Cake and Tea(rs)
Having tea and cake for a low key birthday celebration was rather perfect after the past few harrowing months.
That was of course until it went spectacularly wrong.
"So Molly, weigh in here. I was with Sherlock when he got a text from an old friend wishing him happy birthday."
"John..." Sherlock warned setting down his tea cup, imploring his friend to change the topic. To change it fast, a point that his so called best friend was ignoring.
"Oh really?" Molly smiled curiously. She looked infinitely more relaxed than she had in weeks perhaps even months. "Someone I know?"
" I don't believe you two ever met. Or believe me, you'd remember. Ever hear about Irene Adler? A high class dominatrix that seemed to be all over the tabloids 4 or so years back?"
"Dominatrix's aren't really my thing. Was she a client?" Molly asked amused, and taking a bite of her cakes rich frosting.
John chuckled, "a client? No she was... well how would you describe what she was, eh Sherlock?"
"I wouldn't." Sherlock said tightly, shifting to try and get close enough to kick the other man in the shin. Hard, preferably.
"Well let's just say she wasn't what I'd call a friend, but she was, well is, ah... interested in Sherlock. Very, very interested." A legendary smirk crossed John Watson's face. "A flirtation? The flirting those two did with me right there in the room."
Sherlock sat stone still, eyeing Molly, who was now casually waiting for John to get to point as she sipped her tea.
"Oh! I know how you'd remember her. The moan alert. Remember that?" Now Molly was setting her cup back down and it rattled the saucer as she realized just who they were talking about.
"So a dead woman texted you?" She asked a bit too brightly,
"Ah! But not dead. Because no one is ever- I mean..." John finally seemed to stumble as Mary crossed his mind.
"I... I see." The small woman said, afraid to ask what comes next.
After a bite of his own cake and a steadying drink of water John, the mighty ignorant fool, pressed on. "So I'm trying to convince this idiot to text The Woman back. That he would be better for it if he did. So help me, Molly. What should he do? If there's a woman he likes, who likes him and my god this woman is beautiful, shouldn't he give it a go? Try and become a better man?" Urged John.
Sherlock slammed his eyes closed at the damning words coming out of Johns mouth. Surely he knew who he was talking to. The history between Molly's rather public admiration for himself. Why must he do this to her? Was he so blinded by his own grief? Or did he consider Molly to have moved past her crush?
That made Sherlock force his tired eyes open and look at her. To really look at her for the first time in a good long while. This woman who had saved him over and over. She still had those same dark circles from days before and there was a spit up stain in her beloved teal cardigan from her goddaughter. This wasn't the pliable fresh faced girl who'd asked him to coffee. No,this brave woman in her place was the woman who had been there for him, when he didn't deserve it; even when the whole world thought him a fraud.
The woman who'd kept his secret, who'd slapped him right and who had been instrumental in keeping him alive when he was at deaths door. A woman, who even now, exhausted from work and keeping her friends small child, was willing to still be with him, to make just enough of a todo about his birthday and most of all, who had Been there with him in the tough times- and in the extraordinarily difficult times. Like the moment they were in of him recovering from drugs and an attempted strangulation. Not to mention his kidney damage... but here she was. Here. With and for him.
This was the woman who made him a better person. The Woman- Irene was an exceptional person, but she had not, nor would she ever make him into a better man.
Of course, all these deductions happened while Molly sat striving to keep herself calm. To stay strong, keeping up appearances and clearing her throat to speak. "I'm not sure." She sipped her tea daintily, " my father always used to say if you need someone you lack something. Being with someone, that doesn't make you a better person. You have to want to be a better person for yourself.
"But there are people you meet who do that. Who inspire us to be better to do more. If you think she's someone who would do that then of course you should, Sherlock. You deserve to be happy too you know." A weak smile flashed at him above sad eyes. There she was again, doing what she thought he needed no matter the personal sacrifice to herself. Reminding him again, that this is what people who truly care about other people do. They sacrifice.
Like Mary...
"Fine. I'll do... something. If you both will just shut up about it and move on now. Tell me, has Rosie said her first sentence yet?" Sherlock said directing his attention to John. Beside him he could virtually feel molly willing herself to remain calm. Slowly, oh so slowly he moved his left hand to grip her own under the table. Gently holding her small strong hand before weaving her fingers between his own.
Across from them John droned on about his daughters accomplishments and where she stood against hr peers in weight and height and which percentile brackets she was in and Sherlock listened with semi rapt attention. But all the while he was holding the hand of woman who mattered most.
After getting himself winded, John went to the counter of the cafe to grab a cupcake to go for the sitter and a coffee, leaving behind the silent pair sitting, secretly holding hands. Sherlock was marveling over the sensation of peace and calm that the action brought him. It was soothing, and something he could absolutely see doing more of in the future.
For Molly however, the action was exquisite agony. The contact burned and chilled the same time. She had studied him seripticiously from under her lashes. Striving to maintain her calm, cool demeanor. He must be having a craving for a hit, she decided finally. He needed a hit and was using her to ground him. It had happened before; he touched her in the the throws of a comedown to calm him. To let him know he wasn't alone. So that's what she told herself this was now, and as usually if he needed she'd bear it. No matter how it bloody tore her apart.
Bloody masochistic that she was.
When John was Judy out of hearing range she leaned over and whispered, " you doing okay?"
And oh the smile her detective answered with. It sent butterflies bursting all through her with the sexy scruff and that blue twinkle in his eye. "I am now. " before quickly raising her hand to a blink and she'd have missed it kiss to the back of her hand as if they were not in the middle of a cafe at tea time in the 21st century but seated in some parlor a hundred and fifty years prior.
"What's going on Sherlock?!" Molly asked, far more concerned now by his actions. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Maybe John was right." He soothed. "Maybe I need to take a chance to become a better man." Confusion and hurt mirrored hIm in the darkness of her eyes. "I'd like to take a chance, with you Molly. If you'd have me." Molly felt her mouth moving as she tried to say... something. Yes, something needed to be said in answer to that, but nothing would come out to answer with. So filled with shock she just kept trying. "Molly? Molly, please. Won't you let me give it a try? Please?"
Unable to find the right words, Molly gave up and flung the hand Holding hers away and used it to grab the face of the man she'd been in love with for years. Launching herself over at him and kissing him well and truly soundly by means of a reply. This kiss was brief, not even 10 seconds past from its start to finish before molly released him and settled herself facing forward just in enough time before John turned around and headed back towards them.
Sherlock was the one gapping now with a grin on his face as he eyed the small woman beside him who was doing her best to hide behind her tea cup and looking away. "Right then. I'm off to get Rosie. You to going to start making your way back to Baker Street?"
"Yes." Sherlock answered. "I think it's time we start off. Don't you Molly?" She stood and slipped his coat and scarf on. The damned hat was tucked into the pocket. He held his hand out to help her up and she gave him a half smile as she placed her hand into his as he pulled her up.
"Yes." She laughed. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."