As lunchtime approached Dr. Molly Hooper was flirting with the perfect trifecta of hungry, homeless and heartbroken, when Sherlock Holmes and John Watson came through the doors of her pathology lab.
"Molly, care to join us for lunch?" John said cheerfully. Well, thought Molly desolately, that takes care of the hungry part!
The lunch seemed to pass rather quickly, with Sherlock, as usual, not eating very much, just stealing samples from both her and John's plates. John had to excuse himself after a short time, having to return to his clinic hours, but Sherlock lingered on with her in the hospital cafeteria, studying her closely, deducing her, as she sipped the last of her tea.
"So, Molly, what's the problem? Or do I have to figure it out myself?" Sherlock always liked a challenge.
"My building has been sold, my lease expires in a month, and the new owner is refusing to renew," Molly explained the homeless part of the trifecta. "It seems that my particular flat is required by the owner, for some reason, and I'm out!"
"Isn't there some requirement about sufficient notice?"
Molly looked slightly embarrassed. "It's partly my fault. My lease always begins on March first. The landlord is required to give me sixty days notice if they don't intend to renew, but the sale took place in the last ten days. I was supposed to give them thirty days notice if I intended to renew. I've always given notice by February first, but…"
"February has only twenty-eight days, Molly." He looked at her sternly. "You didn't give notice in sufficient time, and the new landlord is not being so forgiving as the old one. Correct?"
"Correct," she replied glumly.
"Have you tried talking to them?"
"Of course. No luck whatsoever! I can't get anywhere. My building manager insists that I have no option He doesn't even know who bought the building. He said that everything was done through a third party, who told him that the company had an Italian name, so perhaps they're foreigners. I don't think I'll be able to find a flat in my price range, at least not around here. I may have to leave St. Bart's. I may even have to leave London."
Hence, the heartbroken part, she thought as she stole a glance across the table at her possibly best friend, and definitely the unrequited love of her life.
"I wouldn't worry about it, Molly. Things always have a way of working out!"
Sherlock rose from the table, looking at his mobile to check the time, and, excusing himself, walked quickly away, coat flapping in the breeze and curls bouncing. So much for a sympathetic shoulder, thought Molly as she finished her tea and watched him leave.
Sherlock's first call was to his brother Mycroft. He then texted his friend Mary Watson, as John had other obligations for the afternoon.
MEET ME AT MOLLY'S FLAT ASAP - SH
I DO HAVE AN INFANT TO TAKE CARE OF - MARY
MRS HUDSON WILL BE HAPPY TO WATCH MY GODDAUGHTER. I REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE - SH
When Mary arrived at Molly's flat later that afternoon, she was greeted by an impatient Sherlock Holmes and a crew of movers.
"What took you so long?" Sherlock asked rather shortly.
"Well, I do have another child to deal with, after all!"
"Nonsense, John is at work!" Sherlock smirked an answer.
"Just what the bloody hell are you up too, Sherlock. Is Molly moving?"
"To Baker Street."
"When did she decide this?" Mary asked in a suspicious tone.
"She hasn't actually decided. It's a surprise." Sherlock continued, "Her flat has been sold, she's being evicted, partly because of her own stupidity (Mary glared at him), so I'm doing her a favor! Do keep up, Mary!"
"When did all this happen, and why hasn't she told me?"
"Evidently, it just happened today."
"And you've arranged a moving crew in such as short time?"
"Mycroft helped. If he can start and end revolutions on the other side of the world, I didn't think it would require much effort to move one woman a couple of miles!"
"So let me get this straight. You're moving Molly into your flat."
"Yes."
"She knows nothing about this plan."
"No."
"You do know that this is the point where John would be saying 'not good, Sherlock'?"
Sherlock looked at her as if she were slightly mad. "Why would he be saying that?"
Mary simply rolled her eyes. "Why the bloody hell am I here? I'm not sure I want to be involved in this."
"Really, Mary, I thought you were Molly's friend. I'm sure she'll be most grateful for your help in this matter." Mary looked doubtful, but Sherlock continued. "You're a woman…"
"I hadn't thought you'd noticed!"
"Well, I need your help in ascertaining which of her belongings are essential. Even with Mycroft's assistance, I don't think the entire move can be accomplished before Molly's shift ends. I need your advice on what she will require immediately. I plan to move her bedroom first, in its entirety, but I don't relish the thought of going through her drawers, especially certain ones…"
"I understand. You don't want to handle her knickers." Sherlock turned slightly pink, and Mary was enjoying it. "Or her lacy bras," Sherlock got pinker, "Or her sexy lingerie, in general," Mary finished as Sherlock regained his composure by clearing his throat. "Or whatever the hell is in her bedside table!" Mary added as an afterthought, and Sherlock nearly choked. At that, Mary left Sherlock in the sitting room to supervise, while she took care of packing Molly's clothing, toiletries, and other essentials.
By late afternoon Molly's bedroom had been completely recreated in John's old room at Baker Street. Her towels had been added to Sherlock's linen closet, and her kitchen utensils, still in boxes, had been stacked in the kitchen. The fridge from Molly's kitchen had been installed alongside Sherlock's. Now his could be used exclusively for his all-important experiments, and her's solely for food items Sherlock was confident that all was in order when he texted her just before her shift ended.
COME TO BAKER STREET IMMEDIATELY - SH
Molly looked at her mobile, and sighed. As usual there was no "please" included in the message.
Her mobile then signalled another incoming test.
PLEASE. I HAVE DINNER AND A SURPRISE - SH
Molly muttered to herself, "Well, it can't be any worse than spending a depressing evening, one of my last, at my cozy little flat, alone."
Mrs. Hudson met her at the front landing. "Molly, dear, you're never going to believe what he's done now!" Molly was now becoming on edge. If Mrs. Hudson, who had know Sherlock since he was a child, was concerned about his behavior, then maybe she should be, too. "You're either going to hug him to death or slap him silly!" Molly considered that there was no way Sherlock would appreciate either option, and she started up the stairway with some trepidation. Just as she reached the upper landing, Sherlock burst from his flat, grabbed her arm, and led her up the next flight of stairs to John's old bedroom.
When he opened the door, she could barely believe her eyes. Her bed, her bureau, her nightstand, everything, was right there in front of her. She opened her drawers, and went through her clothes. Everything. The closet contained whatever else she needed. She couldn't believe it at all, and, remembering Mrs. Hudson's words, couldn't decide whether to hug him or give him hell. So she did both.
She threw her arms around his waist and hugged, at the same time calling him a bloody idiot, an arrogant bastard, a ridiculous prat, and a stupid git. Since he had been called these names on many previous occasions, he decided to concentrate on the hug, and decided she seemed happy. So much for John and Mary!
The arrangement seemed to be working out fairly well, at least in Sherlock's opinion, when it came to his attention that Molly was perusing the classified section of the Times every day. When he asked her about this, he was startled by her reply.
"I really need to find a place of my own, Sherlock. This can't be a permanent solution."
"Whyever not! Aren't you happy here?"
"Sherlock, be sensible! We can't share a flat! I like to have a kitchen, not a laboratory! I like to cook. I don't want to live on takeaway and tea. The bedroom is separate from the rest of the flat. It's not particularly convenient leaving my room, walking through a public hallway, and into this flat to take a bath."
"John didn't mind"
"I'm sure he did, to some extent. But's he's not a woman!"
"And it's not really a public hallway!"
"Not now. But what if Mrs. Hudson acquires more tenants. By the way, why DOESN'T she have more tenants? And what if one of your clients shows up? How would a woman in a bathrobe and fluffy slippers walking through your sitting room look to them?"
"Very attractive, I should think." Molly smiled at the almost compliment. Sherlock continued, "I think you're overreacting, but I see some of your points. We'll discuss this later." And with that, he removed himself to his mind palace. Or, maybe he did. Sometimes, Molly thought he just steepled his fingers under his chin and stared off into space to avoid further conversation.
The next day Molly decided to talk to Mrs. Hudson about the possibility of opening up more space on the third floor for a flat for her. Molly had no idea what the space looked like, but had decided that if it was not currently occupied, it may require some renovations to make it habitable. There was also a space on the ground floor, rear, but she had been told by Mrs. Hudson that this space was plagued by damp, and would definitely require work. Living so close to the man she was so hopelessly infatuated with may certainly be a problem, but was considerably less problematic than actually living WITH him. She had some money put aside for unexpected expenses, and thought that if she could contribute to the remodeling expense, perhaps Mrs. Hudson would agree to her becoming a tenant. She was startled by the way the conversation with the elderly woman was going.
"Molly, dear, that would be a marvelous solution! I enjoy having another woman around. I like the company. But, the thing is, I don't actually own the building."
"Then who does?"
"Sherlock, of course. Well, actually, his family's holding company does. VISI Investments LLC.
They bought it from me years ago. The purchase gave me a rather substantial income, and the agreement states that I live here rent free! I think it was really done so that I can an eye on Sherlock. His mother and I are great friends, you know."
This was all news to Molly. "But why did he tell John he needed a roommate? He certainly didn't need help with the rent if he owned the building!"
"I'm afraid that was my idea, luv. His mother and I decided that he was far too isolated. He needed someone. So I insisted he find a roommate. It worked out rather well, considering what an inconsiderate bastard he can be at times!" The older woman chuckled affectionately. "Maybe you shouldn't say that I've told you this. Let him tell you himself in his own good time. I'm sure he will, eventually."
"Does John know?"
"Well, no."
"Then why would he tell me?"
"Oh, it's different with you isn't it? Has he ever asked you for rent?"
"No…"
"See! John was just a roommate, as much as I thought it was something different, at first. I still like to tease them about that! But, you see, you LIVE with him."
"What!"
Mrs. Hudson laughed. "Sherlock is rather socially awkward, as I am sure you have noticed. But you also know her is not a stupid man. He doesn't do anything that he doesn't want to do. So, I suggest you come to terms with the fact that he intends for you to live with him, permanently. It may take him a while, but I assure you, he will make his intentions clear eventually. You may want to consider what your intentions are, luv."
Molly spent the next few days considering her options, and studying every nuance of Sherlock's behavior. He cleaned up the kitchen and seemed inordinately pleased when she unpacked her kitchen gear and started cooking meals on a regular basis. He compromised on disposing of some of his rattier furniture, allowing it to be replaced with several of her items which had been stored in the basement. His skull on the mantlepiece was now crowded by her family photographs, and she had insisted that he add some of his own. The bullet hole happy face was still on the wall, and he was pleased that she merely giggled about it on occasion. To his mind, there was only one question left to tackle.
"Molly, I've noticed how well we have accommodated ourselves to each other, but I realize that you are still unhappy about the location of your bedroom. I have a proposition to make."
Molly looked up from her medical journal, giving him her full attention. She was more than eager to hear what his "proposition" would be.
"I suggest that you sleep in my room."
"And you'll take the upstairs room?" Molly said innocently, but she was beginning to get the idea where this conversation was going, given Mrs. Hudson's warning.
"No! Of course not! That's my room, always has been. I suggest that we share it. You would be much closer to the bathroom, as you want and…"
"Shall we buy twin beds, then?"
"Don't be ridiculous. The room is not big enough for two beds plus an additional armoire, as you would require. I am suggesting that we share the room and the bed. We have shared a bed before, Molly. When I stayed with you off and on during the period of my 'demise'."
"I remember, Sherlock. But that was on an infrequent basis, and only because you said the couch was too short for you. It was certainly not a permanent arrangement!"
"Molly, I see your concern. I know that you have had men friends (he hated the term boyfriend!) in the past. You are a relatively young…"
"Thanks a lot for the 'relatively', you git!"
"As I was saying, you are a relatively young and healthy woman. I understand that you have certain needs. I, also being a RELATIVELY," he glared at her, "young and healthy male, experience these needs myself from time to time. I suggest that we can fulfill each others requirements, and do so rather pleasantly."
"Well, if we're negotiating about this, I would like the upstairs room to be converted into a laboratory, so that I can have the kitchen all to myself."
"You'd sell yourself for a kitchen, Molly?" Sherlock was beginning to smile. "I would have held out for much more."
"More?"
"Well, it occurs to me, that if we both find ourselves as 'needy' as I think we will, we may require additional rooms for the offspring of that neediness. Perhaps a complete remodeling of the house with additional bedrooms upstairs, a lab in the downstairs flat, and Mrs. Hudson remaining established on the ground floor. A live-in babysitter and support system, as it were."
"That sounds acceptable, but doesn't that sound a lot like…"
"Marriage. Yes, that was to be my next proposition...err, proposal. Would that be acceptable?"
"Sherlock, you do know that I love you, don't you?", she said, suddenly serious.
"Of course, Molly. Everyone knows that! I, however, pride myself on being much more unreadable than you. Hardly anyone knows how much I love you. Except, perhaps, Mrs. Hudson. And Mummy. And Mycroft. Perhaps John and Mary. Graham might have a clue. As a matter of fact, the only people directly involved who haven't guessed seem to be you and my father. But my father is pretty much oblivious to everything outside of his laboratory and my mother."
Molly rose from her seat, smiling, and crossed the room to drop herself onto Sherlock's lap and kiss him passionately. He held her tightly as she played with his curls and ran her hands across his chest. They had both, it seemed, waited a long time for this, and were not willing to wait a second longer. Sherlock rose from his chair, carrying Molly in his arms toward "their" bedroom. He was slightly surprised when she said, "You've never told me your parent names, Sherlock."
"Why do you want to know now?"
"I thought we might consider naming one of the offspring of our mutual neediness after them."
"Their names are Violet and Sigur."
"As in VISI Investments LLC, the owner of this house?"
"Yesss…," he looked at her suspiciously.
"Sounds almost Italian, doesn't it?", she mused, and her smirk told him that this was, indeed, going to be a very interesting relationship.