This is my first Sherlock FanFic, please be gentle. I based the story from the poem I wrote of the same title. This happened after The Reichenbach Fall. It may be the same flow as some of the same stories here, but I just can't help it. Reviews please!
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters especially Sherlock.
Molly's Chemistry
Chapter 1: The Fall and After
What you need is what I ask of you
For I will not have it any other way
I suppose that the world will never truly understand
But I do
It has always been known that Molly Hooper, forensic pathologist for Bartholomew's Hospital has always been infatuated with Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective. Everyone knows this, but not everyone takes advantage of the said fact. She does everything that he asks for, without questions and without a doubt. She has been overly manipulated, insulted, and used by Sherlock. Molly even attempted to ask him out, but he definitely dismissed the idea and pretended to have misunderstood the intention. All she could do was to do what he says. She tried to tell him how hurt she was and attempted to debacle with his reasoning at time, but she always seems to lose with his brilliant mind. Molly hopes and imagines that Sherlock is not as cold as a fish as everyone thinks. She does see through him, all the indifference and passiveness on his oh so gorgeous face. She can really do surprise him, as for the time she told him that he looks sad when he thinks that John was not looking, and the fact that she dismissed him upon telling him that she doesn't count as well as walking away when she has decided that Sherlock doesn't need anything from him at all.
All she ever wanted is for him to change his mind. Maybe, it was just bound to happen. That night happened.
"You're wrong, you know? You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not okay"
"Tell me what's wrong."
"Molly, I think I'm going to die."
"What do you need?
"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything that I think I am would you still want to help me?"
"What do you need?"
"You."
Everything was heavily and quickly planned. It did go smoothly and thanks to a certain pathologist, it was executed completely. His death was done, Moriarty did kill himself in front of Sherlock, but it didn't end there. Molly knew there was more to it.
Few hours later, she found herself in the morgue, alone, with a body still covered with white cloth waiting for her to open. There were tears in her eyes, they were real tears of grief, and loss, and it was indeed loss. She slowly uncovered the sheet of the body lying on the cold stainless autopsy table. It's time to face reality. She was not surprised to see Sherlock, lying on the table, but what surprised her is how peaceful he looked, like his mind is not working at all which doesn't really happen. Molly tried to restrain herself from crying, but she could not help it, she started sniffing and sobbing softly; like auto-pilot, her hand started to trace the shape of his face, from his forehead, to his well-defined cheekbones, and to his chin. She didn't realize that her tears were already falling on Sherlock's shoulder, "What are you doing Molly?" he said in his baritone voice, that made her jump back, surprised that he was already awake, Of course he's awake, you bloody idiot she thought. "So…sorry, I was just…" she answered but was cut off when Sherlock sat up. He looked at her again, those eyes that she always moon about. "I didn't…mean" she stammered, and then she turned away and pretend to do something else. She was too caught up with her thoughts that she didn't notice that Sherlock was walking towards her, but she gasp when she felt a hand on her shoulder and when she turned around, there was Sherlock completely naked in front of her. Molly blinked so many times and still can't believe what she was seeing, "You can close your mouth now Molly" Sherlock said. Finally, Molly snapped back into reality and moved away and tried to hide the redness of her face. "I need my clothes" he said. "Right, umm sorry, just wait here…just erm…lie on the table again, someone might come in" Molly said as she walked out of the morgue and went to her office as quickly as she could.
When Molly returned, she saw that Sherlock was back on the table; she approached him and informed that she's back, gave his clothes and she turned against Sherlock to give him time to get dressed and finished the autopsy report and his death certificate.
"Are you done?" he asked
"Yes, I just need to send this to Mike, will you be okay in here?"
"Of course, I don't think anyone would come in, but in any case I need to hide"
"Of course, I will be back then"
Few minutes have passed and she finally returned, Sherlock was no where to be found, she thought that he may be just hiding, so she decided to go to her office and grabbed her things and just wait for Sherlock to reappear so she can say good night. When she came in the office, there was Sherlock sitting on her chair.
"We need to leave now"
"I'm sorry, 'we'?"
"Yes, I need to use your flat to hide"
"Oh, erm, yes sure"
They both walked out of the morgue and tried their best not to be seen until they have finally exited the hospital. Sherlock guided Molly the most secluded streets to pass to get to her place. Few minutes have passed and they have finally reached Molly's flat, there were no words that passed between their lips, they walked upstairs in silence. Molly opened the door slowly and guided Sherlock inside. She was feeling a little bit awkward having Sherlock coming in to her home. He has never been here, but she's sure that Sherlock will not be surprised of what she sees in it.
Molly's flat is clean, organized, and cozy; figurines of kittens displayed on a shelf and books all over the next shelf. Although it is a small flat, it is very homey, and she likes it that way. Sherlock took off his hoody and placed it on the coat hanger, as Molly did. She went straight to the kitchen and turned on the kettle for a hot tea.
"Sherlock?"
"hmm?"
"You can take my bedroom, it's been a long day and you need to get your rest"
"I don't think that would be appropriate to take over your bedroom"
"No, I don't mind, the couch is fine, and besides it can be turned into a bed"
"If you insist"
That was probably the last thing they have talked about. A few minutes and tea have passed; Molly readied herself for bed, and took the liberty of changing the sheets on her bed while Sherlock is taking a shower. When she was done, she went to the living room and prepared her bed/couch, and turned of the lights as she close her eyes to sleep.
Molly tried, she tried so hard to get some sleep but her eyes are betraying her with tears coming out. She couldn't help it. Sherlock will be gone, she knows it. Her sobs are becoming a bit louder that she didn't realize that Sherlock is already standing beside the sofa bed.
"Is something the matter Molly?"
She looked up and saw the dark, tall figure standing beside the bed.
"Ermm, I'm sorry if I wake you. I just…erm…"
"Why are you crying?"
"Nothing…it's nothing. I'm fine. I'm sorry…you can go back to sleep"
"You're not fine, tell me"
She stood up and walked passed by Sherlock ignoring his demand to tell him; Molly went straight to the bathroom and washed her face, but as she walked down the hall, the door of her bedroom is still open, and was surprised to see that Sherlock is now sitting on the edge of the sofa bed.
"Can't you just tell me why you have been crying? Did I upset you or something? Do you want your bedroom back?"
Molly didn't say anything, but instead she started giving out soft sobs,
"I'm so…sorry Sherlock it's just that you're dead"
"Clearly I am not because it's obvious that I am sitting here in front of you"
"I know that, but for how long? How long will you be sitting in front of me? Who knows what will happen. Aren't I allowed to grieve for you?"
"What is there to grieve Molly? I am here"
Then Sherlock grabbed her hand…
"I can touch you and obviously you can feel my hand on yours!"
"You don't get it do you? I know you're not really dead, but the fact that you will be leaving to take out Moriarty's network, you will be gone, from everyone, and that I am the only one who knows you're alive, it will be devastating to see John, Mrs. Hudson, and even Lestrade mourn for you! So why can't you just leave my emotions alone right now? I don't know when you will be leaving, you haven't told me much about your plan yet, but I know you will be gone. My tears will be for the loss of you. If you don't understand that, then just go back to bed and get your rest and stop asking me!"
With that, she laid back to bed, and covering her self with the blanket to hide away from him still trying to control her sobs. She didn't feel the bed move, meaning Sherlock was still sitting on it even if a few minutes have already passed. But then she felt the bed moved, but this time the weight was heavier on her side, and it was not leaving the surface. She was too scared to uncover and find Sherlock is lying beside her. She maintained her trembling composure under the covers when Sherlock removed it from her. Still her back facing, she felt Sherlock eased himself beside her and was surprised to feel Sherlock's arm on her waist and he buried his face on the back of her neck. They lie like that for few minutes without uttering a single word. But then finally, Sherlock decided to speak.
"I'm sorry that this is difficult for you, I know what I ask is too much, but you can always say no"
Finally, Molly decided to face him.
"That's the thing Sherlock, I asked you what you need, and that's all I needed to know. I'm just sad about all of this. The fact that…The fact…"
With one more exhale…
"The fact that I don't know if and when I will see you again"
Sherlock didn't know what to make of her words, so instead he pulled her close to his chest and allowed her to mourn for him finally. As they broke the closeness, Molly just stared at Sherlock's face without blinking an eye. Sherlock's arm was still on her waist, she can't seem to move and do anything but just stare ate does blue-green eyes that she has always loved. Molly did the only courageous thing that she could do at the moment, and that is to brush her hand through Sherlock's curls; as she was moving the hair away from his face, tears are slowly running down her eyes; and with that Sherlock removed his hand from her waist and wiped the tears from her eyes. With his touch she closed her eyes, and continues to allow her tears to flow. "Molly, I am not worthy of your tears" he said softly as he kept caressing her cheeks. "Yes you are. You are a great person and people are wrong to believe what they see on the news. We know that. And I know that you are not really dead, but I… it hurts to know that we won't be able to see you within arms reach, to grace us with your brilliant mind. I do, I do believe in you Sherlock Holmes" she said as she continues to sob.
Sherlock questioned himself how this woman in front of her can see who he is and for what he really is despite all the façade he puts. He needed her, he told her so. All of her. "I don't deserve you Molly Hooper, and you keep on hoping for me. All I did was wrong you and yet here you are. What did I ever do to deserve you" he thought. When she finally opened her eyes, Sherlock was just staring at her despite the darkness, he can see her big brown eyes; he finally succumb to the unknown, and for one minute he stopped thinking, he moved his face closer to her and gently allowed his lips to touch hers.
Molly was surprised with his bold move, but she received him whole-heartedly. She is kissing Sherlock Holmes, the love of her life. Their kiss was gently and slow and loving, but he held her closer to him, and suddenly all the gentleness was gone and was replaced by hunger and passion. That night, Molly made love to Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, high-functioning sociopath, and a dead man.
The next morning, Molly slowly opened her eyes; she stared at the ceiling and tried to remember what occurred that night. She suddenly felt cold, so she pulled the covers to her naked body and finally realized that she was alone. She looked beside her where Sherlock was, there was an envelop together with Sherlock's scarf on the pillow. Molly took it right away and pulled whatever is inside. A letter from Sherlock, she read it intently;
Dearest Molly,
Thank you for your help on executing my plan. I don't know how I would be able to manage everything without you.
About last night, I know I took advantage of you, please forgive me. I have never felt what you have made me feel. But I can't give you what you want and what you need. Please know that you do count, never forget that. I want you to be happy because you deserve it. And I don't deserve you. I can't be the person that you want to be. I truly apologize if I have taken advantage of your kindness and your hospitality. Please don't forget what you are to me Molly. I hope that I get to stay more, but you know that I can't. I have to go away and take down Moriarty's network. I don't know when I will be back. Look out for John as well, if it's inconvenient for you, I can understand.
Please promise me to be happy, the way that you deserve.
Sherlock
Her hands were shaking as she finished reading his letter; she finally broke down holding on to Sherlock's scarf. Molly doesn't even feel anger, she's supposed to feel used, and taken advantaged of, but on the contrary, she just felt ready sad and even more alone. Molly didn't even manage to get up for hours and just held the scarf close to her heart until her tears run dry. She finally decided to get some fresh air. She readily took a shower, got dressed, put her coat and wore his scarf. She walked out of her flat and strolled along the streets of London. Thinking what could happen now. She can't tell John of her knowledge and involvement with Sherlock's 'death.' She wanted to get her mind off of the situation on how she made love with Sherlock and then left while she was asleep. For a moment she wanted to forget the pain. She needed a distraction, she thought of going to Bart's and see she can work on something to get her mind busy. But as she walked, she didn't think that the way to Bart's is also the same way to Baker Street, and when she reached the latter; she stopped in front of its dark door. Like auto-pilot she turned on the knob not even thinking if it's locked, fortunately it wasn't and she went straight up the stairs and softly knocked on the door.
Molly kept knocking on the door, but apparently no one was answering so she just decided that its time for her to go. As she descends on the stairs, a voice called her name.
"Molly?"
"John"
"Can I help you?"
"I just wanted to see how you're doing"
She tried to smile, but it was weak. The doctor did notice it. John walked to the door and opened it for her and invited her in. Once they were in the sitting room, she immediately hugged John and started crying again. John was surprised by this, but being the most human between him and Sherlock, he returned Molly's hug and patting her back for comfort. They stayed like that for few minutes; breathing in the comfort from each other, of loss, and of grief. Molly's tears were genuine despite the fact that she knows that Sherlock is alive. But for her, Sherlock felt like he really is dead. She was never really that close to John, but the fact that the person they both love is gone, sharing that same sentiment makes them feel like they have known each other for years and years.
Molly finally broke the hug and just looked at John intently, with the sadness on her eyes, "He's gone John" she said softly to him. John wiped the tears on her eyes, and replied, "I know."
"I'll make us some tea"
"Okay"
While John was busy in the kitchen, she looked around the flat and slowly walked over to Sherlock's chair, with her small hands, she gently touched it, inhaling all the facts that still bothered her mind. She went over to the window where Sherlock's violin was sitting; she did the same thing to it and just looking out the window, asking herself if Sherlock is ever coming back. Little did she know John was observing her, feeling sorry for her, and feeling the same loss. As he placed the tray with their tea on the coffee table, he walked over to Molly, and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
"You can have it"
"What?"
"The violin, Molly, you can have it."
"Erm…I can't…"
"Yes you can. Take it. Have something of him. I want you to have it"
Still hesitating, but she gladly accepted. She sat down on the couch, while John packed the violin. After that, John joined him and they both drank their tea in silence.
"John?"
"Hmm?"
"I want you to know that, whatever you need, or if you want to talk… I want you to know that I will be here for you. It seems like an odd thing to say, after breaking down like that a while ago, but if you ever need a friend, I will be here."
"Thank you. That's very kind of you."
John never spoke much, and Molly understood. Men have never been really vocal with their feelings, but she knows how devastated John was, it was in his eyes.
Hours have passed when finally, Molly decided she needed to go, she stood up and John did as well.
"I will leave now. Thank you for the tea and erm… everything. I guess I will see you at the funeral tomorrow."
John didn't say a word but walked her through the door. While she steps down, she heard John called her name; she turned around and saw him still standing there,
"Thank you, Molly. I offer you the same too. If you ever need someone to talk to, a friend, I'm here for you"
She smiled at him, and continued to talk down until she got out of 221B.
When she got home, she just took a shower, got into her pajamas, and went straight to her room. Molly didn't think there's much to do. She even disregarded the idea of going to Bart's after visiting John. She felt like here heart has been crushed upon seeing John in his state, she knows the doctor loves Sherlock as a brother. She also felt really bad about lying to him like that, but what can she do, she is protecting Sherlock and his friends.
She lie awake in bed, she checked on the time it was already 2AM, but sleep hasn't come to her. Molly can't stop thinking about their last night together. For years of knowing Sherlock, it was the first time that she finally felt love from him. At least that is what she thought. But of course there was the honest revelation of his letter that he can't be what she wants him to be. It's obvious to her, Sherlock cannot love her. When tears have finally dried, she closed her eyes and drifted off to her sleep.
The next day, was even more emotional. It was Sherlock's funeral. Everyone that believed in Sherlock whole heartedly was there. The look on Mrs. Hudson's face and even Lestrade was definitely heartbreaking. She came to Mrs. Hudson and allowed her to hold her hands. All these tears and sadness are just too much for her; They shouldn't be suffering upon the loss of a living man she thought. But she knows why Sherlock did it. It was to protect them, and by keeping that secret, it is protecting him as well. After John's eulogy, it was her cue to leave; she no longer felt like she belonged there, she left Mrs. Hudson and John that day in the cemetery.
She went home to an empty flat; it was quiet, and a lot colder. Her former cozy flat now has become gloomy. She sat on her couch and thought about all those friends she saw at Sherlock's funeral, and how she wanted to tell them that it's alright and that he is alive. But she just can't, if she's being honest with herself, it was too much of a responsibility. However, Sherlock trusted her to keep his secret and she cannot betray that, her loyalty is with Sherlock. Molly just wanted to hold Sherlock and tell him that everything will be alright, but things doesn't work that way with him and she knows what kind of person Sherlock is dealing with. She knows it's for the greater good.
Sherlock is gone, that's a fact now. She doesn't know where he is and she thinks that she will never find out. She has to give it some rest, she has to give her heart a rest. As of today, London will not be the same without Sherlock Holmes, she will not be the same without him. Molly finally stood up, took the violin still sitting on the coffee table from the previous day, and took it with her in the bedroom as she placed it in a closet, together with his scarf and his letter. Things need to change around here, she said to herself as she sighed trying to get some sort of relief.
Weeks have passed and everything seems close to being normal, except for the fact that Sherlock wasn't busting the door of her morgue as well as the hospital's lab. She hasn't spoken to John and figured he still needs time; she did manage to call Mrs. Hudson once in a while just to check on her. She worked harder and stayed at the hospital more often than she did when Sherlock was around. Making herself busy keeps her mind away from things that bothered her, it was a good move.
Another week has passed and she now feels that all those hours are finally giving too much on her body. For some reason she hasn't been feeling really well lately. The food she takes goes directly to the toilet afterwards because her stomach is rejecting it for some reason. She called in sick and just planned on staying at home to get a full days rest so that all the queasiness she feels might go away. She went to the kitchen and made herself coffee and some breakfast, as she went to the fridge she glanced at the calendar beside it, she looked at it again, and realized that it has been eight weeks. "How could I have missed this?" she said to herself. Her face turned pale and suddenly she was running to bathroom and threw up her empty stomach.
Molly immediately took a shower and got dressed, ran out of her flat and went to the nearest drugstore. When she got what she needed, she went back to her flat and used all the pregnancy test that she bought. Few minutes have passed and the entire test resulted into one, Positive. Odd thing that she didn't cry, not even a single tear. She was scared, that's what she felt. This is hers and Sherlock's creation, which makes it scarier. Sherlock is nowhere to be found, she has no one to tell, she has no one. What makes it even sadder is that from Sherlock's words and he can never be what she wanted him to be. All of those weeks and days, and hours that have passed trying to be strong and forgetting him and that night are now coming back to her. That's when the tears came falling down.
She went to her bedroom and laid on the bed, she needed to clear her mind. If she tells anyone about this, they would ask her questions about the father. She wanted so much to confide to John, but lying to him even more is something that she cannot do. "What am I going to do?" she asked softly while she put her hand on her belly and just caressed it, trying to think. Molly needs to make the right decision, but keeping the child growing inside her was already a made decision. She wanted kids; she just didn't think that the father will be a genius, man-child, who is not capable of loving another human being. She has been dreaming of having a normal family, like what she had as a child. But ever since her parents have died, there is no one else. So now, what ever she decides, will be for her and her child. As she thinks harder, cried and smiled a little, she grew tired, and fell asleep on the same bed that her baby was conceived.
By the moment she opened her eyes, she gave herself a smile; she got up and for once, her mind was clear, she will never be alone anymore.
