"Molly"
"Go away, Sherlock"
"Mrs. Hudson sends biscuits." He blurted out, ashamed of the way his tongue rushed to bribe her with sweets. He noticed, as he noticed (almost) everything else, the fact that she loved sweets. Always during her visits to Baker Street she took her tea with not one but two of Mrs. Hudson's treats.
"You go down there and you talk to her." John had said. "Fix it, Sherlock, as you fix everything else. Look, Mrs. H brought biscuits. That'll get you inside. The rest is up to you."
Her icy command came through the closed door.
"You can leave them at the door on your way out."
"No, Molly. You have to let me in".
He immediately regretted his poor choice of words.
"You know, I really do not have to do anything, just because you ask".
"N-no, of course not."
In a manner very un-Sherlock like, he faltered. Against her good sense, she was drawn to the door at this sign of vulnerability in his voice. It was as if her presence could make it better, which was, of course, a ridiculous thought.
"I just-I really need to explain-"
The door suddenly burst open. Molly Hooper stood before him, looking at him directly in the eye. His towering form wasn't so intimidating now, she noticed, and, in turn, he didn't feel very powerful standing before her.
He asked for permission again, trying his best to ignore how close he had come to begging, holding out the little yellow package with a ribbon John had practically shoved his way as he took the stairs and hailed a taxi.
"You have three minutes, Sherlock, for whatever you have to say. I have work to do." Having taken the package from his hands, she began walking towards the kitchen.
Sherlock sighed at the too familiar indication. Three little minutes is all it took, apparently.
"Eurus?" repeated Molly upon hearing the extravagant name of the –until that moment– unknown third Holmes sibling.
"It's a Greek name. Mother and Father had three particular children and they seemed to want to make it clear to the world, even before it had a chance to meet us."
"So… what you said. She was the case you spoke about."
"Molly, what Eurus made me do… I wanted to tell you about her so you could understand. Calling you, out of the blue, forcing you to acknowledge- to strip yourself bare even after all that has happened."
He had ceased looking at her. His eyes were fixed on the wall before him and he was wringing his hands together. As he began talking again, she instantly understood he was speaking to her from elsewhere, even though he was sitting right beside her in her cream-coloured couch. His cup of tea remained on the table, half-drunk and now forgotten as his mind took him back in time to a cold place far away from it. Far away from her.
"She made me stand before your coffin, Molly. A coffin made for you."
Molly jerked her head up at his crude description. The fact was that, as accustomed to death as she was, she was not in any way safe from fretting over her own.
"I had witnessed five people die and then to see that right in the middle of the room… it was savage."
She granted him that there was something eerie and perverse about Eurus' scheme that unsettled her to her very core. Warmth returned to her chest and face when she heard Sherlock had destroyed the bloody thing with his bare hands.
"The thought of never-" he choked, his voice raw with pain and emotion. What he had initially intended to be a careful retelling of the facts was now an emotional ranting about his shameful anger at his sister's wicked deeds.
After that, he said no more. His head was throbbing and he never felt so inadequate in his life.
Suddenly, he felt her hand on his. The sheer difference of size and temperature at the touch was enough to pull him out of his reverie.
"Oh, Sherlock."
Still avoiding her gaze, he knew. Even now she was being compassionate. Even now, after all this time, after all the painful remarks and callous behavior, she was reaching out to him, to steady him with a caress or a slap. Sherlock Holmes was the man who would welcome both.
At every turn, she surprised him. Just when he thought he could figure her out, sure he could pinhole her, she would give him a run for his money. She didn't need to out-smarter him. It was not because of her brain, but because of her heart that encompassed it all that Molly Hooper was the biggest puzzle in his life.
It took all of his strength to face her again. Only then he felt the tears that were freely falling from his eyes.
"I really am sorry."
Of course she was. She shouldn't, though. He had nothing to do in her couch and they both knew it. Eurus had won, simultaneously showing him his emotional side and the strength of Molly's regard, which made him feel even more unworthy of it.
Both his hands engulfed hers.
"Can you forgive me, Molly? For everything."
He was focused solely on her. His keen perception told him that the world had stopped to hear what she had to say.
"I believe I could… in time."
He exhaled. The stars needn't shatter, the air needn't suddenly disappear. He and the Universe could continue existing by Molly Hooper's grace.
It was like a balm, her forgiveness. The very stuff that he thought made him weak now elated him and relieved him.
"Is there anything I can do to make amends?" he asked boldly, surprising both her and himself, desperate to be kind.
"I'd ask you to babysit Toby for a week. I know how much you hate it when you get fur all over your precious coat".
Cheeky Hooper.
Even though he remained sited, he raised himself and relapsed in his old aloofness. Far from displeasing her, she welcomed it just then. It was comforting for them both to be back on familiar ground.
"Tobias and I have a very good rapport, if you must know. I appreciate his respect for my personal space, as I'm sure he does too."
"That is very good to know," she replied smiling, "but I'd never ask you to go out of your depth like that. Seriously, Sherlock, it's fine. Please, do drink your tea and eat a biscuit, before I finish them off for good."
She absentmindedly patted his thigh to reassure him and made to stand. It was not intended to be sensuous or provocative, and Molly was sure she hadn't mean anything by it, but it struck him more than a deliberate seduction because of that. The familiarity of her touch both unsettled and excited him.
"They were made for you" he prompted, still processing what had just happened.
She laughed richly, feeling heavy on the cushions. "Yes, and I'm afraid I love them so much that I'll eat them all! That it's a pound and a half I don't need on my hips."
His gaze, prompted by what she said, was on her in an instant "Oh, I don't mind".
They both froze. It was a little innocent remark, really, only made guilty by their mutual embarrassment.
She was the one to break the spell of the moment, after what felt like forever, by reaching out and taking another sweet to her mouth. Even though she knew Mrs. H's biscuits well, this one tasted like something entirely different. Suddenly interested in anything but his host, the detective began scanning the room, secretly frustrated by the fact that, for some reason, he could not make a single deduction out of anything.
High on sugar and something else that made her blush furiously, she bounced off the sofa.
"I'm making a fresh pot, yeah?" she asked with her mouth full, clumsier than usual, thanking her past self on her decision to have a large kitchen area and her pathologist's obsession with cleanliness.
Swallowing the biscuit, with its flavor still in her tongue, she decided –as she heard Toby's little bell and the deep voice of the detective that greeted him politely– that it tasted like the future.