Yellow lamplight filtered through Molly's lashes as they fluttered then gradually opened to let in the full spectrum. She found herself lying in her bed. Her head was resting under the crook of Khan's neck and to her mortification, her leg had unconsciously draped itself over his. The smooth material of his trousers and shirt grazed along her skin. She did not even remember falling asleep but for the first time since she saw him, Khan looked at peace.
Immortality suited him well, Molly thought. His face was a white blank devoid of superficial imperfections. The body that lay next to her felt unnaturally hard as though it were made of iron but the suppleness of flesh added a dimension of softness. Curious, she moved her head and was about to attempt to touch his cheek when his eyes snapped open.
"You are awake."
"How long was I asleep?" She asked as she rose from the bed, prompting Khan to do the same.
He glanced at the clock on her nightstand.
"Four hours at most. You were overwhelmed by the mind-meld, I showed you too much and you panicked. I gave you a sedative to calm you."
"You drugged me?" Molly was outraged.
Khan's face betrayed not an inkling of remorse. "It was necessary."
"What are you doing in my room?" She demanded. When she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, she heard a rustle of silk and looked down. She was no longer wearing her work clothes but one of her nighties. To make matters worse, her bra had mysteriously vanished as well. Blood rushed to her cheeks.
"Was undressing me 'necessary' too?"
"I did not anticipate you waking early. I thought your nightgown would be more comfortable for you."
"You had no right to do that!" Molly's voice rose in indignation. She felt a keen sense of embarrassment and anxiety when she realised that Khan had seen her naked body.
Sensing her disquiet on whether or not she had been molested whilst she was unconscious, Khan calmly stood up from the bed.
"I did not hurt you."
"Get out of my room." Molly ordered at once.
Khan's jaw tightened. "If I offended you, I am sorry but please try to understand my actions after what you saw and felt."
"I don't know what I saw."
"For you, it may seem to be an illusion but for me it was an event that happened only a year ago." Khan's blue eyes flickered in the dark. "I watched you die. And to see you here, living and breathing again..."
Molly felt a pang of regret and pity. She would never be able to articulate what she had gone through in those few minutes of what Khan called a "mind-meld." It was unlike anything she had experienced before. She had been in sync with another person's thoughts, memories, and feelings as though she had been that individual one in the same. That she, or her future self, had been loved by Khan was an irrefutable truth.
"I'm sorry." She apologised. "I didn't mean to be so harsh, it's just that, well..." She twisted and tugged at her hair nervously. "I haven't really had anybody in my bed for a while."
Khan regarded her in confusion. "Are we not in a relationship?"
"What?" Molly's brows rose high until she realised who he had been referring to. "Oh, you mean...Sherlock? No, um, that er...hasn't really happened." She carefully evaluated his reaction. "Is it supposed to?"
"We are not together then?"
"As far as I know, no."
Khan's face darkened in realisation. "I have been sent back too early."
"Well, when did Sherlock and I—I mean, you and me—when did we become a couple?" The question sounded just as stupid out loud as it did in her head when she had contemplated on how to form it.
"We started dating two years after my fall, that would be in 2014. A year from now."
"Oh." Molly's eyes went to the floor, unsure what to make of this information. It was beyond strange to ask questions to someone from the future and to actually have them answered accurately. Tempted, she made another inquiry. "Did we marry?"
"Yes." Khan's sonorous voice seemed to echo in her ears. "We had a summer wedding at Hever Castle. It was one of the happiest days of my life. That, and the births of our children."
Molly looked up to find him gazing at her.
She knew he wanted something from her but she could not give it, at least, not yet. It was difficult to love someone who had already loved and experienced a lifetime with you when you had no memory of any of it. She fingered the pattern on her crochet coverlet, unsure of what to do. Oddly, she felt guilty for not experiencing what she thought she was supposed to feel for this man.
But he's not Sherlock, she sadly realised. He looks like him and sounds like him but he's a different person altogether. He's not the man he was born to be, he's the man those scientists made him to be.
"I've got a lilo. It's in the closet near the door. You can sleep in the living room on it, if you don't mind." She said after a while. "There's some spare clothes too. My brother David sometimes stays over, I reckon a few of his shirts are in there."
Khan paused.
"All right."
He turned to go and started to pull off his black turtleneck, revealing an astonishingly well-defined upper body. The skin was taut along the muscle and bone; a masterpiece in marble. As soon as Molly saw his chest, she immediately regretted banishing him from her bedroom.
Wordlessly, she watched his back as he walked towards the closet to rifle through her brother's clothes and take out the mattress. Plucking an unremarkable blue jumper from the collection, he swept it neatly over his head and slipped in his arms. The entire time, he could sense that Molly was looking at him and when he turned around, she gave a start.
"I'm going to bed!" She called out in a desperate attempt to sound normal. "Good night."
Flicking the lamp off, she dove under the covers, all the while praying to God that the night would indeed be good and that it would be a long one.
She wasn't quite sure how to handle facing Khan in the morning.
.oOo.
When Molly awoke several hours later and walked to the living room to check on Khan, she found him still fast asleep. She could not explain why but the sight of him lying in bed with his hand curled to his pillow was somehow, jarringly, endearing. If only that figure was the real Sherlock and not a Byronic man claiming to have come from the future.
Quietly, she washed up and dressed for work. Leaving a note on the kitchen table along with a spare key to the flat, she slipped on her shoes then left for the hospital.
She had decided, after a restless night, that it would do more harm than good if she were to kick Khan out of the flat. She was well aware that he had nowhere to go and although she did not doubt that the man was resourceful, given that he was gifted with Sherlock's intellect, it did not sit well with her to abandon him. It was obvious that he cared for her and as he had proven in the past, at least in his past, that he wanted to protect her so she allowed it.
Of course, she would have to teach him about personal boundaries but that was an issue that could wait until after work.
After grabbing a quick breakfast from the cafeteria, she took the lift up to the lab. When she arrived, she found a small group of her colleagues huddled in a semicircle and avidly talking to each other. When one of them noticed her presence, the conversation immediately died down.
"Umm...good morning." Molly greeted them.
Looking as though he couldn't handle staying quiet, one of the junior forensic pathologists Matthew burst out: "Did you really go out with Sherlock last night?"
Molly recoiled, stunned by this pronouncement. "What?! Why would you think that?"
"The registrar from last night, Aaron Ferguson, saw you leaving with him yesterday. He said you two looked awfully friendly with each other." Pamela, another colleague, explained. Her eyes were practically sparkling in glee.
"I don't know what you're talking about." Molly denied. Inside, she felt a rise of panic. God only knew what would happen if the actual Sherlock found out. How was she going to explain that?
"Oh come on Molly, this is great news!" Pamela cheered. "You're always going on about Sherlock although if you ask us, we don't know what on earth you see in him..."
"I'm not going out with Sherlock." Molly said, a little more firmly this time. "I was just seeing a friend."
"Ferguson swears it was him." Matthew countered.
"Fergie was on-call, he was probably tired and not seeing straight." She reasoned.
"She's telling the truth, guys." One of the senior pathologists, Chen, finally came to her rescue. He held up his mobile in his hand. "Greg just texted me, he said Sherlock and John were with him the whole night yesterday on a robbery case."
The others sighed and grumbled in disappointment.
Molly frowned at them, unable to comprehend why her friends were so invested in the progress of her love life. She turned to Chen, feeling rather betrayed, as out of all her colleagues she knew he was the most reasonable and kind-hearted in the group. That he would participate in talking behind her back really stung her. "You told Greg? Why?"
"Well who was that friend of yours then?" Pamela demanded.
Molly ignored her.
"It's not like that." Chen said apologetically. "It's just...you know, we got excited that you and Sherlock went out. We thought it was good for both of you."
"Oh don't even try giving that cretin any goodie points." Pamela imperiously turned her head away in disdain. "He's an ice cube as far as I'm concerned."
"So you really aren't dating Sherlock?" Matthew asked Molly.
"Who says she's dating me?"
Oh shit. Molly's heart leapt into her throat.
In great trepidation, they all turned around to find Sherlock standing just a few feet from them. The look in his eyes was indeed as icy as Pamela had so ardently described moments earlier.
"Is no one going to answer?" Sherlock's deep voice resonated throughout the hall. "You all were chatting about it so enthusiastically."
Silence blared around them.
"Who told you I was dating Molly?" He coldly asked, bearing down at the pathologists from his taller height.
"Nn...nobody." Matthew stammered. He nervously glanced at Molly then at Sherlock. "We, um, we were misinformed."
"That's quite an understatement." Sherlock replied before turning to Molly. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't spread mindless, inaccurate gossip around the hospital. If you are that desperate to establish a romantic relationship enough to lie about it, I suggest you find a more plausible pairing."
"What are you doing here?" Molly asked with such calmness that everyone else turned to her in confusion for not reacting to Sherlock's incredibly unkind remarks.
"A man's been found stabbed at the West End. His body was brought here. I need to take a look at it."
"Okay." Molly nodded. "Pamela or Chen can be with you at the morgue. I'm on lab shift today."
"No." Sherlock rejected automatically. "Aside from this nonsense about you and me dating, you are the least irritating out of everyone here. Chen is too much of a rule-stickler and Pamela is sloppy. She reeks of that ghastly perfume that she spritzes on in the hopes of attracting one of the coroners although she's got her work cut out for her since he's married. Lyle Watley is the one you're pining after, isn't it?"
Pamela glowered at him.
"I can't go to the morgue with you." Molly replied much to the surprise of her colleagues. Usually when Sherlock made a request, she was the only one out of them who was more than happy to grant it.
Matthew goggled at her in admiration but Sherlock was scowling. It was evident that he had not been expecting her to refuse him. He opened his mouth to protest but Molly got to the last word before he did.
"If that's all you came for, I'm going back to lab."
She turned on her heel and with the hem of her white coat whipping past, she disappeared, leaving her shocked colleagues and a thoroughly disgruntled Sherlock in her wake.
.oOo.
A vase of fresh roses bought from last week's market that were now starting to fade. The superfine white merino wool shawl gracing the arm of the chaise lounge at the foot of Molly's bed. Silver framed photographs of her parents and siblings sitting on a beach in Dover.
Khan's fingers brushed along the objects, reveling in the familiarity of it all. Molly's scent permeated the flat. For him, it had only been less than a year since she had died. In all of his unnatural life, he had never experienced that kind of suffering nor did he ever dream that he was capable of feeling it. The agony ran through him like a trench and even now as he stood in the safety of Molly's home, the void was unmistakably there.
Taking the shawl, his fingers entwined themselves in the lacy folds. He crushed the delicate garment close to him, burying his nose into the soft wool.
He heard the door open.
Looking up, he dropped the shawl back onto the chair and went out of the bedroom to find Molly pulling off her boots. She threw her bag down and kicking the offending accessory aside, she strode into the kitchen.
"Molly?"
Angrily, she wrenched the refrigerator open and grabbed a tupperware containing sliced fruit.
In silence, Khan observed her flipping the lid off then draw out the silverware drawer to retrieve a fork only to slam it shut.
"You are upset." Khan noted. "What has happened to you?"
"You happened to me!"
"What are you talking about?"
"We were seen last night." She said. "My co-workers were gossiping about it this morning and Sherlock—you—caught on. You insulted me in front of everybody. At this point, I'm sure you hate me."
She attacked her fruit with the fork by stabbing them earnestly with the utensil.
"That is not acceptable."
"I'll say!" Molly vented as she ate.
"You misunderstand me." Khan looked at her. "You cannot let that happen again. I can never see or speak to anyone that we know. Furthermore, you must take care not to anger my past-self."
The fork clattered down on the dining table. Molly stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief and outrage but he continued to speak.
"You will be an important part of my life. You will play a role in many of the decisions I will make. In my reality, I went ahead with the experiment. I need you to reverse that decision and only you can do that. The only way for that to occur is for me, as Sherlock, to fall in love with you."
"What you are asking me to do is impossible."
Molly did not want to admit it but there it was. It hurt her but Khan didn't understand. He hadn't been there to see that look in Sherlock's eyes. There had been disgust, repulsion, and annoyance. Hardly the stuff of great romance and even less of a promising beginning to a passionate love affair.
To her surprise, Khan simply stated: "I fell in love with you once in another lifetime. I can do so again in this one."
His confidence increased her bewilderment. "How?"
"It's quite simple." He replied. "I teach you."
