Hello again readers. I've written 90% of the story so far whilst I've been away, however I'm not overly sure if I actually like it! Have a read and see what you think, at least it's some fluff to fill our evenings! Reviews/comments appreciated but not necessary, just try and enjoy. Thanks all x
CHAPTER ONE
Molly was sat at the bar away from the main reception room, occupied by a teenage couple attempting to pull each other, John's uncle, Simon, passed out in the armchair by the fire, and Mary's parents, drinking tea and trying not to nod off. All of a sudden it was September. Nights were drawing in as soon as eight-thirty, rain soon became frequent, and the autumn chill began to coax out the scarves and gloves of disgruntled Londoners.
Sherlock made his return the previous christmas, after eight months of being on the run.
"What do you need?"
"You.."
The words still haunted Molly Hooper. The hour between him saying those words to her and helping him evidently fake his own death, Molly dreamed. He'll stay with me. He'll have nowhere to go, I'm the only one who knows. That'll be it. She smiled as her eyes glazed over. He'd fall in love with her over late nights of tea drinking and pajama banter.
He died. Two hours later, he was gone.
"I must leave now, Molly." He stared at her as she flustered around the morgue, preparing his 'paperwork', having already put the 'body' into the body bag. She froze, back to him, thankfully, so she wouldn't have to endure the humiliation of his look when he saw her pure devastation.
"How long will you be, Sherlock?" She asked, barely containing the quiver in her voice.
"You must forget about me Molly, for your own good. May I ask something more of you? If that's entirely possible.." His hand on her shoulder gently turned her to face him.
The tears now falling down her face, she looked up into his eyes, a good nine inches above her own. She nodded at him, unable to persuade her voice out from hiding.
"Keep your eye on John."
She saw genuine sorrow in his eyes, his steely armour vanishing momentarily. She nodded again, closing her eyes tightly, begging the tears to stop, when actually causing more to flood her cheeks.
Her eyes shut, she didn't know if it was the sweet, hot breath on her nose, or the warm, pursed lips against her own that she felt first. It didn't matter. Deciding to be shocked later, the two wrapped each other up in their encasing embrace, spending minutes saying goodbyes with their lips.
Breaking the kiss, Sherlock brought his hands to Molly's face, thumbing away her drying tears and letting his forehead rest on hers. Letting their breath settle, their eyes opened simultaneously and met, both taking mental pictures of each others faces, to mourn over later. A chaste kiss was placed on her nose, and he was walking out.
"How will I know if you're ok?" She said quite audibly after him, the tears welling again in her wide, brown baubles.
He didn't even look back, afraid it would break him, again. Why did I do that? Have I not just made everything worse? He shut his eyes tight, escaping through the fire exit and straight into Mycrofts sent car. The last thing he heard in London, which in turn, haunted him more than words can explain, was his pathologist, Molly Hooper, screaming his name from the silent morgue.