a/n: I just finished my first run through of the series and am now hopelessly hooked. Couldn't resist trying my hand at least once with these lovely characters. I'm still finding my way so please excuse any mistakes with characterization and such. I will endeavor to do better next time.
A mind all logic is like a knife all blade. It makes the hand bleed that uses it." ― Rabindranath Tagore
He found himself standing at her door, feeling oddly out of place. It was a strange sort of discomfort what with all the times he'd been there before on some pretext or another. More than once, it had been his safe harbor just as she had been. This time, there was no light burning in the darkness to beckon him into calm waters.
In and out, the breaths flowed. Thump-thud..his heart pounded. Round and round, his thoughts raced as they chased themselves into oblivion. For once, it failed him...that by which he defined who and what his was...his brain, his cleverness, it was all for naught. He had no inkling what would happen once he knocked. The not knowing was almost as bad as the what ifs. Rashly, he knocked on the door. Better to get on with it.
After an interminable interval, steps came closer and the latch clicked. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his Belstaff and lifted his chin to meet her gaze as the door swung inward. "Molly."
"Sherlock." Noncommittal. Flat. Toneless. She opened the door wider and stepped aside to allow him entry. It was the one of the hardest things he'd ever done to go through but he did and then made his way down the hall. "The kettle's just boiled. I think there's some scones in the box." Brushing by him, she went straight to the kitchen and began filling a plate. He followed after and took a seat at the tiny table, watching as she assembled cups and saucers on a tray.
"You don't have to..." He began only to cut off at the look she tossed over her shoulder. Never had he seen a shade of brown so forbidding as he did then. "Thank you," he said instead. She nodded and then turned back to her task.
"John said he'd rung to fill you in." A cup of tea and the creamer was placed by his elbow; a plate of biscuits and scones in the center of the table as she took the chair opposite. "I had to get Eurus settled and then go with Mycroft to talk to our parents. I came as soon as was possible."
Her spoon clattered as she stirred her cup more forcefully than needed. Thin fingers flexed on the handle, tightened and then deliberately laid it aside before she looked up. "You needn't have been bothered nor John. I know there were things to be looked after. It's okay."
"It's not." His harsh tone made them both wince and he took a second to gather himself, to soften his reflexive tendency to go on the defensive at the first provocation. "What I meant is that it's not okay to leave you in the dark for any longer than necessary."
"Is it settled?" She diverted them to a safer topic, more stable ground.
"For now. There's still so much to do. I'm not sure and Mycroft has his own ideas but...well, we'll have to take it as it comes for a while."
"And you're well?"
Suppressing a smile at the barely masked concern lacing her questing, he chose to nod in lieu of an answer. Let her make of that what she would. He knew how carefully he must tread through the minefield that lay between them. Silence welled as each retreated behind their cups, the first round a draw and neither eager to reengage for the moment.
"Why did you come?"
Startled out of his reverie, Sherlock spoke without thinking. "I had to."
"Why's that?"
"I felt that I...that is...you deserve an explanation...what happened when I..."
Molly held up a hand and then shook her head. "It's alright, Sherlock. I've worked out most of it on my own. John's call filled in a lot of the blanks and the rest wasn't that difficult." A razor thin smile tilted her lips. "So you see, you needn't have bothered."
It was all there once he made himself look...the hurt, the confusion, the determination to end it before it began. He read her as easily as words on a page. Molly was, as ever, an open book no matter how hard she tried not to be. "You got it wrong again." He echoed what he'd said to her before, at a time when it was him that was falling apart.
"Did I? How?"
They'd come to the heart of it at last...
"Did I? How?"
His breath seemed to dry up in his lungs all at once, her doe eyes boring into him, through him. "You still count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you. I know you." He leaned toward her, trying to add emphasis to his words. "When I needed someone the most, it was to you that I came. When Eurus needed a way to get to get inside my head; no my heart, you were the path that she chose. Don't you see?"
"I can't do this again," Her nails scrapped the table top as her hand curled into fists. "I can't...don't make me." Wounded sable flicked up to meet cloudy blue. "Please don't."
"I would never but, my dearest Molly, if it's true then it should be said anyway." He rounded the table and knelt at her side, resting his hand on her knee. "It's not a game and I need you to know that I would never tease you about it. Not when you insisted that I say it first."
Brittle laughter cut him off as she pulled out of his grasp and angled her chair away from him. "You had to get me to say it. I don't know why but I know that much. Don't pretend otherwise."
Hesitantly, he stepped into her space...not close enough to crowd her but so that she had to look at him. He had to see her eyes to know, to gauge whether or not he'd already lost her for good. "How do you know? Did John say something when he called?"
She laughed again. "You're not the only one capable of deductions, you bastard."
Anger then. And hurt. Those, he could work with. Acceptance or indifference would have been the final nail in the coffin. "What you said is the truth, Molly, but not the whole truth." Uncertainty raced across her face followed by wary disbelief. A tiny furrow opened up in her brow as she examined his words, looking for the hidden meaning. "I said it first but the second time...the unprompted time...that was true. I meant it. All of it. In every sense of the word."
In every sense of the word...
Her traitorious heart leapt; her blood racing through her veins at that telltale phrase. Could it be? Was it possible? No? Surely not?
"I swear it. It's true." That oh so familiar smile that only added to the natural curve of his mouth came forth. "You told me once that if I needed anything, anything at all, I could have you. I'm going to hold you to that." He grunted as she slammed into his chest, her arms going round his waist as she buried her face in his shirt. Hot tears dampened the fabric, turning dark purple almost as black as his jacket. Holding her close, his hands gentle on her back as he bent to press a tender kiss to her forehead. "Is this good? Is the offer still open?"
"Better than good," she mumbled behind a stifled giggle. He smiled at the sound. "And yes, Sherlock, you can have me. Always."