~*~PART 2~*~
'…I am perfectly satisfied with your company if you will tolerate mine…'
~The Hound of the Baskervilles by Arthur Conan Doyle
Molly blinked at Sherlock in total shock. She honestly hadn't expected to hear that.
Sherlock placed his hands into the pockets of his coat; the expression upon his face was quite serious.
"My mum and dad are very excited about you spending Christmas with them. Especially mum for some strange reason. They do seem happy that John, Mary and the little one will be there as well. Billy Wiggins is not allowed at all…as if I had plans that included him. They seem to blame him for last Christmas' debauched."
"Oh, you mean they blame him for helping you drug everyone? Heaven forbid they dare blame their perfect son." Molly muttered sarcastically.
"I didn't drug John! I wish people would remember that when retelling that story. Saying I drugged 'everyone' is just plain silly."
"Sometimes Sherlock, I think you are the one being silly…" Molly stated calmly before she began walking once more down the sidewalk.
"I am not at all silly, Molly!" Sherlock said in a tone that suggested that he was highly offended by that.
Molly gave him a look and walked faster.
"So…" Sherlock said very slowly, yet his feet kept up with hers quite easily. "Holiday with my parents…"
"NO! The answer is no, Sherlock!" Molly growled heatedly.
Sherlock jerked her to a stop.
"It was not a question, my dear sweet Molly. I have read some interesting and deeply disturbing things on-line about how people are more likely to off themselves during the holidays—"
"I'm not going to kill myself Sherlock! I'm doing better!" Molly cut in.
"Perhaps." Sherlock told her softly.
Molly could tell he was serious and deeply concerned. Maybe the night she had attempted to take her own life still haunted him greatly. To be honest, she was surprised that it still bothered him. All she knew it sure in the hell made him continue to paint and nail her balcony door the instant she seemed to finally fix the blasted thing.
"And I am very thankful about that fact." Sherlock continued, "But I must make absolutely sure that you don't—"
"I won't!" Molly cut in again. "Seriously, I won't, Sherlock! I swear to you that I won't take my life, just trust me! Please just trust me!"
"Like you trusted me for example?" Sherlock asked sharply, eyes full of emotion before he continued; his tone carried a hard edge. "If I remember correctly you dealt with your fear and shame all by yourself when you should have come to me. You could have trusted me then, Molly! But no, instead you keep secrets and then decide that the only way to deal with it all is to kill yourself! You really should have come to me, Molly. Yet you didn't! You could have come to me the very moment that damn bastard let you go. Why couldn't you have trusted me? Really why? You didn't have to go through that torment all alone. A whole month and a half…Damn it all, Molly, I would have been there for you! I also would have found that man much sooner than I did! Stopped him from hurting anyone else…Made sure he paid for what he did to you quicker then…Why didn't you allow me to be there for you from the very beginning? Seriously, why couldn't you have trusted me?"
Even if the last of his words sounded lost, highly confused and deeply heartbroken, Molly felt as if he had savagely back handed her. She felt her heart speed up and she thrust her shaking hands in to her coat pockets. Sherlock could be so brutal with the truth and especially when he showed what was in his heart…Maybe he didn't mean for the truth to be so cruel, yet it was. The cruelty was sharper than any knife.
"You don't understand…" Molly breathed helplessly. Feeling herself shatter inside.
"You are quite right, I don't." Sherlock seemed to be filled with an overwhelming hurt and slight bitterness. "So asking me to trust you not to kill yourself after I saved you right after you attempted to jump off that blasted balcony of yours is asking a bit much, Molly. So no, I'm not going to trust you! With everything, yes of course I'll trust you but not when it comes to your life. A life you took no value in, forcing me into never trusting you with it! Never will I trust you with it. Never! And because of that fact I'll do everything in my power to keep you from hurting yourself or taking your own life…"
Molly felt her eyes water knowing it wasn't because of the bitter winter air. She jerked her elbow out of Sherlock's black gloved hand. She turned and moved away. More quickly than before. She needed to desperately escape. Needed to get away from Sherlock…
His words maybe true yet they hurt deeply…What bothered her was that she had unwittingly given him pain. Molly had never realized just how bad her attempted suicide had affected him. All she had cared about at the time was getting rid of her own pain. She had just wanted to stop the endless nightmare and the bad memories that had been swallowing her whole. It had been hell, complete hell, and to be perfectly honest at times it was still a living hell.
She had known that her attempt to end it all had bothered him…But to witness his obvious pain and fear over it…Still strong after all these months…
Memories of John telling her that Sherlock Holmes doesn't do fear very well and if he experiences it…His handling of it can be quite scary.
Molly here she was experiencing his fear for herself. The deep and very real terror within those beautiful intelligent eyes. The fear that she would one day take her life and he wouldn't be there to stop it. She had given him that very real fear. Her actions had made the famous detective quite afraid. So much so it seemed to haunt him. She wasn't even sure Jim Moriarty could have done that.
No matter how quickly Molly moved Sherlock kept right in step with her as if he was simply on an evening stroll with no care in the world. She wasn't sure where she was going. She wasn't even keeping an eye out for a cab like she had originally planned.
Finally she screamed at Sherlock with all her frustration and guilt. Her hurting him and not really trusting him with what had happened to her…And not going to him much sooner to stop the bastard from hurting someone else…So much guilt…Too much guilt and shame…
"Go away! LEAVE! ME! ALONE!"
"NO!" Sherlock screamed right back. He jerked her to a stop and forced her to face him. His body so close to hers she would feel his warmth. His voice when he choose to continue was suddenly calm yet it still held a slight edge that made Molly stiffen. "I want you to listen to me very closely, Molly Hooper. I have come up with three plans. I went with the one I honestly thought you'd like better than the other two because I can be thoughtful like that. Now, I could be wrong yet I highly doubt it; though if you want I'll let you be the one to choose!"
He lifted a gloved hand and began the number count, his eyes never once leaving hers.
"One, we spend the holidays handcuffed together. If I remember correctly you didn't like being handcuffed to me all that much the first time around. If your completely Victorian attitude of when we went to the bathroom together was anything to go by…"
Another finger lifted.
"Number two, I give you some interesting chemicals that make you miss the holiday cheer altogether. I will, however, carefully watch over you as you drool on your pillow."
A third finger came up with Sherlock flashing her, a completely wicked smile. "And your last choice…A lovely Christmas holiday in the country with me, my parents and John's happy little family…So, my dear sweet Molly, tell me…What number are you going to go with? Hmm?"
Molly swallowed hard for he looked and sounded completely serious. Crazy, perhaps yes, yet deadly serious.
His face hardened slightly as he seemed to easily read her thoughts. "Yes, Molly I am quite serious! Nor am I crazy…Now, what number will it be?"
A wonderful fantasy hit her, where she escaped Sherlock and his very crazy plans. After an instant plane trip, she found herself on a tropic island somewhere with hot sand, cool blue water and there she was contently sipping a yummy fruity cocktail with a little cute paper umbrella…
"Oh, please do try that and see what will happen." Again Sherlock seemed to be doing his weird mind trick as he informed her of this, his voice low with an iciness that she wasn't really use too, she knew he could be frigid with a lot of people yet as of late he hadn't used his coldness on her.
Molly blinked up at him before angrily saying, "Sherlock Holmes, you stop being creepy right this minute!"
Even as she said the words the once lovely fantasy she had been having had her still on that same beautiful sunny beach, except this time she was handcuffed to Sherlock all the while drooling on her beach towel with the great consulting detective sipping happily on what had once been her yummy fruity cocktail.
Sherlock suddenly looked quite happy indeed as he placed her hand in the crook of his arm and together they slowly strolled down the sidewalk…
"Creepy!" Sherlock said in what sounded like mock shock before laughing stating in a normal tone. "Oh, I'm not being creepy Molly. It's not my fault that you forced me to make a study of you. It's a very fascinating study, I assure you. I could look at your clothes and see that you did your laundry about two in the afternoon. I know you stomp your little left toe early this morning. Yet, I have been learning that your eyes say so much more. I have to totally focus on them if I'm to know…How you really are doing. You're eyes never lie. I have never believed that the eyes were the window to one's soul until I made a study of you. Anyway, my dear sweet Molly what number will you choose? Hmm?"
Molly sighed heavily before she forced a big smile and really attempted to sound happy, "Why going to your parents for the Holidays sounds absolutely delightful, Sherlock!"
"Oh, I thought you'd say exactly that!" Sherlock said with a laugh and squeezed her hand; a part of her couldn't help but wonder if she shouldn't have gone with choice number two…
~*~END OF PART 2~*~
