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They were off to the street lined with lamps flooding the snow on the pavement with golden light. On they went for a few minutes, until a taxi hailed for them.
'221b Baker Street.' Sherlock gave the address , before Molly even asked whose place they were going to first. Well, clearly, Sherlock got carried away by his thoughts and was convinced it was John going home with him, as always.
It took them six silent minutes of diving, with 'Love Actually' soundtrack's number one, 'Christmas is all around' playing from the cabbie's speakers. They stopped before the tenement and waited for a few minutes until Sherlock was down to Earth again. Before getting off, he looked at Molly's face once again, and yet once again wondered. What do people do on Christmas...? They exchange wishes, hugs and pecks, don't they? He had to do it anytime Lestrade forced him to attend some police depot dull Christmas parties. So, he leaned to rest his hands on Molly's arms and pretended to touch the air above her cheeks with his lips.
'Merry Christmas, Molly.'
She blushed purple to sense him so much and so close. The mixed scent of his clothes, heavy,nostrils-irritating after shave, coffee and the stuffy odor of the morgue drove her smelling sense crazy, as the heat beaming from his body pressed against her, which the little space in the cab made for. When he took his hand off, there was a sudden knock on the cab's window.
'Sherlock, is that you...?' He winked surprised and got out of the cab to smile and hug a short, plump, gray lady in a black coat and a hat, carrying a purse and a cotton shopping bag, which he took from her immediately.
'Mrs. Hudson, you're back.' He spoke, apparently forgetting about Molly. However, that was prevented by the lady.
'And is that a friend of yours, Sherlock? Oh, shame on you, boy. Why don't you invite her upstairs, come on.'
As much as she seemed lovable, that was an unquestionable order. And Sherlock was, for the first time has Molly seen that, visibly surprised and a bit confused. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hudson proceeded to the doors to turn over her arm and gaze at them awaitingly.
'Dears, are you coming?'
Sherlock gazed at Molly, his look disoriented with confusion.
'Come upstairs, Molly, will you. Mrs Hudson is no joke when you don't do what she says.'
He seemed dead serious. The cabbie seemed irritated. Molly seemed close to going mental of too much contradictory emotions. But, the time was short and she had to make a choice. Sherlock's impatient gaze added to the decision of her getting off the cab.
The little lady in the doorway smiled. But then, as they both proceeded towards her, there was a shout of Molly's name in the street.
'Molly Hooper, could that be you...?'
She looked from behind Sherlock at a tall, fair woman with beautiful, almost waist long hair of sand color and bright grayish eyes. Thought rushed through Molly's head as she started associating facts.
'Harry!' She exclaimed, yet restrained from running from Sherlock's side. After all, there was the 'angry Mrs. Hudson threat' still in the air. The woman approached instead.
'Sherlock,' Molly spoke, when they exchanged looks of curiosity. 'this is my oldest friend, Harry Watson. Harry, this is Sherlock Holmes, my...'
'Fiancee..?' She smiled mischievously, shaking his hand gently.
'Not quite.' Sherlock smiled faintly, putting on a mask of superficial cordiality. 'The sister of John, you must be.'
'I have a brother, if you're asking.' She seemed quite off-tracked and freaked out.
'An army doctor, lately back home from Afghanistan...?' He suggested, watching her expression tense.
'How do you know that, Mr Holmes?'
He smiled, mockingly this time, only in his lips' corners. There was a call from Mrs. Hudson from behind. Molly looked up at him.
'Can you apologize to your lovely landlady for me, Sherlock? I'd love to come over, but you see, I haven't seen Harry for ages and God knows when we'd have the chance to meet again...'
As much as Harriet Watson was stunned and disoriented by what she just witnessed, a meaningful blink from Molly calmed her.
'Obviously.' Replied Sherlock, looking at Molly one last time. 'Merry Christmas Molly, Harriet.'
'Merry Christmas, Sherlock.'
He went on to calm the unsettled by the sight of 'his friend' walking away Mrs Hudson down.
'Aah, someone's got a thing for my little brother's flatmate, don't we...?' Harry smiled, her eyes sparkling as she sat down on the couch at Molly's place. She was quite eager to stay for the night, her clothes were sticky with at least two weeks' dirt and there was still a dash of poor-quality whiskey one could sense in her breath. But she was a friend and Molly could not turn her back on her. That one time four years ago was more than enough.
It was back then, late September, when Harry met her and said those three words that shocked the five-years-younger Molly.
'I've got a girlfriend.' they were. To the withdrawn, inexperienced Molly, in whose world there were only happy man and woman marriages with lovely children, it was a news quite incomprehensible. She tried to hide her dismay, something that resembled loathing. But Harry was smart. She noticed and was shocked by her best friend leaving her. Left alone. Without parents, without Johnnie-boy as she would call Dr Watson, who was then away in Afghanistan. Without the girl she confessed all her troubles, regrets, hopes and worries to. Only with Clara, who she quickly married. And quickly divorced to replace her love with alcohol.
It was quite a bit of horror to really watch Harry and see her absent-minded, glazed look, the nervous, unsure ticks of her palms, definitely alcohol-lack-related and how terribly skinny and lurid she went. She has not seen her throughout those four years. And when they finally had coffee and a microwave Christmas pudding (God, bless supermarkets), one thing occurred to Molly. She made Harry like that. Had she been there for her, maybe she could have taken the whiskey's place and not need a reunion now. And they wouldn't be talking for four hours now (and crying for at least two in an uniting act of silent apologize) , until Harry touched Sherlock's issue.
She showed no grudge for Molly, telling her about the divorce. She omitted the drinking problem, but Molly knew that anyway. She was there when Sherlock deducted that by John's phone; and besides, it was well visible. After all, she was a doctor.
And all seemed well. Harry was fed, sober and had a place to take a bath for as long as she wanted. And after she was back from the bathroom, the talk got more comfortable, lighter and a bit more typical for a Christmas holiday of two long lost friends.
Molly cleared her throat after a few highly suggestive sounds from her friend, wrapped in a white blanket on the floor before the turned off TV screen.
'No, not quite. We're colleagues.'
'And I am the queen of Spain.' She repelled mockingly. 'Had he been in my area, I wouldn't wonder. An attractive, tall, sexy deep-voiced man... And a genius, on top of that. A perfect match.'
Molly smirked, wrapping her fingers around a white mug topped up with hot chocolate.
'Not for a plain Jane like me...' She's had enough of thinking of Sherlock Holmes and being in despair about his rather purposive obliviousness. For over a year now he's had her pretty confused with showing her feelings, giving bravery and honesty a shot and trying to get to him. He needed that, she liked to think sometimes. Someone who never let anybody inside the mystery zone of their loneliness, even Sherlock had to feel deserted sometimes. But she was not strong enough to break the glass barriers that aliened him from her.
'What plain Jane would work at a morgue, honey...?' Harry smiled, looking up at her. 'You're so much more. You just don't show it, you're afraid.'
What she was saying was all true. Molly often got angry with herself for being too withdrawn and to afraid to live with people, not just around them, so bad that she wished she could kick her own bottom. And still, there was nothing she ever did to take a step forward. There was past, all the back stories, but it was not much of an excuse. It has been three years almost, after all...!
'See? It's even worse... A corpse-surrounded plain Jane...'
'Oh, don't give me that. It's just you're not really you with him, and I understand that. The fun you used to be at the uni, the smart girl that always knew all the answers, the wit, the charm... That's you. But you hid it. I don't know what happened, but it made you hide it. You just need something, or, preferably, someone' she gave her a wink here – 'who would pull that all back to the surface. Mr Holmes, at best, wouldn't we like it, eh?'
Molly took a second to hide her face in her hands. Blast, how come they met the on third day after four years apart and Harry still could always make her confront the truth she was the most ashamed and afraid of...? That was a bit of a shock for her, but only a second later, she gave Miss Watson a smile. And that was when her mobile buzzed, for the first time she remembered in at least a year.
'Who be that?' Harry leaned immediately to grab Molly's mobile.
Good you took a day off. Different without you at the morgue.
SH
'Aww, that's sweet.' Harry smiled faintly giving her the phone after reading the text.
Molly looked down at her, her gaze heavy with tired annoyance.
'Don't give me that no more, would you. He's just bored to death, with your brother still staying at his girlfriend's.'
Harry seriously spit out a sip of her coffee on the couch, leaving a little brownish spot on the leather.
'My little Johnnie-boy got himself a girlfriend?' Her eyes went wide open with excited surprise. 'Who is she, is she pretty?'
' The name is Sarah, and that pretty much all I know. But you're not stealing her from him, are you, Harry?' Molly smirked, leaning to support herself against the couch as she sat on the floor, too.
'She wouldn't be my type, if she fell for a short, dull goblin my little brother happens to be, so no worries.'
'Fine.' Said Molly, still playing with her cell in her hands. The hour, it said, was almost 2 a.m.
'Oh, crap. Time to sleep, it's definitely work tomorrow.' She got up and finished the chocolate.
'Feel free to sleep where you want, but in any case, there's a guest bedroom next to mine, more comfortable.'
'Thanks, Molly. For everything.'
'No problem. Just sleep.'
Here it is ;) Comments welcome
