I somehow had this compulsion to make one of these little ficlets inspired by songs, so this is my version of it. Basically, I put my music playlist on shuffle and listened to the first five songs, and made a little ficlet of each song in 5 sentences - my sentences are really, really long, ahaha...
I don't know if I'll make a second chapter to this, because it's just all sorts of random little ficlets, but if I ever have the time, or if any one of you would like to know more about my music taste, I'll consider :) But right now I gotta rush because I have to get out of my home in half an hour's time to go to work, and I did this just about an hour ago?! I apologise for any horrible mistakes, but I still hope you like this little thing (or things :3) :DDD
Part-Time Lover - Stevie Wonder
Sherlock stared intently at Molly sitting opposite him at the table; beside her, the nuisance of a man who's-it-face cackled out loud at what the pathologist - his pathologist, his part-time lover (as she wanted them to call each other as such) - was saying.
Molly giggled with him as Sherlock felt a small hand run up his arm; internally groaning at the blatant display for attention, he schooled his face into an expression of wonder at his date, Shelly Wuthering (or was it Williams?), who was looking at him under her lashes.
They talked about banal things and communicated with Molly and who's-it-face for another hour of this double date suggested by Shelly before they all left the restaurant; Sherlock could barely refrain himself from growling at the way who's-it-face had his hand much too low on Molly's small back.
"I had a good night, Sherlock," Shelly said as all four of them made their goodbyes to each other outside the restaurant, with Shelly and who's-it-face taking the same cab home; she tiptoed on her high heels to plant a lingering kiss on Sherlock's lips as she whispered against his mouth, "Call me."
"Can we stop keeping up pretenses, Molly?" Sherlock whined as they watched the cab leave the curb, and he turned to Molly with a glare, who in turn gave him a small smile; he invaded her personal space as he whispered, one finger running along her jaw to her decidedly-not-small lips, "I am all ready to enter a relationship with you - have been telling you so for the past month - and I told no more 'part-times', yet you make us go through all this; who's-it-face is going to shag Shelly when they get home, and I don't care to call her back - all I want is to shag you when we get home, and I want to call you back."
I remember you - Skid Row
Being alone in the dank darkness of the room he was taking refuge in, Sherlock sat on the floor leaning against the wall as he watched the rain fell through the dirty window that led to the outside world.
If anyone were to ever ask him how it was to be dead when he came back, the first thing that would always, would never fail, to pop into his mind would be 'lonely'.
There was no one here with him physically, what with his official status being 'dead to the world' - but he knew that there was one person other than his brother who knew of his status being otherwise.
Before he left, he kept the words she had said to him and held them close to his heart; those words kept him from being too lonely, kept him going on through the mission of dismantling the criminal network, and made him realise that there would always be someone with him - mentally.
"I remember you too, Molly Hooper."
The Secret of my Success - Night Ranger
"Sherlock, you are too much enthusiastic about these cases," Molly tut-ed at her husband after they - rather, he - solved yet another baffling serial killer case for the Yarders; Sherlock had been gushing about how smart the criminal was this time round and the riddles he had left for the police that had them in a twist before they decided to bring in the Consulting Detective.
Sherlock turned his head to the right and, looking down at her, winked. "You love me just like that, don't lie."
"You're a blazing ball of inappropriate energy and interest in such things, you know, and yet you're successful."
"I know - and you love my energy because you love how passionate I am towards keeping these sick bastards behind bars, with me putting in the hours and intellect to chasing and catching them; that is the secret to my success."
Smiling proudly at her husband, Molly pulled him back by the arm to stop him from walking; he obeyed and closed his eyes as he felt the soft press of his wife's lips against his jaw as she murmured affectionately, "Your passion turns me on greatly."
Leader of the band - Dan Fogelberg
Sherlock sat in his armchair as he ran his bow across the rosin in his left hand; his violin laid resting against his chest, with it moving up and down gently in time with his breathing.
Molly watched him and his ritual of rosining his bow and tuning up his violin, mesmerised by his gentle handling of the wooden instrument.
"I was never initially interested in the violin," Sherlock said softly, watching his bow move up and down, and gave a small smile to Molly before he continued, "My parents registered me into violin lessons before I could even walk properly, and during my early years I resented playing it - I would throw tantrums and skip lessons, just like any other boy at that age would do."
Molly blinked at him, imagining a rebellious 8-year-old Sherlock Holmes grabbing at a doorknob to prevent entry into a music room; she chuckled as she asked, "What made you continue playing it, until now, though?"
Sherlock stopped all movements and put down his bow on the coffee table right in front of him; he adjusted the position of the violin to rest in the cradle of his right elbow as he looked down at it with a wistful expression while saying in a rather soft voice, still not entirely confident of showing emotions to the woman seated near him, "My violin instructor had the passion for playing the violin, and I eventually saw it - I saw how much he put his soul into it, and I found out that I could do the same; whatever words or emotions I cannot say to anyone, to you, I have another avenue to express them through - my violin."
Accidentally in Love - Counting Crows
"What's the problem?"
Snapping out from his reverie, Sherlock blinked at Molly, her face much too close to his own; her head reeled back once those blue-green eyes were on focus and were staring back at her.
"Sorry! You were- you look spaced out, but not Mind-Palace spaced out, so I thought you would need some prompting to focus or anything or-" she rambled nervously.
Sherlock watched her talked, her face flushed red with embarrassment, her eyes brown and bright with intelligence, her dainty hands flailing around her sides in a normal reaction to nervousness; he gave a small smile and leaned in to her, effectively cutting off her words as he got ready to confess the one thing that had been plaguing his mind ever since he truly saw Molly Hooper.
"I'm accidentally in love."