Thestarlitrose, SammyKatz, Almightyswot, Mayacakaia, Alexa Clyne, Chaoticmom, Lian, Benedict-Addict Holmes, Coloradoandcolorado1, Empress of Verace, Hipkarma, Theannoyingone97, Watsonsexual, Rocking the Redhead, Toys R Us Not, Magistrikes, and the Guest.
And of course Lily is Wholocked, for giving me the prompt! ;)
I love all of you supporters so much, thank you for being amazing! Now, onto chapter 2!
**Oh yea, I don't own diddly.**
Enjoy!
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It's been two weeks since Sherlock smashed her very happiness on the pavement, literally. Two weeks that she had gone without seeing or hearing from the detective who saw absolutely nothing about her. Molly had gone home that first night and sobbed until she fell asleep. He was cruel, and she was done.
Now, she worked silently in the lab of the hospital, alone. John had done his part well in keeping Sherlock away, unless the brooding man had just decided he was as done with her as she was with him. That thought made her even more upset.
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Sherlock hadn't left Baker Street in two weeks. Oh, sure he had tried those first few days. Lying to his flatmate about where he was going. Though, John never bought it.
''You know she doesn't want to see you. Just give her some time.'' John would say. Sherlock would be a lying idiot if he didn't admit that he felt, well, guilty.
Two weeks, he stayed inside. Two weeks of near silence, barely sleeping or eating. He barely touched his violin, merely lying on the sofa, brooding. John had returned home to find the detective in the exact spot he had left him. Mrs. Hudson was clearing their fridge out, and she sighed, giving the doctor a look.
''Why don't you send her a card? Or maybe some flowers? Women love things like that!" She suggested. John smiled at her, explaining the things that had taken place. Soon, Sherlock was shocked out of his reverie by the older woman's hand smacking him upside the head. The maternal lady looked down at him, meeting his widened eyes.
''You find a way to fix this, Sherlock Holmes. That sweet girl has lost so much, you...you just make it right, young man!" She scolded him, fingers flailing about in her slight fit. She heaved a frustrated sigh, before leaving the two men to themselves. Sherlock looked to John, who was simply standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
''What?"
''How are you going to fix it? With Molly, that is.'' John asked as he crossed into the room, taking a seat at his desk. Sherlock merely shrugged, his gaze returning to the ceiling.
''Does it even matter to you that you crushed her feelings? Mere weeks after her dad passed away, I might add.'' He sounded off again. Sherlock let out a deep sigh, followed by a small utterance. John looked up, having not understood.
''I said, of course it matters. Contrary to what you may believe, John, I do have enough of a conscious to tell me when I've gone too far. I didn't know...about her father. I didn't know he had passed. Had I known that piece of information, this all would have been avoided. I'd happily be conducting my experiments at Bart's right now! Instead I'm here, stuck with all this static energy in my mind! I'm going mad, John! I need to fix this, but how? How?" Sherlock spoke quickly, his past weeks thoughts rolling off his tongue with an unmatchable speed. John sighed, and shrugged.
''I don't know, mate. You could take Mrs. Hudson's suggestion, get her a card, maybe some flowers...then again, maybe not.'' John stopped, thinking how that might seem all the more cruel. However, at his statement the consulting detective shot into a standing position. John looked up at him in shock, the speed that he moved at made John dizzy.
''Brilliant! Of course! It's perfect!'' Sherlock was soon moving about the flat, collecting his coat and scarf, all before bolting out of the door. John sat, wondering what he ad said that inspired the sudden change in activity.
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Molly was just leaving Bart's. She had decided to visit the cemetery that day, and had worn a nicer pair of clothes than she usually donned. As the cab pulled up to the gates, Molly sighed. She told the driver she would return in ten minutes, and she climbed from the back seat. She didn't feel the stare as she walked up to the still fresh pile of soil. It too a few breaths before she could speak.
''I'm so sorry, Dad. I couldn't stop him. Though, maybe it's appropriate that our rose finally died. You died, it's kind of poetic, in a way. Don't you think?" Molly spoke quietly to the freshly plotted tombstone. She vaguely heard the sound of the car door shutting behind her, and she assumed it was just the cabbie taking a smoke break. She continued talking.
''The thing is, Dad, he's really bright. He's brilliant, except for where I'm concerned, I suppose. I don't think he really likes me all that much. It shouldn't surprise me anymore when he's so cruel. It really shouldn't.'' She sighed, feeling the guilt seeping in rapidly.
''I called him an ass. Told him to stay away from me. To be fair, in that moment, I meant it. But not for forever. I...I need him, Dad. Insults and all, I like having him near. I think... think I've ruined that. He didn't deserve to be sent away. He just...doesn't understand how to treat people. It's because he's so clever. I know it is. I feel awful.'' Tears started to fall from her cheeks as she let the emotions wash over her.
''What do I do, Dad? I've already lost you. I don't want to lose him, too.'' Molly cried, her arms wrapping around her thin waist as the sobs wracked through her frame. It was in that moment that she felt a strong hand on her shoulder. She gasped, standing straight up.
''You haven't lost me, Molly Hooper. I thought I had lost you.'' His deep voice spoke with a gentleness that she hadn't heard before. Through teary eyes, she turned and looked up, coming face to face with her detective. She looked to the cab, to see the driver's seat was empty realization swept over her, and she chuckled through the tears.
''I am so sorry. You were right, I acted like an ass.'' He said to her in earnest. Molly sighed and nodded her head.
''So did I.'' She answered. Sherlock was fidgeting slightly, one hand held behind his back. Molly caught on, and gave him a curious look. He sighed, and almost same fully pulled it forward, revealing a small, lopsided and awkwardly formed rose. The mud was still fairly moist, and she could make out where he had tried several times to form the sweeping petals. Molly smiled even brighter, and looked up to his face. He returned her gaze, his eyes filling with uncertainty.
''I realize it can't replace the importance of the one that I destroyed, but I...'' Sherlock had began explaining that it was his attempt at apologizing. He was cut off by Molly's lips meeting his in a small, chaste kiss. She lowered herself back to the ground, before carefully plucking the mud rose from his hand.
''Thank you, Sherlock.'' She said in a quiet voice. Sherlock grinned from the corner of his mouth, a boyish grin trying to muster its way to the surface. Molly said goodbye to her father's grave, before walking with Sherlock to the car.
The tombstone stood upright and strong, holding up the delicate, if not awkward claying rose. All was right, even as the rain started to fall, slowly pelting the flower with large drops.
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Well, there you have it, everyone! I hope you liked it. :D Again, thank you for the response to this story, and thank you to Lily for giving me the prompt.