Save the Date
The once happy couple had sent out Save the Date cards and had made all the plans for a wonderful ceremony. They had planned the catering, the flowers and a romantic honeymoon to Paris.
But when it all ended, Molly was the one left all the details to cancel their planning. It was all done and had all been cancelled and refunded minus the deposits. The only thing left of the would have been occasion was the venue, not that Molly was worried about a fee there, as it was her Aunt Joan's Seaside cottage Bee Hill in Northumberland.
When she'd called Aunt Joan about using Bee Hill Cottage to be married her Aunt had been thrilled, and when she had called to cancel the dear woman had insisted that it would be open for her; wedding or no. And since Molly's requested 3 weeks Holiday for the wedding and honeymoon had been approved months ago as time away wasn't something she did often the HR office begged her to use it.
So there she was. Hours away from London in a rented car, filled with bags, books, movies and groceries to spend three weeks at the beloved seaside cottage. To take some much needed time for herself.
Molly Hooper was officially on a Holiday for one.
The first night as she settled herself in she instantly regretted ever coming here. It was lonely. The isolation felt more obvious and therefore stronger. She missed Toby curling into her side. And when she was honest with herself she even missed the future that she would never have with Tom filled with dinners and children that were mentally already named. She wasn't ready to let it all go just yet.
When the next dawn arose, though Molly felt calmer. She lounged and lazed and read and baked and ate with not thought of diet or consequence or care. On the third day she hiked and rode her Aunts bike on the beach for hours letting the surf and sand sooth her troubled mind. The days passed easily and calmly.
On the 7th day however Molly didn't even try to get out of bed. Tears fell without care just as heavy as the rain was out doors. It made sense that it would pour on her would've been wedding day after all. Molly turned off her phone after her former bridesmaids text with cheerful messages of hope. Screw them and their years along marriages and regular sex lives.
Molly Hooper was having an epic pity party for one.
What little light there had been that day was fading when a loud bang came on the front door down stairs. The loud insistent knocking continued. Dragging herself to the door she opened it to find a drenched Sherlock Holmes on the door step.
"What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded.
"Are you alright?" The soaked man asked desperately at the same moment.
The two stared at one another as the rain continued to fall.
"I'm fine." She answered in a saucy tone. "You look like hell. " Sherlock noted, once again their speech overlapped and the two went from a suprised state to glaring at each other.
"Aren't you going to ask me to come in?" the dripping man asked.
"No." Answered a bedraggled Molly. He'd already mocked her appearance, and she was in no temperament to put up with anymore of his deductions about her physical and mental state today.
"Well I guess I'll just be leaving then." He turned and marched over to the land rover parked in the drive, fired up the engine and drove away. Molly slammed the door shut then leaned against it. What had that been about?
The two had not been on the best of terms since he showed up high in her lab, then got shot. Also becoming involved in a tabloid sex scandal with the curvaceous maid of honor had not helped them one bit.
Shaking it off, she decided to make her trip downstairs worth the while and made her way to the kitchen to get a much need drink and snack Molly went to head back upstairs when another knock sounded at the door. Surely, he wasn't back! She was hesitantly opened it.
"Let me in. The car had an issue." Came the annoyed sounding genius through the door.
"What kind of issue?" Molly groaned.
"It slid into the ditch." Sherlock conceded.
"That sounds like user error. Not my fault." Molly snapped but allowed the door to open so that she could make sure he wasn't hurt. Damn that Hippocratic oath! Sherlock was a seething dripping, muddy mess, but he wasn't hurt. After takin him in head to toe and not seeing anything wrong other then his resemblance to a drowning dog she yelled at him. "Are you kidding me Sherlock? Ahhhh!" She screamed in frustration and threw the door open wide enough for him to enter in.
The tall sopping mess strode in and flung his coat off. "Oh yes. I had nothing better to do then send a car into a ditch and walk back here in this nightmare gale. You make such a charming, accommodating hostess after all." He snapped back.
"Well come on then. I can't have you drenching the carpet." And Molly stomped her way up stairs and into a bedroom. "There's a bath in there. Go get cleaned up and warm and I'll see if I can find you some clothes. Unless you packed a valise?"
The glare he shot her answered her question and he stared pulling at buttons. Molly huffed at him and at herself for watching the action a moment longer then she should have. Damn him! She turned to go check the trunks in the attic for clothes.
In her uncles old clothes she was able to dig out old corduroy pants and a suitable flannel shirt that was a bit big in the shoulders but would be to short in the sleeved but it would do.
Marching down to the guest room she knocked and a shirtless Sherlock opened the door. Carefully avoiding his eyes, and the sight of him broad chest, Molly shoved the clothes in his hands then left going to her own room to hide.
Molly passed the mirror and what she saw was a stranger. An angry woman who was spoiling for a fight against an overgrown man child. With one long huff she turned and found her brush and an actual outfit to put on.
Afterwards she headed down to the kitchen to put on some tea and make something for dinner as she now had an unwanted guest to feed. As she opened a tin of soup to heat up for them and the oven to warm a loaf of bread. She heard Sherlock come down stairs but not into the kitchen. He would be snooping no doubt.
When the simple meal was prepared she turned to go call him only to find him leaning against the kitchen door frame with his arms crossed studying her. Molly burned hot with anger under his scrutiny and a not so tiny bit of attraction flared up too. He looked so unlike his normal self in the flannel shirt and corduroy trousers. Approachable. Perhaps even cuddly. Before her mind attempted to test that theory she needed to find out why she was there.
"Why did you come?" Molly questioned it came out almost as a whine..
Sherlock pushed off the wall and walked closer to her. Eyes locking on her own. "Are you finished with your pity party yet Molly?"
"No. I had hours and hours left to go actually." She replied bitingly.
"Then you could say I'm here for the party." He smiled sardonically.
"I don't want your pity. Not today and not ever. "
"I did not just drove the nearly six hours from London to come offer my pity. I... Came to check on how you were doing." He thundered.
"Why would you do that though? Why do you care? I'm fine Sherlock. I will be fine, I just need today to not be fine. Is that to much to ask for?" Molly pleaded, suddenly feeling drained.
"John made me come. He made me swear months ago to be here for you today." Sherlock pulled out the calendar on his mobile and saw the date and a note 'Be at Bee Hill Cottage for Molly or face bodily harm from John H Watson.' "And since I am still recovering, I thought it best not to risk further injury to my person."
"But there is no wedding to be here for. It's been cancelled. You know that."
"Yes I am aware if that fact Molly."
"Then why come?" She challenged.
"To check on-"
"You said that already."
"Like I said, John threatened me that if I didn't come today he'd make sure I regretted it." He claimed as if that explained everything.
"And you thought 'oh better safe than sorry. John Watson is that much of a threat than a 'would be bride' on her 'would be wedding day'?" Molly felt her irritation rising once more as she tensed up and made herself stand taller as he came closer.
"Oh come on Molly. You were never getting married today. Admit it. " He challenged.
Molly nearly glowed with indignation. "I was so Sherlock Holmes! Don't you dare presume to know my mind. I was going to marry Tom, and we would have had a home and then a family and a damn good life together. It was all set and then you had to came back..." She faltered. Damn him and his arrogant smile.
"Why do you think I came back?" He asked calmly.
"It was time you said. And John told me there was a major threat against London that needed your attention."
"That's not all that was being threatened."Sherlock whispered and came closer. "I was coming here today to stop you from making a mistake. Were your wedding still due to take place today, then I would be doing all in my power to stop it from happening... Since it thankfully Is not... Well, I'm here to insure that you know just how much of a mistake it would be to even think of wallowing over a fool like that." Sherlock was standing directly in front of her now. " But make no mistake Molly Hooper: I was never going to allow that marriage to take place."
His two large hands, still cold from the rain slipped to each check and tilted face up, and closer to his own. "There's something you keep overlooking time and time again. You are mine Molly Hooper. You may have been playing with Tom while I was away but you have been mine since the first moment you let me into your morgue. And I will not fight it anymore. You may see me more clearly than anyone else, but do you never listen to me do you?" A thumb came up to graze her lower lip.
"I came back from the dead not because of a terrorist threat, although it was rather good timing I'll admit." He smiled down at her, but it was gone with the next breath. "I came back because I can't lose you. Especially not to a second-rate version of myself." He lowered his face and Molly stopped breathing completely. "And I came here today to make sure you knew that being with anyone else would be a mistake."
The final distance between their lips closed and the reaction was purely explosive. Sherlock's arms wove around her and pulled their bodies tightly together. His lips moved with a demanding firmness and an increasing need against hers. Molly clearly surprised herself though at her own body's reaction. She should have fought him, told him to stop whatever game this was instantly. Instead, she couldn't care less about his reasons and she found herself meeting his passion with her own pent up longing. Where she should have pushed him away, she only clung closer and when he opened his mouth to glide his tongue against her lips, she met him with her own.
He pulled away and looked at her closely, with a nearly hesitant gaze. Molly knew he was expecting her to be furious, and there was a part of her that was insanely so, but right now all she wanted was him. Closer. She reached up and pulled gently on his neck until their lips were joined once again with Molly leaning the charge of attack.
Her fingers crept up from his neck and into his still damp hair. She gasped at its softness. That wasn't fair. His hair shouldn't be that soft. Molly allowed her short nails to make trails through it and gently scratches at his scalp. He moaned loudly at the motion as his lips left her mouth and made a path down her throat. Stopping every few centimeters to nip and suck against her thin skin there.
Sherlock slid his hands down to the juncture of her shirt and trousers and skimmed his fingers along the top, feeling her skin along its edge. It was a fairly innocent caress, but the flash of awareness it sent through her was intoxicating.
Words. Molly thought. We need to talk. But she used her mouth instead on his own throat. She breathed in his unique, divine scent of his skin and wanted to drown in it. It was organic, clean but the slightly off due to her uncles flannel shirt but Molly didn't met it deter her. She found a succulent spot where she could feel his blood pounding against her lips and let her teeth graze it.
"Christ Molly!" Sherlock nearly yelled the moan that accompanies it.
Pulling back in his arms she looked up at him. "I'm sorry, I got carried away. I won't do it again. She was straining to get out of his arms now. Embarrassed and ashamed that she'd let him use her like this. It was to far, even for him.
"Let me go, Sherlock. And tell me what it is that you needed that you felt necessitated a drive out of London for." Shame flooded her and she moved as quickly as she could to he other side of the kitchen, pulling things down to make tea. Not that they needed tea, but anything was better to distract her from the look on his face. She took a deep breath and reached for the cups.
"You've asked me that before, you know. 'What do you need'. Do you remember what my answer was?" The deep velvet voice was coming closer to her as he spoke."Do you remember?" He asked again pulling her easily around to face him once more.
Molly's mouth refused to work as she set her hands on the counter. Of course she fucking remembered! Was this really happening? She couldn't speak.
"I came to you that night, and you asked me what I needed. And I told you I needed you. You helped save me that night Molly. And you 'be done it countless times since then. I've needed you. Your smile, your bloody awful jokes and the guidance you give me.
"You save me Molly Hooper, and you can't even begin to understand the difference you've made in my life. And yes, I came here to check on you, but now I'm going to ask you what it is you need.
"Do you need me to leave and let you grieve the loss of your future with that moron of an ex, or do you want me to stay and remind you of just how glad you should be that the idiot who thought a meat dagger was a suitable murder weapon is no longer in your life?" He spoke so low that Molly felt it reverberated throughout her chest. His eyes tumultuous eyes were locked on her own and she had the feeling that she was going to drown in him. "Well Molly? What is it that you need?"
"You." She murmured without hesitation. Shutting her eyes. "It's always been you."
In a flash his arms were back around her and their lips met once more. If she thought those first kisses were mind blowing she found herself completely wrong. She felt his hands sliding across her skin, leaving heat trails wherever they went and pulling her closer to him. Her own slipped down his shoulders and across his chest, but was thrown off by the feel of he flannel. It was so unexpected, for him to be her here and to be dressed like THAT.
Outside the rain continued to fall steadily and made her feel as though the whole of the world had washed away. There was only them, there was only now. Molly pulled her lips from his and he turned to nip at her throat. "Would you have really have stopped my wedding?" She asked
"In a heartbeat." He said pulling her in close. Molly slipped her arms around his neck once more and clung to him.
"Sherlock?"
"Mm?" Came his reply holding a bit tighter. She wondered if he knew that she had been steadily unbuttoning his shirt.
"Did you send the car into the ditch on purpose?" He stilled.
"No. Why would I do that?" Molly smiled into his chest.
"And you didn't pack a bag to stay?"
She asked.
"No."
"Why not, if you thought I'd end my engagement over you, why wouldn't I let you stay?"
Sherlock chuckled. "Because Molly, my darling, I did not pack a bag as I do not plan to be in any clothes for the remainder of the holiday."
"Oh... OH!" She stilled. He meant... Oh. She smiles then,a true, real grin.
Releasing her, Sherlock found his coat and pulled out a toothbrush and A box of condoms.
"I said I didn't have a valise. I never said I wasn't prepared." As he walked over to the steps "Should we continue this holiday upstairs then?" He asked with the most disgustingly handsome smile on face.
Molly didn't trust herself to speak, so she nodded and went to follow him upstairs. She thought wickedly about how she was going to be having sex with Sherlock Holmes on her would wedding night on her would have been marriage bed. And picked up her pace.
After all, it looked like her holiday for one was now canceled.
********Bee hill Cottage is real and located in Northumberland. You can go stay there. I based this one on the 2 bed room house there. Thanks Google!********
A/N: So I originally wrote this for the Sherlolly Cafe prompt. But it got a bit wordy and a bit off the prompt so I decided to publish it here. I blame plot bunnies. Anyways hope you enjoy it as much as I have.