Chapter Two: Apologies Over Wine
"Of course you like him, Molly." Tish knocked Molly's shoulder a bit in a tease as the plane began to descend. The ice in her bag was warm and melted. Probably due to the fact Tish insisted on talking to Molly about the captain she had taken a fancy in while she wasn't chatting with the steward who was very keen on coming around to inform Tish on bear facts. "I was hoping to steer you towards the steward, but I think I fancy him better for myself." She seemed quite proud of herself for saying that. Then she hit Molly excitedly. "Ooo! We could have a double date! Wouldn't that be lovely, Molls? We haven't double dated in ages."
"Yes, well, that stopped once you got married." Molly attempted to remind her sister of her husband however awful he was, but Tish merely raised a brow and tipped her head. Then Molly realized why Tish seemed so keen on flirting. "Oh, how, how long?"
"Eighteen months." Her sister scratched the finger with the empty ban. Molly wasn't sure why she hadn't noticed it before. "It's more a relief for both of us. Viggo gets his mistress and I get . . . well . . . our daughter." She tried to smile, but Molly knew her sister hated failing especially in relationships. She always made it a point that she had never been dumped before.
"Tish, I'm so – ow!" She leaned forward too much clicking her reddened ankle against her sister's healthy ankle.
"Miss Hooper! Are you alright?!" Arthur came around seeking assurance that the younger of the two sisters was not in pain. "Your ice bag is all swoshy. And not icy anymore. And I really wish I could fix that, but I can't find anymore ice."
"It's fine Arthur." Tish assured him making sure to touch his wrist lightly. She looked up into his eyes almost seductively. Molly chose to undo her window shade in that moment. "She's fine. Look at her. She's glowing."
"Yes, but she's red." Arthur concluded. "Red's not a good color to glow. I know. My mum tells me all the time." Tish snorted a laugh before asking Arthur for more facts on bears.
Molly could have called the trip a disaster in that moment however there was the fact that once she tried to close her eyes she could see him. The sweet captain with the red hair and blue eyes was cemented in Molly Hooper's mind. His uniform may have looked a bit silly, her father had been an airline captain so she was aware that Captain Crieff was not wearing the standard captain's uniform, but still, minus the proper ensemble he was something to keep her from wanting to kill her absentee sister. He was the only good thing of the trip so far. Well maybe the steward was as well. Only because he seemed to be distracting Tish enough so that she wouldn't bug her about the captain.
Molly heard the cabin address go on indicating the plane was landing. Captain Crieff had a little bit of stutter to his tone. Molly seemed to find herself noting how very much unlike Sherlock he was. Tish seemed to watch as the steward walked away. The young woman couldn't understand her sister's taste in men. They went from one extreme to the next. Viggo had been quite a bit older than Tish. He was a smart man with a grand fortune to him however Molly was positive Tish hadn't married him for his money. Her sister never needed money to make her happy. Just a camera and lots of good friends to take pictures of. Arthur didn't seem old. He didn't seem rich. And Molly hated to think of a man she had only just met in such a way, but he didn't seem too bright. Yet Tish's eyes seemed to grow wide whenever he came near.
"Molly," Tish said with a flutter of her lashes as she turned to the woman. A grin crept across her face. "Follow my lead."
"Tish, no." Molly mumbled as the plane began to file out.
"Tish, yes." Her sister mused hooking arms with her sister before they retrieved their bags from the overhanging compartments. Molly didn't squirm. She just gave in. "Just lean on me, sweetie. And I'll get you that captain."
Tish was always trying to be too helpful when it came to her sister's love life. In grammar school the older Hooper had declared that her sister had a massive crush on Tommy Straver causing the brunette pony tailed child to be teased for weeks because she liked a boy. Boys weren't really in with the eight year old crowd, they had cooties. As the years went on Tish would attempt to get the shy Molly Hooper dates. Often double dates with the brothers of Tish's boyfriends were involved. In fact Tish had met her ex-husband, Viggo, while attempting to help Molly with her crush on a professor. That professor happened to be Viggo and well . . . Molly really never wanted her sister's help after that . . . or before that . . . but definitely not after.
The plane was nearly filed out. Arthur was thanking everyone for flying. Molly stumbled about as her sister carefully wrapped her arm around her waist. Molly found walking on two feet very difficult in that moment. Her right ankle was burning. She suspected they would need to go to a hospital which the young doctor was a bit excited about. She liked to see how different hospitals operated. If she told Tish that the woman would call her boring. Molly could see the captain and an older man beside Arthur waiting for the pair of them to exit the plane. They were the only ones left.
"I would like to apologize again for the perversion of the captain, Miss Hooper." The older man concluded with a cheap grin. Her face went a new shade of red as she ducked her chin into the hem of her coat.
"Douglas!" Molly peeked to see Captain Crieff was hot around his collar tugging at it before he cleared his throat. He couldn't seem to look Molly in the eyes as he spoke. "I'm very sorry again, Miss Hooper. I, well, I can, help, if – well – you need, but yes, of course you do. That looks –"
"Sexual harassment."
"What?" Martin's eyes went wide at Tish's very loud, very sure tone.
"You heard me right." Tish went on looking from Martin to the man called Douglas, who Molly assumed was the first officer. "Sexual." Her eyes were on the bright faced Martin. "Harassment." Her eyes narrowed at Douglas. "And injury. She can't walk. We'll have to go to hospital to get her better." Molly dug her fingernails into her sister's shoulders. She wanted to say don't to her, but instead she bit the inside of her cheek and waited for the look. Tish looked to her sister ticking her tongue and shaking her head. "My poor sister has been through so much."
"I'm sure Skip didn't mean to." Arthur piped in. He still sounded so happy. It caused Tish to turn to him. "He just gets all tongue tied around – well – everyone actually." Tish managed a smile while Molly suppressed a giggle. Arthur was definitely different then Viggo.
"Arthur." The captain hissed through clenched teeth.
"Yes, well, as much as these fine young ladies would like to hear more about our captain's inability to communicate properly with the general populace," Douglas started. "I must once again offer our sincere apologies to both you young ladies." He tipped his head forward, but Tish only narrowed her eyes. Douglas was more of Tish's past type however Molly was finding her sister not buying the charm he laid on. "Perhaps you would-" A slender finger met the older man's lip staying his speech.
"Don't attempt to tempt me with cheap gifts or free flights or whatever you're crafting in that silly little mind of yours. You're not the captain. You can't make those very important command decisions." Molly smiled hearing a throat catching gleeful noise coming from beside a stunned Douglas. Martin was beaming, but attempting to hide it in a stern expression when Tish said his name. She pulled her finger from Douglas' lip. "Captain Crieff."
"Yes, Ma'am." His voice only shook at the last syllable.
"My sister is having an awful time." Oh no. "Her ankle is sprained and she can barely get around." Where was this woman going? "This was supposed to be a good trip for her, but now," Tish's eyes went to Molly. The pathologist saw Tish's eyes widen, but she hid her smile. She wanted to have one. Molly could tell that, but her serious face was not going anywhere. "Look at her. She's all broken. You broke my sister."
"And I'm very – mmph-" He mumbled feeling the woman's finger on his lip now. Douglas and Arthur merely watched her work as Molly's face calmed from her embarrassment and changed to what she suspected was pride. Only Tish could walk onto a plane and somehow get the attention and control of two pilots and a steward. Molly suspected if Tish worked hard enough she could fly them back home.
"Stop apologizing." Her brow rose with a small nod. She poked the tip of his nose. "It's very unbecoming of a commander of such a large vessel." Tish straightened up causing Molly to wobble a bit. "What I mean to say is that she deserves a good time right?" She looked to Martin who went to open his mouth, but closed it thinking the woman was to continue. She sighed. "It's a question, Captain."
"Yes, Ma'am."
"She deserves to be happy, correct?"
"Yes." He squeaked out. Molly found herself getting another shade of red. She saw Martin was getting uncomfortable. Empathy was building in Molly Hooper.
"So I won't sue or charge this company with anything."
"What?" Douglas and Martin chimed in together as Tish grinned.
"Because you're going to take us to dinner." The blonde drummed her fingers against the brown wool on her sister's coat. "Paid for and everything. That sounds fair, right? Give us a good time for creating such a painful injury." She motioned toward her sister's ankle. Douglas looked a bit confused. Martin just let his eyes fall to Molly. She had to mouth the word sorry. She saw him swallow before nodding.
"Absolutely brilliant!" Arthur declared. "Where are we going?"
"Arthur I don't think –" Douglas started before Tish cut in.
"Captain and steward, only, thank you." Tish said soundly. "No first officers. I don't think I liked your tone."
Molly saw Martin smile at her sister's words. He had one of the sweetest smiles she had ever seen. Tish went on to Arthur about the time and place for the dinner. She was getting her double date after all. Molly only leaned on her sister grabbing onto their luggage as they exited leaving the three stunned men behind.
"See," Tish said with a smile. "What did I tell you?"
"You didn't need to do that." Molly whispered. "You got them all riled up."
"And wasn't it fun?"
"Well," The young woman sucked on her bottom lip. "Yeah, a bit."
"And we both get what we want."
Molly knew the night would be interesting, but she didn't expect anything to come of it. She just wanted a nice peaceful dinner where nothing awful happened and everything came out the same at the end, though somewhere deep inside Molly Hooper she hoped for excitement. She wanted a bit of fun, maybe even some change in the form of a proud airline captain.
"You sure you're alright?" They hadn't sat down yet.
He had already asked three times.
"Yes, perfect, th-thank – y-you." She had responded in the same tripping way each time.
Captain Crieff and Molly Hooper were almost at the table for two. Tish had insisted, to Molly's great surprise, horror, and gratitude, that the captain and her would be sitting together without the company of a certain steward and overbearing photographer. Arthur had already waved from across the Italian restaurant in downtown D.C. at the pair. The place was fairly empty being that it was a weekday. Tish looked happy munching on breadsticks as Arthur announced their presence in the restaurant.
"I really am sorry I was late." Martin's hand hovered over her back as Molly used crutches to maneuver to their table. She had gone to the hospital only to check herself out. It was sprained however not incredibly bad. The vacation would give her time to heal. "Douglas was – well – giving me a very hard time." He squeaked out the word very.
"Well he wasn't included." Molly let out. "I bet he's all kinds of jealous."
"You think?" Martin seemed to beam at the thought. Molly could tell the relationship between captain and first officer was tumultuous.
"Yeah, maybe." She tilted her head accidently hitting his shoulder. "Ah, sorry."
He just nodded as he went to pull her seat out for her. She smiled thanking him softly. She sat down as he went around to the other side. He was still in his captain's uniform, but she could tell he had showered. He smelt of cinnamon after shave and cheap hotel soap. Her crutches leaned against the table as the waiter came over asking if they'd like something to drink.
"Oh, can we um," She looked to Martin suddenly as she spoke. "Oh sorry, wait, um, wine? Can you – well – maybe you can't or don't, but – well – drink?" Martin nodded softly.
"Yes, I can. And I do, but not a lot, and not often, but I will, if you – well – only if you want some." She felt something in her chest. Her heart fluttered. She tried to breathe slowly before looking to the waiter who looked amused by their exchange.
"Bottle of merlot. House. Um," She looked to Martin. "Do you – red wine? Like it I mean?"
"I like it. The wine. Red wine." He responded. The waiter proclaimed he'd be back with it.
"Sorry." Molly muttered looking into her purse just so she couldn't look at his face. She felt that if she did he'd somehow see she was flushed and uncertain. Like she was now, only she was hiding it. "I just – you know – you fly. And it's - what? Twelve hours rest in between flights, but I know – well- sometimes people don't drink or want to – heavy machinery – even though it's a while."
"It's fine." Martin puttered out. "It's appreciated. I appreciate you. I mean –" That's when she looked up and saw him sighing. She saw his hands go for his napkin. He was probably worried Tish would bite off his head if he said the wrong thing.
"You know you don't have to worry." There it was, her first full sentence of the night. Their eyes met. Molly thought that was lovely. She quickly looked down thinking herself stupid for not looking at him longer, not memorizing every detail of that gorgeous face. "About Tish I mean. She means well. Just trying to – well – not really sure anymore."
"Arthur?"
"What?" She looked up to see him looking at the table holding the pair. She could have sworn she saw Tish playing footsie with the young man.
"She wanted to go out with Arthur." He seemed incredibly confused.
"Oh – well – she is quite lovely." Molly didn't know why that thought had crept into her head. The one that told her someone in such a powerful position like Martin Crieff couldn't like her, he had to fancy her sister.
"No I didn't mean it – you –" His brow furrowed as he searched for the words. She searched his face. "You're lovely." Her brows knitted together. "No that's not what I-" He swallowed looking down a bit before letting himself look at her again. "Yes it is." He breathed out. "What I mean is that I can't believe anyone would want to go out intentionally with Arthur Shappey." She looked to the table seeing that both of them were smiling.
"Well he is rather sweet." She could see Tish was happy. She hadn't seen her that happy, genuinely happy, in a long while. Not even on her wedding day. "And she needs someone non-confrontational in her life. Bad divorce."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Molly noted as the waiter came back with the wine pouring it out.
The woman needed that wine. So when the waiter was gone she downed it. She told herself it was nerves, but part of her wanted to get a bit loose so she could actually do something daring and bold in front of this sweet pilot. She wanted to be very un Molly in that moment because he was out doing her in awkwardness. She saw Martin only sipped at his wine carefully.
"What are you," He cleared his throat a bit. "Um, getting?"
"Oh, well-" She sucked on her lip peering at the menu trying to shield herself from Martin's eye line for the moment. Only because she felt a smile creeping. She thought this entire thing was both insane and ingenious at the same time. She didn't know whether to slap Tish or hug her later. "The lemon chicken looks nice."
"It does." She practically heard the nervous pilot gulp down his nerves.
"And, you?" Her eyes gazed over him softly as she decided to place her menu down and go for the wine again. It was still half full though her lips and tongue were getting stained red. A half pink lip marking was planted on the glass already from her lipstick. His eyes didn't move from the menu so Molly decided to have a good look at him.
She hadn't expected him to look any cleaner then how he had flying the plane, yet somehow Martin Crieff looked more dapper. His hair was neatly side parted in a soft loop that made Molly want to run her fingers through it. There wasn't a single marking on his jacket. Perhaps he had ironed it. It had been a bit wrinkled when she had last seen the captain. Had he made sure to make himself look the tiniest better for his forced date for fear of another berating by Tish or because . . . he may have genuinely wanted to make a good impression?
"Does that sound good?"
"What?" Oh no. Molly thought looking into his eyes. He'd been speaking and she hadn't heard a word of it. Now he was looking at her with uncertainty and perhaps thinking she was mad. Somehow she became paralyzed when he stared at her like that. "Sorry." She felt a chill come over her. "I, was – thinking. Did you say something?"
"Just that spaghetti and meatballs looked promising." Molly almost giggled at the order thinking it was both adorable and very sweet all at once. "Not good?" He actually seemed to be concerned with his order. His eyes were back on the menu frantically searching for something else. "I could get something else," Now she felt bad because he could see her shoulders shrink and her nose twitch. Maybe he even saw her lips curl inward to suppress the laugh. "It-it is a bit childish I know."
"No, no, it's not that," Her hands were waving now as her brows lifted trying to reassure him she wasn't mocking him. "I was just thinking about your lovely uniform." Molly felt her face go hot when she realized what she was saying. "I wouldn't want you to get it dirty." And what those words meant. She rather liked him in the uniform. She really liked the uniform. She really, really liked that uniform even if it wasn't the standard issued one. She liked the way it looked on him, the way he wore it so proudly.
He peered down at it checking it over before taking the cloth napkin. He snapped it open causing Molly to lean back slightly.
"Sorry." It was a soft tone. Martin then pushed the napkin into his collar as a mock bib. Her eyes lit up when she saw him smile. "I think this should take care of that." She didn't have time to say anything when the waiter came over asking for their orders.
Martin sputtered out his order with a small smile from the waiter. Before Molly could open her mouth the captain took control and told the waiter what Molly wanted as well, the lemon chicken. The young woman gazed over at the man seeing his face was bright red from nerves. Once the waiter was gone Martin started speaking once more.
"I'm very sorry. That was rude of me." He said without pause. "I sh-shouldn't have done that."
"It's fine."
"No," His teeth were together and his lips were closed. He almost looked like he was about to cry. "No, it's not. I see men do it all the time and I thought –"
"It's fine, Martin." Her hand reached out for his. She stroked his warm hand softly. She meant to meet his gaze, but he was staring at their hands and how Molly's hand was on top of his. "At least you didn't order me spaghetti and meatballs too. I happen to be a bit of a messy eater and I also happen to like this dress." Molly motioned to the long sleeved dark blue dress with a pleated knee high skirt. She laughed a bit hoping he would join in. He had a very slow chuckle to him.
There her heart went again, fluttering like a hummingbird.
"I'm sorry I –"
"No more sorrys okay?" Molly was tired of hearing apologizes from both sides of the table. She knew she wouldn't be able to help herself so she had an idea. "Do you like games, Martin?" She heard a hefty sigh come from his mouth. Her eyes went a bit wide thinking she had somehow offended him.
"No, yes, I – yes – games. Games I like." She wasn't sure what he meant to say so she just continued on with her thought.
"I was thinking," She sucked on her lip gazing at the wine glass and the wine bottle atop their table. "What if we drank every time we say sorry?" Oh no. She saw his face. Completely baffled. Probably thinking she was a mad woman once more. "I mean – if I say sorry I would drink and if you said it you would – well – drink," She kept trying to convince him of the idea. "Not a lot mind you. Don't want to get too drunk, but just sip. Like a bit. Small." She nibbled the corner her mouth shifting her eyes downward. "Sorry. I'll shut up now." She felt her fingers leave his hand to fold into her other hand waiting for the silence to end.
"I think you have to drink now, Miss Hooper." Her eyes went up seeing that Martin was in fact smiling as he spoke fairly softly. Her hands trembled as she went for her wine glass taking a sip.
"You can call me Molly, Captain Crieff. Or Martin. I can call you Martin, right? We aren't on an aeroplane anymore." Her teeth clattered against the brim of the glass when she released it from her lips. She placed it gently on the table.
"Martin is fine. It-It's my name. So it's a good name. I mean it's an okay name. It's alright. Martin. Molly is better, but for you. Because that's your name. I wouldn't want to be called Molly, not because I don't like the name. I'm not a Molly because I'm not a girl . . . urm . . . woman. You're a woman. Sorry." He winced and went for his glass. She laughed a bit.
"We are going to be wretched by the night's end." Molly laughed. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."
"No!" Martin yelled causing a bit of stir in Molly. "Sorry." His teeth clenched together as he went to pick up the glass he had just put down. Once he was done drinking he started speaking. "What I mean is that your idea is fantastic." He went to open his mouth to say more, but stopped himself.
"What?"
"Nothing." His eyes shifted off her.
"Come on, Martin. What is it?"
"I was going to apologize again." The two looked at each other for a moment before laughing. "For apologizing."
"Oh no. That would be a double drink." Molly thought the words, sorry for being sorry, but didn't say them aloud.
"That would be bad." She saw him smile as he looked at her while talking. "Well, Molly, so you're in the States with your sister, yeah?" Molly nodded at him looking into her wine glass wondering how many times she would need to fill it before she couldn't remember the evening. She already had a bit of a buzz going on. "And you're not a photographer." Her eyes went up to look at Martin wondering how he knew. "Oh I was . . . eavesdropping I guess." He looked down for his apology instead of saying those words. "Your sister said you . . . deal with dead people. What's that like?" Her sister had said that through the door. Molly remembered that now.
"I love it." She sounded too chirper about cutting open the dead. She hated that Martin would see her eyes gleam when she talked about bodies and diseases, but she couldn't help herself. It was very unladylike of her to talk about these things, but it was her passion. She couldn't hide it. "I work in London at St. Bart's. In the morgue. Doing autopsies. Mostly finding out what killed people. Cutting them open and such." She then noticed Martin looked a bit green. "Oh sorry! I always forget that sort of thing is unpleasant to some people. It's just – I'm around people who I work with all the time that I don't remember-"
"You have to drink." Martin said looking to Molly's glass. His face was regaining color.
"Sorry?"
"Two sips now." Molly covered her mouth realizing her mistake. With her two sips her wine was gone.
"Whoops." She giggled a bit. Martin poured more wine in her glass. She noticed he was gaining a bit more confidence as the night went on. "Thank you, Captain Crieff." She saw that little twitch of a smile on his face. She liked it.
"Molly?" She also liked the way he said her name, all breathy and lighthearted.
"Mmm?" She asked feeling her head spin just a tad. The woman often hated being such a lightweight when it came to alcohol. She saw his eyes as he moved to grab the bib from the tucked in the front of his shirt.
"Here." Martin leaned forward dabbing the young woman's chin slightly. He pulled his hand away for a second then went back to rub her chin once more, a bit harder that time. "Sorry if that was –" He then sighed tucking his bib in again before going for his wine glass.
"I'm a big sodding mess aren't I?" Molly rubbed her chin a bit.
"No, you're not." Martin insisted. "Just had a bit of wine on you that's all. No harm."
"Right," She bit her lip peering to Arthur and Tish. They were talking very animatedly. No alcohol was on their table at least from what she could see from this distance. "No harm yet," She ran her fingers through her tight ponytail tangling the edges, feeling the tightness of her hair become a bit loose. "The night's young." She noted with a smile.
"Molly?" He started again. She looked to him feeling a bit more settled into her surroundings though she noted that his presence was still something she wasn't quite settled with yet. "H-how did you know about the twelve hours?"
"Sorry?" She sighed when she realized her mistake. "Bugger." She hissed under her breath. She saw him suppress a laugh before clearing his throat to get more serious. She didn't exactly sip as much as she gulped the wine down. "The what?"
"Twelve hours. How did you know a pilot needs twelve hours rest between flights?"
"Oh!" She smiled feeling suddenly giddy about relating some information to Martin. "My Dad was an airline pilot."
"Really?" He seemed interested. It was very enchanting to see Martin Crieff's eyes light up in a way Molly had never seen before. Almost in the same way Sherlock's eyes would light up when there was a strange body in her morgue.
"Yeah," Molly started feeling like she had been staring at his eyes for far too long. They went to the wine glass. It was almost empty again. "Fifteen years at British Airways. Died two years after he retired."
"My dad's dead too!" He nearly shouted it. Her eyes widened when she looked at him. His face was reddening slowly. "Sorry. Damn." He went for the wine finishing it off. The ginger man decided to pour himself some more as he spoke. "What I meant is that we – um – have something in common."
"Well," Molly said watching him pour the red liquid into the clear glass. "That's the second thing we have in common." Martin looked up at her as if to ask what. Molly Hooper only gave a small meaningful smile. "We also apologize too much." She reached for her wine glass in that moment. "Sorry about your dad." She pressed the glass to her lips.
"Sorry about your dad too." They drank together as the waiter came back with their dinners. He noticed the bottle was almost empty.
"Would you like another bottle of wine? Merlot, right?" Molly looked to Martin nibbling at her lip.
"I think we'll be alright." Martin said. Molly giggled as the waiter walked away.
"I hope so." She really was feeling the buzz now. She needed to eat however her dinner was a bit cold and chewy. Molly just ate looking to Martin every now and then. He rolled his meatballs across his plate a bit. "Is it? Is it a-alright?"
"Hmm?" Martin looked up then back down at his plate. "Oh, yes. Is yours – alright?"
"Oh," She poked her chicken with a fork a bit. "Yes. I – suppose. Yes." She looked back at it again. "Actually no. Not . . . really."
"No. Mine neither." Martin concluded. The pair looked at each other and started laughing. Molly wasn't even sure why they were laughing. Perhaps they both realized they had just lied to each other then flipped it around.
"It's alright though. It's not awful awful."
"Just regular awful." Martin chuckled spinning his fork around the noodles. He ate some. "Cold, but edible."
"Ah, yes." Molly cut into her chicken eating a bit. "But not terrible. Nope. But it's not about the food right?" Martin slurped a noddle into his mouth causing red sauce to dirty up the tip of his nose. "It's about the company. And I very much like my company."
"You do?" He seemed surprised. Molly wondered why. He was absolutely charming. She was the one acting a bit daft.
"Of course!" She declared after she had swallowed a bite of chicken. Molly had enough sense not to talk with her mouth full in that moment. "You're an airline captain. And you're very sweet. And very caring. That can't be said of most people." She casually thought about the consulting detective that may or may not have spent a night or two on her sofa after he had killed himself off. Not like him at all.
"Airdot," Molly looked up when he spoke. He seemed to have sad eyes in that moment. "MJN isn't an airline. GERTI is our only plane."
"That's," She searched for a word. "Adorable." She smiled.
"No, it's not!" Martin became defensive all of a sudden.
"Yes it!" Molly wrapped her fingers around the cloth napkin leaning forward. "Do you want to know why?" She pressed the napkin on the red spot on the captain's nose wiping it away. "Cause you got yourself a dot on your nose." She poked the now empty flesh colored spot on her companion's nose making a booping noise. She started to lean back realizing suddenly that her ankle hurt. Only a bit. She looked down when she sat.
"Doesn't that hurt?" He wondered ready to get up and assist her.
"No actually." She reached for her wine glass. "Doing the trick. Can't. Feel. A thing." She raised it up grinning then looked back at her half eaten chicken. "Probably why this chicken is starting to taste good."
"Sorry," He sighed picking his wine glass up muttering to himself. "Why do I keep doing this?" He gave himself a quick drink. "I just wish your sister thought better of me. I mean, I don't understand why she picked this place."
"Probably cause she didn't want to hurt your pockets too much. We're all in the same place anyway. Again I don't think it matters. She probably wants us all leaving at once." Molly wondered trying to decide if she should give up on her food.
"Well, it would be a bit easier, yeah, but," She saw his eyes go over to her then back at the table Tish and Arthur sat at. "They're gone." Had sat at. Molly looked over at the table.
"Oh," She wondered what her sister was up to. "So they are."
"Molly?" She tilted her head to look at him.
"Yeah?"
"Is your sister," He breathed a bit. She knew he didn't really want to ask the question he had on his mind, but it came out anyway. "Is your sister a good person? F-f-for Arthur, I mean. She won't - ?"
"Tish is," Wow, she really couldn't say much about her sister anymore. She searched for something she could truthfully say about the woman she knew before their dad had died, two years without physical interaction had left Molly baffled on who the woman was. "She is – well – she is." Her fingers circled the rim of her glass. She downed the wine before she said the word. "Sorry." She sighed a bit before going on. "I honestly can tell you – that – she does her best to make everyone happy." That was true. "Even at the cost of her own happiness."
"Well," Martin swallowed. "That's a bit of a relief."
"I don't think you should worry about your friend." She told Martin. "She may seem a bit demanding and a bit controlling, but she gives people what they need. She's got this – " She looked to the ceiling as if searching for the answer. "Sixth sense or something. She can read what people need. She knew I needed a vacation. And I bet she knew you needed some time to yourself."
"But," Martin started. "I'm with you."
"I don't count." She had said those words before.
"I'm sorry." Molly looked at Martin in time to see him drink. He had his napkin in hand leaning forward to dab her eyes. It was only then that she felt the tears. "I'm sorry I make you cry." He leaned back grabbing his wine again.
"It's not," She took a deep breath before blowing her nose into the napkin. "Your fault. You – remind me – of," She tried to find herself a word for what Sherlock Holmes was to her. "Someone I cared for a lot, but," She found her voice dropping a bit. "He's gone now."
"I'm sorry." She looked up to him. Molly smiled for some reason seeing the sadness in his eyes. "What?" He truthfully wanted to know. She started laughing. "What?"
"I'm sorry you have to keep apologizing." They both reached for their wine glasses again. "I'm not going to be able to get back to the hotel, Martin." She looked back at the empty table where her sister had been. "Tish is off with your steward and you're stuck with me."
"I think I got the better deal." Martin said under his breath.
"Thank you." Molly told him.
"For what?" He looked like he really didn't know what he had done for her.
"For tonight. For everything."
"Including spraining your ankle?" He laughed. She joined in feeling herself dizzy in a brilliant way in her chest and head.
"Definitely."
"I am fantastic, Martin!" Molly was in the cab hitting his shoulder as he shut the door behind him. Her crutches were laid out on the floor. "How can I not be? An airdot captain is helping me into a cab."
"Well, if you're fantastic then I'm," He searched for the word looking to the cabbie. "I'm," He tried again. Molly took that time to lean into him. He then looked at her with a very wide drunken grin. "Brilliant."
They both snorted with laughter. The cabbie asked where they wanted to be. Molly chirped out the name of her hotel. Her head slumped to Martin's shoulder. She looked at his pants noting how smooth they were. She picked at the fibers noting white polyester fabrics on there.
"Molly, what are you doing?" He wondered aloud.
"Shh," She slurred. "I'm deducing." She wiped her finger along the seams of his pants feeling they were ragged, sewn together many times before. Poor airdot captain with cheap fibers on him. She leaned her nose into his collar. The aftershave, while very nice smelling, was splattered in the wrong spots. Normally Martin Crieff didn't wear aftershave. Therefore it was borrowed. And borrowed to make an impression. "I'm brilliant." Molly concluded smiling at her own work.
"Well of course you are." He scratched the crease on his navy dress pants. "Brilliant Molly Hooper. You should say it a lot. You should never stop saying it 'cause it's what you are. Brilliant." She felt their foreheads click together. She blinked hard to keep herself alert.
"Oh, I like being stunningly brilliant." Molly stated. "But you," She turned to Martin. He lazily maneuvered his face to look at her. She squeezed his cheeks together. High cheekbones, like he has. Oh had. She should think about him in the past tense. But she didn't have to because nobody could read her mind. "You're something else, Captain Martin." She let her wine stained teeth shine. "You're like this flying thing that flies aeroplanes. Well. Real well. And I should know. Daughter of an aeroline cap-pee-tan." Her eyes were on his lips, but she couldn't.
Instead Molly Hooper let go of his cheeks and slumped back against the door. Martin blinked hard before clearing his throat. Molly moved to sit up. She found herself far from Martin. Further then she would have liked or hoped for.
"I," He started off his sentence. "I," He started it again blinking. "I want you," Her eyes widened hoping in some strange universe he would plant a kiss on her now. Maybe even take her in the back seat of a cab like in some very poorly written romance novel. The ones she would never tell anyone she self-indulged in. "To know," Darn. "That you are," He looked around. She wondered if he thought the word would fall out of the sky. "Important. You should know that. You are important. You do important work and your sister doesn't overshadow you."
Oh. Molly stared at him for a while taking in the words.
"You may not know it, but you are brilliant. You are brilliant at autopsies. And finding out h-h-how people d-died. You're good at conversation and games. You know how to have a very entertaining time, Molly Hooper." He looked to her with eyes that told her that he understood her pain, even if he didn't. He looked like he did. "You should always know that."
"How," Molly started feeling the coldness of the window against the back of her head. "How many older siblings do you have Martin?" He only smiled.
"Two." Her toes curled when he answered. One side hurt. Maybe the alcohol was wearing off. "I know what it feels like to be left out." She reached for his hand smiling.
"I know." Molly wished she had enough courage to lean in and kiss him. She hadn't drunk enough to do that.
They were at her hotel anyway. Martin shuffled out and around the cab to help her out. He wasn't at his hotel yet. The driver didn't demand anything. He took her crutches out letting Molly lean on them and start to maneuver. Martin was ready at the door to the place for Molly to come through the doors. She thought he was some kind of Godsend. Come to save her from her guilt. She had barely thought of his doppelgänger the whole night.
"Do you-" Want to come inside? She wanted to say it. She really wanted to ask if he'd come up with her, but her mouth couldn't finish the rest. She tried for something safer. "My number?" It wasn't a sentence, but he seemed to understand what she meant to say.
"Of course!" There wasn't even a pause in Martin's breath. He pulled out a very cheap looking phone. Molly typed her number into the mobile device handing it back to him slowly.
"You live in Fitton, then?" She watched him nod.
"Yeah, Fitton, but – oh- you live in –"
"London." She smiled. "That's alright. We can always take a trip to Duxford Air Museum." She saw his eyes go wide then his mouth went dead straight. "I was just thinking because you're a pilot and my Da used to take –"
"No!" He shouted. "I'm - I'm - I'm," She watched the stutter happen waiting for the rest. "Happy. I can't – remember – I usually – that's usually my – I ask girls there."
"Well, it's a bit of a change up then." Molly smiled. He whipped the door open. "Please call me." She usually didn't beg for men to call her. They usually didn't call her all on their own. She really wanted Martin to call. "I'd like for you to –"
"I will most definitely one hundred percent call you, Molly Hooper." Then without warning he leaned forward. He gave her the quickest, most swift peck on the cheek.
"Trusting you." She whispered. He nodded smiling.
"Have a good night Molly."
It was too late to say it. She thought as he went back to his cab.
She already had.