Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and this story was inspired by a Tumblr post that I came across. I got the owner's permission, a very nice lady named Katie (benedictsherllock) to use it. (post/114597081319/molly-and-sherlock-almost-insp)
The saddest word in the whole wide world is the word almost.
Molly Hooper could remember vividly the first time she met Sherlock Holmes. It was one of the rarer sunny days in London. "Could you wheel out Mr Maxwell's body for me? An innocent man's life is at stake here." A rather tall man in a coat with its collar upturned stood at the entrance of the morgue. "And you are?" He walked closer to her and Molly saw his curls and intense eyes.
"Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. I'm sure your boss had already informed you that I was granted access to both the lab and morgue in St. Bart's." The pathologist recalled that Mike told her some time ago of this special request and went to retrieve the body. "How do you know he's innocent?" Molly questioned the consulting detective, wondering how he could be so sure about it.
"The main suspect now detained by people who called themselves the Scotland Yard had his appendix removed three months ago." Sherlock explained briefly while examining the body of Alan Maxwell which confirmed his theory. "Exactly what I thought. Most excellent. His neighbour killed him, not his brother." He looked up and declared to Molly with a gleam in his eyes. "You aided in preventing a wrongly accused man from getting a death sentence, Molly Hooper."
The pathologist returned the smile. It was hard not to, Sherlock was like a child celebrating his victory and Molly was included in his celebrations which somehow felt intimate. That was probably why she would never forget that fateful day.
He was almost in love.
Sherlock Holmes scoffed at the word 'love'. Only fools would even try to attempt it. Perhaps the thought that they could beat the odds of one in seven billion and manage to find their other half thrilled the gamblers resided in them. It was one topic that the consulting detective shunned at all costs. He did not need to understand why love made people do unexplainable things including murder, he just needed to know how it was done nevertheless Sherlock was thankful for it, how else would he have a constant supply of cases to handle.
The consulting detective specifically made it known to everyone that he would only work with Molly Hooper because she belonged to a tiny group of people that actually knew what she was doing. If asked, Sherlock could easily list out the numerous merits of the petite pathologist though no one did, saving him the trouble of doing so and he assumed everyone else knew how good she was.
They worked in perfect sync with rapport built from years of working side-by-side. Sherlock valued Molly's opinions, both about work and in making him more 'human', her words not his. The consulting detective believed his need for food and stimulants which the latter he had kicked out of a long time ago already made him as human as possible, thank you very much. Sherlock would even go as far as saying that he enjoyed Molly's company.
The pathologist was a good listener, did not interrupt and always gave helpful inputs. If she was in danger of any kind, he would save her without thinking however if the person they were talking about was his brother, the consulting detective would record it down for his own entertainment then maybe thought of helping him if it was really absolutely necessary. As a matter of fact, something similar happened few days ago when Molly forgot to feed her cat, Toby and was rushing to get back home.
Sherlock had a case to discuss with her so they bought takeaways and he was trailing behind, enjoying her frenzy state despite him reassuring her that Toby would not die of hunger since according to his observations, the consulting detective had been to Molly's flat many a times, the cat had stored more than enough fats to be able to handle the food issue resulting from its owner's negligence for a day. "Firstly, Toby is not fat, he's just chubby and that made him great to cuddle with and secondly, I'm not a bad owner, Sherlock."
He smirked and made no reply. The green man stopped flashing and was replaced by the red man. With her head turned back to talk to him, the pathologist continued to cross the road, not noticing the change of lights though Sherlock did. The consulting detective rushed over to Molly and pulled her into the safety of his arms. The screaming of car honks disrupted the quiet night and Molly's face was pressed tightly to Sherlock's chest as the two experienced various effects of the adrenaline rush. Sweaty palms, accelerated heartrate, quickening of breaths and dilated pupils.
Staring at Molly's slightly opened lips that Sherlock presumed was due to temporary disorientation, the consulting detective swallowed down the ridiculous urge to kiss her. They slowly recovered from the incident and disengaged themselves from the unexpected hug. "We better go going before your darling Toby expired from the lack of food." Picking up the takeaways that he dropped at the sight of Molly in immediate danger, Sherlock concluded that they were still edible and crossed the road but not before waiting for her to catch up.
"What? I thought you said he would be fine. Come on then, Sherlock." The pathologist started to walk a little bit faster, throwing very quickly behind her the fact that she nearly had a car accident. Watching Molly, the consulting detective decided to not be a gambler, not trusting that he could beat the odds stacked against him.
She was almost good for him.
The consulting detective was not surprised at how transparent he was to her, Molly knew him better than anyone else would simply because she bothered to make an effort to know him. Before Sherlock met John, the pathologist was the one keeping him in line, not straying too far away however he could not let Molly and the rest to know the effect that she had on him so Sherlock made it a secret, safely locked up in his mind palace where no one could touch it, not even his own brother.
When he did take out to look at it, the memories did not fade or turned yellow from years of careful storage. It was exactly how he remembered it. Her tears, smiles, disappointments, anger and laughter that were all directed at him, that were all his and his only. Those would do. Those would be enough for him even if it was not.
Molly was one drug Sherlock could not kick out of and it frightened him though of course he did not show it. It would not do to acknowledge the presence of fear so the consulting detective did the only thing he could do. Sherlock pushed her away as far as he could.
He almost stopped her.
During his stay at her flat, Sherlock saw Molly prepared herself for her date with Tom countless of times. Like the two poles on a magnet, the two men never met each other. Sherlock 'death' was supposed to remain a secret until he's officially back and the pathologist made arrangements for her to go to Tom's house when he was using hers.
Sherlock never told her that the reason he chose her flat as his bolthole was because the consulting detective wanted Molly's company. "Remember to switch off the stove and lock the door when you leave, Sherlock. Good night." She shut the door without waiting for his reply and he never felt lonelier yet he would not admit it to anyone, not even to himself.
If Sherlock was not the man he claimed to be, the consulting detective would stop her from leaving and beg Molly to stay with him but he's Sherlock Holmes and Sherlock Holmes does not beg so he went to sleep in her bed alone, imagining Molly was with him and not some faceless bloke instead.
She almost waited.
The pathologist never held any illusions that Sherlock's words were always kind and sometimes they stung. A lot. Molly knew very clearly what type of a man she fell in love with, though it did not stop her from falling a little deeper each time because the pathologist understood that under the tough exterior of his hid a little boy afraid of getting hurt.
Maybe it was just her and her romantic notions but still, she saw it. Glimpses of that boy in him and in this very moment, Molly saw it again. She could almost hear his internal cries, venting out what he would not let himself express verbally. Molly wanted to…what did she want to do? Anything and everything for him not that Sherlock would allow it.
'Caring is not an advantage' was his motto in the way he lived his life and it extended to his friends which was plain silly to Molly because that's what friends do, they care about each other. She noticed that the consulting detective's eyes were dilated when he asked for her help and if Molly indulged in her flight of fancy, she would say it was because of her however the pathologist was a practical person and believed it was the dim lights that caused it.
"You." One word was enough, more than enough for Molly to risk everything, her career and life for him. Loving a man that led such an exciting life where chasing down criminals was a daily activity had its own dangers and even though she was not addicted to the rush of adrenaline, she realised that one way to feel alive was being close to death and the consulting detective was Molly's drug for that. It made her life miserable but without him, it was even more so. At least the pathologist's life was not boring when Sherlock's around.
Maybe Molly was getting old and thought it was time to settle down, get married and set up a family. Then came along Tom. Reliable and…many other things. Different from Sherlock if one could overlook the physical similarities of the two. Waiting for the consulting detective was a lost cause and Molly guessed one day she just woke up from the dream that she weaved for herself. Still, it was a bloody good dream.
He almost lived.
It took Sherlock Holmes two years to dismember Moriarty's criminal empire and it took the same amount of time for his life to change completely. It was as if the world carried on without him. Molly for sure moved on with her life and from him then John even got his own family now. Everything had changed and London was not the same anymore. It was not what Sherlock was used to.
If the consulting detective was sentimental enough, Sherlock would say that he regretted faking his death, having lost everything to time. Moriarty never was his nemesis, time was and it defeated him fair and square. He survived the fall and managed to cheat death yet Sherlock found himself unable to handle the consequences of his actions. He was truly lost.
They almost made it
Sherlock pretended to be engrossed in watching telly when John entered 221B with Isabelle. "So do you want to go together with us to Molly's wedding tomorrow?" The consulting detective took over his godchild from the doctor with ease, he had months of practice to perfect his baby skills, and placed Isabelle on his lap, gently bouncing her.
"Where's your wife?" John gave his best friend a look. "Mary's with Molly at her bachelorette party." Sherlock merely nodded at him and continued to play with Isabelle while the doctor opened and closed his mouth a couple of times but no words came up. "If you have something to say, John, say it. No need to show your daughter how good you could imitate a fish." The consulting detective softly chided him while smiling at the baby which she gurgled in response.
"Fine, you said so yourself. What exactly are your feelings for Molly? If you think she is making a major mistake, you need to go tell her and not hide in one corner to lick your wounds, Sherlock." John was getting annoyed at the development of things or to be more specific, the lack of. "If you are saying that marriage by itself is a mistake then I believe you are right, John. You had gained ten pounds since your marriage."
The doctor frowned at Sherlock yet at the same time pitied him. "You know very well what I'm talking about." The consulting detective could not stand the pity in John's voice and handed Isabelle back to her father. "Meeting me was Molly's biggest mistake." Looking at the invitation card placed on the mantel top, Sherlock murmured more to himself than to John. "I would see you Watsons tomorrow at 11am then. Good night."
Giving a small smile to the father and daughter pair, Sherlock retired for the night. The consulting detective would not miss Molly Hooper's wedding for all the crime in this world. It might be the pathologist's biggest mistake in meeting him however it was the greatest accomplishment in his life for knowing her.
If only that was enough.
Author's note: I was deeply affected by the words edited with the images of Sherlolly because they just fitted so well together that I was washed over by feels and I told myself that I needed to write this, I needed closure haha so I hope it's not too bad for you readers *fingers crossed*, enjoy!