…
How did we let it come to this?
What we just tasted we somehow still miss
How will it feel when this day is done?
And can we keep what we've only begun?
And now these walls come crumbling down
and I can feel my feet on the ground
Can we carry this love that we share into the open air?
Into the open air
Into the open air
This love, it is a burning song…
…
Two hours later, Sherlock resurfaced from his Mind Palace to find John sitting nearby engrossed in a game on his phone. He took a calming breath as he slowly readjusted to reality and scanned the room for Molly.
He frowned as he found no trace of her.
"Where's Molly?" he asked, getting to his feet and continuing to look around the empty morgue.
John glanced up from his phone, "Her shift ended so she went home."
Sherlock stared at John in disbelief, "What?"
"She went home," John repeated, regarding Sherlock with a hint of unease as the consulting detective made an exasperated noise and strode out of the morgue.
"Now where are we going?" he asked, struggling to keep up with Sherlock.
"We aren't going anywhere," Sherlock replied in an irritated tone, "don't you have a wife to get home to?" he added, almost as an afterthought as he led the way out of the hospital.
John looked a little taken aback at his tone as Sherlock paused to hail a cab, "I'll text you the details later," Sherlock continued in a milder tone, "but, right now, I don't need your help."
Any protest John would have made to that statement was cut off as Sherlock hopped into a cab and sped off into the night.
A few minutes later, Sherlock stood outside Molly's flat and considered whether he had been too hasty in sending John away. His hand hovered above the doorbell as he contemplated what he was going to say and what her reaction might be.
His earlier visit to the morgue had been the first time he'd seen her since she tested him for drugs, now it was fairly obvious that had been a mistake. He took a steadying breath, he'd promised himself he would fix this and he would.
He couldn't stop Moriarty (again) if she was still angry with him, he needed her.
He rang the doorbell.
It took her a little longer than he was expecting for her to answer the door and, even then, she didn't look very pleased to see him.
"May I?" he asked politely, a little unnerved by her blank expression; wordlessly she stepped aside, allowing him to come in.
He waited until she shut the door behind them before taking both her hands in his and looking deeply into her eyes.
An action that only seemed to make her uncomfortable, "What are you doing?" she asked, averting her eyes.
Sherlock attempted to recapture her gaze, "I'm not sure, I saw John doing it at the morgue," he paused, "it's not working is it?"
Molly frowned and pulled her hands from his grasp, "Why are you here?"
"You're still upset with me," Sherlock said flatly.
Molly folded her arms and looked at him steadily, "Does it matter?" she asked finally.
Sherlock made an exasperated motion with his hands, "Of course it matters," he snapped, walking further into her flat, "you didn't even-" he stopped short, turning back to face her and looking caught.
Molly raised her eyebrows, "What?"
"You didn't even come to see me," he said finally, a little annoyed that it still bothered him but knowing that he owed her the truth.
Molly stiffened a little, absently hugging herself around the middle as she glanced at her feet, "You had other visitors," she replied, looking up at him challengingly.
"None that mattered," Sherlock scoffed.
"Not even your girlfriend?" she asked innocently.
Sherlock looked genuinely confused, "Who?"
Molly regarded him warily, confused by his confusion, "Um, Janine?"
Sherlock waved a dismissive hand, "That was all for a case," he explained, "it wasn't real."
"It looked real enough."
"Appearances can be deceiv-" he stopped short and regarded her suspiciously, "You said looked real."
Molly bit her lip, but held his gaze, "Yes."
He cocked his head to the side as he took a step towards her, "How do you know?"
"She was there," Molly said stiffly, "when I came to visit you."
"Do you ever reason with your head?" he asked finally, the sting taken out of his words by the almost gentle expression on his face. "She never mattered," he continued in a low tone, taking another step towards her, "you always did."
Molly hugged herself tighter and stared at the floor, unable to hold his gaze when he was looking at her like that.
Sherlock cleared his throat, "Well, now that we've cleared that matter up, do you think we can return to the matter at hand?"
Molly almost laughed at his abrupt topic change and she looked up at him with a shy, teasing smile, "I thought you said you didn't need my help."
"I didn't," he replied, a ghost of smile playing about his lips, "I came to see how you were." His expression turned serious, "But I would like your help, Molly."
Molly smiled, "Always."
Sherlock smiled back, pleased that they had reached some kind of understanding and, for the first time since his return, he felt that things between them were finally…right.
...
A/N: As I said, I'm trying to keep it canon so this is open ended (and a bit more hopeful than the other two) to allow for season 4. However, I plan to write other 'spin-offs' etc from season 3, so watch this space if you're interested :) Thanks for reading! x
