Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Mansfield Park (obviously, do your research ;-)!)
This story came to me as I was reading Mansfield Park. As I was processing it I realized practically every character in Mansfield Park had similair characteristics to most a Sherlock characters - IMO. When I realized that I stayed up most of the night thinking up this story.
Thanks to my fab beta reader Daisherz365 who is so supportive and helped me come up with the story title (MUCH harder than I thought until I consulted her). She's such a brilliant human being! Read her stuff on here and follow her on tumblr/twitter.
And without further ado: Mansfield Memories
Molly Hooper wasn't a fan of the three hour drive from London to the country home she grew up in. She usually took the train, as it was far more economical and she hated being a burden to the family; but today was a special day.
Her lifelong best friend was coming home. Or as Mycroft Holmes had said over the telephone, "the prodigal son has returned".
It had been six months since Molly had seen Sherlock Holmes. Before that it had been rather sporadic with him disappearing for weeks at a time, only popping in for the night to kip on the lilo and disappearing before she was up the next morning. It had been heartbreaking to see her best friend, the boy she'd grown up with, spiral out of control in a haze of morphine and cocaine.
Mycroft had cut off Sherlock, after the younger man had sold some of his shares to indulge in his habit, barring him from their home and the company. When the Eldest Holmes brother had done that Mrs. Violet Holmes had asked Molly to look after him in anyway possible, "now is your chance to payback the kindness we did in raising you Molly. Sherlock is practically your brother, he needs you."
Molly would have done it, even if her Godmother had not asked. She loved Sherlock. He had been her playmate since infancy. And when her parents had died in that awful car accident when she was eight and her Godparents had taken her in he'd been the only one in that family who had been able to comfort her.
That day Sherlock became the most important person in her life.
And over the years she fell in love with him, though she knew he'd never reciprocate.
Seeing him fall apart was bloody awful, but she was always there for him. Always encouraging him to enter rehab, but never forcing him. She knew that one day he'd choose to sober up (he was brilliant after all) and when he'd make that choice he'd get clean.
So, when Sherlock had woken her up at three in the morning, struggling from the comedown of powerballing, saying he was "done being a slave to this shit," Molly had been able to check him into a rehab, before calling her adoptive family to inform them of it.
"Is this really necessary," Sherlock whined as he was slumped against the window.
Molly nodded, "Yes, you know it is. Your mother and Myrcoft asked me to bring you"
"More like coerced"
"It's tradition Sherlock. I come up practically every weekend to help your mum"
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I'm surprised she lets you leave her side at all"
Molly shrugged, "I'm happy to help your mother out, after all your family has done for me," when Sherlock didn't respond she reached over and took his hand, "I know you don't really want to be doing this, but please try to be kind. Please? It's only for the weekend. Your family may not express it, but they are over the moon about you getting out of rehab today"
Sherlock looked at her for a second, before turning away with an unreadable expression. Molly frowned until she felt him squeeze her hand. She returned the gesture.
Some time past in silence before Molly said, "Oh, look at that. Do you remember when we used to play there." She was pointing to the small village park they played pirates at as children.
"Yes. We used to beg Mycroft to bring us here when he was on break from Eton," Sherlock wore a wicked grin, "he HATED it. Do you remember what he used to say, 'I don't know why you insist on going to that vulgar playground. The equipment is out of date and it has a stupid name – who names a playground Mansfield Park?"
Molly giggled at the spot on imitation, which made Sherlock's smile broaden. It was moments like these that the dark haired man could admit that there were two things he felt sentiment for: that humble little park and the kind girl sitting next to him. Both had given him several happy memories he'd relied on to get through rehab.
Soon the playground disappeared from view. The two held hands until they passed onto the private road leading up to the Holmes' country estate.
As the top of the manor house came into view Sherlock frowned and began to tap his fingers on his thigh. Several minutes later the car stopped, and the driver opened the door for each of them.
"Be it ever NOT humble, THIS is no place like home," Sherlock muttered as they stood before the large building.
AN:
How do you like the story? Please let me know in a review or PM… please & thank you!
What's this? She posted ANOTHER new fic?! She still has not updated AtBH!
So, I now have 4 active fics I'm working on. Luckily, it is now summer break. So they all will be regularly updated with the exception of June 11th-18th as I'll be out of town.