Author Notes:
This was a work of labor over at Tumblr. My user name there is starlight-falls. This has gone through a MAJOR overhaul. So, if you read it in it's original format, you will notice some huge changes. :D
Blown Out
It started after the funeral. If someone had asked, she wouldn't have been able to give a reason why. It just happened. One night, not too long after her shift, she just found herself wandering, and had somehow made her way into the first church she saw. It was the flicker of the flames near the altar that had garnered her attention almost immediately. The way the light had cast back the darkness, swaying shadows, and light dancing on the hallowed wall. She felt mesmerized, staring at the flames. The unlit candles brought forth a feeling of deep sorrow within her. Like a chill that settled deep within her bones.
She remembered thinking of the unfairness of it all. Thinking that one light was no more important than the next. All the grief and sadness that she had been holding onto, and all of the guilt and shame she had been hiding felt oppressive. But she knew that she had to pretend. No, not pretend, hide. And even still that one word could not describe all of what she felt. She knew Sherlock was alive. Alive and alone. And every day she kept his secret meant the less danger he was in than the day before. It was a burden she had offered to keep. But it was the offer of comfort that she needed to give. But who was she to offer? She wasn't even anyone near important enough for someone to let her know if he was hurt or not. If he.. if he was..
Before her brain could catch up with what she was doing, she had already reached out and lit one of the candles. The lick of the flame across her eyes calmed her racing mind. It was a balm on her soul, she didn't realize she needed. "Everyday," she said softly to no one in particular, perhaps she was speaking to God if he was feeling so inclined to listen. She doubted it. None of her prayers had ever been answered before, but this was never about God. This was more for her own peace of mind.
"Everyday til I know otherwise," she decided, content with her decision. She nodded to the cross, Jesus' disconsolate face bathed in candle-lite stared back as she left the church.
She was able to come back to the church for the next few days, since work had given her time off. But, as she was lighting the fourth candle, she realized how selfish her actions were. Taking up someone else's light. Her darkness was her own to battle. But these candles' light were there for those left behind. To help guide passing souls home. She wanted it as a guiding light, but also for another purpose altogether. To try and keep her hope and spirits alive. She knew with each passing day, the lies and the deceptions would slowly start to extinguish her own light. She just wanted to fan the flames before they died down to embers. Besides, she had a feeling she would be waiting more days than the church had candles to offer.
Months later and well into what had become an obsession, she met Tom. It was more than a need within her that she felt she had to continue. Everyday had felt like an ache to try and keep the darkness at bay. But by that time, 487 candles became a bit much, and so she decided to restrict the lighting of the candles to once a week. But she would always find the time. Just her and the candles. And with each candle she lit, she felt lighter, like one more lie was forgiven. One more burden lifted. One less guilt carried. So, one night a few weeks later after she had finished lighting all 494 candles she almost panicked when she got a surprise knock on her door.
It was the least likely of suspects. Tom stood in her doorway, a bouquet of flowers blocking half of his face. But it was his eyes that drew her in. The poor thing had this look as if he had thought he had done something wrong. Unfortunately for her, with all the candles scattered about, it began to look way too suspect on her part. So, she did the only thing she knew how to do. Lie and pretend.
"I'm glad you came," she said, smiling at Tom and hoping he couldn't see through her lie. "I um.. was just about to call."
"You were?" he asked, looking around her flat and the romantic setting she had prepared. Molly simply shrugged her shoulder, and bit her lip unconsciously.
"Is it okay?" she asked, gesturing to the room at large.
Tom smiled brightly and reached up to cup her face. "Yeah, it's okay." he replied, kissing her softly. "A bit of a fire hazard, but wonderful, all of the same."
After that incident, it was harder for her to set a routine. But for whatever days she missed, she always lit that many to make up for the absence. But it still didn't change the fact that now it felt different. No matter how many candles she lit, the weight on her chest just seemed to grow heavier.
It was just a normal day out at the shops the day Tom proposed. He had taken her out to buy her a new candle to go with what he called her quirky candle obsession. He also recommended she get a fire hydrant for every 5 feet which she simply giggled off. But when she turned around to find him on bended knee, she gasped as he reached inside his pocket, pulling out a ring and continued, "Or you could have me. Whether you need me to light your flame or soothe your aches and burns.. I'd be honored." he finished.
"Is this?" she asked, hands hovering above her mouth.
"Oh.. um… I didn't ask, did I?" he questioned, a smile playing at his lips, looking around at the crowd gathering around the small shop.
"No, but… Yes, of course, I will." she said. Molly didn't understand why, but when Tom slipped the ring onto her finger, it felt as if it was searing her from the inside. The light behind her eyes, blazing so bright, she felt blinded. But in that moment, she was so overwhelmed that she simply put it down to being in love, and left it at that.
It wasn't long after that everything just became rote. And the lighting of her candles became more of a routine than anything. And it just so happened that the day Sherlock returned, she had planned to light her candles. She no longer felt embarrassed about doing it with Tom in her home. He never understood her obsession, not that she ever tried to explain it; but he accepted it, because he accepted her. He put it down to just one of her quirks. She had been pretending for so long that it didn't even cross her mind that it was wrong to be thinking of another man, even if all she was thinking, was hoping that he was alive. And perhaps too, that he would come back and absolve her of her guilt. It had felt like wishing for the end of world hunger; a worthy cause, but a fruitless endeavor for someone like her.
But as she finished striking the match to light the first candle, it dawned on her that she no longer had to keep vigil. That no matter how bright or how dark it was, Sherlock made it back, on his own. He didn't need her to light his way home. And all the lies and guilt were on no ones head but her own. Her silly little candle obsession was just that. A silly obsession. But after all this time, she didn't know how to move on. She still felt this ache deep within her. Like she was constantly cast in shadows, no matter how bright the light. Picking up the closest candle to her, she threw it with all her might against her wall, and let out a loud wail. She swiped her arm across her table sending several candles crashing to the floor. She was just so tired.
Tom came rushing out of the bedroom, only to find several candles broken and Molly collapsed on the floor crying. "Oh my God, Molly, what's wrong?" he asked, rushing to her side.
I.. I.. can't.." she sobbed into his shoulder.
"It's okay," he said hugging her tightly, "Shh..I've got you. Shhh.." he hummed, rocking her back and forth.
Molly cried while Tom continued holding her. While in his arms, her thoughts raced with how wrong it felt. Her mind and emotions seemed to be in such disconnect after such a long time, that she felt as if she had somehow let everyone down. But for now, she let herself have this moment of weakness.
The next day she threw away all of her candles.