Four years, eight months, two weeks, and three days.
That was the last time Molly Hooper had taken a proper holiday. Of course, she had taken days off since then, but she meant a real holiday. Not a day to get her wisdom teeth removed. Not a day to have her heater fixed. Not a day to watch Rosamund Watson while John and Sherlock were off doing god knows what. Not even a day to eat ice cream and watch crappy telly.
Molly deserved a real, bone-meltingly relaxing good holiday, and by god she was finally getting one!
Just her, two of her best friends from University, and a gorgeous cabin two hours south of Zurich. She had a full five days to take in the gorgeous snow-covered Alps, indulge in wine and carb-loaded food, catch up on her favorite novels, and be treated to an endless array of massages and relaxation.
Her hired car winded up the narrow, snow covered road and stopped in front of the astounding cabin, adorned with huge windows and the finest wood carvings she had ever seen. Molly quickly tipped the man and grabbed her bags, filled with warm clothes and groceries galore, taking no time to race into her beautiful accommodation.
She practically squealed in excitement as she entered the cabin, her eyes shifting from the modern kitchen, to the cozy sitting room with light pouring in from the huge windows, to the fire roaring in the fire place that the resort must have started in anticipation of her arrival.
Molly dropped her suitcase and fell onto a cozy chair, still looking around the room in fascination. She quickly grabbed her mobile and switched it on, knowing that Sarah and Lily would be taking off soon. Both women were flying in from Manchester, and unlike Molly were unable to take the day off, and thus were arriving later in the day.
She kicked off her boots and propped her legs up, letting her fuzzy socks rub against the soft material of the ottoman across from her. She hummed as she flipped through her phone, until a text message popped up and dampened her happy spirits.
Bad storm coming your way. All flights to Zurich cancelled for the evening. So sorry Molls. Hopefully we'll be on a flight tomorrow. – Lilypad
Molly frowned and dropped her phone. She cursed and brought her knees to her chest, carefully considering the situation. Here she was, finally on a much-needed holiday, excited to catch up with her friends, and now, she was alone for at least the first night.
Yet, it certainly wasn't the worst of circumstances.
At least I made it.
She laughed at her own selfishness and shifted in the chair, snuggling into the top of it. She would just have to make do with the situation. She'd make herself a lovely dinner, put on the plushy dressing gown that the listing had promised, and read a nice romance novel until she fell asleep.
Oh yes, that would do!
Xxx
A few hours later and Molly was sprawled across one of the love seats, dressed in only a white dressing gown, drinking a glass of red wine. She shut her eyes for a movement and moaned, enjoying the warmth coming from the large fireplace, as well as her current novel.
She had picked this novel up at a shop in the airport, delighted by its promise of a girl meeting a handsome mountain man and being beautifully, gloriously fucked by the big hunk of man meat.
She sighed and turned the page, praying for her own big mountain man to come along, dressed in boots and flannel with the promise of chopping wood and making her curls toe.
A knock at the door caused her to shut her book and sit up. She gazed at her mobile, doublechecking that Lily and Sarah were certainly not yet in Switzerland, before rising to her feet. She swallowed and slowly moved to the door, knowing that one of two people were behind that door.
The first and most likely choice was a serial killer, here to murder English tourists and drink their wine.
The second, and her personal preference, would be to find a tall, nicely built Swiss man by the name of Luca promising to both keep the fire roaring in the fireplace and in her core.
She sighed and swung open the door, practically screaming in surprise when her eyes met the man in front of her.
You've got to be kidding me.
Sherlock bloody Holmes stood in front of her, his Belstaff covered in heavy flurries, his curly hair weighted down from the moisture of the snow. His cheeks were an adorable shade of red, and based on the calf high dampness of his trousers, he had been trudging through snow to get here.
Ha. Take that. I can deduce too.
Sherlock cleared his throat and looked at Molly questioningly.
"Well? May I come in?"
Molly just blinked, evidently surprised by his question. She simply moved to the side and let him enter, her eyes still locked on his muscled form.
Sherlock set a small briefcase beside the door, before slipping his shoes and socks off, careful to lay his socks across one of the heaters. Next came his equally as soaking wet gloves, scarf and Belstaff, until he stood in only his relatively damp dress shirt and trousers.
Molly glanced at his bare feet, practically blushing.
Something about seeing his bare feet seemed so… intimate. He looked almost naked.
He turned to face her, his eyes dropping from her bun to her dressing gown, and back up to her face. Molly blushed and tried to tighten the dressing gown more, suddenly wishing that she hadn't been wandering around naked and was instead in warm pyjamas.
"Where are Lily Brown and Sarah Evans?" He asked, before wandering into the kitchen and examining her leftover spaghetti Bolognese that she had yet to put away.
"They're stuck in Manchester. The storm—" She paused and narrowed her eyes. "Sherlock, how do you know which friends are joining me? And where I was staying? Or, better question, why are you here?"
Sherlock sat on one of the stools and grabbed a fork, beginning the eat the pasta. He paused to chew, making a face that suggested it wasn't awful.
Yippee. The big baby can stomach my cooking.
"Molly, you're not exactly difficult to read or predict. Your cat's name and your birthday is not a safe email password," he took a moment to eat another forkful before continuing, "obviously I saw the other two names on your reservation in your inbox, and after digging, discovered that they are your university friends, currently employed as a dentist and publicist, respectfully. If you're not aware, Sarah had a hair appointment earlier this morning, and Lily is currently involved with a man called Rory that she met on Tinder."
Molly grumbled and grabbed her wine, taking a gulp to calm her nerves. She stormed into the kitchen and pulled the plate away from Sherlock, causing the detective to give her the same look a puppy would upon being kicked, or a toddler, upon being chastised.
"I didn't say you could eat. And again, you haven't answered my question. Why are you here?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and rose back to his feet, quickly entertaining himself by moving through the cabinets. Once finding a box of biscuits, he dropped back down and began opening the box.
"Well, it's quite simple, really. Mycroft has discovered that we let one, and only one, member of Moriarty's network fly by undetected. John and I managed to trace her in Paris, where I discovered a brothel of massacred prostitutes. It was a rather unpleasant scene. Anyhow, we have reason to believe she is heading towards Munich, but only for a temporary stay."
Sherlock quickly ate a biscuit, before continuing his story. "John had to return home to Rosie, but I continued on. I knew about your pending holiday in Switzerland, and given our proximity to Munich, I decided it would be doable to stop by for the evening. It would appear that I could use your brain."
Molly just blinked, trying to process all the information Sherlock had jammed into only seven sentences.
"You need my help?"
"Need is relative, Molly. I rarely need anything. But, with the knowledge that she is a woman in similar build to yourself, more investigation into her style of killing would be helpful. I don't trust the autopsies performed by the French."
Sherlock wrinkled his nose and ate another biscuit. "My flight to Zurich got in a few hours ago, and it started to snow heavily, so much so that I couldn't get my taxi to drive me down the tiny road to the cottage. I needed to walk a mile and a half in heavy snow!"
Molly began to heat water, looking over at Sherlock with a quirked eyebrow. "Why, Sherlock, I thought you rarely needed to do anything."
He snarled. "Might you have some compassion for my long journey here? It's cold and wet outside."
Molly rolled her eyes and grabbed two mugs from the cupboards, as well as tea bags. "Compassion? Sherlock, you're asking me to do work on my holiday."
Sherlock ate another biscuit and gave her an exasperated look. "I'm trying to put an end to the criminal activities of your psychotic ex-lover and you're complaining about looking at some dead bodies while on holiday?"
Molly sighed and dropped the tea bags in the water, before moving to stand against the kitchen island. She placed a cup in front of Sherlock and grabbed a biscuit for herself, knowing both alcohol and sugar would be needed to survive the evening.
"Jim was not my lover. We went on three dates and were never intimate," Molly grabbed a cup of sugar and sighed, "At any rate, yes, I am complaining. This getaway was a chance to catch up with friends who I see once a year if I'm lucky, and escape the real world through wine, chocolate, and trashy novels. Not to assist you in a case."
Sherlock quirked an eyebrow. "I really don't see the enjoyment in that."
Molly sighed and added some sugar to her tea. "I didn't expect you too."
He scowled at her words and ate another biscuit, looking suspiciously like a child not getting what he wanted. He looked around the large cabin before back at Molly.
"I won't be able to leave until at least the morning, perhaps later. They're expecting even more snow than usual. When I arrived, all the flights in Zurich had been grounded."
Molly just shut her eyes and shook her head, wondering how Sherlock always managed to insert himself in every situation.
"Lovely. Just lovely. I'll send you a bill then. This place wasn't exactly cheap."
Sherlock glared and took another sip of tea, sending Molly an accusatory look.
"You should be thankful for my arrival. It is hardly safe or appropriate for a woman to be alone in a house in the mountains."
Molly practically snorted and sipped her tea. "Appropriate? My god, what year is it? Shall we discuss propriety now? My lack of chaperone?"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and sipped his tea. "That's hardly what I meant. I just mean…. It's best for you to have company."
Molly rolled her eyes and opened the freezer, pulling out a tub of ice cream. She grabbed a spoon and dove in, ignoring Sherlock's watchful gaze.
"And, to be clear, I would have much preferred to open the door to Luca."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Who is Luca?"
Molly sighed and licked the vanilla ice cream off the silver utensil, "Oh, nobody important. Just the gorgeous, Swiss man of my dreams."
Sherlock set his cup down and continued to watch Molly, his eyes flickering between her pink lips and the ice cream covered spoon.
"Come again?"
Molly laughed and ate another spoonful, glancing away from the tub to give Sherlock a teasing look. "What? Is it so wrong for me to imagine a fit, Swiss bloke knocking on the door and adding some fire to my evening?"
Sherlock blinked, his blue eyes getting hazy, indicating to Molly that he was, as John described it, buffering.
Good. Serves him right.
She practically snorted and ate another spoonful, washing down the cold dessert with a sip of wine.
"But, I don't anticipate Luca arriving, especially with you here," she began to clean up the kitchen island, placing the pasta into the fridge, "You should go wash up. Your pants are wet and tracking water."
Sherlock flinched and finally looked back at her, his cheeks slightly red. He nodded and rose to his feet. "Very well. I'll take a shower. When I finish, I expect you to look at my bodies, Molly."
Molly snorted again. "Expect me? Haven't we gone over manners, Sherlock?"
He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Would you consider looking at my bodies?"
She gave him another look.
He groaned. "Would you please consider looking at my bodies?"
Molly smirked and shrugged. "We'll see."
Molly sauntered back into the sitting room and grabbed her book, quickly immersing herself into the sexy fantasy land of the forests of Washington state and a handsome mountain man who resided within. Sherlock, in the meantime, sent a glare her way before disappearing down the hallway and into the bathroom.
As soon as Molly heard the water turn on, she leaned back and shut her eyes.
She had a feeling that the evening was going to be interesting.
I'm going to need more wine.
To be continued….