Give and Take

by daisherz365

Set in the days after Sherlock Holmes fall. Sherlock Holmes requests that Molly joins him on his quest to take down Moriarty's network. She goes along not knowing that one day she would be handing him divorce papers and deciding not to encourage the lie that had been forming. What she doesn't know is that Sherlock Holmes has been facing quite the dilemma himself. Sherlolly

GIVE AND TAKE.

ALTERNATE TITLE: I WANT YOU.

Synopsis: Set in the days after Sherlock Holmes fall. Sherlock Holmes requests that Molly joins him on his quest to take down Moriarty's network. She goes along not knowing that one day she would be handing him divorce papers and deciding not to encourage the lie that had been forming. What she doesn't know is that Sherlock Holmes has been facing quite the dilemma himself. The events that follow are even more shocking.

A/N: Let's just say this one got a lot of requests to be written over on the good ole Tumblr. 17 notes to be precise. I'm quite excited to have come up with this is. Let me know all of your thoughts and feels, please? Much love, Day

It was one of those moments in Molly Hooper's life that she couldn't ever bring herself to forget. Even through all of the times where she was filled with regret and hopelessness for what would happen to them next. Yes, them. Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper. Two beings who besides awkward encounters in the lab and that one Christmas incident had never been more so in each other's company.

That wasn't entirely true though, was it? The memory that Molly kept tucked away for the worse times. It was the one time when she had felt almost sure that she had done something right for once. Every day since she had come to join his company whether it be for a single moment or a few long hours of silence she had never felt as if it mattered if she did one thing better than the thing before.

She was a pathologist, a damn good one at that but she hadn't gotten her hands dirty with that kind of mess for almost four years. Four years with Sherlock Holmes but not really. They weren't who they were supposed to be. At the same time they were.

He had requested of her four years ago to the day that she do two things for him. One may have been easier than the other but he had still thought she was worthy to him in a way. A part of her that had been locked away in a secret crevice of her own heart would be quick to acknowledge that that might have been all she's ever wanted from the man. To be acknowledged. To be able to feel like she did count.

He had told her this to be the truth. "You have always counted…and I have always trusted you."

It had been this that had made it feel almost worth it to put her life on the line but immediately after she put everything line, he had admitted that he had another inquiry. He was in a drugged state at the time but Molly had been sure he had to have been delirious.

"It'd be… nice if you did one more thing. I don't expect you to want to do anything more than what you have already done. However, it would make everything a bit easier if you'd join me."

Her hands were tangled in his hair as she held him up against the bowl of the sink as she combed out the last bit of the reddish hue that came from the bag of blood that had sunken messily through all of it. She focused on the task, not ignoring him exactly. Just in disbelief that he was saying much if anything at all.

In the hours before all of this, Molly was warned vaguely about his drug abuse by a phone call from a man she had only heard from once. His brother. He had only said a few words. She had a feeling that the man was used to people accepting his words as law. Molly had asked things in a manner that would only seem important as a doctor and not someone who had been curious about the man who she would 'kill' a few hours later.

Though, she had been curious. She wasn't an imbecile like she often thought he thought she was. She was a woman who knew more than enough about things that could possibly make things difficult for her to perform the task. Drugs…could do that. Usage wasn't something that was exactly new to her. She didn't ever do them but she knew plenty that had and she hadn't ever been stupid to think that he hadn't for a while.

There were times where she saw the symptoms on his person. She may not be a medical doctor but she knew what to look for. That's why she asked these things.

In the end Mycroft had given her a few. Mostly things that she had already inferred by observing silently. He had been nice enough to give her the short list of chemical compounds or ingredients she should avoid during her little time in the lab. It had been very helpful.

It was very clear now that Sherlock may have become a bit used to the effects of some substances. His speech was clear apart from the brief pauses he made. She had wondered if he was being careful of what he said to her or whether he didn't want to sound desperate for company. That brought back the part of her mind that felt he had to have been desperate to seek out her help in the first place. She pushed it aside.

"You wouldn't have to lie, Molly. You're already so horrible at it. It could be like that vacation you've always wanted but never asked for."

She hadn't accepted anything, yet. There were plenty of questions running through her head. One overlapping the others but one more prominently pushing all the others to the back. It was most important. "For how long?" He never told her much about anything but she wanted to know this at least. He said he trusted her, why would he invite her along if he didn't at least think she was some value to him now.

His eyes had been closed for all of this. Briefly, after he had come to he had looked almost in a daze before his mind caught up with his actions and he shot up much to Molly's words of caution. His eyes fluttered open now and he looked like he was confused. The little space between his eyes crinkled a bit and there was a look of great confusion as he stared up at her. Molly only looked down for a moment when she felt the way his head angled up to get a better view. Which was better the thought that she finally got his attention or that her hands were still running through his hair although a bit sloppy from the suds of the shampoo that she had begun to lather in it. It was a specific brand that had been way out of her price range but somehow it was waiting at the bowl as she stumbled over with the taller detective leaning against her petite form.

"A while. James Moriarty wasn't a man with a few minions following him. There's an entire network to cut down to little pieces. That will take time. More time than would be deemed safe for a man to be alone for." He shut his eyes after that admission and let out a sigh.

It wasn't something she wanted to say it just sort of slipped out. "You've been alone before. Before John…" She stopped herself not wanting to make a fuss over nothing. She should be glad that he wanted her. He could have left the moment he awoken with all the bloody mess trailing behind him. It wasn't like she had just stayed idle while he was out of it. She had tended to him like she would have any other person who walked in completely broken and battered. He wasn't just anyone though, was he?

He was someone much more important and special. That was why when she felt him tense under the arm that was pressed lightly almost in a caress against his neck as to not cause more harm to it than anything else, she continued speaking. "Why would you want me to come with you? Won't that just cause more problems for you?"

"You're not a problem." He told her as she tossed a towel over his head and started to dry his hair. She almost thought he was going to stop her but he hadn't really moved much since his initial awakening. He did take the towel from her shortly after to finish drying his hair himself seeing as he felt she was being too hesitant about it.

Molly stood there quietly thinking over what he had said. It wasn't until she was back at home leaning over the sink in the bathroom with slippery dark goop dripping from her hair was it clear exactly what she was getting into. Sherlock had insisted that he do this part of the transformation. He said and although she didn't think it exactly phased him to admit that he wondered just how thick or how thin her hair may have been. He also had taken some scissors and almost started cutting her hair before the dye job only for her to quickly grab them before he could do so.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You're in dire need of a cut. No one can recognize you. The dye won't be enough, Molly. Don't you trust me?" He asked quietly at last as he reached out for the scissors.

"Not with scissors or any sharp objects for that matter." She told him as she turned around to the mirror and lifted a large chunk of her hair only to let it fall almost immediately. She let out a sigh before taking another look in the mirror at her long auburn hair and glancing at Sherlock through the mirror. He sat on the edge of the tub, waiting.

She grabbed the scissors and slowly begun to snip away at her hair. This was a very agonizing process but it needed to be done. It could only go up from here. She loved her hair. Maybe one day she'd grow it back. Here was another sacrifice she made because he needed her.

She still wasn't sure if that was a lie or not but she'd deal with it when this was over. It was a step in the right direction.

She turned around and looked at him with an uneasy smile on her face. "What's next?"

Sherlock had given a look she had only seen on his face briefly before. He looked taken back but it quickly crumbled into an expression that looked almost boyish in the way his lips curved up slightly. It wasn't the usual smirk or the fake smile, it was trepidation for what she was doing for him.

He understood that.

He slowly got to his feet and made his way over to her. This was the beginning of everything.

x

It wasn't every day that you were asked to leave your home and what little you have as a pathologist and go into the unknown to seek out the monsters that have been lurking from the depths of Great Britain and maybe several hundredths of places because of a single man. Not the person you're trailing behind but the man who started this mess in the first place. Jim – James Moriarty.

You start off being okay with being able to help mend the broken pieces of a man who you've only admired for what seems like forever and be his cover for weeks, months and ultimately years. It eventually manages to catch up with you and that's what truly brings Molly to this point in their time together. The last of their time together in this strange trance of normalcy.

It had felt normal for a time. She would go out and walk around the city that they happened to stay in for a week or two while he scoped it from the underground with the help of people she never met. She did get the vacation and got to meet such wonderful people who she could erase from her memory if given the choice. Then she would come back to the place they had gotten for however long they stayed and see him hunched over a computer or cell phone – a burner mobile because they needed to cover their tracks.

She wouldn't always do the same thing though. Sometimes she'd find herself dining somewhere extravagant with the man himself. His hair a much lighter blondish red and a pair of specs on his face. He always dressed in a way that was very unlike himself. That was the biggest surprise the first couple times they did this. There were no dark colors and no long sleeve shirts. He did always dress nice. She wouldn't be surprised if she found out that he had a tailor in every town that got garbs specifically for him (they fit him almost as well as the Belstaff and scarf; how she missed those) and had them sent to their houses. All together they had almost twenty of those. They were on their twenty first now, it would be the last one.

All under the same name. Mr. & Mrs. Corwin Sinclair. Molly hadn't much of a choice in the identity portion of it all but she had to admit that Sherlock's new name had fit quite well. Corwin meaning "The Raven" – it reminded her of his once dark hair and even more mysterious demeanor and Sinclair meaning illustrious or renowned. While before his fall he had been well known. Her name had been a simple one, something that wouldn't turn any alarms on as far as anyone who may have been searching for her. Just Dory.

That was a rather bland name unless you were one who liked children films or knew of the film Finding Nemo. Molly was one of the only adults she knew who still fawned over such entertainment and felt that it was almost fate that she somehow stumbled into the grace of having the name as her own even for a little while. She had even gone so far during one of their nights in to goad him into watching it. He had done so while practically ruining the joyfulness out of the whole affair.

Despite that Molly had filed the memory away in the good folder. There had been much worse times. One such was currently going on.

It was early morning and Molly had just come down with the folder that she had been keeping on her person for the past couple days. It was something important but she hadn't let Sherlock on about it. He hadn't exactly been around for any of it. He'd been taking care of things as he so eloquently put it. It was early enough that she could slip down to the lower floor of the house and put it down on the table alongside a pen and then go to the kitchen to make a cuppa and some toast.

She had very little of appetite and it was quite late but she couldn't sleep. A little after four a.m. and she had been tossing and turning for the past couple hours. She couldn't shake the feelings of doom that had been welling up around her since she made contact with Mycroft Holmes a few weeks ago while she went out for food. She had asked him about legal documents for a separation or divorce. The only major thing she would have to do was get Sherlock into signing them. Her signature had already been on there for about a week. It wasn't something she wanted but this was not real.

Not even the thought of the better times could distract her from the disheartening task of leaving this "life" and going back to whatever would be left for her back in London. She felt she had to do this. It was the only thing left for her to do with him in this town. In a few days she would be on a plane back to London with her name on the plane ticket and the daily reassurances that everything was almost over would be over with. The truth was she never knew if that was true. She never knew if any of it was true and that was what pained her the most.

"You should be sleeping." She heard him as she was beginning to pour the hot water into her cup causing her to nearly drop it in surprise. Besides the splash that came with her dropping the kettle as she jumped there was nothing that needed to be cleaned up. Sherlock had reached out and grabbed the cup and saucer before that could clatter to the floor. "Careful." He told her sternly as he placed the cup towards the middle of the counter so it wouldn't risk falling for real this time. He quickly grabbed the towel that was tucked around the handle of the oven and ushered Molly aside so that he could clean up her mess. That wasn't exactly a first.

He had done that a few times before. "You surprised me. I thought you were upstairs. I didn't hear you." She continued to ramble on as she looked on at him until he was back standing.

A hand reached out to cover his mouth as he yawned loudly. "I was until I heard you get up. You haven't been sleeping that much when I'm here. When I'm not you do, I find that strange…" He trailed off. She didn't even think to ask how he knew such a thing. There was no doubt in her mind that there were camera nearly everywhere in the house for protective reasoning.

He told her she wasn't a problem but it didn't mean he thought she was safe being alone. She knew this as a fact the one time she was actually put in danger and he was not around.

She blocked the images from her mind as she looked at him curiously. Why would he be monitoring her sleeping habits? They don't even share the same bed alone the same room. It may seem odd for anyone who would be trying to keep up appearances but they hadn't exactly been not doing that. They had been out more here they anywhere else. That was beside the point. He had been watching her more lately.

"Why?" She asked him as she crossed her arms and leant up against the wall.

"Pardon?" She bit a smile, sometimes he would say things that weren't funny at all and she would just have to fight a laugh or two. He always sounded so posh at times. It reminded her that that was exactly who he was. The Holmes family was one of the wealthiest families that she had ever come to know. She didn't exactly know much of them beyond a story he would share with her. He had done that a bit over these four years. Sometimes she wondered whether or not he noticed how much of himself he was showing her. It was a pleasure regardless to her.

"You've been monitoring my sleeping habits. Why do you feel like you should do that?"

"It's something to do. I bore easily. You know that."

Yes. She did.

She nodded. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I'm on a case."

"You're always on a case. It won't kill you to take a rest. If I remember correctly you've only slept four months' worth of time. I don't think that's exactly safe."

"My safety is not the priority."

"It is to me." She told him quickly.

Sherlock stopped, placed the towel on the counter and took a step towards her. He didn't really say or do anything. He was watching her. Molly didn't dare move. It was a long time since she had his full attention. "If I promise to go to bed right now will you go to sleep and stop worrying so much?"

"I might be able one of the two. The other might be harder. You have a habit of getting yourself into troubling situations Mister Sinclair."

Molly watched his face as it seemed to contort from its plain expression to the half-smile back to the stoic face. It was amusing to see that change so close. "You're a pain in the ass, Missus. Let's go." He turned and began walking towards the stairs.

She reluctantly trailed behind him as they passed the table she bumped into him and did her best not to reach out and press her hands against his back. "What's that?" She heard him ask. She knew exactly what he was referring to but pushed him ahead so that they could go on up as he originally planned.

"It can wait until the morning. I'm tired." She faked a yawn.

"Fine." He grumbled but turned around anyways and grabbed her around the waist. Molly squeaked as he tossed her over his shoulder and took off running towards the stairs. "Put me down." Molly giggled over his back and hit him on the butt. Sherlock stilled almost all the way up the stairs.

"Did you just hit me on the arse?" He asked as he placed her on her feet on the floor after taking the last step.

"It wasn't something I was trying to do. It got you to put me down…" She decided to not add the fact that he had a nice tush. She just folded her arms again.

"Bed. Now." He told her as if he was scolding a child. Molly gave him a look that told him that she didn't appreciate his tone. That led to him to let out a sigh before reaching out and turning her and starting to usher her to the room that was just three doors down.

His room.

"Sherlock." She started.

"We're going to bed, Miss Hooper. No arguments."

She whispered under her breath, "Not for a couple more hours, unfortunately."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, let's sleep." She mumbled as she climbed next to him on his king sized bed with the dark satin sheets and closed her eyes.

The following morning – only six hours after the previous almost altercation Molly has slipped from the peaceful space of the bed that isn't hers and from the side of the still sleeping consulting detective. There was no awkward embraces or touches, there were no flesh upon flesh. It was just a morning after two friends who are hiding away from everyone who may have known them to seek out the monsters who had destroyed one of their lives. Molly never counted herself in the scenario of the one who life was destroyed.

She had been honest with herself most of the time and the realization that Sherlock Holmes was her world (he had been for nearly ten years, now) and though she had been reluctance to leave what little she had left behind four years ago, she wouldn't change what had happened. None of it.

This was going to be hard part of it all. Leaving him behind – though not for long. He'd be right behind her soon enough. It was the idea that everything that had happened and everything they had shared and experienced together was coming to a close. It made her heart hurt in the most agonizing way.

The times when he would purposely lash at her back when they were Molly Hooper the pathologist and Sherlock Holmes the consulting detective. It was true that one of them were still the same but Molly didn't know if she could go back and do what she had been doing as if nothing had changed. She could make up a lie, an even bigger one but it still wouldn't make any of this better. It would make it hurt any less that it would be deleted and they would go back to London and everything would go in the reverse direction.

Of course, a part of her was fighting against everything she was about to do. The hopeful part of her that still believed that though it was all an illusion that the moments they shared in secret and the glances they had thrown each other at times was not a façade or a story that they had come up with. They're conversations about things that neither of them probably had never shared with anyone close to them before. This was real and she didn't want to go back to the silence and the awkwardness where she would not know what to do in his presence. Where she sat in the corner and pretended not to actually want to walk up to him and say literally anything that could make him stop and listen. It had taken her eons to even get to that point.

She was doing this because she had to protect her heart from him. It was the one thing she could get right out of all of this.

Molly sat at the table with the spread she had set out, drinking coffee instead of tea so that she could wake up a little. A slather of butter on toast – nor jam as John preferred. A couple eggs and pieces of sausage. It was a simple breakfast that she was forcibly consuming bit by bit as she waited in anticipation for everything to crumble. It would, she knew it.

She had had nearly finished eating what little she had portioned out onto her plate when Sherlock back in the garbs of Corin Sinclair sat across from her in a bit of a slouch. She stood up immediately and went the few feet to the kitchen to make his coffee. The folder and pen were still sitting there next to his plate.

She peered at him from the doorway and watched as he looked at it briefly before beginning to fill his plate with the food she had made. He pushed it to the side as she brought him his coffee. He thanked her quietly as he begun to eat. His plate was much fuller than hers had been.

Sherlock looked up after a few moments as he took a few gulps from his mug, noticing she had given up her chair for her good and was standing. Not exactly hovering just standing there. There was this expression her face that gave him more than an idea of what was about to come but he waited until he had finished eating to say anything about it.

Then, he didn't say anything at all. He pushed his plate away and pulled the folder back in front of him and opened it. His form stiffening upon reading the first few lines of it. Divorce papers.

He looked up at her with a confused expression his face. It changed rather quickly once Molly had decided she wasn't going to say anything yet if ever. "Is it necessary?"

Her mouth open and closed a few times as if she was trying to talk herself into saying something. It took her a few moments with Sherlock's eyes on her but she did say something. She said a whole lot.

"It's not supposed to be real. Our marriage – if it one actually. Um, I talked to Mycroft last week and he told me that our situation was as real as Jim Moriarty was. He didn't tell me to do anything, exactly. I decided on my own." She paused for a second as his eyes trailed back down to the page. She wasn't sure if he was still listening. Or even what he was thinking right now.

"You've known since Christmas at Baker Street that I…that I care an awful lot about you and I wasn't ever sure how any of this was going to work. Were you going to leave me alone while you did what you needed to do and you'd come back to me when you were ready to go to the next place or you needed me to patch you up. I never really questioned any of it. We're not the same people as when we left my flat that night. I feel different, you are probably different. I just don't want to have to be the one who's left high and dry. I mean this isn't supposed to be real is it? You just needed me as a cover. That's really hard for me to grasp after everything we've been through together. I don't know if it means a whole lot to you but it was all I had left."

She drew in a deep breath as she turned around to look in the opposite direction, beginning to walk towards the window where people were starting to mill around below. This is what the mornings always looked like. It was interesting. She understood why he picked places like this.

"I guess I'm protecting myself for the first time that's all. It's not like we won't see each other. I'll still be in London at Bart's if I'm lucky. It's been a lovely vacation."

There was a creak from the table as Sherlock got up. Molly didn't turn, she didn't want to know if he was leaving. She didn't need to know anything more than this. This was the end and it was nice.

The sound of the door closing give her a pretty good idea but she turned anyway just to be sure. She found her way over to the table and opened the folder which he had closed, the pen was sitting on top of it.

There right next to the line that held her signature 'Dory Sinclair' was his in his cursive penmanship as the man who he was supposed to be – 'Corin Sinclair'. She almost closed the folder but that wasn't it. That was the end of it. There was a small card placed in a position that made it seem like it had been throw there.

Molly took it in her hands and almost wanted to laugh at what she saw. On the side that she could see was the scrawl that she was so familiar with. She hadn't seen it much before but it had been something she had seen a few times when she had been allowed to see his plans – his blueprints. Not all of his knowledge was in his mind palace as he liked to call it, sometimes he had pages and pages of things he had written down. Reading those had been a challenge.

Here was his name. The real one – Sherlock Holmes. Then there was a small arrow aimed at the bottom.

She turned it over in her hands and her smile faltered as she turned towards the door which still remained closed. She looked back at the card and smiled.

Green. It was a Tuesday night. I haven't deleted it.

x

It was a Friday in December when Molly Hooper stepped off the private jet, alone. She had been expected one of those black cars to be awaiting her arrival but instead she was pulled into the grips of a man she had been sure hadn't cared much about her existence. She know more about him than she was sure he knew of her.

She slowly embraced him as she looked over his shoulder. There was a woman standing there. She looked at the two of them with a kind smile. Molly shut her eyes to forget about that for a second as she pulled away from John Watson.

"Four years you've been gone. No word, no letters from you to anyone. It seemed like you had disappeared as quickly as Sherlock fell." He chuckled.

Molly eyed him warily. He seemed different, if that joke was anything to go by. It had been four years. Molly couldn't seem to shake the oddness of all of this. He had begun to lead her over to the woman who had been watching them as he took her bag. "Where have you been?"

"I've been traveling a bit." That was the truth. She had been more places in the past four years than she could have ever dreamed of.

"You've changed your hair. It looks nice." Molly tried not to think of the time Sherlock had said nearly almost the same words to her. She was trying not to think of him at all. She hadn't seen him since he signed the papers. She wasn't naïve enough to think that that would be the last time they saw each other. It had only been two weeks.

"Thank you, John. Who is this?" She smiled.

"This is my fiancée, Mary. This is Molly, I met her through S-Sherlock. She's a pathologist, she helped us on cases sometimes. Are you going back to Bart's, Molly?"

"Oh, I'm not sure. It's nice to meet you. I've been away or so long I'm not sure if they'll have me back. It'd take a miracle." She giggled as they began walking towards a town car. Town car, that was new.

"Or a Mycroft. Have you talked to him?" Molly had an idea where this was going and she was feeling too exhausted to really think about what came out of her mouth.

"No, sorry." She yawned as they rode out of the airstrip. There was a driver.

"I think Molly's tired, John. Maybe some silence would be good, yeah?" Molly smiled gratefully at Mary while John looked guiltily at her. A 'sorry' slipped out of his mouth as Molly just shook her head.

She stopped after a second and turned back to the former soldier. "How'd you know I was coming back and when specifically?"

Mary giggled as she took John's hand across from her. "John has been inquiring about your whereabouts for a while now. Mycroft finally told him when you'd be arriving. He only asked to see if you're attentive or if you knew anything."

"Knew anything about what?" Molly was confused now. It could be the jetlag but she was sure there was something else going on here.

"There is this event that we've all been invited to. All of us. Mrs. Hudson, the two of us, Lestrade. It's not for another week but it's supposed to be important. It is being held at the Holmes estate. Isn't that strange?"

"Yes." It's the first I've heard of it. She wanted to say but she held it back. This must be how it's to be done. The reunion between all of them. Her appearance was needed there. She hasn't forgotten her play in all of this. She isn't supposed to have known anything about his fake death. She will need to act surprised.

"When is it?" She found herself asking later when they were all settled in the small living room of Mrs. Hudson's flat on Baker Street. The woman reacted happily to seeing her.

"Next Thursday."

It wasn't long before Molly Hooper slipped back into a normal life without the consulting detective at her side. There were things that were different, actually a lot of things had change. Her flat's location for once. Before she left she had put most of her things in storage and given her key back to her landlord. It seemed liked the best thing to do at the time.

After leaving Baker Street alone Molly wasn't sure where she would be headed. Would she be headed to a hotel in the heart of London or would she go to Cardiff where her sister-in-law was staying with her nieces while her brother was off in America. He had called her almost immediately after she had tea with Mrs. Hudson. Her phone number had been switched off for safety reasons and only after receiving a text from an unknown number had it been clear that she was really back among the living.

Messages begun filtering in and phone calls merely fifteen minutes after that. Molly had decided to take her leave after that. Not wanting to cause so much ruckus in Baker Street though she knew it might have been something that they missed. When asked where she would be going to stay, she only said "I'll manage to find some place. No worries, I've quite good at that now." She left them with hugs and fleeting smile and walked down the corner where a sleek black car was waiting. She only gave it a once over before slipping into the back of it. It had been obvious that it was for her.

Nearly fifteen minutes later she found herself in front of a set of brownstones. In her hands as she exited the car was a package which had a key among other papers that she hadn't looked into yet. With her bag over her shoulder she thanked the driver who had said nothing at all to her and she entered her new abode.

At the time she had merely dropped her bags upon opening the door. It was much more than she was expecting but at the same time she wasn't all that surprised by what she found. It reminded her of one of the homes that she had frequented with Sherlock in Ireland. As she roamed around it she realized it was nearly the exact setup except it only had one master bedroom. There was a small guest room. Her favorite part of it was the kitchen. It quite large and already stocked with food.

She took half an hour to look over the documents that were inside the package. It was more of a debrief than anything else. There were instructions about what was going on next. A dress was supposed to arrive for her in the morning and a beautician was going to arrive Thursday afternoon to help with her hair. Molly was more than capable of that but as she read on it was clear this night at the Holmes family home was more than the reunion that she knew it was supposed to be.

There were other matters that she would be doing along with that. Example it said, "A meeting between Miss Molly Hooper has been requested by Vivian Marie Holmes (Mother of Sherlock & Mycroft Holmes) before the festivities are to commence. A car will arrive at 0500 for your departure and you are due to arrive at 0600."

There were also a list of things that were suggested that not take place. Many were understandable. Molly read over them all, taking note silently. After all of those she had her work papers and badge that looked the same. She was going back to Bart's. There wasn't anything specific noted there. Just that she would be returning back the following morning to a slew of bodies waiting. Bart's had trouble finding as good as a pathologist it had been noted in the papers as well.

Molly hid back a smile at that. She wasn't sure who had put that in there but it did make her feel happy to know that she had been missed at her post during her long vacation. She would love to go back and get back into the habit of autopsying again. The last time she had even looked at a body was the one time she had to use a kitchen knife against one of the few minions that wanted revenge against Sherlock Holmes and found where they were staying.

She shook off the memory of that night. It had been a night full of mixed emotions. She had been quite proud of herself for not freezing too badly upon being nearly assaulted by the man. It was the adrenaline and shock that had entwined together upon Sherlock's reappearance from his three day venture out of their place of refuge that caused her negative reaction to it to start to filter out. He had stopped by the body to make sure that the man was indeed job before muttering a "good job" and crouching down in front of her. She was a shaking mess who couldn't focus long enough to realize that she was unharmed. She had just killed a man though. Her first kill.

Sherlock's hand reached up and pressed against the side of her neck. His eyes roaming for injuries. He smiled down at her as he rubbed his fingers back and forth against the back of her neck trying to sooth her in the slightest way. "Oh..." She blinked after a few seconds of the gesture. His hands were cool to the touch but it felt nice. "Have you ever been in shock before?" Sherlock mumbled after she had closed her eyes and her body started to come down from the rush it had been ushered on.

"I've never killed a man, either…so." She told him as she opened her eyes after a second.

"We'll just have to make sure we're careful so you won't have to do it again. It would be best if we move out of here quickly, the cops will be sure to come in a couple of hours if not sooner." He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet, making sure she was steady and ready to move before pulling her up to the stairs to gather their things.

It hadn't been the first time she was put in the line of fire either. There were two other instances in between the last two years.

Coming back to the mortuary of Bart's was like coming home. She was greeted with smiles and a few hugs. It was almost like she was in some weird twilight zone. Before this she could honestly say she had one friend. Despite her quiet demeanor and the fact that she cut up bodies for a living there had been nothing exactly wrong with Molly. There were just a lot of misjudgment because of the one person she was without currently.

This was nice in a way. She felt warm and happy as she slipped on a set of gloves and begun working a double shift. Her first shift and she was working a double. If she had been alone at the time she probably would have done a little dance. However, she was being overseen by an older pair of eyes. He was her probation officer of sorts. Having not given much notice as to her departure the board of directors wanted to be sure she wasn't going to do anything dangerous or stupid, as if she was a flight risk.

She wasn't crazy. She just took a break without telling anyone where she was and when she was coming back.

She hadn't been told the man's name nor had she wanted to ask but his glares in her direction as he scribbled down notes every so often as she worked was enough for her to settled back into her reserved persona. Determined to get work done without anything happening.

It was only after her late lunch (could be considered dinner because of the time) was she happy to find that the man had left. She let out a deep sigh of relief as she settled at her desk in her office and begun the loads of paperwork from the nearly fifty autopsies she had done during the day. There had been several unfortunate cases, a couple natural causes and three serial murders it seemed. The MOs were the same.

That made her wonder if Scotland Yard would be arriving to check that out. Serial killers weren't something to take lately. She thought about calling DI Lestrade but remembered she wasn't even sure if he was still a DI after the whole fall debacle. She hadn't checked in on him. Just as she was about to reach for her office phone to make a call to NSY there was a bit of commotion outside the doors of her office.

Molly half stepped before realizing that she should at least bring a clipboard just in case it was just a tech needing help with something or her boss. She didn't need to seem like she was trying to be nosey. She wasn't, the noise was a bit distracting and had startled her.

She opened the door and nearly fell back as she was met by the very elegant looking assistant of Mycroft's. Her BlackBerry was in her hand by her side. "Anthea?" She asked trying to be sure she was correct.

"Hello." She spoke before her phone beeped most likely signaling a text. She looked down at it briefly before stopping herself from pulling the device to her face as it usually was. "I came to speak with you, Miss Hooper."

"Okay. About what?"

"Vivian." There was an almost irritated sound to her voice as she uttered the name.

"Oh. Would you like to sit?"

"No, how do you fancy a little walk?" She smiled.

x

This was how Molly found herself on that Thursday night in a room that was more of a large library than any kind of office. Three ceiling high bookshelves were pushed together along the back of the wall behind the desk where Mycroft was sitting. Anthea was off to the side staring out the window. They were going to be leaving to greet the others soon enough.

Molly was the only one here at the time however. She had been a special case as Anthea had told her a few days earlier. Mycroft had sent her to make sure she had looked over the documents he had sent her in the car that had been her way to and from work as of late. How he knew how late she was staying the past couple days was something she didn't dare ask. He knew more about anything than anyone other than his younger brother – even then she wondered whether or not who was the more superior in the intellectual field. She liked to think that Sherlock was but Mycroft's methods were a bit more devious and planned at times.

The thought left her mind upon being left alone fifteen minutes later. She had her eyes trained on the clock and slowly got up upon their departure and began to walk towards the bookshelf. So many of the books were old and bound by leather. She found it fascinating and breath taking. Doing her best not to touch them as she let her eyes roam at the ones that she could see and squint at the ones that were out of her focal distance.

She had made it towards the middle section when the door opened and she immediately turned as if she was being caught doing something she wasn't supposed to do. For all she knew she had been doing something she wasn't supposed to be doing. All she had been told was to stay in the room. This is where she would be meeting Vivian – Sherlock's mother.

She still hadn't the slightest clue as to why the woman wanted to meet her. Had she been informed she had some sort of affiliation with her son during his "death." There was no way of her being able to know but as the woman entered the room Molly was nearly knocked off her feet at how breathtakingly gorgeous she was.

She knew not to expect anything less from someone who was a Holmes but it was still startling all the same.

Not even getting a word in edge wise when the older woman closed the door and came to the front of the desk. She just kept smiling as if knowing something that Molly clearly different. Molly decided to look at the woman's attire. It wasn't as posh looking as she figured it would be.

Vivian Holmes wore a cream colored jumper with a light peach shaded scarf hanging around her shoulders, khaki colored trousers fit snug against her lean legs. Molly couldn't see her shoes but the woman was like a mirror image of her youngest boy. They had the same eyes and hair. Hers a bit gray but just as soft looking and wild as her boy.

"Hello, dear. Thank you for being prompt. I apologize for my tardiness, there was traffic. All rather dull. Tonight should be fun though, shouldn't it?"

Molly wasn't sure if she was supposed to answer so she just gave her a small smile. Her words were kind but she hadn't deciphered if it was all for show or not yet. She was anything but obvious in her actions.

"Have a seat dear, we have a lot to discuss. I'll stand. I was in the car for a dreadful long time." One Molly had sat in the chair that was behind the desk. Vivian continued. "There. Shall we begin then?" The smile on the older woman's face seemed to brighten even more.

Molly visibly gulped. She wasn't sure what she had signed up for. She was stuck in this space now. Best get on with it then.

Down the flight of stairs the group had been bubbling with anticipation of what this huge event was supposed to bring. However nearly forty five minutes after everyone had settled in the grand guest had strolled right on in. His suit clean and cut as it always had been. Almost as if it was a glove and he had put it on rather quickly.

There were a couple gasps before John stood up and slug a punch in Sherlock's direction. Instead of taking it he ducked for the first one while muttering a "Hello, John." The other two landed in succession before both Lestrade and Mycroft had to step in for fear that this could turn into a bloody fist fight (a one-sided one but it wouldn't have been pretty).

Sherlock just stood there with the handkerchief that had been offered to him by Mary who he had glanced at just once before roaming around the room. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" John yelled from his position on the couch in between Lestrade and Mary with Mycroft standing behind him as a safety precaution. He had a stoned look on his face as he waited for the whole thing to blow up. Not that it hadn't already.

Sherlock had a bloody nose which he was wiping at. He sniffled and then turned back to his friends and the woman he had yet to be introduced to but before he addressed John he asked a question that had everyone looking around. "Where's Molly Hooper?"

Anthea who had been watching all of it from a seat on a one seater stopped mid-text and waited to see what her boss would do. He didn't hesitate as he informed all of them including his brother whom he was looking at with a smile on his face, "Not to worry, brother. Miss Hooper will be joining us soon. She's just having a little chat upstairs with Mummy."

Sherlock wasn't the only one to look bewildered at this news. Nearly everyone apart from Anthea and Mycroft looked like they had been thrown into some weird nightmare. Several different responses came out at once.

His brother was the most important to him so he blocked the others out as he listened to him utter a one worded question. "Why?"

"Mummy wanted to meet Molly."

"Why?" He asked again turning his attention to the stairs.

"I think you know the answer to that, Sherlock."

"What does he mean?" Lestrade asked. That seemed to get the two brother's attention long enough for the two of them to focus back on the group. This was the reason they were all here. Not Molly Hooper. Though she had his attention once again.

Sherlock nor Mycroft uttered a single word. They did look at each other as if having their own private conversation.

The younger of the two sighed and took a seat on the only available seat that was left. His father's old chair. It was about the size of his own chair that he had in Baker Street. He hoped it was still there.

"You're going to ask why I'm here when it was so clear to you for four years that I had died. You're going to want to know what happened these past four years and you're going to ask questions upon questions and while I would love this attention right now I have a bit of a problem I must take care. However I'll tell you all you need to know for the moment.

Yes, I faked my death and thank you John for punching me in the face. I deserved it. I spent the past four years making it so that none of you would have to die. That is why I had to kill myself. Moriarty wanted to burn me, he was real. That was not a lie. I did lie to you, mostly John. I concocted a plan with the help of two people who are currently under this roof. One is upstairs and the other behind you." He stared at his big brother and gave him a half smile.

"I wasn't sure if it was even possible but I knew that I would have to give it all up to make sure that three important people in my life didn't have to go down because of my massive ego. You might think it was stupid but I don't regret what I did. I took Molly Hooper along with me as I traveled the majority of the world and killed hundreds of men and women who would have come back and tried to harm all of you. I knew that it wouldn't have ended even if I was dead. So, now I'm back and it's safe."

"Why did you take Molly? You were always so horrible to her as far as I've been told. How did you get her to go with you?" Mary asked him when he had stopped talking.

Sherlock turned to her and had seemed to scrutinize her for a moment before he looked down at his hand which he had begun beat against the side of the chair in small sequences of order – a rhythm. It wasn't anything, just something to do with his hands. He stopped it immediately as he noticed he was doing it.

He stayed quiet for a long moment and everyone was waiting for him to confirm or blatantly deny anything that they had been suspecting for a long time. Before he could begin to even choke out any of the things he had been dwelling on since the very beginning of this journey that led to this place in time footsteps coming down the steps stopped everything.

Everyone turned to the staircase and watched as Molly Hooper looked up and nearly backed trapped at all the eyes staring at her. She kind of stood there in the forest green dress that fit to her waits and kind of poofs out a bit and ends at her calves. There are a pair of black pumps on her feet – no peep show with those, just some normal heels. She blinked as if realizing something for the first time and looking at everyone – avoiding Sherlock's eyes for as long as possible.

Just when someone decides to not make this awkward for the pathologist who stepped into an already tense situation her phone which is in the small bag that she has in her hands and she fumbles with it to catch the call. She excuses herself and ducks under the stairwell and out the side door that leads to the patio deck.

All eyes go back to Sherlock as if he is supposed to do something here. He knows that they expect him to follow her or possibly answer the question that had been stated by John's companion. He decides to go with the former and stands up, fixing his suit jacket on the way, not saying a single word and ignoring the smug smiles that are on John Watson and Gregory Lestrade's faces as he steps out.

He listens to the one half of the conversation that he can hear. There is shouting on the other end but even if he couldn't hear that loudness of the caller it was quite obvious that Molly Hooper was in distress. Her right arm is crossed over her abdomen and she looks tense from the position he has taken. She switches the hand the phone is in and her head bows in a way that makes it seems like she is about to start crying or worse.

What could be worse than a crying woman, Sherlock thinks. He makes a move to avoid that and walks up behind her and slips the phone from her hand while also placing a hand around her waist causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. She turns to him even as he's speaking on the phone. She shakes her head before he even utters anything but he ignores her as he talks. "I'm sorry, Molly is a bit busy at the moment. She'll have to return your call at a later time. It would best if you'd not yell at her over matters you don't understand, if you feel as if you must please refrain from calling. Yes, have a good night." He ends the call and turns it off before tucking it in his trousers pocket.

"That was my mother." Molly tells him after a few seconds. She isn't looking at him but doesn't move away from his touch which is still as it had been when he approached her if not a bit more closer. Standing side by side in silence.

"I'll have to apologize in person, I suppose. Would you like to go back inside?" He doesn't want to but asks just to make sure he isn't pushing his luck with this, right now.

"Why did you come out here, Sherlock?" She asks him instead of agreeing to the idea that she enjoyed this. It could end any second but she didn't mind it for the moment.

"Hm. Out of two options this seemed better than having to explain something I don't know the answer to yet."

"What's stumped you?"

"Not what, Molly." He tells her as he comes around and stands in front of her. He's still close enough that she feel the heat of his body but if she was being honest she wouldn't mind having him a little closer mostly for the warmth. It's quite cold out.

She gives him a confused glance. "What?"

"I've been stumped by a living breathing human being. A woman."

Her lips form an 'o' shape but Sherlock isn't sure if she understands completely. So he takes a step from one of those silly romantic comedies she had him watch a few nights. It wasn't too terrible, nor was this. His hand reaches out and grabs her hand and pulls her into his arms. He doesn't know if it's the time for kissing so he opts for an embrace. It's something that is familiar and it feels nice to have his hands around the soft flesh of the woman he had spent the past four years trying to not get comfortable with.

The past two weeks of being alone had been strange. She had noted the night of his fall that he had been alone before he came to know John Watson that was correct. He hadn't corrected her and told her that he hadn't been completely alone. She was in his life even if it had been a small percentage back then. He didn't know everything about the things that had had gradually begun to feel but he knew he wanted this even if it last a short time.

He had enjoyed spending the nights out with her when she pulled him out of the throngs of his madness of a room which usually was a mess of papers and scribbles on the floor and all over the wall. Or the night's when he opted to stay in and they watch something on the tally. The most memorable night was the one they didn't talk about. The one he had referred to only once when he accepted her terms to leave him alone to finish the rest of it.

Molly smiled into his shoulder as she slipped her hands around his broad shoulders and embraced him. "You never answered my question." Molly mumbled after a few moments.

"Which one?" She had asked plenty during their time together.

"Why me?"

Sherlock pulls his head back and quirks a brow at her. She chose the one question that had been asked to him already. He didn't know if he was ready to admit it to anyone let alone the woman herself, so he chose a different choice in action.

"Green is definitely your color."

She blinked. For a moment, she thought he was dodging her question again but then she remembered and that caused her to blush.

Sherlock breathed into her mouth as they were locked into quite the heated kiss. He wouldn't have been able to tell you when they had gotten into his room or when they had finished off the bottle of red that Molly had picked up earlier in the day. He could tell you that he could felt a familiar buzzing throughout his entire body as he felt for the hem of his pathologist's t-shirt and separated from her long enough for it to go over her head.

He stopped and looked down at the fabric that were covering the breasts that he said were adequate at best before, they looked so much more up close. "Green." He mumbled.

Molly was staring at him with a hooded gaze but went to cover up her exposed skin when he swatted her hands away. "What?"

"Nothing. It bring out your eyes, you should wear it more often…well on the outside. I would have never guessed. Green is definitely your color." His eyes were roaming a bit. Molly reached out and tangled her hand in his hair and smirked at him. "No problem then?"

"Nope." He told her as he crawled back on top of her and placed his lips back against hers. A new vigor seemed to ignite a raw energy that neither seemed to mind much.

He liked colors, Molly filed that away as the haziness of clothes and newly uncovered areas filtered through inch by inch. Euphoria soon followed.

"I don't know if people will understand." She blurted out as her fingers slowly begun to tease the hair that fell against his neck.

"Why do people care so much what other people think?" He asked. Molly wasn't sure it was something he meant to ask or it was on her mind.

"People can be cruel."

"I'm sorry." He said quickly.

Molly's eyes softened at what he was doing. He was trying to show her that he wasn't as bad but she already knew what kind of man he was. She got four years of giving him the enclosed love that he deserved and now he was the one trying to get her to take him as hers for real.

"I know." She told him, quietly.

Sherlock's eyes roamed across her face until they landed on her lips a couple times. He almost wanted to yell "fuck it" at the top of his lungs as he grabbed her left hand and put the ring back on her finger and told her quite hurriedly, "Don't take it off, ever again. I meant it. If you do…I don't know what I'll do. I don't know what to do. I don't know how I'm supposed to do this but I want this. I do. I want you. You've made me want…" He stopped when he saw the water works start. "Was that too rash? I'm not good at this." He started to back away when Molly pulled him to her and pressed her lips against his, firmly.

Without saying much, her reply through force "I want you. I want this too."

a/n: I honestly don't even know what to say right now. I can't believe I finished it. I feel like I should apologize to anyone who just read all of this but I love you all so much for it. If you would leave a little message letting me know what you thought, that would be beautiful. I just…I hope you liked it.

much love,

day