Stage Whisper(s)- (n.)A loud whisper on a stage meant to be heard by the audience but not the other actors on stage.
Ch. 1 Tis The Season
Nothing felt as majestic as Christmas in London. Choral music flowed out of towering gothic churches, the soft glow of bright lights burned in parks and shop windows, hot chocolate was served in abundance, and Doctor Who was saving the United Kingdom from certain disaster. There was cheer in the air despite the cold that nipped at rosy noses and cheeks which made even the grumpiest of individuals crack a small smile.
Molly always felt like Christmas was the time of year where you felt somehow healed and unafraid. It was kind of like getting a giant, bear hug right before being faced with new challenges. For Molly that was a continuing, permanent residence with the Holmes Theatre Company.
The Seagull had been a triumphant success for the 'Little Theatre that Could' and Mycroft had graciously extended her contract through the upcoming season after murmuring a few platitudes of: "There are very few who could put up with my brother, Ms. Hooper. You have earned every right to remain with us."
It was probably the nicest thing Molly had heard the man say and she tucked it away as probably the last time he would be so pleasant with her.
Overall, Molly had experienced worse Christmases in her lifetime. Having a new group of lovely friends along with a job that didn't always make her want tear her hair out was a nice way to begin the New Year. Though there was one thing she was still getting used to.
When her permanency at the company was assured it seemed to have given Sherlock the go ahead to monopolize Molly's time whenever John was not within his reach.
Sherlock was polite about his requests (at least half the time he was) and Molly had a terrible time telling him no. Torn between the idea of wanting to spend time with someone who she genuinely did care about it in a variety of ways and wanting to distance herself so she could stop caring about the 'Consulting Director' as he sometimes referred to himself as when his genius was enlisted for help on productions with other companies.
Roughly a week after the final closing of The Seagull in late November, Sherlock had brought Molly along on one of his Consulting Director excursions.
"Mycroft's idea of charity work," Sherlock said with a tight-lipped frown when he took her to her old workplace, The Warton Children's Company, who was doing their own rendition of A Christmas Carol.
"Why can't they ever do something original?" Sherlock had huffed when they had stopped in front of the company's cranberry-red poster for the show.
"It's tradition, Sherlock," Molly said with a small smile knowing he was about as understanding of this as a songbird was of swimming.
"Waste of perfectly good theater space and time if you ask me." He snorted as he pulled back from the poster and walked inside the building.
"Try not to say that in front of the children, Scrooge." Molly rolled her eyes and one of Sherlock's eyebrows quipped upwards at her statement.
Molly had heard on end how Sherlock despised this time of the year with its redundant tales and what he perceived to be false camaraderie between the worst kinds of human beings, namely one's relatives. He'd taken every opportunity he could to pick apart each new production of either A Christmas Carol or The Nutcracker as either a hack job of some former genius before them or of being entirely trivial and without merit.
The funny thing about his whiny, grumpy attitude was that Molly noticed whenever they passed by The Royal Opera House, which was featuring their own ballet company in The Nutcracker, he never paused to remark how incredibly mundane it was for them to put on the show yet again. In fact, the stage manager noted that while most would consider the casual glances Sherlock spared the spry dancers on lily-pink pointe shoes as disinterest, she saw heightened awareness that wasn't necessarily from irritation.
Unfortunately, she could never quite describe the emotions that flickered over Sherlock's face as they disappeared almost as quickly as they came, but there was a softness to his features that Molly wished she could forget. It only made her fall more in love with the man and she was doing her hardest to not succumb to the enigmatic, gasping need she had to be near him.
"Molly?" Sherlock pulled at her coat sleeve with a gentle tug when she hadn't moved from her spot near the entryway.
"Sorry," She said flustered as she pulled back from him to move inside.
They stopped in front of the doors into the main auditorium where the bombastic sounds of children at play gave the more introverted specters cause for hesitation.
"Are you sure you can do this?" Molly looked up at Sherlock who was now curling his fingers into his palms and then releasing them.
"You underestimate me, Molly," he said as they opened the door and the volume of the children's yelps increased ten-fold. "But to take a few precautions, don't wander too far." He surveyed the scene with a calculating gaze as the children turned to look at the new arrivals. A hushed silence fell over the crowd for a moment and then someone recognized Molly.
"Ms. Molly!" One little boy with a toothless grin squealed and children descended upon the pair like a horde of locusts.
Sherlock involuntarily moved closer to Molly as the children clamored up to them shouting and talking excitedly all at once.
Molly tried to greet everyone she could remember by name while Sherlock just looked at the squirming, twisting brood as though they were alien creatures.
"You're really tall." One little boy, Archie Delaney, with curly dark hair looked up at Sherlock with fascination.
"The benefit of a short friend," Sherlock said looking down at the boy who continued to stare at him with the same measured curiosity even as he got to hug Molly who he turned his adoring eyes on for just a moment before resuming his curious gaze on Sherlock.
"Alright, children, calm down! Calm down! Give them some breathing room." A middle-aged woman crossed from the center of the auditorium through the seats over to the Consulting Director and Stage Manager, giving the children a moment to scamper away. "Mr. Holmes, I'm so glad you're here, I'm Mrs. Agatha Fielding."
Agatha was the granddaughter of Eugenia Warton and now ran the prestigious company that she had once been an actor in herself as a child. She was a kind woman though very thorough and unwilling to put up with the nonsense of both the parents and the children who were a part of the company. She had saved Molly more than once from the ire of adults who perceived her to be incompetent and for that, the stage manager always regarded her with the highest amount of respect.
"Oh and Molly it is so good to see you again. I see your new employment is keeping you busy." She hugged the stage manager, her eyes flickering over to the director and back again to Molly as though silently asking her former employee whether she was being treated well.
"Where is your director, Mrs. Fielding?" Sherlock said cutting to the chase before Molly could formally greet the woman.
"Oh well—" Agatha twitched in agitation as she clamped her hands together.
"She's having a panic attack in the costume shop." Archie piped up. He was the only child who had remained by Sherlock and Molly. "She says she's not worried but you can tell that she's a total nutcase."
"Archibald Delaney!" Agatha scowled at the boy who shrunk back by Molly as the theater owner narrowed her gaze on him. "That is not a very nice thing to say."
"At least it's the truth," Sherlock said, a smirk plastered across his face. "Show me to her. I need to see the state of her director's book and notes before we can begin."
"You don't even know what you're walking into, Mr. Holmes," Agatha said surprised scurrying after Sherlock who was being happily led away by Archie.
"On the contrary, Mrs. Fielding, I know exactly what I am getting into," Sherlock said pausing before entering the backstage. "You might want to consider finding a replacement for this woman. Her expertise really isn't with children."
"I pride myself on picking only the best talent for my company, Mr. Holmes. Her resume is impeccable." Agatha straightened up to her full height. "I soused all of her references extensively."
"The benefits of a few favors owed and a healthy capacity for lying," Sherlock said in a non-committal attitude further insulting Agatha's strenuous hiring process. "Now, shall we begin?"
He hurried through the backstage leaving Agatha standing there with a bewildered look on her face as she turned to Molly.
"Is he always like that?" Her right hand pressed to her chest over her heart.
"You get used to it after a while," Molly said but then jumped when a loud crash was heard from backstage.
"Your director's book is as incompetently laid out as your stage direction to these children. Honestly, what kind of note is 'smile better'?" There came more crying from backstage as Sherlock continued to ramble on in his deductions. "Molly, I need you. This one's a crier!"
Molly shut her eyes and sighed. Sherlock Holmes never made defending him easy.
"Excuse me." She turned to her former boss with a small nod of her head and walked into the back where Archie was standing by the doorway enrapt in watching the Director flip through a thick binder that Sherlock kept mumbling over.
"This is much worse than I thought," Sherlock said tossing the binder with an unceremonious dump behind him. "At least your Stage Manager isn't so incompetent that he can't run this show. I am recommending you be fired immediately. I'm sure Mrs. Fielding would rather not a have a liar as her director."
"Please!" The woman in the center of the room was crying. Her dark hair was wild about her red-splotchy face as she heaved and gasped out shaky words. She floundered outward and attached herself to the edge of Sherlock's coat. "It will ruin me."
"You almost ruined an entire company with your directions. I find it only fair to have you removed." Sherlock ripped his coat from her fingers. "I'm not surprised the children decided to not listen to someone who continually insults their intelligence. Only the lowest of persons make those who are still in their formative years feel like idiots."
When Sherlock looked up Molly was startled to see anger—true anger—etched on his features before they condensed into a calm look as he caught sight of Archie who was staring at him in awe.
"Archie, go round up the children. We're starting from the top of the show," he said to the boy who beamed at the older man and nodded.
"Guys, guys! He got rid of the dragon lady!" The little boy ran screaming down the corridor onto the stage and was met by a chorus of cheers.
"Get Mrs. Fielding in here as soon as you can." Sherlock moved toward Molly as he kept a watchful eye on the crying mess of a director on the costume shop floor. "I believe Rebecca is about to resign her position." This only produced another high-pitched whine from the woman as fresh new tears descended down her face.
Molly gave him a curt nod before dashing off to get Agatha. She'd seen her director upset, annoyed, even irate in the past month, but there was this intensity in the way he clutched his hands behind his back and his lips formed into a tight line that made Molly wonder who in Sherlock's own past had made him feel as worthless as this woman had with the children of the Warton company.
When Agatha was fully briefed of the situation by Sherlock over not only Rebecca's credentials, but the way she had treated several children, the owner spared the other woman no quarter as she fired her and immediately had one of her assistants send out word to the other theater houses to be aware of the lying wretch. It was the final nail in the coffin that would end Ms. Rebecca Palfrey's theatrical career in England forever.
"I cannot believe that I let someone so cruel near these poor things." Agatha collapsed into one of the plush, velvet theater seats with Molly beside her. "Mr. Holmes found something I pride myself in being knowledgeable over. No wonder I had so many parent concerns over the production. I thought they were just being as ridiculous as always."
Molly squeezed Agatha's hand in sympathy.
"It's all over now." She reassured the woman with a gentle murmur. "It could have been much worse."
The two women blanched at the thought as they turned their gaze on Sherlock who was speaking in rapid fire sentences at the stage manager Gary Brown about the state of the production.
"We open in two weeks, Molly." Agatha heaved a great sigh as she leaned back in her seat and looked at the state of her theater. "How on earth will we accomplish all of what must be done by then?"
Molly worried her lip as she looked over the unfinished set, the children whose costumes appeared ill-fitting, and the poor stage manager who was now burdened with a heavier workload. It was an impossible task. The director had given no one any direction as to where the show was going and had changed her idea at least three different times judging by the clashing costumes and set design. However, Molly Hooper felt unusually optimistic.
"Trust in Sherlock, Aggie." Her voice just short of a low murmur. "I've only known him for a short while, but he's pulled off things which I thought for sure would be impossible."
Agatha nodded, glossy-eyed from worry as she watched Sherlock walk through the crowd of children and up to the two women.
"Mrs. Fielding, I think that your production will be fine; however, I'd suggest you take over directorial duties. Gary is…not as confident in that sector as you are," Sherlock said and Molly silently applauded him in being diplomatic in how he phrased his sentence.
"Whatever must be done to save this production." Agatha stood and blinked back her tears. "Tell me what we must do, Mr. Holmes."
For a second, Molly had been sure that Sherlock had been expecting a fight of some sort from the theater owner, but when she whole-heartedly agreed to his expertise it seemed to have lessened the tension that had built up within his system. He'd been so used to unwilling listeners before that Agatha's acquiescence to his direction gave him room to pause and, Molly noted, spare a glance to his stage manager that was akin to a silent "thank you". Molly inclined her head to her director in acknowledgement before he rambled off his suggestions to Agatha who was an attentive listener.
Overall, the production had to be gutted and revamped under Sherlock's guidance. Gary and Agatha were more than willing to take his ideas to heart and soon they had a well-formed plan that would allow them to open in the first week of December without delay.
The one thing that Molly had been unsure of was when Sherlock had decided to speak with several children one on one. These small creatures were not a part of his own expertise and Molly was nervous that he might make some rude deduction about the children's parents or their performance. This was not the case though. Sherlock was honest and to the point like he always was except he made his notes seem encouraging instead of deprecating.
In fact, the moment he'd come out of conversation with Archie Delaney the boy had hugged him and thanked him so profusely that Sherlock was almost sent into shock. It made Molly smile to see Archie follow Sherlock around the rest of the afternoon as he assisted with the show. There were a few moments where Sherlock seemed to have some discomfort over the attention, but soon he was asking for Archie's ideas on things while Molly was relegated as a simple watcher of the spectacle.
At the end of the period, Agatha was well equipped to send the production on its way and had turned to Molly with a smile and said: "I understand why you decided to stay with them."
If it was an inference of Molly's feelings or just the observation of Sherlock's brilliance at work, the stage manager wasn't sure, but she did not press the matter and simply wished her former boss the best of luck in the continued production.
The children were lament to see their new friends go at the end of day, but none so much as Archie who followed after Molly and Sherlock as they assembled their scarves and coats to brace themselves for the winter chill outside. The young boy came to a stop by the director who was readjusting his blue scarf with care.
"Yes, Archie?" Molly looked to the boy who continued to stare at Sherlock as though he was the most fascinating man on the planet.
"Will you come back and tell me some more about your plays? Like the Scottish play where someone actually died?" His brown eyes were aglow with eagerness while Molly closed and opened her mouth repeatedly.
"Sherlock, you can't—"
"Perhaps." Sherlock cut off Molly, stiffening when the young boy latched himself around the director's middle and smiled up at him.
Molly felt her agitation deflate a fraction at the sight of them. She'd yet to see someone, who had just met her director, express such genuine affection for the man and by the look on Sherlock's face this was as foreign exchange for him as it was for her.
"You're cool, Sherlock," Archie said as Sherlock patted him on the back with tempered affection.
"Thank you," The director said seeming genuinely confused when the boy released him and then turned to Molly to give her a hug.
"I missed you, Ms. Molly," he said finally turning that focused gaze on her. "Will you come back with Sherlock?"
"If I can," Molly said running her hand over the top of Archie's curls before they said their goodbyes and made their way out into the dark chill of the early evening air.
As soon as they were out in the open air, Molly turned to her director with curiosity. He was continually full of surprises that in small ways explained why he acted the way he did. It was dizzying though trying to connect the man she worked for with the man she'd just seen inside the theater.
"Molly, if there is a question you need to ask I suggest you do so before we freeze out here," Sherlock said turning from profile to face her.
"You handled the children well, Sherlock." For once she'd managed to sputter out the sentence in a clear voice. She'd been so startled by how he'd acted in the rehearsal hall she wasn't sure she'd be able to compliment him without stumbling over her words since the whole day had been incredibly odd. "It was sweet of you."
Sherlock hummed with a small laugh as he gazed down at her.
"Don't tell anyone. I have an international reputation to uphold," He said with the appropriate amount of humor that made Molly snort with laughter.
Oh, if he continued to be this surprising it would be harder to let go then she originally thought.
"Molly, why did you leave here? You're obviously adored by staff and the children. It's not as though your transition into our company was a smooth affair. You could have remained happy here." Sherlock rarely asked personal questions and it caught the woman off-guard. She would have assumed that he would have already ascertained the truth the moment Mycroft hired her.
"Everyone has to move on in their career, Sherlock," Molly said picking at the ends of her long stripped scarf. "And Wharton's was lovely for a time but…it wasn't the right fit for my aspirations." Then she frowned at him a little. "Besides, who says I'm not happy?"
Sherlock's face pinched into a frown when he found a puzzle he couldn't solve.
"You're… happy?" His mouth moved around as though the word seemed out of place for their conversation and Molly supposed that to him it would seem strange for her to think that way.
"I wouldn't have stayed if I wasn't." Molly reassured him. "You haven't scared me off yet, Sherlock."
"Just wait till next season," Sherlock said as a tiny smirk graced his features at her response. He looked back out at the busy streets, crowded with people who were out doing early Christmas shopping and turned up his coat collar. "Goodnight, Molly Hooper."
"Goodnight." Her breath caught in her throat as she watched the director walk off into the setting sun like a pale hero from a romanticized American cowboy film.
"You are a mystery, Sherlock," she said to herself as she pulled a knit cap over her head and walked in the opposite direction, burning with the knowledge that she was only just starting to understand who the man beneath the Belstaff really was.
A/N: Sorry it took me so long. It was hard to pin down how to go about this installment after the new season. I appropriated what I could and changed things around, but it's all essentially Sherlock. Updates might be harder this go around, but my hope is that it will be a short story worthy of the wait. :) Also, I am working on getting a beta so please be kind in regards to any grammar or spelling mistakes you find.
Disclaimer: I don't Conan-Doyle's characters or BBC Sherlock. This is just for fun. Enjoy!