Hold Me Closer, Push Me Farther
Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock :(
I'm very tired after a long day in the morgue. After everything that happened with Moriarty (Did you miss me? Did you miss me?) and Sherlock's return (murder, relapse, exile?!), my morgue has been quite busy.
Sherlock is constantly in there. It seems as if he's trying to make up for everything he did. I don't understand what he would need to make up to me, though. It's his friends that really need his apologies.
But back to today. He worked me quite thoroughly. Usually he works in silence, but lately he's been having me help him. How odd.
After Moriarty's (Moran's) brief return, Sherlock nearly fell over himself to go see me (Make sure I was okay, so John said). Right after Sherlock left, Tom came. Tom wanted to get back together. Tom was sorry. Tom knew he should not have hurt me like that. I took him back because I was lonely and hurt that Sherlock didn't notice the real reason for my broken engagement.
So it is with immense exhaustion, that I push the door to my flat open and greet Tom.
"Hello, luv, miss me?" I flinch at my word choice (Miss me? Miss me?).
"That depends "luv"... Were you with Sherlock all this time?" He walks closer and I can't help but take a step back. I don't understand why he's already so angry. It usually takes a bit of provoking to get him this mad.
"O-of course. You know he is often at the morgue. He needed to do an e-experiment to, to prove a man was guilty. It really is odd, the amount of time it takes for a bruise to form. Did you know-" I can't help but get lost in the science of it all, if only for a moment. Unfortunately, he's never been fond of science and he does not get lost.
He slams me against the wall, effectively cutting off my explanation. Hmm, yes, I suppose he would know how long it takes for a bruise to form. "Are you trying to make me feel stupid? Does he make you act like this? That's right, Molls, I know how you feel about him. Consider me just a replacement, you do! Bloody hell, why don't you just go shag him?!"
"Tom, what are you-Tom, I can't breathe. Let me go." I kick my legs in hope that he will let me down. Or loosen his hold. It's just too tight. I can't breathe.
"No, you need to fucking answer me. I told you, him or me, Molly. You picked. You picked me and now you're mine."
I glare at him as intensely as I can. "I belong to no man. None. Not Sherlock and not you." I spit out angrily. I can take man-handling, but I can NOT take being belittled like that. I belong to no one. "Get off of me, you arse, before I kick you out!" He suddenly lets me go and looks guilty. "Tom, I didn't mean-"
I didn't mean to hurt his feelings. I know sometimes he just loses his temper, but I just can't handle the thought of "belonging" to someone. I'm my own person. Not a sodding dog.
"God, Molls, I'm so sorry... I-I didn't mean to hurt you! Are you alright?" He checks my throat where he had just been squeezing so tightly.
"Yes, I am fine." I bat his hand away playfully and walk into my bedroom to to wash up.
"Jesus, tell me to stop next time I do that! Don't just take it!" He shouts from the kitchen.
I look in the mirror, not replying. He'd just get angry again if I told him that I did tell him to stop. He gets angry about the weirdest things. A bruise is already forming and I can't stop the sigh that is released because of it. I know he didn't mean to (just a quarrel, really), but I wish that... that he was a bit gentler. I mean, I work with Sherlock who used me as a verbal punching bag for years, so you'd think I could take what Tom throws at me (his fist).
I finish dressing into my pajamas and throw on my dressing gown. Don't want Tom to feel bad for what he did. He didn't mean it so I musn't rub it in. It'd only hurt him.
I just finish getting my robe into place when I hear someone knocking at the door. On my way there, I notice Tom is cooking dinner. Damn, he must feel guilty! I open it up to find... John.
"John? Um, hello?"
"Hi, Molls! Our favorite bloody git is requesting you at the morgue."
"But I just left!" I nearly whine. I suddenly realize he's standing in the doorway and move to let him in. He waves it away and continues to stand there.
"That's what I told him. He said he really needs you." He leans in a tad closer. "I think he just misses you." He grins at me and I can't help but laugh. Sherlock Holmes miss me? Ha!
"Well, I suppose I could-"
"Molly, dinner is done!" Tom calls before coming to stand by me at the doorway. I feel tense having him anywhere near John. Tom naturally radiates male dominance as of late and John can be a bit of a mother hen when he is given cause. "John Watson?"
"Yes, err, I wasn't aware that you and Molly were still, errr, right. I'll just tell Sherlock he can-"
"Sherlock wants Molly?" I feel Tom go completely stiff and I pray to God John doesn't notice the hand that clasps itself tightly on to my arm.
"Yeah, I'll just tell the git to stuff it, though. You carry on with your evening and-" Tom nearly shoves me out the door and into John.
"No, she needs to help the great and mighty Sherlock! Go on, Molly. I won't wait up." And with that, he slams the door.
John stands me upright again and I try to open the door. He's locked it. Dammit! I knock. "Tom, I can't very well go in this! I'll freeze!"
I hear a muffled "You'll be fine. You're wearing the gown he bought you for Christmas! Now go!" I let out another sigh and notice John is staring at me with confused eyes.
"Don't suppose you know how to pick a lock, hmm?" I meekly ask.
"Can't say I do. Though, the arse in the cab downstairs does. Want me to get him?"
"No, no. Best I let this blow over."
We begin walking down the stairs. "I'm really sorry, Molls, I wouldn't have gotten ya if I'd known it'd cause a fight."
"No, it's alright. We were fighting about Sherlock earlier and I suppose it's a bit of a touchy subject at the moment."
"I thought you ended it with him?" He asks curiously, before quickly adding, "if you don't mind my asking."
I smile at him. John Watson is really too kind. Polar opposite of Sherlock.
"It's alright, John. I did end it... He said he was sorry so I took him back... We're not engaged. Taking things slowly."
"Why did you end it?"
I look down at that. Can't help it, really. I'm so ashamed to admit to anyone what Tom did. Had me in the hospital for over a week. I had just gotten back to work when Sherlock started using again (For a case, Molly. For a case). "We had a fight and he lost his temper. He never knew I helped Sherlock with... you know... the fall. It got a bit... out of hand?" His lips press together at that, almost as if he knows.
We reach the bottom of the stairs and before I open the door, he gently grabs my arm. I try not to wince. That's where Tom grabbed me. "He treats you well, right?"
"No worse than any other relationship I've had." My response comes out shaky and he doesn't seem happy with it, but he lets go of my arm and holds the door open for me.
We walk to the cab where Sherlock gets out to impatiently greet us.
"Finally! Took you long enough! What was the delay? Had to get dolled up to-Why are you wearing that?" His tone changes so fast and the puzzlement on his face is almost downright comical.
"Had a bit of a spat with Tom... Didn't have time to, errr, get changed. Sorry, this'll have to do."
He clears his throat. "Right, well, get in." He smiles and I can't help but give one of my own to that lovable face of his. I get in and Sherlock & John climb in after me. It's a tight fit, but who cares?
"What do you need, Sherlock?" (You. What? I need you, Molly.)
"I thought you broke up with meat dagger." He asks, completely ignoring my question.
"He apologized and as you well know, I am quite forgiving." I grin cheekily at him.
He begins to grin back when it slowly dies down. Worried, I ask, "What's wrong?"
He pulls down my dressing gown slightly and tenderly touches my neck. I let out a hiss.
"What happened to your neck?" At that, John's head snaps toward us.
"It's nothing. Scarf just got tied a bit, err, too tight, I guess."
"You're lying. Don't lie. You can't lie to me."
I suddenly glare at him with such fierceness that I shock even myself. "You didn't notice last time."
He cocks his head to the side. "Last time?"
"Sorry, you were too busy taking drugs to notice my absence for a week. Though, I suppose I wasn't really absent, was I? Still in the hospital. Just as a bloody patient!"
Both John and Sherlock's mouths drop open and I suddenly feel uncomfortable. I was okay being with Tom. I was even a tad okay with what he was doing. Why did I explode like that at him then?
The cab arrives at Barts and I get out first, ignoring the traffic. I begin to walk in the hospital when Sherlock clasps my hand tightly in his own.
"I'm sorry..." He says quietly.
"No, I'm sorr-"
He suddenly stops walking. "No, don't you ever be sorry. None of this is your fault. None, Molly Hooper. Do you hear me? None."
"Perhaps we should take this inside, yeah?" John suggests, pointing to the onlookers.
"Yes, yes, swell. Let's go." He drags me inside with John trailing behind us. I can tell he feels out of place and I honestly do too. Sherlock doesn't normally act like this.
He walks me all the way down to the morgue when he seems to realize that John followed.
"Leave, John."
"What? She's my friend too! I'm not-"
"Leave, John!" There is something in his voice that even John doesn't attempt to argue with.
"Hmm, well, alright then." He then turns to me. "I'm not kidding, Molls. I'm your friend and I'm here for you. I'll beat the hell out of that bloody arse if he comes near you again. I love you, Molls." He gives me a hug that I eagerly return. John Watson has grown to be like an older brother to me since Sherlock's fall. (I'm sorry, John, so sorry. It's him.)
"I know, John. Thank you." He pulls back and I kiss his cheek.
"Be good, Sherlock. I'm serious." He points his finger at Sherlock as he backs up into the elevator.
"Why did you make him leave?"
He looks down almost shyly. "I wanted you to be as comfortable as possible. I know women don't like for many people to hear of their experiences."
"Oh."
He chuckles. "Yes, oh." I grin at him. "What happened, Molly? From the beginning." I let loose a sigh.
"As you know, my name got released to the press. Mortician Molly. Tom seen the newspaper and got mad. He asked me why I hadn't told him. I tried to tell him that it would put you both in danger, but he thought you and I were having some sort of affair!"
"A sex affair?" His jaw drops open and I roll my eyes at him.
"What other affair is there?"
"...True."
"He just started beating on me and hitting me and-oh God, oh he bruised my ribs just from kicking me." My voice cracks. I think my heart is cracked too. "I was in the hospital for a week. I was released the day that I slapped you... I wasn't even supposed to be working." I laugh bitterly while his head drops in shame. "Right, well, I told him it was over. Then Moriarty came back and I was scared. You understand that, right, Sherlock?"
"Yes, I-I understand... I was too."
"He told me he was worried about me and he was sorry. He said he didn't know what came over him and he understands. It's been off and on since. He can't seem to decide who he is."
"You need to leave him, Molly."
My body tenses up and I am suddenly feeling defensive. Who is he to be questioning my decisions? They are mine! He has no right when he has pushed me away so much.
"I'm serious. He is as dangerous as the men I put behind bars."
"C'mon, Sherlock, that is exaggerating a tad, don't you think?"
"I don't. I don't want you hurt. Molly-I..."
His tone is resigned. No, he is not about to admit something to me, is he? "Don't, Sherlock. I don't need pity. Don't lie to me."
"I was going to tell you sooner, but while I didn't know it was Tom, I knew you were already in another relationship. When Moran surfaced all I could think about was you. Moriarty overlooked you once. I knew he wouldn't again. You were the first person I rushed off to see." This time his laugh is sardonic. "John had quite a few interesting and obvious observations."
I let out a giggle of my own before quickly sobering. "I still don't understand what you're trying to tell me. I know I count."
"What I'm trying to say is... you count... more than I previously anticipated. I believe the word you would use is 'love'. I love you."
"Are you just trying to make me leave Tom? I guess I'll leave him. You promised you wouldn't manipulate me anymore."
"I'm not. I swear to you, Molly. I wouldn't lie about this."
I raise an eyebrow. "Janine?"
He coughs. "Yes, well, I wouldn't lie to you about this. I don't care about her. I do, however, care for you." I feel my cheeks heat up and he laughs. "Please, Molly. Believe me?"
"Okay... I do. And for the record, I love you too."
He scoffs before smirking. "As if there were any doubt on the matter." I grin back at him while punching his arm.
"Mm, I suppose not. So... what are we then?"
"Hmm, lover? Paramour? Please, anything but girlfriend. Such a childish name for grown adults."
"Well, we aren't quite lovers yet."
He moves closer to me. "Yes, well, we'll have to fix that, won't we?"
I mutter a "hell yeah!" before fisting my hands into his hair and dragging his lips to mine.
Things with Tom were bad. I didn't even realize how bad until I got the help I needed and understood exactly what was going on. He wasn't just hitting me, he was abusing me. Despite both mine and Sherlock's excitement, we didn't rush into anything. The more I realized about mine and Tom's relationship, the more I began to fear jumping into another. I trusted Sherlock, but I didn't trust myself and it took a while before I worked it back up again.
Sometimes I still have nightmares, but the difference is... I do have support. I have both John and Mary to help and talk to me. Mrs. Hudson has been like a mum and I couldn't be more grateful. Greg has been rather wonderful too. But I couldn't have gotten through this without Sherlock. He is blunt and to the point and exactly what I needed. He understood why I did what I did and why I stayed. He was there for me and he still is. I'm eternally thankful to these wonderful people.
A/N
If you or someone you know is being abused, get help! There are no "one time things" and there are no accidents. Abuse is a nasty thing for both the abuser and the person being abused. I have a close family friend that has been in an abusive marriage for the past 10 or so years. I still try and encourage her to kick his ass out and get help. There are no excuses.
I hope this was written well enough. I just took what I knew to be true do to the situations that I have seen and stuff that I've read. Please don't flame, but I would like to know if it was written accurately.