You. Always You.
Part One
His lips were parted.
His mouth was poised to speak.
"Not. A. Word," she grumbled as she stepped slowly into the kitchen, her fingertips massaging her temples. "I am not in the mood for 'Deduction Time.'" She sat down at the table, in the chair across from him.
He pressed his lips together, and nudged a steaming cup towards her. She eyed it warily.
"What is it?" she asked.
He nudged the mug closer. "It will ease the pain," he explained.
She continued to eye it, not making a move towards it.
He let out a loud huff. "Oh for goodness sake Molly! I'm a graduate chemist! Don't you trust me?"
Her eyes met his and he simply stared back at her with raised eyebrows. With an annoyed huff of her own she reached out and took up the mug.
"Oh God, it's simply awful," she murmured between sips.
"Drink it. All of it," he commanded.
It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. "Yes mother."
The corner of his mouth twitched, she could tell he was trying not to smile. After a few more sips of the dreadful brew it suddenly hit her. Sherlock Holmes was here in her flat, sitting at her table. It wasn't exactly a strange sight; it was one that she was in fact quite accustomed to. But he hadn't used her flat as a bolt hole in months. Many months. And for him to be here now, at this time with her in her current state, left her rather confused.
"Why are you here?" She clamped a hand over her mouth before moving it away. "Oh God, I'm sorry, that came out far harsher than I meant it to." She kept her eyes down, focusing on the last bit of liquid in the mug. She could feel his eyes on her.
"You called me. Last night. You called me. You never call me."
Her eyes snapped up to meet his as memories flooded back to her; fuzzy, but clear enough.
She had gone to a pub with a few co-workers from Bart's after work. Tom had been there, snogging a woman that Molly had seen before at his office. Seeing the two of them together like that made it very clear to Molly that he had been indeed cheating on her. Tom never once became aware of her presence, barely removing himself from his lady-loves lips. The sight of it was actually quite sickening.
Horrified by the thought that she should have put an end to their relationship much sooner, Molly found herself consuming alcohol at a far faster rate than usual; downing several pints of beer within a matter of minutes. Her co-workers started doing shots, and having never been one to hold her liquor, after the second shot she was finding herself feeling quite dizzy.
Excusing herself to the loo she stumbled slightly, but made it without falling over and locked herself into one of the stalls. It was almost as if the click of the lock signified a stab in her heart, as she felt a massive wave of emotions pour over her. The sight of Tom in another woman's arms had undone her in far more ways than she realized. It wasn't him exactly; it was just that he was another failed relationship. Here was further proof that she was going to end up alone.
She fell to the floor, burying her face in her knees as she hugged them to her chest. The tears were pouring out of her now and she couldn't stop them. She wanted so badly to leave; to be in the safety and warmth of her bed. But she didn't want to risk it. She was too terrified of the possibility of Tom seeing her. Of him seeing her so upset, and possibly triumphing over that fact.
But she had to get out. She couldn't stay here. There was not a single person out there in the pub that would understand and help her. She felt so horribly alone. Pulling out her mobile she started to scroll through her contacts, hiccupping slightly as she tried to calm down her tears. Her thumb hesitated over John's name before quickly scrolling passed it, stopping on Sherlock's. The number dialed.
She put down the mug and covered her face with her hands. "Oh. Oh God. Why didn't you call John or Greg?"
Not getting an answer she looked up from her fingers. Sherlock looked confused.
"Lestrade," she stated flatly.
"Ahh," Sherlock paused, hesitating, clearly feeling uncomfortable, before continuing, "Because you asked for me. You wanted me."
She looked away from him, too embarrassed to keep eye contact. "I'm … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have put you through that. You shouldn't have had to see me like that."
"Molly … that … man doesn't deserve a single tear from you."
She shook her head. "It wasn't just about him. It was about every single relationship that I've ever had. They all failed. It was the complete and utter realization that I'm going to always be alone."
Sherlock didn't respond to this. Of course he wouldn't. Sentiment. It wasn't something he believed in.
"Why, why are you still here? Did you actually stay the whole night? You didn't have to." She continued to stare down at the dregs in the mug.
He shifted in his seat, leaning back slightly. "I stayed … because you wanted me to. You asked me to."
She returned her hands to her face. "I didn't beg, did I?" her words came out muffled, but he still managed to understand them.
"Mmmm …"
She peered at him through her fingers. He was smirking slightly. Smug bastard. She dropped her hands away. "You can go. I'm sure you want to. I'm perfectly all right now."
His smirk fell away, his face turning blank. He stood up from the table. "All right, fine. If that's what you want." He strode out of the kitchen.
Oh wait. No. Not good. She mentally kicked herself for being so ungrateful towards him, standing up as quickly as she could she hurried after him. "Sherlock, wait!"
His back was to her. He had his coat on and was doing up his scarf. She opened her mouth to say thank you, but the only word that came out was, "Why?"
He slowly turned towards her, their eyes meeting. "Because I wanted to." Several silent moments followed before he spoke again, "Molly, you helped me in my time of need, why should I not help you in yours?"
A few more moments passed. This time she broke the silence.
"What do you want?" she asked him.
He turned so that his entire body was facing her.
She stood her ground, keeping her eyes fixed on his. "What do you need?"
He took a step towards her, tugging his scarf so that it came loose before dropping it to the floor.
"What do you need?" she repeated.
He took another step towards her, and another, until his body was almost flush against hers. Reaching up he cupped her face in his hands, his fingertips brushing over the apples of her cheeks. His lips were hovering above hers as he gave his answer, "You. Always you."