A/N: So I don't know. Did nobody like the story? Maybe the synopsis is dumb? Probably yes to both. Well, too bad. Here's another chapter. xD Its mostly fluff. Eck.
In a small, downtown district in Kyiv, Ukraine. 23:42 on August 13th.
Sherlock stilled, his breathing becoming heavy as he shook his head slowly.
He came to stand in front of Molly, who was staring at the floor. She noticed his legs trembling as he growled lowly to her.
"What did you say?"
She took a deep breath, looking up a little more at his clenched fists.
"Moriarty isn't dead, and no one knows how he did it."
Sherlock growled as he took a step back, pacing the floor with even more determination. His hands tugged through his hair as he muttered to himself.
"How? How did it happen? You did the autopsy yourself. Couldn't you tell if he was dead or not? Couldn't you keep your mind on your work under pressure?", he yelled at her, his hands in the air.
"I thought- I thought he was dead. I was sure he was dead", Molly's head ducked, a few strands of hair falling out of place, and then she whispered, "I'm sorry, Sherlock."
Sherlock's hands fell from his hair to cover his face. "I shouldn't be yelling at you. I am sorry."
A nervous breath blew from her mouth as she lifted her head again. "Where should we start then?"
"We?", his hands fell and eyebrows raised.
"Yes, we. Mycroft sent me here to help you", Molly explained.
"I think that you should go home instead. All it took is one encounter with me, and look", he waved his hands at her.
"That's because I wasn't fighting back!"
"You should always fight back."
"I know you wouldn't hurt me, not on purpose."
"Molly, Molly, Molly", Sherlock murmured as he continued to pace. "There's one thing you should learn. Never trust anyone completely."
"I've known that since I was a little girl", she murmured to herself, leaning back on the sofa.
"And you couldn't care to use that piece of information when choosing friends?"
"Sorry, what?"
"Me, a sociopath? Jim from IT? Even John and Lestrade are associated with crime. But at last they're decent, not to mention ignorant enough. I don't know much about anyone else. Don't you have any woman friends?", his head tilted towards her, but his eyes were still glued to the window.
Molly rolled her eyes. "Ok, so that's four people. And I'm going to pretend that you didn't mention Jim."
"He was psychopathic murderer", Sherlock drew out the last words loud and clear.
Molly threw her hands up in the air in frustration, wincing harshly in the process. "I didn't know! I just spent time with him because he listenedto what I had to say, or at least acted like he was interested in listening. We didn't actually date date, more like friends, really."
His eyebrows rose, along with a sarcastic smile. "And look where that's gotten us!"
She deflated back into the couch, mumbling to herself. Sherlock stood at the window, and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Molly was crouched back in the middle of the couch, arms around her middle and head hanging low, and looked as though she were about to bolt for the door at any opportune moment. She also was trembling, whether it be from pain or shock, he didn't know. A closer look revealed bruised on her face, neck, and arms that he hadn't noticed before. Every so often, underneath her lashes, her eyes would scan the room quickly. Sherlock knew the look. John Waston had similar signs after coming downstairs after regularly occurring nightmares. (Sherlock wondered if nightmares of his fall replaced Afghanistan.)
"How long have you been following me?", he murmured.
"Since Estonia. Sorry, didn't get to Finland on time."
Sherlock gave himself a disapproving sneer in the reflection of the window. "How the devil did I not notice?"
Molly gave a half smile to the wall in front of her and shrugged. "Stayed pretty far back and kept quiet. I learned a few things from the people who work for Mycroft. I even met with a few of my dad's coworkers. Of course, they don't work for the SIS anymore, but-"
"You were trained to come on this trip?"
"I suppose so. It wasn't anything too strenuous."
"So, Mycroft sent me a soldier."
"If you're going to label me anything, agent would be a better term", she glared at him. "Mycroft sent me because I can work with you, unlike most people."
Sherlock folded his hands underneath his chin, and stared out the window. The perusing of his mind palace continued for nearly half an hour, and he was only brought out of it momentarily when Molly had attempted to carefully lie down on the sofa. She sighed and brought her phone out of her pocket to see the time.
"Can I interrupt your thinking for a moment?", she sincerely asked without a trace of sarcasm. Sherlock looked behind his shoulder. "I'm going to go back to my flat now. If you're willing to let me travel with you instead of following you like a stalker, I'd appreciate it if you knock on my door or something before you leave in the morning."
"Nonsense. You'll stay with me. It doesn't make sense to be wasting time splitting up and trying to keep in contact."
Molly scowled at him in surprise, sitting up. "Won't I invade your privacy or something?"
Sherlock shook his head, looking out the window again. "I've gotten used to not being alone, after living with- with John."
She watched him sadly for a few moments before pushing herself off the couch. "Ok. I'll just go get my bags and such. I probably should say goodbye to Ana and Ivan, too."
"Who?"
"They own that house down there were I've been staying. They're very nice. She patched me up when I first just here", Molly smiled as she stopped at the door. "Even been providing me food and such. Sorry, I'm rambling. I'll just, uh, go now."
Sherlock sighed. "I hope you haven't given them your name or anything else with that rambling."
"I'm not stupid. I'm content with being their dochka."
"What?"
"Daughter. Apparently, they're used to people having to be nameless."
He turned around on his heel and grabbed his jacket off the back of the couch. "I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"I want to see them", he said as he slid past her and opened the door.
"Why?",she followed behind him.
"The case, Molly."
"I don't think they're going to be much help."
Sherlock huffed as they continued down the stairs.
Molly looked around the hallway after she opened the front door with a key (procured from a flower pot underneath the window), locking it again as Sherlock came in. There was was a long hallway with a rug on the wooden floor, two doors on each of the two, yellowed walls. The leftover smell of dinner was in the air. Sherlock followed Molly as she knocked on the first door to the right. After a few moments of silence, the door opened, still locked by a chain. He watched as Molly gave the opener a small smile and wave. The door was quickly shut and then opened all the way by a short-than-Molly grandmother with a round face and slightly pudgy nose, white hair falling in waves right above her shoulders. She wore a red sweater, tan pants, and white socks. Sherlock quickly deduced that was the grandmother sort with no grandchildren of her own, or at least had ones that she wasn't around very often. She knitted and baked. Nothing out of the ordinary, except for her obvious endearment towards Molly.
"Dochka-", the woman smiled and motioned for them to come in, "you missed dinner. We were worried for you."
Molly smiled at the older woman's accent and nodded towards the wrinkled man with dark grey hair, sitting in the green chair, reading his evening paper. "Sorry, I was a bit busy."
"With him?", the grandmother grinned at Sherlock.
She awkwardly suck in her breath through her teeth and gave a tight smile. "Yeah, in a way."
"Who are you then?"
"Um", Molly looked up a Sherlock, who ignored them and continued to glance around the room, deducing that indeed this was only an older couple, rooted deep in Ukrainian tradition.
"No name for him either, ah? I'll just call him your lyubov", the woman winked and walked into the kitchen. "Come get your dinner."
Molly blushed as she followed the older woman into the cozy kitchen with a table, where she sat herself. Sherlock filed in behind, walking around, inspecting the place. "Thank you", she said as the woman placed plate of dumplings filled with meat, and began to eat. Anna set another plate across from Molly.
"Sit down and eat, my dochka's lyubov."
"Not hungry", Sherlock murmured as he stared at the plate.
"Nonsense. Look at yourself. You're skin and bones, and you haven't gotten my dochka any dinner which must mean you are starving yourself. Sit down and eat, young man."
Blushing again, Molly smirked up at Sherlock, who huffed and sat down in front of the plate, tentatively taking a bite before tucking in. Anna left the room with a smile and a I-told-you-so-look.
"What exactly has she named me?", Sherlock asked, his eyes flitting to the doorway.
Molly nearly choked on her food, wincing as she put her hand to her stomach. "You don't know?"
"I speak five other languages besides English, but Ukrainian doesn't happen to be one of them", he said sarcastically.
"You know five other languages?"
"Quit trying to distract me from my question."
She stabbed another dumpling with her fork, mumbling.
"I can't hear you, Molly."
"She's calling you lyubov. It means love."
His face tensed slightly as he nabbed the last dumpling. "We're wasting time here."
"Eating home-cooked food is never wasting time." He scoffed. "No, it really is. You know how long it's been since I've had such decent food? The last time was probably after my dad's funeral when everyone insisted on sending me and my aunt and uncle meals. Of course, I was only thirteen at the time, so I didn't realise how good it was. Never take it for granted when someone decides to cook for you-", she pointed her fork at him while whispering harshly, "-that's what my dad always said."
Sherlock stared at her as if he was trying to deduce, but then stood up from his place. "We need to go."
She nodded and stood carefully out of her chair, grabbed the plates and headed towards the sink, placing the dishes in quietly.
When they came into the livingroom, Molly smiled at the two older people. "Babuska, dedo, I have to leave now."
They looked up. "Will you be back for breakfast in the morning?", Anna asked.
She shook her head sadly. "No, I probably won't be back again. Ever", Molly added the last bit with an air of quiet finality.
Anna gave a soft smile. "Come here then, and say goodbye."
Sherlock looked on awkwardly as she walked over to the couple sitting in the chairs.
"Babuska", she kissed the older woman's cheek, "thank you for all the good food and care."
"Pa pa and good luck, dochka. Take care of that one-", she nodded to Sherlock, "-he'll be a bit of trouble."
Molly smirked as she stood up. "He is alright." Walking over to the green chair, she leaned down and gave Ivan a peck on the cheek also. "Thank you, dedo, for letting me stay here and hiding me."
"Anytime, kohana. Come back and visit if you can. She dotes on you, you know", Ivan smiled and tilted his head towards his wife.
She bit her lip. "I don't know if I'll be able to come back, but I will try."
The older man just smiled and patted her arm before she left the room, Sherlock trailing behind her. As the door shut behind him, he raised an eyebrow.
"We've certainly gotten chummy with the natives."
Molly huffed and stomped down the hall, ignoring him as she opened the door to her flat.
A/N: I should explain that I don't speak Ukrainian. At all. Whatever's here, I've procured from a bit of research. Dochka means daughter. Lyubov means love. Babushka means grandmother. Dedo is a pet form of grandfather. Pa pa is an informal way of saying goodbye. Kohana neans sweetheart in a familial way.
