A/N: Inspired by a gifset a dear tumblr friend had made for me. It helped kick me out of a writing drought that had resulted from a month of doldrums. It feels good to be writing again. I hope you'll enjoy this one. xx
Change
Sherlock glanced at his watch from where he stood in the corner of a room. He was nicely tucked behind some shelves, granting him maximum concealment but affording him an almost perfect view of the room.
Four minutes. And a half, maybe.
The detective counted down silently, a little curious at the slight elevation in his heart rate.
How long had it been? He almost did not remember, but he was Sherlock Holmes. He could not forget it even if he tried.
Two years. Ha.
He was a little guilty for not having said goodbye properly, what with the way she had helped him, cared for him, watched out for him. Slipping away like a ghost, though very much his modus operandi, somehow did not sit right with him. At least not when it came to her.
Five, four, three, two…
There was that gait he recognised, purely from the sound of her footsteps. He heard a soft sigh as she rubbed a stiff muscle in her neck. Soon, she was in full view, but she had not spotted him. Molly made her way to her locker, stifling a yawn as she reached to open its mirrored door.
When the detective caught his reflection in her mirror, he smiled automatically. He had been afraid he would forget to smile, that he would have had a scowl on. What he had forgotten, however, was that Molly always made him smile. That certainly had not changed.
She gasped when she saw him, catching his little smirk in the mirror. Turning swiftly round, her expression of shock quickly softened to relief, then gradually, delight.
"Oh, it's you." she said quietly, biting the insides of her mouth. Molly did not want to smile too much. It was a certain ring on her finger that told her she was not allowed to.
"Yes. It is." he said, digging his hands deeper into his coat pockets. "How — It's, uh… good to see you."
He smiled again, looking away slightly. Molly let herself smile a little more, but only as a form of polite reciprocation.
"And you." she replied.
"So—"
"So, you're back." said Molly.
"Mm. Yes." he nodded.
"Case?" she asked.
"Yes. By order of the government." he smirked.
"Ah. Mycroft."
"Yes."
Their words died down, leaving them both a little stranded in the random space that was a staff locker room at Bart's.
"You look — the same," Sherlock remarked, feebly attempting to revive their conversation.
"Well, nothing's changed," she chuckled in reply.
"Really?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Molly knew then that he knew. She exhaled quietly, looking down at her shoes. How did such a tiny band of metal feel so heavy?
"You look the same…" she murmured in reply, not answering his question.
"Perhaps…" he said, nodding pensively.
"Good, good…" she replied, unknowingly nodding along with him.
It was her furrowed brows and that unintentionally synchronised nodding that made Sherlock laugh. He chuckled quietly, slowing drawing his hands from out of his pockets. He took a few tentative steps towards her. When he saw that she did not retreat, he moved toward her a little more boldly, standing inches from her.
Sherlock placed his hands gently against the side of her face, his senses filling with secret delight as they reacquainted themselves with the memory of how her skin felt.
"Are you sure nothing's changed?" he asked quietly, tilting her face up gently to face him.
Molly stared up at him, blinking hard. Moments later, she relaxed, leaning the side of her face against one of his hands. Sighing, she let him run his thumb softly across her cheekbone.
"Nothing has changed," she answered, shutting her eyes as she let a very grateful Sherlock Holmes kiss her once more.