When IgE rules the World, by chibiness87
Rating: T
Spoilers: Y'all know Molly loves Sherlock, right?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: Yeah, I don't know. It just sorta… happened. *shrugs* And for those asking, no, Justice is not abandoned. I do intend to finish it.
The words stare up at her form the screen, complete with the logo of the institution.
Dear Dr Hooper,
We are pleased to announce, following your recent interview, the board of directors have chosen you to fulfil the position of specialist registrar within our pathology department. Please find attached a copy of your contract, a hard copy of which will be provided for you when you arrive, and all the information regarding your relocation package. Should you require any additional information regarding anything provided or any other queries, please do not hesitate to contact me. We look forward to working with you in the near future.
Yours sincerely,
Dr Isaac Cooper
CEO Johns Hopkins Hospital
Baltimore
Maryland
USA.
She has to reread the words again. And again. And then once more. Just to be sure.
But no. They were still there. She had been successful.
A new hospital. A new city. A new country.
A fresh start.
Away from all the pains and pitfalls of working in London brings.
Away from all the pains and pitfalls of working with Sherlock Holmes brings.
Especially now he knows… well.
So engrossed in the email, she does not hear the door of her office open, nor the sound of the approaching footfall. Indeed, the first time she is aware she is no longer alone when an arm appears in her vision (the sleeve of his Belstaff and the black leather glove as recognisable to her as her own cherry cardigan and well-worn woollen mittens) as he leans over and plucks her laptop from the benchtop.
With a startled gasp, she tries to either pull it form his hands, or at least close the lid before he can read the words on the screen. She's not ready to share her news with anyone yet, lest of all him, but it is clear from his face she is too late for that.
A quick glance at her face is all she gets in greeting, before he skims over the email once more. "Johns Hopkins," he says, a look of… of something on his face as he meets her eye.
Defiance fills her posture. Damn him and his nosiness anyway. This, she thinks, this is exactly why she applied for the position in the first place. "Yes."
"A fine establishment." And then he nods, a small tilt to the corner of his lips that might, on someone else, be classed as a smile. His voice turns soft, filled with something she tries not to label as pride, tinged with something else. Something akin to sadness. "Congratulations, Molly."
She doesn't know why way he says that hurts her, but it does. A tight fist of air to her solar plexus, and god, it suddenly feels like she can't breathe.
"I haven't taken it yet." She tries to keep the defiance in her tone, to sound sure, but it comes out weak. He has always made her feel so weak.
"You should." His tone is neutral in a way he hasn't tried to hide behind with her for years.
"What?"
He nods to the screen. "You should take it. Get away from all…" He trails off, waving a hand around the air above his head instead.
It comes to her in a moment of clarity, what it is he is saying. Or, more precisely, what it is he isn't. The fist on her solar plexus moves up to grasp at her chest, her heart. But still. She has to be sure. She has to know.
"You, you think so?"
He doesn't quite meet her eyes this time, but the neutral tone has been replaced with the one from before. Sadness and pride. "You are by far the very best pathologist I have ever worked with, and the very best person I have ever had the pleasure to meet. Any establishment would be better off with you."
"Sherlock…"
He turns, placing her forgotten laptop back on the bench. Shrugging his shoulders, he flicks the collar of his coat up. A defensive mechanism if she ever saw one. Still not quite looking at her, he asks, "The world is your oyster, isn't that what they say?"
Molly nods slowly. "I guess."
"Well then." Again he shrugs, and suddenly, she knows what her answer will be.
Because, really, how could there be any other?
"Sherlock?" Her voice stops his retreat, his hand poised on the door. He half turns back to her, keeping most of his face in shadow.
She stands, moving closer, reaching for him. Before she can touch him, he turns his back on her. His voice is so, so soft when he next speaks she has to strain to hear him. "You should go. Let the world be your oyster, Molly Hooper."
She smiles, knowing he can't see it. Leaning up, she turns his head slightly, presses her lips to his softly, relishing in the startled gasp he emits at the move. The angle is awkward, and he rectifies it immediately, spinning round and pushing her up against the door, descending on her lips. This time, the kiss is not soft. Brash and demanding, and she can feel everything he hasn't said, the want and desire he will not voice speaking louder to her than if he had shouted it from the rooftop.
Kissing him back, she slows them, answering his unspoken demands with her own.
She knows exactly when he finally tastes her answer, because he pulls back, flushed and hair a mess (thanks, in no small part to the way her hands were raking through it mere moments before), eyes wide in shock. "What are you…?"
"I was always allergic to shellfish," she says lightly, a slight blush over her cheeks, letting him read her in that way that only he can.
A smile, bright and vibrant and it lights up his eyes like she has never seen before, cover his lips for a moment. "Oh, thank god."
And then he is kissing her again.
She'll have to write a reply soon, informing Johns Hopkins of her decision, but that's for later.
Right now, she is far too busy mapping the shape of his mouth with her tongue to think about that.
End
Thoughts?