A/N: I saw a gif on Tumblr for True Blood from S4E3 and was inspired (and 'borrowed' some of the dialogue). Hope you enjoy it! :)
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
It Tickles
He'd shown up at her door: bruised, bloodied and, oddly, without any shoes.
She let him in without comment and made sure that he was settled before she went to fetch some water from the kitchen.
He was asleep by the time she got back and she bit her lip, trying to decide what to do. She knew that he needed to be cleaned up, but he also needed his rest.
A soft snore decided the matter; she put the water aside and sat down in the nearby chair, picking up her book as she did so. His injuries didn't look serious and he obviously needed rest more than anything else.
A few hours later, she woke with a start as the book fell out of her hands with an audible thud. She stretched and rubbed her eyes, glancing across at Sherlock to find him blinking sleepily.
"Sorry," she apologised, jumping out of her chair and retrieving the book. "I should take a look at your injuries now," she added, moving the water closer and joining him on the couch.
She brushed a lock of hair off his face, trying not to wince as she realised it was matted with blood.
He ducked his head a little, avoiding her gaze. "Not all of it is mine," he confessed in a low tone.
Molly opened her mouth, but she wasn't sure what to say and closed it again; she settled for giving his hand a small squeeze.
"Sorry the water got cold," she murmured, wetting the sponge and starting to clean his face.
"It doesn't bother me," he replied in the same sombre tone.
Molly was surprised to find herself blinking back tears at how broken he seemed, but she didn't know what to say. She wondered what kind of person it made her that she still loved him, no matter what he had done.
She moved to kneel on the floor, taking the opportunity to surreptitiously wipe her eyes by pretending to tuck some hair behind her ear.
She jumped as he jerked his foot away with what sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
"It tickles," he explained with a rueful look as she looked up at him in surprise.
"I never thought that you would be ticklish," she replied with a small smile, glad to find a way to lighten the mood.
Sherlock's mouth twitched, "Another secret I will have to trust you with."
Molly's smile widened, "I'll try to be more careful," she promised as she resumed washing his feet.
"I'll do it," he said, moving to take the sponge, "you shouldn't have to clean my feet."
Molly gently swatted his hands away, "Don't be silly, you should rest," she told him, "it's fine."
Sherlock obediently sat back, but he didn't look happy about it.
"Besides," she continued in a teasing tone, "how else will I know you trust me with your secret?"
Sherlock frowned at her, "Molly-"
"I'm just teasing, Sherlock," she assured him, "I just…" she closed her eyes briefly, gathering her thoughts. "I need to do this," she told him, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze steadily, "to reassure myself that you may be injured, but you're at least alive."
Sherlock regarded her for a long moment, before giving a brief nod that Molly took as acquiesce and she resumed her task.
"For the record, I do trust you with my secret," he said after a long moment, "with all my secrets."
"I know," Molly said softly, not looking up.
She finished washing his feet in silence and was surprised to find that he had once again nodded off. This time she covered him in a blanket, taking extra care to cover his otherwise exposed feet.
She hovered uncertainly for a moment before, in a sudden burst of bravery, she bent to kiss his forehead, smoothing back his hair as she did so.
"I still love you Sherlock Holmes," she whispered, before her bravery deserted her and she disappeared in the direction of her bedroom.
In her haste to leave she missed Sherlock's small, pleased smile at her words.