A/N: Some of the entry dates are from the official John Watson blog, some are educated guesses. I know Sherlock's birthday is January 6th but that didn't really coincide with the events of S4. I wasn't sure what to rate this because of one line of the first entry and the last thing Sherlock says, so let's just call this a hard T.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to the BBC.
After declining Molly's half-hearted offer of tea, Sherlock shut himself in her bedroom. Baker Street was unlivable and would be until the repairs could be completed. Between that and needing a place where he could just think, Sherlock had gone to his favorite bolthole.
He was about to flop onto the bed when he noticed the corner of a hardcover book poking out between Molly's mattress and box spring. Curious, he pulled the book out to see it was a journal with a dark brown leather cover. Opening it, he could see it was Molly's diary. The first entry was dated almost a year ago. He flipped to the back to see that the last entry was dated yesterday and that the diary was almost full.
If she has one diary, she must have more. After a thorough search, he found them in a cardboard box at the bottom of Molly's closet. He put the current one back under Molly's mattress (making sure it was properly hidden) then searched through the old diaries. Sherlock finally found what he was looking for halfway through the pile – the diary dated the year they met. Recalling the exact date from his Mind Palace, he flipped to that entry and sat down on the bed, forgoing the plans he'd had for sorting out his thoughts from the last few days.
January 5th, 2010
Dear Diary,
It was such a strange day at work. Strange for the morgue, I mean. DI Lestrade, such a handsome man himself, brought a devastatingly handsome man in to look at a body. No one could figure out how the old lady died, except for this man. All he did was examine her fingernails under a magnifying class and he declared that this woman, who was found dead in her bathtub, had died after fighting with her estranged son. Did I mention he's brilliant? He has the best name – Sherlock Holmes. It's like something out of a gothic novel.
He looks like he's from a gothic novel too – tall and thin, a head full of black curls that I would pay six months' rent to run my fingers through, and eyes this beguiling mix of blue, green, and gold, like a sunset on the sea or something. He didn't say much but his voice is deep. Like sinfully deep. Like "who needs a vibrator?" deep.
The question is, what am I going to do about this? In reality, probably not much. I've never asked a bloke out in my life. I guess I'll just wait for him to ask me out.
Molly
Sherlock stared at the entry, coming back again and again to the part about his voice. He could feel the heat rising in his face, thankful no one was there to see him blush, and glanced at the closed door. She's out there, innocently sipping tea, and I'm in here, reading her most intimate thoughts. He looked down at the entry again. Very intimate thoughts. God knows what she wrote about … everything that's happened lately.
He was sorely tempted to go back to the current diary and see what she had written but decided to look at their entire relationship from her point of view. He flipped to the entry from the day he met John.
January 29th, 2010
Dear Diary,
Sherlock was back today. He needed to experiment on a body so he could prove a man's alibi. I don't know if he knew but I watched him while he whipped the body over and over (and over) with a riding crop he'd brought with him. He's so fit and he was so focused. Honestly, Diary, I don't think I've ever been so turned on in my life.
I don't know where I got the courage but I put on some lipstick then asked him out for coffee. Sherlock misunderstood me and thought I was offering to fetch him coffee. He's a genius but sometimes he's incredibly thick. I took the lipstick off and got him coffee. Of course, he mentioned that without lipstick, my lips are too small. Thank you for that, Sherlock. I'm not sorry for forgetting he wanted two sugars in his coffee.
What do I have to do to get Sherlock to like me?
Molly
Sherlock felt like an absolute heel. He remembered that day, of course. He remembered the coffee, which was indeed not sweet enough, and commenting on her lips after she took the lipstick off. What he didn't realize was how much his off-hand comment affected her.
She's such a forgiving person. It's amazing she's put up with me for this long. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was time for lunch. He wasn't hungry, he was rarely actually hungry, but he knew he needed to talk to Molly. I just won't tell her I'm reading her diary.
Sure enough, he found Molly in the kitchen, just putting eggs on to boil. She didn't say anything when he came into the room, she didn't even look up. Sherlock had thought things were good between them but now he wasn't so sure. Is she just being polite?
"Leaving again?" she asked, her eyes on the pot. Her tone was cheerful but Sherlock knew it was just a façade.
"No, I … I wanted to talk to you," he said softly.
"There isn't anything to talk about," Molly said quietly, the false cheerfulness gone, her eyes still on the pot of water and eggs. "You explained everything perfectly well. Now I just want to go back to how it was. We can pretend that call never happened."
"Molly…" He reached out to touch her shoulder but as soon as his fingers touched the sleeve of her cherry jumper, she whirled around to face him, her eyes full of hurt and anger.
"No, Sherlock," she said firmly. "All I wanted after that bloody call was to be left alone. I know you need somewhere to stay after your flat was blown up, but my God, why did it have to be here?" Her brown eyes glistened with unshed tears.
Sherlock stared at her. I thought she was okay with me staying here. A voice in his head that sounded just like John asked, But you didn't actually ask her, did you? You just assumed. He swallowed hard. "I … I'll go." His voice sounded rough to his own ears.
She stayed quiet long enough that he was about to turn and go when she sighed painfully, her eyes on the floor. "No. Just keep to yourself, Sherlock, like you always do. Let me pretend that you're not here."
"Molly…" This isn't healthy, even I know that. "We need to talk."
"Later." She finally raised her eyes to his. She was clamping down on her emotions, something she undoubtedly picked up from him. "We'll talk about everything later, I promise."
Not knowing what else to do, he nodded then went back to her bedroom. The diary beckoned from where he'd left it on the bed. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed then picked up the diary and flipped to the entry from the day he visited the morgue during the case John had dubbed "The Blind Banker."
March 28th, 2010
Dear Diary,
You'll never believe it, Sherlock was actually nice to me today. I had tried something different with my hair this morning and Sherlock said it looked good! I think I'll wear a side ponytail every day.
Molly
Sherlock winced. He had manipulated her into showing him the bodies. She was so desperate for approval from me that she couldn't see through it. Unfortunately, that day was neither the first nor the last time I'd done something like that. She deserves better. He flipped to the day she introduced him to "Jim from IT."
May 1st, 2010
Dear Diary,
One of these days, I am going to flat out murder Sherlock Holmes. I honestly thought I was over him. Jim seemed like my chance to move on with a nice guy. Yeah, it turns out that "nice guy" is gay and was only dating me to get a chance to meet Sherlock. As if that wasn't bad enough, it was Sherlock who pointed it out to me. And not in a nice way, either. Not that there really is a nice way to tell a woman her boyfriend is gay, but there has to be a nicer way than the way he did it.
I dumped Jim, but he just seemed to blow it off. Arse. Thank God I didn't sleep with him. Not that he would've been interested. I wanted to tell him that Sherlock wouldn't be interested in him, but I decided to just let him find that out for himself.
Oh God, I just had a thought – maybe Sherlock is gay, that would explain why he was never interested in me. If Sherlock and Jim start dating, I'm going to be absolutely mortified. You know what they say, "All the good ones are either married or gay." Sherlock says he's married to his work, with my luck he's gay too.
Molly
Sherlock's emotions were in a jumble. He was annoyed with himself for how he handled telling Molly about Jim, relieved that Molly hadn't had sex with Jim, and embarrassed that Molly could have possibly thought he'd be interested in Jim. Psychopathic consulting criminals are definitely not my "type." He heard John's voice in his head again. Yeah, we know what your type is, Sherlock – petite pathologists with big brown eyes and bigger hearts.
He went back to the box of diaries and traded that one for the following one. Flipping to what he knew would be the most painful entry of that year, he went back to the bed and started reading.
December 24th, 2011
Dear Diary,
This is officially the worst Christmas of my life. And I honestly, honestly thought it would be the best. I bought a new dress and heels for the Christmas party at Baker Street. I even did my hair and make-up just so, all so I could catch Sherlock's eye. I spent forever picking out then wrapping his present. It was a new scarf, not that he ever opened it. No, instead he verbally tore me apart. He basically said I was trying too hard to attract a man I fancied and was over-compensating. Of course, it never occurred to him that the man I fancied was him.
Emphasis on "was." As if the evisceration at the party wasn't enough, I got called into work when a body was discovered. It was a woman and it quickly became clear that Sherlock had known her. Intimately. She had been gorgeous before someone had taken a tire iron to her face. Honestly, if she's his type, no wonder I never stood a chance.
Molly
Sherlock swallowed hard. No, Molly, you're my type. I never should have let you doubt that for a moment. Adler was just a fleeting interest, a blip on my radar. He wanted to get up and go to her, again, but he knew it was too soon. He flipped to the entry covering "The Reichenbach Fall." John really needs better titles for the cases.
June 16th, 2012
Dear Diary,
After everything that's happened, all I can think of is a line from A Tale of Two Cities – "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times." The best – Sherlock needed my help to save not only him but Greg, John, and Mrs. Hudson. He trusts me with this huge secret. He told me that I do count, at least with him. I don't think I've ever been happier.
The worst – I have to keep this secret from Greg, John, and Mrs. Hudson for who knows how long. I have to pretend I'm grieving. Sherlock has decided to hole up with me for now and he is DRIVING ME BLOODY INSANE! I know none of this is easy for him but does he have to play the violin at all hours? Or snap at me every time I ask him a question? Or take my bedroom when I have a perfectly good guestroom? I don't think I've ever been more frustrated.
Molly
Sherlock couldn't help smiling at the memory. That had been the first time he had used her bedroom as a bolthole. In the end, she had given him all the space he needed and had done it cheerfully. His smile faded. Now I know how she actually felt. Perhaps I should find a new favorite bolthole and give her back her space. She means the world to me but that's not enough.
He went back to the box and found the diary covering the year of his return from the "dead." Forgoing the bed, he plopped down on the floor beside the box and started reading.
November 4th, 2014
Dear Diary,
He's back! He's back, he's back, he's back! Sherlock is home and I can stop pretending he's dead! Bastard nearly gave me a heart attack when he showed up behind me in the women's locker room. If I hadn't known he was alive, I think the surprise would have killed me. He's lucky John didn't shoot him.
Tom was less than happy when he found out Sherlock's alive. I had to spend most of last night reassuring him that Sherlock is just a friend. And by "reassuring," I mean "sex." In the end, Tom believed me, but Sherlock won't be invited to the wedding.
I'm over Sherlock. Really. I'm making a new life with Tom. Sherlock even said he hoped I would be happy with him.
Molly
Despite knowing what he did – how Molly and Tom ended and what Molly had said during their fateful call – Sherlock still felt mounting frustration over the entry. Unthinking, he threw the diary at the far wall, where it hit with a loud bang and landed on the thick carpet with a soft thud.
A moment later, there was a knock on the bedroom door. "Sherlock? Are you alright?"
As mad as she is at me, she still cares. "I … I'm fine, Molly," he said, still frustrated.
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
"Alright. If you feel like eating, there's egg salad in the fridge."
"Thank you, Molly."
When he heard her footsteps walking away, Sherlock got up and retrieved the diary. He sat down on the bed again, this time with his back against the padded headboard, and flipped to the entry about John and Mary's wedding.
May 16th, 2015
Dear Diary,
Today was John and Mary's big day. How ironic that the day of their wedding was also the day my engagement ended.
I better back up. The day started lovely. Tom looked very handsome in his suit. My new yellow dress fit perfectly and I think I looked quite nice in it. Mary looked radiant in her antique gown and John looked very smart in his tux. Sherlock, well, Sherlock never looked better. He should wear tails more often. John and Mary's vows had me almost in tears, they were so lovely.
I wanted to scratch the eyes out of the maid of honor, though. She kept talking to Sherlock during the reception and it was all I could do to not drag her away from him. Me, a sworn pacifist, wanting to be violent over a man I wasn't engaged to. That should have been my first clue.
I could have killed Tom during Sherlock's best man speech for being so stupid. As it was, I stabbed him in the hand with my fork. Should've been the second clue.
During John and Mary's first dance, my eyes were on Sherlock the whole time. He played so beautifully, and the tune he wrote was perfect for them. Afterwards, I wanted to ask him to dance but Tom claimed me first. Shortly after that, I saw Sherlock leave the reception. I wanted to go after him and I would have if Tom hadn't been there.
That's when I knew. I ended our engagement on the drive home and gave him back the ring. Tom wasn't mad, I think he knew where our relationship was headed.
Every time I think I've moved on, something happens that reminds me that I will never, ever be over Sherlock.
Molly
That idiot never deserved her, Sherlock thought. Too dull by half. She needs a man who can challenge her. In short, me. He sighed quietly. I didn't know anyone noticed I'd left the reception early. I don't know what I would've done if Molly had come after me. Mostly likely, I would have told her to go back to Tom. He glanced at the door and wondered what Molly was doing at that moment. Probably reading, with Toby on her lap. Damn cat always gets the best spots. He flipped to the day he had been dragged to the path lab.
June 29th, 2015
Dear Diary,
How can a man as brilliant as Sherlock Holmes also be so incredibly stupid? John called me this morning and asked me to come in on my day off to give Sherlock a drug test.
Yes, a drug test. He had found Sherlock in a doss house. Sherlock said he was undercover, John wanted to know if Sherlock was actually high. "As a kite" was the answer. I wanted to kill him for it but settled for slapping him repeatedly. I demanded that he apologize and what does he do? He tells the whole room that my engagement was over. I hadn't seen John and Mary since the wedding and hadn't told them yet, plus there were two people there I had never met.
Every time I think I'm falling more in love with Sherlock, something happens that reminds me that he will never, ever be the man I need him to be.
Molly
Sherlock desperately wanted to go to Molly and prove to her that he was the man she needed but her words from earlier echoed in his head. "We'll talk about everything later, I promise." He knew it was not yet "later" so he settled for reading the current diary, as painful as he knew it would be.
March 9th, 2016
Dear Diary,
I love Sherlock, I really do, but there are times I just want to throttle him. Little Rosie's Christening was today. Sherlock was there as godfather, though not mentally. By that I mean he would NOT GET OFF HIS PHONE! I told him to put it away then Siri asked the vicar to repeat himself when he asked if the godparents were prepared to do their duty. I was ready to take the bloody phone and throw it out the bloody window.
If Sherlock and I ever get married and have children (and yes, Diary, I know how very unlikely that is), he'll know better than to have his phone out during important moments. What on Earth is he doing on that blasted thing anyway?
Molly
Sherlock couldn't help laughing softly at Molly's frustration. I promise, Molly, my days of being glued to my phone around you are over. He took a deep breath then flipped to a date he'll never forget, Mind Palace or no.
April 15th, 2016
Dear Diary,
I don't know where to start. It's all so horrible and nonsensical. Mary, my dearest friend, is dead. John is beside himself with grief and out of his mind with anger. He actually blames Sherlock, even though Mycroft (Sherlock's older brother, the one I said had no sense of humor) said Mary had died saving Sherlock. She was so brave. Now Rosie will have to grow up never knowing her mother. I think Sherlock's in shock. Losing Mary and John like this is too much for him.
John and Mary didn't even have a year of wedded bliss, their first anniversary would've been next month.
Pray for us, Diary. We're all going to need it.
Molly
Sherlock swallowed hard. Molly was so strong after Mary died, for Rosie's sake if nothing else. John completely depended on her. But who was there to support Molly? It should have been me. He went to the next entry.
April 18th, 2016
Dear Diary,
I know John is grieving. I'm grieving right along with him. Still, that doesn't give him the right to treat Sherlock this way, and it DEFINITELY doesn't give him the right to make me treat Sherlock the same way. Sherlock had stopped by John's to see if there was anything he could do to help. John had written a letter telling Sherlock to stay away. As if giving Sherlock the letter wasn't bad enough, I had to tell Sherlock what was in it. It broke him, Diary. I know it did. I just hope he can forgive me.
Molly
Oh, Molly… You weren't to blame for any of it. I hope I never made you feel like you were. Sherlock absently wiped away the tears he didn't even realize he was shedding then flipped to the entry covering Mary's case.
May 3rd, 2016
Dear Diary,
It's official – William Sherlock Scott Holmes has a bloody death wish. There is no other explanation. The man has taken a laundry list of drugs and in such high doses that I'm amazed he's still breathing. The drugs have definitely affected his mind, though – he hit on me on the way to the ambulance. You know, the one I told you he'd asked me to arrange two weeks ago, though he didn't say why at the time. Anyway, Sherlock has never, ever hit on me before. I should have told John then and there that further tests weren't necessary.
But I did them, in the back of a moving ambulance, no less. Diary, the man I love is soon going to be just another body in my morgue if he keeps this up. I asked him why he's doing this but he refused to tell me. I can only assume he doesn't want me to worry.
It's years too late for that.
Molly
Molly, if you only knew the number of times I've wanted to hit on you over the years, you'd be blushing. He read again the part about worrying about him for years. All I've done is make her worry about me. I have to do better. I have to be someone she can depend on. He went to the next entry.
May 6th, 2016
Dear Diary,
Today is Sherlock's birthday and I finally think he's going to make it to his next one. John and I took him to that new cake place near his flat. He grumbled a lot, but I think he secretly enjoyed it.
He looked like 50 miles of bad road but considering he looked like 100 miles of bad road just three days ago, it's an improvement. Sherlock's clean, there's even talk of rehab, and I couldn't be more relieved.
You're probably wondering what I gave him. I found this adorable little Limoges beehive trinket box at an antique shop and got it for a song. Sherlock was touched. At least, I think he was. He buffered for a bit, which can be good or bad. When he finally snapped out of it, he thanked me. I'm not positive that wasn't just out of politeness (insisted upon by John). Oh well, at least he opened this one.
Molly
Sherlock winced. I should have made it clearer that I appreciated her thoughtfulness. It's a perfect little beehive box and it'll be proudly displayed on the mantle once my flat is back together. He knew which entry he wanted to read next and he also knew it would be the most difficult.
July 3rd, 2016
Dear Diary,
Is it possible to die of a broken heart? I really need to know because I think I have a terminal case. Sherlock told me he loves me but I know he's lying.
Let me back up. It turns out Sherlock isn't the youngest of two Holmes brothers, he's the middle child of three Holmes siblings. He has a younger sister that he had "deleted" after she killed his best friend when they were just children. How twisted is that?
Oh, it doesn't stop there. His now-adult sister tested Sherlock, Mycroft, and John's worthiness over and over, killing multiple people along the way. She made Sherlock believe she had wired my apartment to explode if he didn't get me to say, "I love you" in three minutes or less. Of course, he couldn't tell me that my life was in danger or that I only had three minutes. In the end, he did get me to say it, apparently with two seconds to spare, but I only did it after I made him say it first. Sherlock came to me afterwards and said he meant it, but I don't believe him – he said the words under duress.
I wish I could believe him, Diary. I've loved him for so long, almost the entire time I've known him. I've dreamed of him returning my feelings, but not like this. This is just wrong.
If I ever meet Anna Eurus Gayle Holmes, I'm going to punch her lights out.
Molly
As soon as he was done reading, Sherlock jumped up and went straight to Molly's sitting room. She looked up at him from the sofa, an open book in her hand and Toby in her lap. Sherlock caught the cat's eye.
"Out," he said firmly.
Toby proceeded to stand, turn around, and lay down again. Sherlock proceeded to pick the cat up and deposit him in the armchair. The orange tabby hissed at him then jumped down and left the room.
"I hope you had good reason to upset my cat," Molly said off-handedly. "Regardless, he's bound to take out his frustration on your shoes."
"I don't care," Sherlock said firmly as he sat down next to her. "I have more important things to do right now."
"Such as?" she asked warily.
"Such as convincing the woman I love that she is just that," he said softly.
Molly glared at him. "Sherlock, stop. You only said you love me because I made you. You were under duress."
He gently grasped her upper arms and pulled her to him. She barely had time to make a squeak of protest before his mouth silenced hers. Sherlock kissed her without restraint, and he felt like a king when she started to kiss him back. That, however, only lasted for a moment then Molly pulled back, staring at him.
"What-"
"I love you, Molly," he said firmly. "Look at me, really look. I'm not under duress. I'm not drunk, I'm not high. What I am is honest and truly, for the first time in my life, in love with the person who completes me. You, Molly. My heart belongs to you." He lowered his voice to murmur in her ear. "The rest of me too, if you'll have me."
Molly shivered. "Sherlock … do you have any idea what your voice does to me?"
He smirked. "I have some idea – I've been reading your diaries."
"Oh God," she groaned quietly, her cheeks bright red. "I don't know whether to be mortified or furious."
"You don't need to be either, they were very instructive. It's one thing to have people tell you you're an ass, it's quite another to see how your behavior affects other people. If I start apologizing to you now, I think I might be caught up by the end of the decade."
She laughed weakly. "Maybe the end of the year. But I don't need apologies for your past behavior, Sherlock. I just need to know that you will try to be better."
"I can't promise to be perfect, but I can promise I will always make you a top priority," Sherlock said. "Please, Molly, tell me you believe me."
"I do." She pulled him into a hug. "I love you, and now I know you love me too."
He hugged her back then grinned at her. "You never did tell me when to cough."