Molly woke to knocking at her door, well, banging, it was 1 am in the morning, who the hell would be smashing her door down at 1am in the morning? Who indeed? She tied her dressing gown cords tight around her middle while shouting at the door, "You're damn right I changed the locks Sherlock, positive drug test, no more bolt hole! I told you!"
The banging ceased but she knew damn well that the consulting risk taker was still standing just as impatient and self righteous as ever. She snapped the light on in the kitchen and shuffled to the door shaking her head slightly in an effort to throw off the deep sleep she had just been roused from.
She pulled the key to the deadbolt from around her neck – the only place he could be counted on to never be in a position to steal from to make a copy – pushing it into the lock she paused, she thought she could hear the static of a radio for a moment, "Sherlock? Who's with you?" Her trepidation only increased when instead of an answer she heard a whispered conversation through the door.
"Okay, whoever the hell you are you're going to need to tell me the nature of your visit, okay? You're not coming in here without a damn good reason and two verifiable numbers to call to check you are who you say you are. Got it?"
The whispering continued for a moment and then her phone started ringing, she narrowed her eyes in suspicion at the door as she walked back out the door of the kitchen to the lounge where her phone lay on the coffee table. She scooped it up and looked at the screen, private number calling, she stood for a moment contemplating, then rolling her eyes at her own gullibility she answered.
"Molly? Good girl. You shouldn't have let them in."
"Sherlock? Wait, why?" She asked looking around the room for a suitable weapon and trying to figure out her best chance of escape.
"Without checking their credentials," he stated as though the answer was obvious, well, it probably was obvious when you were the great Sherlock Holmes.
Molly sighed, she didn't really feel like a lesson in safety was in order on a random night at 1 am. "What the hell is going on Sherlock?"
"I need you." Sherlock's voice was raw at this admission.
"Has something happened? Why do you need me? Why not John?" Molly felt confused by him at the best of times, but at 1 am with God knows who banging on her door and him on the phone sounding less than robotic, she was beyond comprehending the situation whatsoever.
"No, I don't think John will work for this particular need, it has to be you, no other human will in fact do. Please Molly."
Molly frowned at the desperation in the please, she'd never heard that in his voice before, "Sherlock? Are you hurt?"
"Please come to me Molly. I once asked you whether you thought to have loved and lost was better than missing the pain and not having the love at all, do you remember?"
"Y-yes, I said it was, why are you bringing that up?" Molly had tears glistening in her eyes as she stood clenching her phone hoping desperately that this wasn't a goodbye call.
"Do you still feel that way?" Sherlock's voice was urgent, insistent, bald.
"Of course," the tears were trailing silently down her cheeks now, this was a goodbye call and he's trying to wrap it up in poetry in some misguided attempt to provide me with some comfort.
"Then please, get dressed and go with the agents at your door, come to me," his voice broke in the last word and Molly swallowed a sudden lump in her throat, she knew he was crying and it ripped a hole through her heart.
"Okay," she whispered, "I'll come. To you."
"Thank you, Molly," she heard a sigh of relief and the line closed.
Waking up was no longer a problem, she walked stiffly back to the door and fiddled with the locks before wrenching it open. She gestured for the two agents to come inside while she got ready.
She went into her bedroom and shut the door so she could pull on some jeans and a jumper, she thought about a brief swipe of make up but looking at her trembling hands she decided against it.
A knock at her bedroom door was the precursor to a tentative "Ms. Hooper? We've been advised that you should pack a bag of essentials, anything that can't be readily purchased or is urgent."
She drew a breath to refute this request, - she had a shift in eleven hours – then remembered she was dealing with the ever high handed Holmes boys and closed her mouth. It was a certainty that however long she would be away Barts would have already approved the time off.
The agents were clearly Mycroft's minions, so he was involved, she was aware he was the greater part of getting Sherlock unfettered access to Barts in the first place, she imagined extended time off for Sherlock's pathologist would pose no great difficulty.
Molly pulled her medium suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and – having no idea what she would need – starting haphazardly throwing things in, when the case seemed full enough she zipped around the edges and pulled the handle up trundling it to the door and out to the agents.
The taller of the two, although not by much, the two men were eerily similar in appearance. Six feet tall – the taller having a scant inch on his companion, - nondescript light brown hair in a military cut, blue eyes, slight colour from outdoor details – she guessed, - and fit, lean torsos, came forward to take her case.
Molly relinquished it gratefully, not because it was heavy, it wasn't, but because her hands shaking so badly that it had been rattling in an embarrassingly loud fashion.
They made their way to the vehicle outside without a further word exchanged. Molly slid into the back seat feeling shell shocked. Sherlock clearly thought he was dying and wanted to be sure that she wanted to see him to say goodbye, a nervous flutter in her chest whispered that he was going to tell her he loved her, she desperately tried to ignore the voice but she found she couldn't, she'd always been able to read him and now was no exception.
On the heels of this realisation came another, the understanding that he was only going to tell her because he was dying, hence the reference to a philosophical discussion they had one night in the lab years ago that he hadn't deleted for reasons only known to himself.
The rest of the ride she sat trying to keep a hold of her emotions because she didn't want to get to him and do some sort of feeling dump on him when he clearly needed her.
The trip took around an an hour, they arrived at an old stone building with a circular driveway, it should have seemed to be a home or at the least a house, but the guards posted sentry at the large electronic gates and the lookout post high above looking down on them all negated that possibility.
Her palms were slick with sweat, fear pooled acidic in her stomach and her lips trembled, this was a military prison, a private, high profile, prison. Designed to contain the uncontainable, like Sherlock Holmes.
Bile lurched up into her throat, the sour taste doing her the favour of at least drawing her back to the present and reminding her to be strong for him. What had he done?
One of the agents came and took her by her elbow to lead her up to the door, after a quiet radioed confirmation she was ushered inside only to see Mycroft Holmes sitting in an armchair, hands steepled in front of him.
He stood immediately and gave her what she guessed he must think would pass for a smile among the living. "Miss Hooper, thank you for coming, he needs…" Clearing his throat he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes, his voice a croak, "He needs something I can't give him, he needs to be loved," his eyes were shining as he drew in a shaky breath, "He," he stopped and tilted his head assessing, "Do you still love him?" He swallowed hard to gain a modicum of control over his wayward emotions and waited for her to respond.
"I've never stopped, I never will, he's.."
"He's yours, as you are his, and he needs you to be with him now while he still can," his face stretched in a horrendous imitation of a smile, "Am I correct in assuming that nothing would ever cause you to cease loving him?"
Molly raised her eyebrows, "Well, after testing positive for drugs, having a fake almost engagement, getting himself shot and then escaping from the hospital I'm still here, so I'd say you're safe in that supposition, yeah."
"There's more." His gaze was stern, it told her to prepare herself for a storm. "Sherlock killed a man tonight, killed him in cold blood while surrounded by agents, even I bore witness to it. It is not within my power to save him this time Miss Hooper. He is flying to his exile, one last job for the British government," he held out his empty hands as though to show her that he had no cards to play here.
"Exile?"
"He won't be coming back, I give him six months. He has three weeks before he needs to be in place in Eastern Europe, he wishes to spend those weeks with you, it is his dying wish."
Molly's legs had gone numb and she folded onto the floor suddenly unable to draw breath.
Mycroft watched her not without pity, but with nothing to offer her, "You will need to marry him, you cannot stay here unless you are his spouse, I have all the paperwork ready, there's a dress and a celebrant. Is this something you wish to do?"
"Where is he?" Her voice was a hollow echo of her normal pitch.
"I'm sorry Miss Hooper, you cannot see him unless you agree to marry, it took a lot to even get this, his service to his country made this possible."
"Of course I'll marry him, bring him in – please."
Mycroft nodded to the agents who were in the doorway awaiting instructions and they went and gathered the dress and Anthea bustled in with a large make up case.
Molly was stripped and redressed unceremoniously and make up was feathered lightly onto her face. Half an hour later she was stood in the hall waiting for Sherlock to come in through the doors.
The doors opened and Sherlock strode in, eyes flicking everywhere, taking it all in, until he saw Molly, his gaze snagged on her and he didn't look away, his eyes were gentle on her face, a caress, a promise.
Molly's heart was pounding in her chest, she didn't know what this meant to him, was this just to have someone and she being the single friend was the logical choice for a supporting role in the last weeks of Sherlock Holmes' life?
The ceremony was brief and to the point, all of Anthea's hard work slid off Molly's face tear by tear as she waited to be alone with her husband, her thoughts caught on that, Sherlock Holmes was her husband, and though she didn't as yet know in what capacity that was to be, it was utterly mind boggling information to process.
Sherlock took her by the hand and led her out of the hall through to a more domesticated portion of the dwelling, "I'm sorry," his voice was a whisper, as he led her down corridors.
When they arrived at their room Molly was shocked to see it fitted out in honeymoon suite style, rose petals, chocolates, chilled champagne, strawberries, both dipped in chocolate and nude next to a bowl of cream, there were aphrodisiacs, condoms, scented massage and bath oils.
Molly looked around in shock, her arms hanging slack at her sides, she'd forgotten she was even holding his hand still. Sherlock squeezed her hand to get her attention and she looked up at him surprised to see his pupils dilated and his breathing shallow, "May I kiss you Mrs. Holmes?"
Molly fought tears as she nodded, his lips were so soft against hers, he threaded his hand into her pony tail and tilted her head to better deepen the kiss and when she moaned he hissed in a breath and walked her backward to the bed, "Molly, can I? I need to."
"Yes, yes, please," her hands were roaming all over his slim torso, finally grasping his shirt and pulling at it till she could free it from his pants, the trail of hair leading from his belly button down tickling her knuckles, he sucked in a breath and she begged him, "My zip, open my zip."
He turned her away from him and inched her zip down, his hands dipped inside and made wide sweeping strokes down, then he cupped her breasts from behind, pulling her against his aching prick and grinding into her.
When his fingers started twisting and pulling her nipples Molly gasped and felt wetness gathering in her centre in readiness for him, she arched her back and threw her head back against his shoulder, his extra height gave him the ability to lean forward and suck her bottom lip into his mouth.
Molly groaned and twisted her body to face him while slipping the dress off, Sherlock's eyes darkened further when he saw how damp her knickers already were before he'd really touched her.
He dropped to his knees and trailed kisses down between her breasts, sucking each one into mouth and swirling and sucking until they were pebbled, he continued south, lazily placing open mouthed kisses until he reached her mons pubis, he cradled it in his hand through the fabric of her knickers, his fingers wrapping around underneath causing her to make desperate keening noises.
He slipped his hands into the front of her knickers and lowered them carefully, inhaling her scent, his cock twitched with each surge of blood caused by his desire for her..
He pushed her tummy back a little, until the back of her knees hit the bed, he encouraged her to sit, not missing the sharp intake of breath the feeling of the bedcovers scraping against her caused.
He knelt between her legs and savoured what was about to happen then he lowered his head and just breathed, just a light hot breath, Molly's hips bucked, "Oh! Please, please touch me, I need to feel you."
Sherlock closed the distance and immediately sucked her clit into his mouth, sucking and licking, he pushed a finger inside and felt her walls clenching, he kept his finger pumping in and out before adding another one, still sucking on her, the taste of her making him harder than he thought it was possible to be.
Molly's pelvis was rocking up again and again as she neared her orgasm panting, "Sherlock, oh Sherlock, it feels so good, don't stop, please don't stop." When her orgasm hit her whole body was taut and Sherlock watched her transfixed that he'd been able to bring her such intense pleasure.
"I need to bury myself in you now, I want to feel your sweet body one with mine, he dragged himself over her and lined up his prick with her "still on the pill?"
Molly nodded and reached down to finish guiding him in, Oh even his cock is beautiful, was her ridiculous thought, she rolled her hips and hissed in a breath as he started to move, she looked down to see him sliding in and out, she watched up on her elbows until the erotic sight took her near the point of orgasm again, she lay back down and offered him her leg to put over his shoulder, the new angle Allowing him to push in deeper, he started pounding into her hard, his hips smacking against her arse each time, "Sherlock, make me come again."
He reached down and slicked his fingers back and forth across her aching bud, she pulsed around his stiff prick and he continued pounding into her hard, when he came it was so intense his vision went white.
He slumped onto the bed next to her Molly, they were both gasping for air, "Well, that was unexpected."
Sherlock pushed himself up onto one hand and narrowed his yes at her, "It shouldn't have been, you've always been able to read me, you couldn't read that I was in love with you?" He stroked a hand up and down her still heaving chest taking special care to go slowly and enjoy the feeling of the soft skin between her breasts.
Molly sighed, "Of course I knew, I broke it off with Tom didn't I? What I didn't read was you planning to do anything about it."
Sherlock looked pensive, "The circumstances my be somewhat less than ideal," he admitted, "But whatever the reason, it's you, it's always been you, and three weeks is better than no weeks Molly."
"Yes Sherlock, yes it is."
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
what did you think?!
Come me find me on Tumblr and say hello,
sweet-sweet-escape