Disclaimer: All characters belong to BBC and Moftiss.
All mistakes are mine
Sherlock Holmes blinks for the umpteenth time and watched as the glowing light in front of him turns dimmer with every passing hour like a fire begins to slowly fade away in a haunting death-like manner. If only the burning feeling inside of him would allow itself to be extinguished, too. Only that it couldn't. And if only he could find a way eradicate its existence lying deep within his system. Only that he seemed to have lost the ability to willingly do so.
The memory kept haunting his mind, over and over again. The scenes seemed to be kept on replay; every frame repeated themselves almost automatically in his head he had lost count.
"This isn't torture, this is vivisection." He felt helpless. "All those complicated emotions.." He tensed. He is very much afraid. Not for his own life but for her. He had saved her. Is it not right? He saved Molly Hooper.
Yet, the great Sherlock Holmes was bound to know the truth and break the illusion that kept him kept them as prisoners of their own hearts.
Thirty seconds left on the clock. Tick tock tick tock…The face of the consulting criminal added anything but relief to Sherlock's now tremor and panic state. Molly has been held captive by his ever loving and compassionate sister and is about to blow up in the remaining seconds left on the timer.
I love you.
That's all she needed to say. Very much all she needed to say to stay alive.But she isn't cooperating. And it left Sherlock in a state of anxiety. He stared at her even begged her to say what she intended to say to be safe and sound. Tick tock tick tock…More time passed by and she still hasn't said the release code.
"Please Molly…"
He doesn't understand. And then she had called him a bastard but he doesn't care anymore. A few more seconds passed when she finally got the nerve to reply
"Say it Sherlock, say it like you mean it"
He was caught in surprise. He hasn't directly addressed Molly as a woman who's capable to say such thing but with conviction.
"I love you.", he said.
A faint sound escaped his lips his voice full of uncertainty.
" I love you.", he beckoned her again. Only this time he never felt his voice could hold such level of genuineness and sincerity. And after a few more terrorizing moments had he heard her hurtful and meek voice echoed the very same words he had omitted. " I love you" The video was cut short and only then a deafening siren-like sound can be heard…
His eyes kept wandering around the room as if he's trying to locate something of the essence to him. He considerably failed to recognize the tense and anxiety that filled him inside upon landing his sight on a particular object resting peacefully on top of his desk, just beside the infinite stack of files that lay beside it. As if on cue, he picked up his legs, much more forceful than he thought, and picked the piece of matter , held it with his trembling hands but with quite more delicateness than he supposed to have. And like fire that started with a spark of a burning flame, the feeling is ignited within him much stronger than ever, than it ever did before. And in that moment, he knew what needs to be done. And he needs her now more than he ever did in his life.
Moly Hooper turned around so that now she was facing towards the window watching as the sun starts to set the ivory sky painted with hues of soft peach and gray. The time will be coming soon where she would bid goodbye to the lab equipments and bodies found inside the morgue that had kept her company throughout the day.
Almost there. She sighed. She needed to get some rest. God knows she needed it the most. To rest her head from another day's work and to find peace in the company of her cat Toby in the vicinity of the place she called home. Definitely, that's what she needed. But in her heart, she knew no amount of peace could enter her soul as long as she kept on seeing these memories which do not only fail to buy her a daily visit but also an everyday reminder of the happenings between her and a certain consulting detective. She never considered the thought of trauma to be bothering her. No. It is simply worse than that.
She hailed a cab and on her way home, dropped by a local pastry shop to indulge herself with their versions of sweet delights. Surely, a little sugar wouldn't hurt. She needed that bit too. A source of happiness to bring sunshine to her otherwise dull and predictable life. Any form to compensate the depressing feeling she has on her chest every time they reminded her of him.
She entered her flat dismissively. Holding the purchase in her hand, she went down the kitchen towards the fridge to get something to drink. Drawing it open…
Brrrr. Freezing cold. She could feel the temperature in the room dropped by a significant level of degrees.
Yet the coldness wasn't coming from the only fridge she owned. It is due to a certain tall man with raven black curls in his usual fashion code: long-length tailcoat covering his navy blue shirt and black trousers with a scarf tied around his neck completing the look. Sherlock Holmes is inside her flat, specifically his hand on her kitchen counter, staring at her…and he continues to do so for the next years in Molly's life.
"Molly Hooper"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One word. That's all there is to it.
One name and yet that's all it takes to have his heart beating like a million drums. A heart he once thought wasn't capable to hold such feelings of sentiment. Despite being held a genius, he seemed to have no clue of their reactions towards him. But then, he could not only blame it to their poor and innocent brains storing all kinds of sick and useless information. He was far beyond that.
His mind could process things very much differently than others, with the exemption of his brother Mycroft, solve murder cases upon witnessing the crime scene, learn criminal intents behind them by merely observing subjects involved that depending upon the current color of their hair, their poor and unlikable choice of perfume, the number of cat whiskers in their clothing, etc.
He couldn't simply overlook the clues when they presented themselves all bare in front of him. It is only to his dismay and disappointment that others couldn't simply do the same. He is a consulting detective after all, the only one in the world. And yet to his concern leading to frustration can he not solve the case directly held in front of him. The case of the girl who mattered the most.
"Molly Hooper"
He took a step towards her direction but she only remained to be frozen in place. As if her feet were currently glued to the floor she was standing. Not a muscle dared to move and she was not certain whether or not it was to be a blessing or a curse.
He tried to further move closer to her only this time was she able to regain her consciousness of mind as she managed to blink in response to his action. Her lips quiver nervously and she was about to open her mouth only to have failed miserably as the words came out of her in a complete stutter.
"W-w-what are you…doing here Sherlock?", she choked out in success.
"Molly, I am here…to explain myself." he softly replied.
Myself . So this is still about him, is it not? His bruised ego. And that he came here to tell her of his side of the story. Though Molly Hooper knew that she doesn't need to hear that anymore. She knew of what happened. Of course, they had told her before. John, even Mycroft, in his own way, tried to explain to her of everything that has taken place. Of Eurus, of how Moriarty unjustifiably remained to be alive even when being dead, of the Sherringford incident,etc. She knew no less and for Sherlock to reveal himself to her and tried to "explain" it further when she knew the whole story very well, just to hear it again only this time from him, she made up her mind that the idea of his is reduced to mere inanity.
Pointless. Useless.
She sighed uncomfortably. A lump in her throat continuous to form and she doesn't know how long will she be able to hold it before she would again broke into sobs. But no. Not infront of him. She would hold herself to a better standard and keep her dignity as a person. She will not waste tears. Not to someone who would deemed them invaluable in any way.
"Sherlock, there is really nothing..to explain anymore. I've heard.. and known of what happened… back there.",she stutters but felt almost proud to herself to have positively kept her emotions at bay. "I don't think that you...you needed to,um,clarify…further. About the phonecall,I completely understand. And I'm-I'm sorry if I haven't been cooperative."
Sherlock pursed his lips , his brows furrowed like he is confused.
"Thus, as I am completely unaware at that moment, I allowed myself to have my emotions...get the better of me..If-If I have known", she continued. " I should've said I love you pretty much sooner. Um.."
Molly Hooper knew her tongue is betraying her. What she said was partly the truth but still half a lie. She understands. At least she is trying to. There is really no need for him to explain. But only she could make herself feel sick when lied about saying the dreaded words sooner if she knew. Even if she did, she still wouldn't able to say it so…easily to him. She loves him, yes, but to say it…that way. Her feelings are eating her up and she knew by now she could not hold any further and so she tried to gain every ounce of strength she could muster to continue this conversation with him
"It's not really important. About what I feel, um, I mean. I, you, we were just… victims. There were wounds," she spoke honestly from her heart, "but they are meant to be cured. For certain, scars will form. But , and for them to heal…we need to move on", she finished with her eyes brimming as tears were threatening to fall down her pale cheeks.
Ugh. She thought. Get a hold of yourself Molly. No. You are not going to cry infront of Sherlock 've humiliated yourself enough to last the both of you an eternity.
Molly continued to stare on her feet, avoiding his piercing gaze.
"No.", Sherlock said though there is an absence of calmness in his voice.
"W-what?"she questioned almost inaudibly.
"I said no, Molly Hooper"he replied . "I am not here to clarify anything. And I know for sure I do not want to move on."
A breath hitched on her throat. She bit the bottom of her lips as to prevent the sob to escape from her. No, He was not going to let her move on. She can't live that way. With an unpleasant past to hold on to everyday, the future would remain to be unseen and bleak for her. And so she only did what she thought she needed to do.
"Sherlock,please.", she begged." Don't make this any harder for us, for you…for me"
She's on the point of breaking. And she swears, Molly Hooper swears…if Sherlock Holmes pushed her buttons further she wouldn't be able to hold herself anymore.
"No." again, was his brief reply.
Well then, if it is any more possible, the emotions that filled her pushed her to extremities. Sadness was replaced with anger now boiling inside her.. She wasted no second as her hand was suddenly hung up in air as it landed, very much hardly, on the consulting detective's face. His right cheek in particular.
"For once in my life, I've only asked you one thing. For so many times I've tried helping you, I was hopeful this time that you could, at least, return the favor.", she said icy gaze piercing gaze directed to meet detective's eyes. "Back with Eurus, I've asked you not to do it. Granted I was in danger and you feel the need to save my life, I have forgiven you for what you've done."
Silent tears now started to flow freely down her flushed cheeks. Sherlock continued to stare at her, now with a hurtful look on his face.
"Tonight, I've tried asking you again, Sherlock. I've asked you to let me move on. Because I cannot do that with you around here acting as if it was still the same. I-I wanted it to be the same, Sherlock, only that I am weak and cannot bring myself to do so without having…these feelings."
She wanted to be herself again. Just as much as she wanted everything will remain rightfully as they were before. Even her lovesick self would've been better than the present one, right now. At least, the only thing he could do for her is to give her a break, some space she greatly needed to cope positively upon his return.
"And so I begged of you,Sherlock, please…let me."
One would know Sherlock Holmes by his extraordinary deductions, reasoning out of superb intellectual being that he is but not on his expertise to read people's emotions which in that case a failure. And so when Molly Hooper appeared and said what he could interpret as hurt, anguish, and broken, he did what he thought was the most humane thing to do.
He kissed her.
Molly Hooper was busy with water flowing from her yes clouding her vision and mind yet she did however recognize Sherlock's presence in the room and how suddenly, his lips was kissing hers. Kissing. He had pulled her petite frame closer to him as he placed his free hand on the sides of her face as his lips continued to meet hers in a confession. Kissing. She stood like a block of ice, unmoving, for a moment until he felt her hand slide from her face down to the back of her neck as he explored her mouth with all the passion he meant to show to her.
Sherlock Holmes barely hid his surprise as the one he is currently placed her lips into responded with the same amount of growing need he has. They continued to make out long enough for them to be able to hold their breaths before letting go. He removed his lips from hers in a brief moment and looked into her eyes, as if trying to find any sort regret and as if he's asking her if he is allowed to continue. That moment turned into something but brief as he watched her with tears still continuously streaming down her face.
Had he done something wrong again? Is she mad at him? Should he stop? Should they stop?
A million questions run through his mind but was interrupted by Molly's voice ringing down his ears.
"Sherlock."
He looked up and he saw her face that doesn't need a deduction to know what emotion she is currently having.
Confusion, written in plain letters, on her grief-stricken face. She is confused. And he knew exactly why.
More importantly, he knew exactly what he needed to do. Before she could speak or even mutter a word, Sherlock used the opportunity to say out loud, the words she does not only longed to hear but the one he greatly yearned to say to her.
"Molly Hooper, you are by far, the most incredible woman I have the pleasure to meet in my life. I know how much you might have hated me," Molly managed to raise her eyebrow despite her tears. "How much you hated me for doing what I did to you before." Sherlock pursed his lips into a thin line before continuing. "You're right. You're not an experiment. You never are. On the contrary, my emotions are. And it has taken quite a little longer for me to know and learn of the results"
He looked at her now with pleading eyes. He went to get something inside the pocket of his coat. "Molly, no matter how many trials I tried to perform to change the results to the ones I desired, I thought I desired to get, it will always turn out differently.
He cleared his throat for a second and Molly just watched him earnestly as he trail down his speech. "No, Molly. I-I do not want you to move on from me, from us. What you've done to me cannot be changed at all. There will always be the same results." His lips curved up into a small smile. Molly Hooper, I am positively sure I am in love with you".
A gasp that sounded more like a sob came out from Molly's mouth to which Sherlock replied with the piece of matter in his hand. "Molly Margaret Hooper, will you marry me?", he said all the while as he kneeled in front of her holding a diamond engagement ring in his hand.
"Sherlock.."came a soft reply. He took in a sharp breath and waited for the worst, the fear of rejection, the fear of Molly and letting her go if she would try to do so. It would be complete understandable. His mind tried to reason out. He had broken her. And now, he didn't know if she could find any ounce of love in her left for him to be able to have her in within his reach again.
His worries and concerns were answered with a meek yet full full of emotion "Yes, Sherlock. I will marry you."
He slipped the ring into her finger and it fits perfectly much like a cliché fairytale only this time it wasn't. Or if it was, it had already become a reality. Their reality. Because right now in his arms, with those deep brown eyes showing him affection and love, is his dream coming true to life.
There you go. I've been a huge follower of this ship and this is my first ever attempt in making a Sherlolly fanfic. Hope you guys like it. J Reviews are always welcomed.