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“I would offer you moral support, but I have questionable morals,” Khan said, watching as she ignored yet another call on the device she said was a mobile phone. He had to assume it was Mycroft trying to reach her, or perhaps his own doppelganger, her acquaintance Sherlock. Whoever it was, Molly was giving the briefest of glances to her mobile and then not accepting the call as she got her guest room ready.

“I’m sorry it’s not much,” she said. “I don’t normally have guests.”

“I assume because you don’t have many friends?” he asked.

“And you don’t have much tact, apparently,” she said, turning to him and glaring just slightly. He actually felt a bit bad about her reaction. He hadn’t meant to hit a sore spot, he was just stating what he thought to be a simple fact. Perhaps that simple fact wasn’t as simple as he had originally assumed.

“My apologies,” he said quietly. “I may be a bastard and a war criminal, but I do have some modicum of manners. I should use them.”

“Yes, you should,” she said quietly. “But you’re right, you know. I don’t have many friends. Most people don’t want to be friends with someone who works on the dead, even though I try and help solve cases when I can.”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure that this woman, his soulmate according to the tattoos on their wrists that were gone now, was all she seemed, but also that she was. Perhaps it was that he thought she could be more than she seemed, with a bit of motivation. The encounter with Mycroft had been a surprise to both of them, it had seemed, which meant while she came off as very timid, deep down, she really wasn’t.

Interesting.

Finally, she finished with the bed and then stepped back. “There. Not sure if it’s what you’re used to, considering I have no idea what the future is like, but...it should be comfortable enough, I suppose.”

He went and sat on the bed and was surprised that it was comfortable. In his guise as John Harrison, he had been put up in a decent apartment in London, but it had not been home. It had not been more than a place to rest for a few hours a night before he was set back to work, and he had not found that bed comfortable. The cryogenic pods had been small enough to fit in the torpedos but large enough to hold someone as tall as himself. But they had not been comfortable at all. And before that…

No, there hadn’t really been comfort in his life, either before the Eugenics War or after, or even after being awoken.

“Thank you,” he murmured before laying down on the bed, lacing his fingers together behind his head. He was not surprised when she sat next to him and he turned to face her. “I need more appropriate clothing to blend in, you know.”

“I know,” she said. “I have an idea of your measurements so I could order some things, but...I don’t know if I want you or I to have to deal with shops today. Or the Holmes brothers, which would be the other way to get clothing. And while John is a dear, I don’t think his taste and yours are very compatible.”

“How so?” Khan asked.

“He likes comfy jumpers and sensible clothes. I don’t think you’re quite that same type of person. You seem to be more...high maintenance...if the clothes you were in outside the hospital are any indication.”

“And I’m fairly sure I shall never see those clothes again,” he said. “We left without them and Mycroft was there. I’d say they’re in his possession now.”

“Oh, bugger,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I should have grabbed them.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t do to dwell on it now,” he said, shutting his eyes. “We’ll make do with other clothes eventually. I don’t need clothes to sleep in.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice softer than before. He cracked open an eye and saw her turn a dull shade of red.

“You have already seen me stark naked,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but that was when I thought you were dead!” she said. She shook her head. “I mean, we’re soulmates, we’re going to...” She moved her hands around in a way that was almost cute if he had to admit. He had not expected her to be so flustered about intercourse with him if they should get to that point. He had primal urges but was used to tending to them himself. It could be interesting to have a mate.

“Have sexual intercourse,” he finished for her.

Eventually, maybe. I mean...” She shut her eyes and brought her hand to her brow. “If you’re even attracted to me, which I understand you could not be. Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean anything.”

“You don’t think you’re attractive?” he asked, turning his body as he studied her. Slim, petite even, with decent musculature. He wondered what she would look like with her hair around her shoulders, naked, on top of him and his…

“You obviously do,” she said quietly as he felt himself harden again as he had in the morgue.

“Apparently,” he murmured. “But as you have qualms, and I do have some morals, skewed as they are, I’ll ask you to take your leave so I can deal with it.”

She nodded, her eyes widening just slightly, and got up off the bed as he slid his hand into the bottom of the hospital scrubs he was wearing. This, he realized, was going to be frustrating if it went on for too long...