'You bloody fool!' A resounding smack accompanied Doctor John Watson's fist as it collided with Sherlock's prominent cheekbone. 'You had to open your bloody mouth and destroy that girl!'
'John!' Sherlock yelled, mindless of the people passing by on the street where they stood. 'Bludgeon me later, but please, come with me!'
The doctor bit his tongue, holding back the verbal barrage of insults he desperately wanted to heap upon his addle-patted companion. Several moments passed, then he nodded. 'Fine.' He spat, then stepped nose to nose with the taller man and, poking him in the chest, he snarled, 'But so help me, if you force her to do anything she does not want to do, I will cut off every appendage you favor.'
Sherlock swallowed and nodded solemnly, knowing the former army physician fully intended to follow through on that threat if needed.
'Now, she took her horse, so that means she intended to go a significant distance,' John noted as he shrugged into his overcoat.
'Obviously, John. In fact, she is currently at her father's estate.'
John sputtered from atop his mount, 'If you already know where she is, then what do you need me for?'
The detective silently swung up on his horse and adjusted the harness before quietly admitting, 'For your support.' In the next instant, Sherlock was cantering down the lane toward the Hooper's estate.
John watched his friend's ram-rod straight back before urging his own horse to follow. Well, what do you know? Sherlock has feelings. For Molly.
Sherlock stormed through the doors of the Hooper manor, sending the faithful butler holding the door staggering from the force. 'Molly!' he bellowed.
A panting John Watson jogged inside, having been delayed by grabbing the abandoned reins of Sherlock's horse when the man had dismounted suddenly. Shoving the care of both horses onto a nearby servant, John rushed inside to see Sherlock taking the stairs two at a time, his loud baritone voice echoing his wife's name. Maids and servants poked their heads out of doorways, eyes wide and curious.
'What in Heaven's name�' Matthias Hooper entered the front hall and frowned at the sight of his son-in-law wreaking havoc in his home. 'Sherlock Holmes, what Devil is in your trousers?'
In an instant, Sherlock was down the stairs, John sure his feet never touched a step. He stalked toward the older man and towered over him, 'I want my wife back.' He snarled.
Matthias frowned, 'My daughter has not been to visit since the turn of the season. What reason would she have to be here now?'
The consulting detective narrowed his eyes at the man and determined he was being truthful. Running a shaking hand through his unkempt hair, Sherlock huffed in frustration. Matthias' frown burrowed deeper, 'Has something happened to my daughter?'
Before Sherlock could respond, John interjected, 'Merely a miscommunication, Mister Hooper. Has Molly written to you recently, perhaps we could clear up the confusion if we discover where she intends to go.'
Glancing between the Doctor and the Detective, Matthias anxiously nodded. 'She has never failed to write a letter each week. I keep them in my desk.' He led them to the far corner of the house, into a grand study. Sliding a key from his vest pocket, the old man unlocked the bottom drawer of his large desk. Sherlock stood behind him and was surprised to see a substantial pile of folded letters, the same parchment that she had written her farewell letter upon. Matthias withdrew a handful, the most recent, Sherlock deduced. Mutely, Sherlock took the letters from his father-in-law and started poring over them (there must be something amidst the drivel that might indicate where she has gone).
However, Sherlock was stunned into immobility. His eyes widened as he read line after line of his wife's letters. Instead of mindless gossip and self-pity (which he fully expected, given his treatment of her), he found that she had been relaying the results of his own experiments and cases, interwoven with her own thoughts and observations. An intelligent mind lay behind those unassuming brown eyes and unremarkable face.
Sherlock's mouth had fallen open in surprise, to the amusement of Doctor Watson. His joviality was short-lived as he read the letters after Sherlock and discovered he, too, had underestimated Lady Holmes.
When he regained his ability to speak, Sherlock turned to Watson and spoke with quiet humility, 'It appears, my good Doctor, I have been in error.'
Matthias Hooper was no fool. Behind a ready smile and twinkling eyes lay a shrewd mind. He knew that the match between his daughter and the youngest Holmes was a risk. During the courtship, he had hoped that Sherlock would discover that Molly was an intelligent woman, plain compared to the made-up beauties that flocked to socials, but ethereal in her generosity of spirit. Molly was smitten at once, of course. Sherlock Holmes was a dashing bachelor with an irregularly attractive appearance and a brilliant mind. Matthias was unsurprised when he recognized the signs of love his daughter held for the young detective.
When it became clear after an entire year of marriage that her feelings were in no manner reciprocated, Matthias watched her shrink into herself. She held herself high in society, but when she believed no one to be watching, he saw how sadness wrapped itself around her in a clenching embrace. Her eyes no longer crinkled in joy, her smile lost the brilliance it held before, becoming like moonlight, a mere reflection of what it was once.
And it broke his heart.
Guilt weighed on him, knowing that he forced her into a joyless marriage in order to keep his land. The Holmes family held the deed of the estate and, in return for giving Molly's hand to Sherlock, they permitted him to remain. Now, if Molly had left her husband, Matthias only hoped she had the good sense to remain safe and write when she was able, his land be damned.
He watched as Sherlock and Doctor Watson perused the letters Molly had sent. He smiled at the remembrance of her obvious pride in her husband's career. From the expression on Sherlock's face, the man had had no inkling that his wife was not a simpering idiot plucked from the ton.
Sherlock broke the silence that had descended, 'It appears, my good Doctor, I have been in error.'
Matthias smiled.
Perhaps, he thought, this has not all been in vain.
