Lexie sometimes draws

mo-ho replied to your post: y’all, I’m watching Saved by the Bell and Boy Meets World reruns.

Swaplock meets RegularLock-Fic. I’m not sorry for any brain breakage that may occur.

He was everything that she was supposed to love.

Here was a man that was shy and sweet, kind to a fault with a morbid sense of humour and could give her a run for her money in how quickly he could close up a y-incision.

Sherlock Holmes was perfect.

Wasn’t he?

Molly still wasn’t sure on the details of just how this had happened (the Doctor had said something about implosions of continuums of….something), but here they were: bizarro versions of themselves that had walked out of the TARDIS and suddenly in their lives.

That had been months ago, and by now they had mostly adjusted to each other’s presence and after a while John had elbowed her in the ribs and jutted his chin towards Sherlock (the other Sherlock, the one wearing a lab coat and cleaning up in her lab). “Why not give it a go?”

Thinking to herself ‘why not’ (and pushing away the image of her other self with her Sherlock and the way that they alternated between plotting ways to kill each other and disappearing into storage cupboards together), Molly had walked over and asked him to dinner.

It was wonderful. Sherlock had an adorable laugh, was a complete gentleman and Molly had felt something warm pool in her chest when he’d lightly kissed her cheek and wished her good night at her door.

He would hold her hand when they were out in public. He would make her dinner at home. He listened to her, seemed to catch on to exactly what she needed in every possible way with the bonus of being gorgeous and everything she’d ever fantasised about and yet….

…that was exactly the problem.

Because he was exactly everything she’d ever wanted Sherlock to be.

And yet when she looked at the other Sherlock, still and always her Sherlock, it was amazing that a small smile directed at her from him was enough to make her heart lighter.

And really, it just wasn’t fair.