A/N - Thank you for the reviews and the encouragement. This story will probably be 3 chapters, maybe 4. Thank you for reading.
Chapter 2
Molly showered and dressed then headed to Bart's. She found that it was nearly impossible to keep her mind on her work. She kept trying to remember what had happened the night before. She would get little glimpses, fuzzy recollections, but none of them solved the mystery of how she had woken up with Sherlock. She supposed she could call one of her friends, they might know, but somehow she didn't really want to talk about it yet. It was like a secret that only she and Sherlock shared right now and she wanted to keep it that way.
It was late in the afternoon and Molly was working hard to clear her cases for the day. She had been badly distracted and everything seemed to have taken twice as long. She was also jumpy. She looked up at every noise and checked her phone at every alert, hoping that it would be Sherlock. He said he would be in touch, but he didn't say when. Her day had dragged on and she had about given up hope when the morgue door swung open and Sherlock, John and DI Lestrade entered.
"Molly we need to see a body." Sherlock's voice sent a thrill through her. She felt herself blush and turned quickly towards the body drawers. She couldn't help picturing him naked.
"Stop it!" she said to herself under her breath, hoping no one else had heard her.
"That's not what you said last night." Sherlock whispered into her ear. She hadn't realized he had followed her, or that he was so close to her. He chuckled as Molly's breath caught in her throat.
Molly fought to keep her voice steady, "Who do you want to see?" But she couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she reached for the drawer he indicated. He covered her hand with his, it was so warm, and helped her open the compartment. Molly was glad that his body blocked John and Greg's view though they didn't seem to be paying much attention at the moment. They waited by the table talking about the latest football game.
Sherlock was not behaving the way Sherlock usually did. He seemed downright playful. He was taking great joy in her discomfort and she decided that given the opportunity, she would make him pay for this. She didn't know what had happened between them to cause this change and she regretted deeply that she couldn't remember.
Molly kept herself busy at the counter while Sherlock examined the body and consulted with Lestrade. When they had finished and Lestrade had left, Molly eavesdropped on Sherlock and John.
"Why don't you come by tonight? Mary's making dinner, enough to feed an army." Molly listened curious to hear his answer.
"Sorry, John, can't tonight. I have a very important experiment that needs my attention." Molly looked up at Sherlock and he winked at her. She looked back down at her work trying to hide her smile.
"Right, well, Molly how about you? Plenty to go around." Molly was a little startled.
"Oh, well," she glanced at Sherlock who was bent down paying close attention to the body before him. He wasn't looking at her, but she could tell he was listening intently. "I'm sorry, John, thank you for the invitation, but I already have plans. Tell Mary I'm sorry. Maybe another time?"
"Of course, definitely. Well, I better get going, she'll be expecting me." John put on his coat, said his goodbyes and left. He left Sherlock and Molly alone in the morgue.
Molly tried to ignore Sherlock's presence while she cleaned up her station and got ready to lock up for the night. She could feel his eyes on her and it was quite disconcerting. Is this how she had made him feel watching him while he worked?
She was extremely nervous, not knowing what to expect. Her world had turned upside down and she didn't know if she was coming or going. All she could do was to take it as it came. She felt very out of control. Sherlock seemed to read her thoughts. He crossed the room and helped her on with her coat.
"Do you trust me?"
Molly swallowed hard. Did she trust him? If she were being perfectly honest, no, not all the time, but right at this moment? "Yes," she whispered.
Sherlock took Molly's hand and led her to the curb where he hailed a cab. It was a short ride and Molly was a little puzzled when they stopped in front of the pub she had been drinking at the night before. She looked questioningly at Sherlock as he paid the cabbie.
"I want to perform a little experiment," was all he said as he led her inside and to a table near the bar. "I want to see if I can jog your memory, so we are going to go through what you did last night." Molly started to protest, but he cut her off, "but without the alcohol. You better stick to fruit juice tonight. I want this time to be memorable."
Guilt washed over her, "I'm really sorry. I.." Molly didn't know what else to say. She felt guilty because obviously something monumental had happened between them that couldn't remember. All day doubts and questions had nagged at her. What had he said to her? If she was so inebriated how could she have been coherent? What had she said to him? How much had the alcohol loosened her tongue? She was almost afraid to remember. She had loved this man for years and he hadn't seemed to return those feelings. Sure, he cared about her, but she had thought that was only as a friend. So, what had passed between them to cause this shift? She wasn't complaining, it was all she had ever hoped for, but it seemed surreal. Without the memory she couldn't really believe what was happening. Every time he touched her was like an accusation. She wanted so much to feel like she had permission to return his attentions, but she felt herself holding back, unsure and wary of being hurt again.
Sherlock took her hand in his. He could see the doubt in her eyes and he hated himself for ever giving her cause to doubt him. "We can leave if you like." Again he was giving her an out.
Molly looked at his hand covering hers. His long fingers warm on her cold skin. She didn't want this to end. She was a little afraid to remember what she had said or done last night when she was so drunk, but Sherlock already knew and here he was. So, it couldn't have been that bad. Surely not worse than hyperventilating and vomiting in front of him this morning, naked. What did she really have to lose? It seemed that she had already gained more than the embarrassment of the memory might cost.
Molly looked up into his eyes, they were more green tonight than blue. Funny that she hadn't noticed how they changed before, but then again, she hadn't had much chance to sit and stare into them before. "No, we can stay." Sherlock looked pleased.
"So, does any of this ring a bell?" he asked.
Molly looked around at the pub full of people. "I remember meeting a couple of friends and we sat over there," she indicated a table in the corner. "We started with drinks, then had a couple of shots. Then we went and danced." Molly looked at the dance floor, it wasn't as crowded tonight but it was early still. She watched the scene play out in her memory. She had danced with friends, then she remembered a man. He was tall, blonde hair, but try as she might she couldn't remember his face, probably because it hadn't been important. She did remember him putting his arms around her. Molly blushed but didn't look at Sherlock, she was embarrassed, and she was sure he could see it on her face. They had danced awhile, and he had started getting a little more aggressive. She remembered him pulling her close and grinding himself against her. She hadn't minded at the time. She had gone out that night because she had been feeling down and very lonely, so she had welcomed the attention. It had made her feel attractive and desirable.
But this is where things started getting a little fuzzier. They had gone to sit again, in a booth somewhere in the back. There were more shots and she didn't remember seeing her friends after that. She had a vague impression that they had been kissing, then maybe being outside, it was cold. The next thing she remembered clearly was waking up in her room, with Sherlock.
"I need a drink." Molly declared and headed for the bar. "She had expected Sherlock to protest, but he remained at the table waiting for her to return. This time Molly decided to stick to beer. Her stomach couldn't take hard liquor today, but she definitely needed some liquid courage. While she was standing at the bar she had another flash of memory. She remembered walking past this spot and heading to the back hall. She took her beer from the bar and took a sip wondering where she might have been going. Making up her mind, she took a long draw off of the beer and placed it back on the bar and headed for the hall.
Molly stood in the dim hall and looked both ways. There were restrooms ahead, maybe she had used the loo. She walked to the Ladies room and opened the door to look around. She was familiar with the restroom, she had been to this pub several times before, but it didn't feel right to her. She didn't think she had come in here last night. She closed the door and continued on down the hall. She remembered the click of her heels on the wooden floor. There was an exit sign illuminated ahead and a short corridor that ran off to the right. Molly stood at the intersection and looked in both directions. She remembered being cold, maybe she had gone outside. She pushed the exit door open and found that it accessed an alley that ran from the back of the bar out to the main street. There were several trash dumpsters that looked vaguely familiar. She had a quick flash of memory. Somehow she knew what that brick wall felt like pressed up against her back. Molly turned back to the bar and let the door slam behind her.
She grabbed her beer off of the bar and rejoined Sherlock at their table. He had been checking his text messages on his phone, but looked up curiously as she approached.
"Are you ready to talk about it?"
"I'm not nearly drunk enough yet." Molly said as she finished the beer and signaled for another one.
"What do you remember?" he asked setting his phone aside.
"I'll tell you what I don't remember. You." Molly said a little sharper than she had intended. Molly regretted it as soon as it was out of her mouth, but Sherlock didn't seem to be bothered by it. She took a deep breath, "Apparently I remember making a fool out of myself, par for the course, but where do you come in?"
"I came in about the time you walked out to the alley." He took in the blank look on her face and gave her a small smile. "You might want to check your text messages."
"My text mes…?" Molly fished her phone from the striped bag. She pressed a few buttons, accessed her mailbox and quickly scanned the messages. She had sent several messages to Sherlock's number last night. She scrolled back looking for the earliest text.
1:37 AM - So drunk. Might do something stupid. MH
1:39 AM - Please stop me. MH
Molly's face burned, she set the phone aside and took another long drink. "So, I called you for help. And you…?" She could barely look him in the eyes.
"I got here as soon as I could. Almost too late." He said ruefully.
"How did you know where I was?"
"I overheard you making plans when I was in the lab. I knew you were planning on meeting some people here." Molly filed the fact that he had been paying attention to her away to examine at a later time.
"What did you mean 'almost too late'?" she asked afraid of the answer.
"I couldn't find you when I got here. But your coat was over a chair by the table, so I knew you were still here somewhere."
"I checked the dance floor first, then the restrooms, the only place left was the alley.
Molly took another drink of her beer. As he spoke she began to remember bits and pieces of what had happened.
