AUTHOR'S NOTE: The inspiration for this story came from attending the wedding of my own roommate of 3 years. I'm happy for her, but it is still very bittersweet. This is my first fan fiction, so I apologize for any errors. I also think Sherlock is OOC. Oh well. Let me know what you think!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
She finds him sitting by himself on a bench outside of the reception hall. He is staring intensely at the cigarette between his fingers, and Molly can tell that he is contemplating whether or not to light it. She briefly wonders where he had obtained it, as both she and John had searched him thoroughly before the ceremony began. Then she remembers that this is Sherlock, and of course he has found a way to outsmart his two closest friends.
She hesitantly takes the seat next to him, inspecting his face for any sign that her presence is unwelcome. When his expression remains blank, focused on the thin object in his hand, she relaxes against the back of the seat, continuing to observe him quietly.
After several minutes, during which time Sherlock makes no move to acknowledge her, Molly finally gathers the courage to break the excruciating silence. "Nice speech."
She watches him closely for any reaction, but he continues fidgeting with the cigarette, twisting it between the fingers of his right hand. "A lot of people were surprised. I think they assumed you would throw a fit or disappear before –"
"And you, Molly? What did you expect?" he interrupts, his voice so soft that she must lean towards him in order to hear it.
She takes a moment to decide how best to respond. One half of her heart wants to lie. It wishes to tell him that of course she knew he would never hurt his best friend, sparing him the pain that she knows he will feel upon hearing her honest answer. The other half, the part of her that spent over three years hiding and protecting the man beside her, demands candor. They have been through too much together for her to be dishonest now. Besides, he would know if she were lying. He always knows.
"I'm not sure what I expected, exactly, although I wouldn't have blamed you for being upset. I mean, John is your best friend. Even though he will still help you on cases whenever he can, he has a wife now. Things will never be the same between the two of you."
"I want him to be happy," he says, and she can almost detect a layer of hurt buried within the indignant tone of his voice. He finally, finally, turns to look at her, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones, and Molly fights the urge to look away. The raw emotion she sees in his eyes is almost too much to bear. "Why would I deliberately ruin my best friend's wedding?"
"I didn't mean— I just…." Now, she is the one staring down at her hands, twisting nervously as she struggles to explain herself under his searching gaze. "I know how difficult it is for you to completely trust another person. John is like a brother to you, and you just got him back. Now it must seem like you are losing him all over again. I know how horrible it feels when someone you love is taken away from you."
Memories of her father lying in a hospital bed come unbidden to the forefront of her mind, and she recalls the stunning pain she felt as he told her he loved her with his final breath. She pushes the recollection aside, opting to revisit it at a later time. Preferably when I'm alone and not at a wedding celebration, she silently scolds herself.
Sherlock does not speak for several minutes. Molly takes this as her cue to leave and is about to stand up when his answer halts her movements. "I used to believe that being alone protected me. Now I find that I am rather dreading the prospect."
"You are not alone, Sherlock. You have me." She slides closer to him and grabs his free hand before she realizes what she is doing. She registers the look of surprise on his face and wonders if she just ruined the moment, this rare glimpse into the heart of Sherlock Holmes. She gasps and moves to pull her hand away when he turns his around and clasps her small fingers tightly between his much larger ones. Their eyes lock once more as they stare at each other, breathing quietly into the cool night air.
Molly waits as he contemplates her words until his mouth curves into a small half-smile. "You mean that, don't you?" He looks at her with astonishment, and maybe a hint of awe, as if he is just now realizing how unique Molly Hooper is.
"Of course, I do. You'll always have me."
"We'll always have each other," he amends.
Her smile mirrors his as her mind processes his words. His eyes travel down from hers and focus on her mouth. His right hand reaches up to cup her cheek, the cigarette laying forgotten on the ground beneath the bench. He leans towards her, and Molly unconsciously echoes his action. Abruptly, the moment is lost as the door to the reception hall swings open, flooding the area with light and loud music. The two quickly part and blink up at the smiling image of John Watson.
"What are you two doing out here? It's freezing, and we're about to have the final dance!" he bellows happily, his joy at finally marrying the love of his life evident. He looks between them curiously, and Molly is suddenly acutely aware of her hand still intertwined with Sherlock's. She silently thanks God that the area surrounding them is still dark enough to cover her blush.
Sherlock quickly stands, pulling the smaller woman up with him. "We will be inside shortly," he calls to his friend. The groom throws his hands up and shrugs before returning to dance with Mary.
Molly turns to look up at the man still holding her hand and is surprised by his proximity. "Thank you, Molly Hooper," he whispers into her ear before placing a chaste kiss on her cheek. She recalls another party and another kiss, and momentarily thinks that she much prefers this scenario.
"I suppose I owe you at least one dance." Sherlock's voice brings her back to the present.
"I believe you are correct." She beams up at him. "Besides, isn't it customary to dance with your date?"
He grins at her before pulling her inside to join the other wedding guests.