I don't own Sherlock or any of its characters. The story takes place at the end of The Sign of Three and the main paring is Sherlock and Molly, but it will have some John and Mary as well. I hope you enjoy the first chapter.
The sound of music circled the room as people danced, holding smiles and cheerful discussion. Molly was happy as well, John and Mary were wed a matter of hours ago and by the looks of it, enjoying the company of one another. She swayed to the melody as Tom, her fiancé, did the same. She could hear Mrs. Hudson to the right of her, laughing away at something said and Greg wasn't that far behind when it came to conversation.
The yellow dress, patterned with flowers similar in hue, was bought simply for this occasion. She found the color suiting for this event and was drawn to the bright pigment. Her hair was pulled back into a bun, the material pinning it in place matched her outfit as well. Molly always wore bright shades and designs, which in a way contrasted her line of work.
The brunette turned her head a bit, getting a glimpse of Sherlock through the crowd. A grin occupied his face, yet faded within the departure of John and his wife. Her movements slowed and her face started tilting to the side as her eyes followed him. Noticing how the man went to grab his coat and scarf, her mouth thinned out, almost as if concern was etching its way into her features.
Molly mentally debated on what to do. She should stay here with Tom but fleeing his company for that of the consulting detective; well the mere thought caused her to purse her lips. Her attachment towards Sherlock, despite the appeal she made earlier of being over him, was still there. She could sense it when he was near and feel it when her heartbeat rang loudly against her chest. But those were the wrong emotions to have; she was engaged and couldn't go following around the youngest Holmes like some kind of lost puppy.
She desperately tried to ignore the ongoing dispute in her mind, but that expression on his face… it was the same as before. When he though no one could see the sad look tearing down his façade, she saw it and couldn't bear to let him leave that way. It was silly to think she felt the same way about him after all this time. To even consider her affections regarding the man were still there. He was gone for two years and she moved on. She moved on with Tom.
A small breath was made, one coming out raggedly and almost a bit too loud. "I'll be right back. I have to go do something," she muttered, quickly leaving the floor without giving her boyfriend time to comprehend what she had said. In spite of her promised return, Molly was unsure if she'd even get the chance to catch up to him.
When she left the song was drowned out as soon as the door was closed. The night air hit her skin, sending a shiver up her spine, perhaps grabbing her jacket would have been a smart idea. He wasn't far, but a good distance was between them. His movements paused, in which she could only assume he was using his phone, maybe leaving John a message about his departure. Regardless, it gave her time to reach him.
"Sherlock," Molly lightly called out, causing the man to turn his head. His eyes were showing confusion, but he quickly replaced the puzzlement with a raised brow. Her orbs flickered down for a second before she could find her voice. "You're going already? I thought you'd stay for the rest of the party."
"Social events aren't really my thing," he stated with a withdrawn tone. "Besides, shouldn't you be inside with…" He paused, attempting to recall the male's name. It always seemed to slip from his mind. His chin tilted down as it finally came to him. "Tom?"
She could find no jealously hidden within his question and caught herself feeling somewhat disappointed, as if she needed it one way or another to make disappearing hold some significance. But no such connotation existed. "I don't plan on being gone long. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Are you? And don't just say you are because-"
"You can see." His speech was held in a whisper; however, he quickly cleared his throat. "I just needed to take a walk, that's all. I don't really understand the reason for over-celebrating. It would be so much simpler if one is wed the moment the papers are signed, the whole ceremony seems rather pointless." He glanced down at her, remembering she was betrothed. "Of course, if you like that sort of thing it's… fine."
Molly held back a grin. His views were excessively straightforward and he never was a romantic, she expected no less of an answer. "If all you're doing is walking, do you mind if I join you?" What possessed her to ask, she wasn't quite sure.
He took a few second to reply, as if searching for a response. He turned his collar up and fixed his scarf. "I see no problem having some company if you really feel compelled to come along." His gaze was fixated beyond her, as if the building they just left held more of his attention.
Without having to say anything, Molly starts strolling next to him. Being with him like this, even if it mainly consisted of silence, was nice. Those years without him were exceedingly boring. No one was there to ask her to bring out a corpse, to help with strange experiments, or to insist she should stop dating altogether. Strangely enough she missed his ill-mannered remarks. Unbeknownst to the young woman, her lips tugged upward at the memories.
"You're smiling," the detective purely stated. "Either because you're remembering something amusing or you're happy because of the morale a wedding naturally creates." His pace was steady, yet slow since there was no reason to rush. "Both could be accurate considering the events of today. So, which one is it?"
"To tell you the truth, I've missed this, spending time with you." She glanced up, catching the slight furrow of his forehead and quickly tried to change her sentence. "I mean having you here… because we didn't ever do things like this, you and I. You're always busy and only came to Bart's if you needed to see a body, not really to see me. Sorry, I what I meant to say was, not that you don't want to see me, you merely had other more important things to do." Forcing mouth to stay shut; her eyes closed while she repeatedly chastised herself for her silly ramble.
Sherlock's lips parted for an instant, but he said nothing for a while. Within the midst of her nervousness, she fiddled with her ring. Her action was caught by his calculating eyes. From observation, he knew what that meant. Rather than twisting it, she shifted it up and down. Generally that suggested, when with another person, they are attracted to them. It showed the desire not just to ignore the bond of upcoming marriage, but to break it off.
It's clear to him that Molly's feelings are still present, regardless of how much Tom mattered to her. In fact, he noticed her doing the same thing during his speech. However, he wouldn't bring it up. Instead of commenting on his surveillance or her jumble of words, he made a remark about her clothing.
"That dress, you bought it three weeks ago," he uttered without giving an explanation on how he knew. "You could have just worn it because it was appropriate for a wedding but there's more to it than that. You bought it because what the color represents, it had nothing to do with the style. Yellow is creative from a mental aspect, the color of new ideas. It represents a practical thinker, not a dreamer-"
He cuts himself short, recalling what happened at the Christmas party. His deduction on her gift embarrassed her, rightfully of course since he was a bit rash, and he didn't want to cause her any humiliation this time. He understood a bit better now, at least when it came to Molly, when he should or shouldn't go off analyzing her.
"You can keep going, I don't mind. I'm actually quite fond of the color." The same event was recalled, but she dismissed it. These remarks weren't horrible, nothing like that night. Maybe it was his way of complimenting? It was doubtful since he didn't seem to be the type, but she'd prefer to think it meant something even if he was simply going off on a random topic like he normally would.
He gave an odd sort of nod and tucked his hands into his pockets. "It represents someone who loves a challenge, particularly a mental challenge. It is related to the ego and our sense of self-worth, how we feel about ourselves and how we are perceived by others. Yellow is the scientist, constantly analyzing, looking at both sides before making a decision; methodical and decisive. It suits you rather well."
"I didn't know you were an expert on that too," Molly told him. "Is it something you have stored away in your… what was it John said you called it? Oh, yes, your mind palace." She couldn't suppress her interest when it came to his vast knowledge; it was something about him she always revered.
"Don't tell me you read John's trivial scribbles on his blog? He obviously didn't spend the last two years working on his writing technique," Sherlock mentioned, turning his head to the side with a slight roll.
Catching a glimpse of his profile, she faced downward, letting her brown eyes surfacing the ground. "People actually like reading about the cases you've been on. The two of you are brilliant together. It's really not surprising others want to see what you've been up to."
"They can just as easily find a newspaper," he stated, waving his hand about in a flicking sort of manner. "Although, what they go on about is quite bias, ridiculous, boring, and reading anything a reporter says is basically a waste of time. They always say they're about getting the facts but we all know that's the furthest thing from the truth. It's all about the money, it always is when a job consists of being in the right place at the right time and there's the competition factor as well."
"I'm guessing you're not a big fan of the press then." She shruged a bit, recalling some of the articles she skimmed though while he was presumed dead. "When you were away, they printed the most awful things about you. That you were fake and other nonsense such as that, but that's what you wanted, right? For everyone to believe those stories?"
"It was essential for the plan. I couldn't exactly have other's catching on, not that anyone could. Some of the theories I've heard were absurd, others were impossible to even consider." He expected speculation, but he never thought people, especially Anderson, to form a group. "I was keeping busy though, so it's not a total loss in my opinion."
Managing to keep her pace steady with his, she dipped her head down. "You can't really say what you were doing, can you?" Molly was certain he couldn't, but figured it couldn't hurt to ask.
"If I did Mycroft would make a big fuss about it. Always did. It's such an annoying habit." Sherlock shook his head a bit after mentioning the eldest of the two. They seemed to have a mutual feeling of trust and equal frustration towards the others actions.
She couldn't help but smile a tad again. Sometimes he didn't realize how lucky he was to have people like that in his life. She definitely wouldn't take things like that for granted. "You know it's only because he cares about you. You're his brother after all."
"Yes, yes, family and sentiments," Sherlock replied, brushing off her comment. "He's always coming around during the worst times, not to mention the fact that he thinks he's smarter than me, which he tends to mention every so often."
"It must be nice though. I don't have any brothers or sisters. I guess you'd say I had a pretty lonely childhood." A small sigh escaped and she quickly realized what she was doing. Sherlock wouldn't be interested in knowing about how her life used to be. He had better things to do than listen to her go on and on. "I'm not exactly sure why I'm telling you these things. You probably don't want to hear about them."
"It's been my experience to let others say what they need to, whether I care or not shouldn't be equated. Friends listen to one another, do they not?" His faced angled towards her. His brows were raised in an inquisitive way as if expecting an answer, but he was only met with a look of uncertainty. In all likelihood it was due to what he said.
One part of his reply could be considered a little rude but she was more concerned on what he just addressed her as. "I thought John was your only friend." At least that's what she heard.
"He's my best friend… evidently," Sherlock started to explain. He told Molly she counted, that he always trusted her, wasn't that enough to make her realize she mattered to him in more than in an acquaintance sort of way? "I'm pretty sure you can have a number of friends, although I don't see the point in having many. My contacts don't generally exceed my homeless network." He paused, turning to face her completely. "Why do you look so surprised?"
The brunette felt her cheeks starting to flush a pink color. She hoped Sherlock wouldn't notice since the darkness should obscure his view of her expression, in spite of that she looked the other way for a moment, attempting to hide the blush and not fumbled too badly on her words. "I just thought that… never mind. It doesn't really matter."
His lips pressed together for a second as he folded his hands behind back. "Oh, come on, Molly. You can say whatever it is you want. It's just us two out here." They were pretty much alone, a few cars and cabs passed by, but other than that no one else could be seen strolling down the sidewalk like they were. Come to think of it, he didn't even have much of a destination in mind once she joined.
"Well, regardless of what you said before you asked for my help with Moriarty, which I really do appreciate, I just didn't think you saw me as anything more." At least not in the way she wanted him to. "You still called me John when we were working on that case together and like I've already mentioned, you only come by Bart's when you need something, not that I expect you to want to hang out and do things with me."
"Dinner," he quickly remarked as if he just remember something. His focus was kept straight ahead, only to glimpse over at when she became silent. Clearly, he had confused her with his sudden disruption.
Her mouth went dry for a moment. "Excuse me?" Molly's gaze quickly flickered up and down, trying to make sense of what was said. She couldn't exactly jump to any conclusion, surely he'd set things straight with his next sentence.
"You mentioned dinner when I asked you to come over." A finger was placed on his mouth and he tapped there about three times before letting his hands come back together. "I suppose that's what ordinary people do when extending a form of thanks. Apparently, I'm the only one who thinks solving a case is more worthy. It's certainly more thrilling than the mild chatter one has when sitting across from one another."
She couldn't help but laugh a little. His ideas greatly differed from hers but she liked that about him. Something was always new and exciting when Sherlock Holmes was involved. "I was happy to help you out, but you really didn't have to thank me for what I did. Anyone would do the same."
Molly brushed her hands over her bare arms again, attempting to warm herself. She didn't even notice Sherlock slip off his coat until it was over her shoulders. He didn't say anything or make eye contact when the action was made, he simply went on talking. Her cheeks heated up a bit more as soon as the warmth and his scent flooded her system. How typical of him to do something completely abnormal and still appear as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.
Knowing him, it didn't mean anything other than a kind gesture on his part. She couldn't let herself think otherwise. He simply saw she was cold and let her use his jacket, it was as unpretentious as that and yet she wanted it to mean so much more.
"You're being too modest. You and I both know you're the only one who could have pulled something like that off." Sherlock momentarily paused to readjust his scarf, fixing it so it lay in place even without his trademark piece of clothing on. "I can't do everything on my own, sometimes I need help."
"You have John for that," the brunette told him. The two of them kept in contact while Sherlock was gone, but it wasn't very often that they'd see on another. He was with Mary most of the time and she was keeping herself occupied at the morgue. "Is he still going to be working cases with you? I would assume so, but he has a wife now and another job, although I heard he doesn't like it very much."
"You know him almost as well as I do, of course he'll come back. He misses the danger." Confidence was held in his reply, yet he knew he'd be seeing less of the man from this point on, which didn't settle right with him. "I don't expect him to work on every task I take, I can handle them just fine on my own. He has Mary to think about and other things to do. I might end up asking you again though."
"You know I wouldn't decline unless I was busy," Molly mentioned, turning her head to the side more. Chasing criminals and solving mysteries wasn't her thing, but being around him made her want to accept right away. "Since Tom and I are getting married in a few months…" She let her sentence drift, recognizing how soon the date was approaching.
What if she was making a mistake? She cared about Tom, she loved him but when Sherlock was near the feelings she received were very different, so much deeper. But it was purely one sided. Her affection and admiration towards him meant nothing if he didn't return them. It didn't even matter how many times she told people or even herself she moved on. As soon as he came back she realized there was no way she'd ever be over him. The consciousness of that stalled her feet.
A step was taken ahead of her before he noticed a break in motion. Sherlock inclined towards her, narrowing his orbs the slightest amount. Her actions exposed more than she was willing to say. "Something's obviously bothering you. Not only did you stop walking but you're staring off in the same direction for an unusual amount of time."
The sound of his deep tone brought her back. Her mouth opened and closed, the process repeated until she was able to find her voice again, only to ask him a fairly random question. "What do you think of Tom? Normally as soon as you meet the guys I was dating, you'd somewhat ridicule them right away, but you didn't do that this time. In fact I can't recall you saying much about him at all."
"I thought you didn't like me doing that? Besides, that was never my intention." Why would she suddenly ask? She has been with him for over a year now and Sherlock was sure whatever he said wouldn't change her mind about marrying the man. She deserved to be happy and if Tom was the right one for her, who was he to question her choice?
She bit down on her lip for a moment. "I don't want you to deduce him, I just want your opinion." Her hand automatically went to the jewel on her small finger again as she awaited his reply. Suddenly the ring slipped from her digit and could be heard hitting the pavement before he can answer. "My ring," she said slightly alarmed, afraid she could have damaged it.
Sherlock knelt down and picked it up, examining it for a moment prior to handing it back to her. "You don't care for it much anyways," he told her matter-of-factly, causing Molly to look at him. "You didn't want an expensive one and you tried to talk him out of buying it. You simply wear it for traditions sake, since you aren't and never have been fond of jewelry."
She shook her head a tad. "I guess there's no point in asking how you know that." She placed the ring back on and looked at it for a moment, aware he wasn't going to answer her question. Everything he said was right though, if only he could understand how she feels about him as well as he can read others. For as long as she knew him, he never showed interest in being romantically involved with anyone. A light sigh escaped soon after.
They started walking again, but this time he started traveling in the direction they came from. "Speaking of Tom, I probably kept you away from him long enough. He'll start wondering where you are if you don't return soon. Not to mention the fact that my phone has been buzzing for the last ten minutes, probably John or Mrs. Hudson."
When they were close enough to see the building again, Sherlock stopped a good few feet from the door. "You're not coming back inside, are you?" Molly asked, tilting her head about a fraction in his direction. She already knew he wasn't, seeing as he intended on leaving in the first place.
"No, I'm heading back to Baker Street. I have some things to do and apparently some texts to get back to." A brief pause was made when he looked at the structure then back to her. "Although I appall the idea of going to another," he mentioned with a slight drag on his words, but within his next sentence the ambience around them settled when he spoke in a much softer tone. "You'll have to save me a dance at your wedding."
Almost having to force her lips upward, she nodded. All she wanted to do was tell him right here and now how much she cared for him, how much he mattered, but her voice was caught in her throat. It wasn't right to say something like that; especially when she was engaged to someone and Sherlock clearly didn't see her as anything more than what he mentioned previously.
"Your coat," she quickly stated, almost forgetting she still had it on. The brunette tugged it off and passed the jacket over to him. He put it on and brought the collar up and turned to leave. "Oh, and Sherlock." He halted and glanced at the young woman. "Just because John's married doesn't mean anything's going to change, completely anyway. He might not be around as often, but you'll always be friends."
It seemed like she knew what was bothering him from the start. Perhaps she was able to read him more than he gave her credit for. Without saying the words he smiled his thanks. "I'll probably be stopping by Bart's tomorrow around ten. New case I'm working on," he simply told her before going.
Molly leaned against the door, watching him for a few seconds. In spite of her want to stay with him, she returned to the party. She couldn't stop herself from wondering if she could even bring herself to go through with the ceremony. Within a few second of entering, Molly nearly banged into someone. "Tom?" she questioned after getting a look at the man.
"I was just about to start looking for you," he told her. Taking a glimpse out of the window, he saw the famous detective walking away. He glanced back at his girlfriend with a fading smile. "You were with Sherlock?"
"We were only talking." Her reply came out meekly. She wasn't lying; all they did was discuss a few things; however she could sense something about Tom was off. The way he spoke was different than normal. "Is something wrong?"
There was a moment of silence between them where he shifted his gaze to the floor. He heard about her crush on him and thought it was gone, but after knowing they were together, he wasn't sure anymore. He didn't want to hold any mistrust, but there was something so apparently there between the two, even if it solely fell on Molly, and the clarity formed within her departure. He felt almost stupid realizing he was blind to from the very start. "That depends. What exactly does he mean to you?"
Molly felt a slight wave of tension between them and maybe a bit of jealousy underlining his tone. "Can we talk about this at home?" She couldn't get herself to actually answer the question, at least not honestly. She watched him give a stiff nod before leaving her side. With a sigh she caught up with him, getting the feeling a longer conversation concerning Sherlock was underway.
That ended up being longer than I expected. Please review and let me know if I should continue or not. I pretty much know what I'm doing, but feedback is always welcomed.