Chapter Text
You look but you do not observer, she can remember hearing Sherlock lament to John time after time, and all those times she can remember just rolling her eyes and thinking to herself the arrogance of his words.
However, now that she finally sees him; has observed him, she is now a firm believer in the notion of not just looking but observing.
If you were to ask her when she first started to see him; to really look at him and observe him as a man, she would be able to tell you to even the specific time of day.
It was a obscenely sunny, bright day, one where all you want to do is bask in the sunshine that cannot help but take all your woes away. However on this day, they were inside with the curtains firmly pulled shut to block out any and all light. The happy chirp of birds outside, replaced by the rise and fall of a respirator and the beep of a heart monitor. Sherlock has OD-ed again and they were both taking turns sitting vigil at his bed side; John having left hours ago to tend to his new family.
Her eyes were sleep blurred, too worried for their patient to really get any decent sleep. It was his turn to get some rest while she would wait and watch for any signs of Sherlock’s recovery. With a steaming mug of tea in hand, she stood in the doorway and silently observed the man within.
He was sitting slouched in the chair at his brother’s bedside; the files that he was working on discarded into a haphazard pile at his feet; he really must have been a combination of both over tired and worried, for he would never have left his things in such an untidy pile. His suite jacket having been long discarded and hung at the foot of the bed; his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
Her eyes lingered on his forearms; the skin was pale, most likely not having seen the light of day too often; always hidden under the layers of his suites. They were lean, however she knew their hidden strengths as she all but saw the muscles pulled taunt and rippling as he carried his brother up to the make shift hospital room in his house. There was a fine dusting of auburn hair that glinted in the light; how she wished to reach out to run her fingers along his arm to find out if it felt as soft as it looked.
With that thought, she stopped short. What was she thinking, this was Sherlock’s big brother; scary Mr. British Government, but the way her eyes lingered on him, she could not deny that she had ever been more entranced by a man in her life, not even by Sherlock and his mesmerizing blue eyes and high cheek bones.
Oh yes, most definitely. She crooked her head to the side. Her eyes traveling up the rest of his body, only to jolt to a stop, her eyes widening. His tie hung loosely at his throat, the two top buttons of his shirt undone and gave her a very enticing view of smooth skin with a smattering of chest hair; who would have known. Licking her lips unconsciously, she wondered what it would feel like as it pressed and slid against her heated flesh.
Her eyes traveled up the long column of his neck, and her breath caught in her throat. There, just barely visible, short hairs graced his cheeks and jaw line. Mr. British Government was always so clean cut that the sight of the morning stubble along his jaw sent a thrill down her spine. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush the back of her hand and cradle his face in the palm of her hands. Images of her lips ghosting over his or the scratch of his stubble along the delicate skin of her inner thighs flashing before her minds eyes.
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she dragged her eyes away from him in wonder. Where had these thoughts come from, this was Sherlock’s big brother for god’s sake, sneaking a quick peek at him once again, she shook her head minutely. Ah but now he wasn’t just Sherlock’s older brother, now she saw him as a man in his own right; one that was handsome and protective and intelligent and loyal; one that took her breath away not for who he represented, but rather for who he was.
Oh but she was just silly old Molly Hooper; the stuttering, nervous fan girl that no one took seriously. No one ever notices her; she didn’t matter.
Hoping that the low lighting in the room masks the blush staining her cheeks, she clears her throat softly so as not to startle him. His eyes blink open startled none the less and his head snaps towards her. Blinking his eyes a few times to chase away the fatigue, she saw the instant his guards went up and the relaxed vulnerability vanished from his frame.
Standing to acknowledge her presence, he straightened his tie, buttoned his shirt, and rolled his sleeves back down; the last bits of his armour firmly sliding into place.
“It’s my turn” she said with a shrug of her shoulders, explaining her presence.
“Only if you are certain Dr. Hooper, I do not wish to inconvenience you any more than we already have” he replied with his brow frowned not use to having another assist him with such a personal matter, and surprised with himself that he did not in fact mind.
“Molly, please” she said with a small shy smile. “I don’t mind at all, and I know you work so hard doing what you do and having to mind Sherlock as well. The least I can do is sit with him a while, while you rest” she said in earnest.
Letting a long breath out, he ran a tired hand across his eyes, it would be nice to rest his eyes, even for just a little while.
Giving her a tight smile he accepted her help, “Thank you Dr...” at her pointed look he corrected himself, “Thank you Molly this is most appreciated.”
He strides towards her and the door, stopping before he is out the door, he pauses considering his words.
“Sherlock surely does not realize the value and gift of your friendship” he says meeting her eyes.
He holds them just a moment longer before he turns to go, only to be stopped once again by a hand at his wrist.
His head swivels to face her; head crooked to the side with a quizzical look on his face, and she can’t help but think him adorable.
“Not just Sherlock” she says with feeling.
“I beg your pardon” he asks.
“My ... my friendship. It’s not just for Sherlock. For you too, that is if you’ll have it; if you want it” her words coming out rushed due to her shaking nerves.
“I almost forgot, here” she said thrusting the steaming cup of tea into his hands, “I thought that you might like a cup. I ... I mean ... well it always helps me to well...” she snapped her mouth shut, not wanting to embarrass herself further.
Looking down into the cup his critical eyes took in the dark liquid with a sliver of lemon floating at the top; just how he takes his tea.
He inclines his head in thanks “I am most grateful, thank you again Molly” he says softly, charmed and touched that she knew how he took his tea; that she noticed him enough to know. That she noticed him enough to want to be his friend.
“You’re welcome Mr. Holmes” she says with a bright smile, moving over the chair to settle in.
“Please” he says, “call me Mycroft” and before she can respond he is out the door.
Her eyes linger on the doorway even after he is gone; her minds eyes still seeing him framed in the doorway, still seeing the way his eyes flashed and glowed. It was most definitely his eyes; the way their blues swirled and flashed like a storm upon the ocean. Oh yes, she could spend a lifetime drowning in their depths.
Dragging her eyes to the patient in the room, she let out a ragged sigh for the man in the bed before her. Do you know? Do you even care what you do to him, what you put him through?