“Molly, it’s me…” Jim replied, biting down a smirk at her chiding of the detective.
“Oh, Jim, yes, sorry, she said, turning abruptly. Her face softened into a smile as she shook her head, leaning against her workbench.
“I should have known it wasn’tSherlock,” Molly said, smirking, “Seeing as you had actually knocked.”
“You really should stop working with him,” Jim replied with a laugh.
In spite of the fact that they had already interacted quite a number of times at ‘work’, Jim still had not had the courage to stand any nearer to her. He took his usual spot at a work bench facing hers and leaned against it, maintaining a 1.5 metre distance, his current threshold of nearness with her.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” asked Molly, enjoying this little breather from work.
Pleasure. The thought that she could possibly enjoy his company quite almost caused the criminal mastermind to blush.
“I was just…”
He had done it again – coming to see her without preparation. Jim always forgot how his mind always went blank when she spoke to him.
“I took the afternoon off,” he said, finally, chuckling internally at the fact that it had not been a lie.
“So had I…” Molly said with a sigh as she reached to re-tie her ponytail.
That flash of movement of her elegant wrists as she moved them so gracefully in adjusting her hair caused his heart to lurch in his chest. Moments like this reminded him that he did indeed have a heart and if he had not been so taken by Molly, he would have most certainly broken something in anger.
She is so beautiful. The ocean that had flooded his mind before came crashing back. He could not tell which hurt more – his head or his chest. What an affliction, but curiously, it seemed to bother him a little less each time.
“I’d been working so many late nights this past week,” she continued, “I was hoping to wrap up early today and just…have a moment to myself.”
A moment. To herself? Should he not be there then—
“Oh, I’m so sorry, should I go—”
“Don’t be silly,” she interjected, “Sherlock’s already robbed half of my afternoon. So you’re a wonderful breath of fresh air.”
Molly moved to stand beside him, leaning on the same workbench as he was.
Jim could not tell if he was the one who had stopped breathing or if time had frozen, but she had crossed the threshold and it both terrified and delighted him.
This has to stop. The sudden shock of her moving so close to him caused him to doubt everything he had done up to this point. The fact that he had lost himself almost five billion pounds for what was a routine heist and had very casually ordered the murder of a well-paying regular customer of his criminal services cast a sudden shadow over everything.
What is happening to me? He asked himself as he felt a new surge in his skin when he noticed Molly shift an inch closer towards him such that their elbows were touching.
“I like it when you come by, Jim,” Molly remarked gently, turning to face him as her lips lifted into a half-smile.
“You do?” he asked back, just as gently, turning to face her too.
“Mmhmm,” she replied with a nod.
Everything seemed to stop again. What had she meant? He had heard what she said, every word of it but what had she meant? How was it that her words were causing his mind to run circles around itself?
“I shouldn't be holding you back from your afternoon off though,” Molly said, suddenly a little shy as she realised what she had let slip.
Molly strode back swiftly to her work bench and rummaged a little carelessly through the documents before her and found herself suddenly at a loss for words.
“What are you working on?” Jim asked, surprising himself that he now moved towards where she stood.
Jim enjoyed the way their elbows had touched and chose to maintain it. He stood right next to her, the exact way she had shifted that inch nearer to him just now. Molly turned to him and looked down at the fact that there was no gap between them and smiled.
“Sherlock barged in with some blood samples he had found. Wanted me to see if it connected to a cold case he had unearthed,” Molly explained with a resigned exhale.
“Surely it can wait,” Jim scoffed, remembering how very much he disliked the detective.
“Not for Sherlock,” said Molly with a shrug, “And well, if it helps solve a crime, I usually am happy to help…”
For a moment, Jim wondered if it was related to a crime he had helped commit, and cursed himself internally for possibly being the cause of Molly’s day off being interrupted. He momentarily considered accepting fewer hit jobs in future. Fewer murders, less carnage, less blood.
“I’ll help you,” he said, reaching for the various analyses he could see spread out before her.
“Oh,” Molly exclaimed, turning to him with a quizzical look.
“I’ve dabbled in a bit of forensics in my time,” Jim said with a casual shrug, “Before I moved into IT…”
You’re not the only genius, Sherlock Holmes, thought Jim to himself, recalling with ease all that he had studied before as he began to sieve through the sample analyses in front of him.
“We’ll be done in no time,” Jim said, turning to Molly again, his eyes shining at her. “And when this is done, I’m taking you out to dinner.”
He shocked himself at how emboldened he was continuing to become. Jim saw a smile light up her face and he was sure his skeleton had started to melt.
“I’d like that, Jim,” Molly replied, “I'd like that very much.”
Suddenly, they were interrupted by the chime of Molly’s mobile phone. An incoming message had come in and she picked it up to read.
“Oh. There’s been a murder,” she said with a small gasp, scrolling to read the rest of the message. “And Sherlock wants me to come right over with some chemicals to test—”
“Fuck Sherlock Holmes,” Jim interrupted sharply, startling them both. “He can jolly well come and get the chemicals himself.”
Molly stared at Jim, processing his little outburst. Jim froze again, wondering if he had just undone everything he had built up. However, a smile slowly crept back onto Molly’s face as she moved to hug Jim, planting a kiss on the side of his face.
“Fuck Sherlock Holmes,” she whispered, chuckling into his ear. “Let’s just go, Jim. Let's have dinner now.”
“It’s 4.30 in the afternoon Molly,” Jim answered, a little puzzled by her proposition.
“Then an aperitif, perhaps?” she asked, a glint Jim had not seen before appeared in her eyes.
“Again,” Jim said with a somewhat nervous laugh, “A bit early in the day for a drink, don’t you think…”
Molly had, by then, abandoned her workbench and was busy closing up. She peeled her lab coat off and rolled her shoulders in relief.
“I’m getting my time off,” she said, moving to stand mere inches from his face, “Care to join me on yours?”
Jim noticed that this was the first time he had seen her out of her lab coat. He noticed the colours in her blouse highlighting the slight flush in her cheeks and the way her black slacks subtly echoed her movements. He then noticed the coy way her lips lifted, matching that glint in her eyes. It made him recall, almost violently, that those very lips had touched his skin.
Without thinking, he moved to kiss her, gently but firmly on the very mouth that had electrified him. Molly immediately took a step forward, closing the gap between them as they kissed. She could not help but smile against his lips, her pulse tripling when she felt him smile in return.
Reluctantly, they parted, but only to chuckle somewhat sheepishly together as their foreheads touched.
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” he whispered, reaching to gently stroke her cheek, “but is this…the aperitifyou meant?”
Molly bit down a grin before moving to kiss him slowly and intently, taking her time to pull away from his rather handsome visage.
“That is exactlywhat I meant,” Molly replied, unable to wipe the inevitable grin off her face.
Another phone chime interrupted their moment. This time, it was Jim’s phone.
“Sorry…” he muttered, quickly reaching to read the message.
Hit complete.
But SH already on scene.
Awaiting your instruction.
So thatwas the murder Sherlock had bothered Molly about. Jim resisted clicking his tongue in annoyance, remembering the moment he was in.
Fuck Sherlock Holmes.
He had something else scheduled today. If that pesky detective wanted to meddle with his crime scene, by all means. Jim was not going to let him meddle with anything else.
Certainly not on his afternoon off.
END