Molly Hooper was angry. No, that's an understatement - Molly Hooper was livid. Of course she called John after Moriarty's face appeared on all the screens in England, and of course he spilled everything about Sherlock, and the exile, and the drugs.
Yes, livid was a good word.
She glared at the burning fireplace in her living room, plotting what she will do next time she sees Sherlock fucking Holmes. A slap is just not enough… maybe i can kick him in the shins, or hit him in the balls, or shove a knife up his - her thoughts were cut short from a clicking sound.
She turned her head to look at the front door down the hallways of her apartment, where the sound was coming from. She stood from her sofa and walked toward the door. Click click click the soft jingling continued. Grabbing the nearest object she could find, an umbrella, she prepared to strike the intruder.
The door creaked open, and in peeked the head of a skinny, idiot, curly haired detective.
She stared at him, he looked at her and tried to open the door further.
"Moll- OOF!" he began to say but the pathologist dropped the umbrella and rushed to the door slamming it against his face.
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL MOLLY!?" He shouted as she shifted her body weight to try and close the door and keep him outside her apartment.
"NO!" She yelled at him "You have no permission to enter any time you like anymore! You have lost that privilege when you lied to me!"
"Molly please! Just listen!"
They kept pushing against the door, Sherlock trying to barge in, Molly keeping him out.
"I will not listen Sherlock! I don't want to listen, and don't HAVE to listen to ANYTHING you have to say to me!"
She curled a fist and banged it against the door with all her might, "First, you use me to get whatever you want from the morgue! For YEARS. And then I break the bloody law for you so you could live for 2 whole years! And during that time, you break into my apartment whenever you like! Make me feed you, nurse you, let you rest, and you just leave without so much as a thank you!"
They were both leaning against the door now, though they stopped pushing it back and fourth. Molly put her head against the door and held back tears…
"And I was so happy when you returned. I thought you've finally changed… but then that drug den. And I worked so hard to keep you alive all this time, and then you just spit on all my hard work… and I…"
Sherlock interrupted "Molly…"
"No Sherlock," she opened the door to look at him through her tears "You used me for years, you made me keep you alive for years, and then in the course of a few weeks, you made sure I knew none of that matters."
She looked at Sherlock, he fiddled with something, a piece of paper. He extended his hand, she took the note and read the drug list on it. With a heavy sigh, she threw the slice of paper at him, he let it land on the floor.
"Sherlock, I don't know what to tell you…"
"But I didn't mean-"
"I don't CARE what you mean! I care about what you DO. Everyone judges themselves by their intentions and others by their actions, but I just can't, help you anymore. Because… you clearly don't want my help." She gestured at the list on the floor and began shutting the door.
Sherlock stopped it with his foot "how about an ultimatum?" he says.
Molly opened the door just enough to look at his face.
"Molly, I want to say sorry but I don't think it will be enough-"
"You should still say it…"
"I…" he sighed "first… I am sorry. So here is an ultimatum…" He stepped closer to her doorway "If I relapse one more time, you have a right to cut off all contact with me. Whatever that may include, staying away from your home, or the morgue, or… moving to another country!"
She held back a laugh and opened the door further.
"I don't know Sherlock… I want to forgive you, I always end up forgiving you but…"
"One last time Molly. I promise. I want to stop, I will stop. I guess, I just need this one final deal. And… I need you."
They looked at each other for a few seconds, until he reached his hand toward her, and waited.
And Molly though about every case he solved, and every time he looked up from the microscope with those shining eyes, and the swish of his coat and every person he has helped. So she opened the door all the way, grabbed his hand, shook it and smiled.
"Want some tea?" she asked as he stepped into her flat.
5 years later
She sat on her sofa, reading the paper.
"There's a woman convinced she saw a ghost of a man-"
Sherlock sat himself next to her "She's lonely, next."
"Let me finish!" she rolled her eyes "She drew him, and then two days after a man that looks exactly like the drawing murders her…"
"Hmm… a five, what else?"
"A five?! Oh come on, that one has got to be an 8 at least!"
"Don't patronize me Hooper…"
"Aaaall right… Well there's another potential case here…"
"Did you bring any body parts today?"
"Nope, you know the policy, no body parts in my home… 221B? Fine. My apartment? Nope."
"That's why you won't move in with me?"
She folded the paper in her hands and looked at him "You never asked…"
"Yes I did."
"Where you in 221B when you asked me?"
"Yes."
"Was I there too?"
"…"
"Good god Sherlock…" she smiled "maybe I should move in… keep you sane. Well, sane-er…"
"Please, if you moved in you'd drive me crazy… With your, redecorating and, baking!"
"Says the boy who ate 9 of my famous chocolate muffins last night in the course of twenty minutes!" She slapped his tummy playfully.
He beamed at her, scooting closer with an arm around her shoulders, pressing his lip to the corner of her mouth.
She beamed at him, he smirked at her.
His ultimatum was not too difficult to keep, who needs some cheap narcotics when he's got a woman with a heart of gold to keep.