Terribly sorry it's taken me so long to update. But I do have my very first laptop coming this week so hopefully that will make for more convenient writing and quicker updates. Thank you deeply for your reviews on last chapter, especially since I went out on a limb with reckless Molly. I assure you that she is grounded this chapter. Actually, it started out light and humorous, but with the addition of a certain someone (non-subtle cough), it got a bit angsty. Well, for me at least. Also, to my embarrassment (I'm from America, damn it), I had used the wrong terminology in the last chapter regarding Molly's lack of legwear. Translate the word 'pants' from America to the UK and it means underwear. I thank the reviewer who pointed that out as this next chapter would have been awfully odd to read. Either way, I do hope you enjoy it!
Chapter 4 - The Ache We Bury
"I...asked you to...tuck me in?" Molly sounded out.
Greg threw her a sheepish smile, shifting slightly against the bars he leaned back on.
"In the most platonic of manners, yes. You were relieved to see a familiar face and I would have done anything to make you feel a little less...imprisoned."
"Oh...my...God," the pathologist quietly moaned, hands hiding her flushed face. "I'm so sorry."
"Nothing to be embarrassed about. Certainly not the worst request asked out of me."
He smiled at this, but Molly only shook her head, staring down at her legs.
Which oddly enough, bore no fabric.
"Happen to know how I lost my jeans by any chance?" she requested.
"Was hoping you could tell me that. You weren't...attacked, were you?"
"Even if I was, I can't remember."
"There'd be physical markings if you were. Worst I think that happened was a bit of stumbling about in central London at two in the morning."
She tried not to cringe at this, but failed.
"This...Falley fellow...is he going to file a complaint?" she redirected.
"It's a misdemeanor, not even that," he assured. "You're free to leave whenever you want. Bail's been paid already. I was just waiting until you woke up and understood your situation, to tell you."
Molly stayed glued to her spot, suddenly not wanting to face the world as fearlessly as she'd done so last night.
Actually, she'd be quite content to stay in the jail cell for a little longer. Because from what Greg had pieced together and the few memories she was able to recall, her actions had been just a bit more extravagant than she intended.
In the beginning, as Greg related what had occurred to land her in a jail cell at New Scotland Yard, Molly had been mortified. And considering she cut up dead people for a living, this was quite the statement.
Combined with the bits she remembered - wanting to steal a car, cursing out an officer of the law - she was sure she never wanted to show her face again in public. Not only did this border on the crazy, but personally, it'd been completely irresponsible.
But rather than wallow, as she sort of expected herself to do, Molly ended up venturing down a different emotional root.
Yes, she was still embarrassed about her misadventure. Her missing trousers mystery might haunt a few of her dreams.
However, she'd done what she set out to do in the first place. Make a memory and have fun.
Granted, she couldn't remember all of said memory. But she knew enough that she had felt exhilarated last night. Alive. Unlike herself and more like the person she had planned on being, but was too afraid to take the plunge.
Plus, she wasn't in her lab, working over a cadaver and thus what she'd done, couldn't be considered unprofessional. She'd had fun on her own time.
Though, she couldn't blame herself for thinking her actions unprofessional. It just showed how much of her work mindset really carried over into her personal life.
Depressing matter, but something she was hoping to quickly change.
Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Molly moved to stand, using the mattress as support.
Simultaneously, her head felt like it was splitting in two while her legs wobbled a bit.
"Need any help?"
"No, I've got it," she smiled, extending her arms. "Though, I'd really appreciate something I could wear on my way out so every officer doesn't see me in my knickers."
Greg chuckled, nodding understandingly. Though, she dearly hoped it wasn't from any personal experience.
"Be right back, then."
As he departed, Molly made tiny steps over to a cell wall, leaning herself against it.
"Well, guess I lived for once."
This sentiment echoed back to her and she couldn't help but wince slightly at the pounding in her skull.
Hopefully, Cassie fared better than she did.
When Lestrade had recounted her adventure last night, she asked about Cassie, hoping she'd gotten somewhere safe as well. Though the woman could hold her own, she was still younger by two years and in that regard, Molly felt responsible for her. Especially when it'd been her brilliant plan to hijack a car.
He hadn't heard anything yet, but promised to get in contact with her should she be seen in a similar position of confusion.
In the short minutes it took Greg to return, Molly found herself perking up a bit. It felt so much nicer to not keep scolding herself for her actions when she remembered that occurences like she'd had, were normal. She'd just been so wrapped up in work, wrapped up in her emotions, that she forgot the sort of misadventures people got into. Overdue, really, in her case.
"Hope these fit," Greg offered, slipping inside the cell, hand extending the navy blue sweatpants. "They're extras from a storage room officers go when they need a change of clothes."
She accepted them gratefully, but paused with them in her grip. Something in the back of her head, a memory, possibly, stirred at Greg's action.
But when it didn't come to her in a minute, she left it alone, sliding the warm fabric up to her waist.
Faintly, she thought how relieving it was that Greg happened to be such a good friend. Otherwise, standing before him without any trousers might have just caused her to never want to make eye contact with him again.
"Feeling better?"
"Heads killing me, but other than that, yes," she revealed, grinning. "I want to thank you, Greg, for making sure I was safe last night. A bit of a shock, I know, but this won't be happening again. I owe you."
"Don't worry about it. You were a friend and it was my job," he brushed off. "Though, I do want to have a talk with you. Some other day, maybe, but soon."
She didn't bother playing dumb regarding the topic. She owed him that much.
"I'm sorry I lied, but at the time, it was necessary. And-."
"Another time," he repeated. "Right now, someone wants a word with you. Been wanting one nearly all morning, but I thought it better you were in a more cohesive state of mind. Need your wits to keep up with him."
"Greg," she pressed slowly, head beginning to ache from something other than her hangover, "you didn't call...him. Please tell me you didn't call-."
"He may be an arse at times, but I hold by my reasoning that he cares more about you than he shows. Plus, thought you might want to thank Sherlock for paying your bail."
Her retort was cut short as Greg backed out of the cell, and in place, entered Sherlock.
"Ah...damn," she muttered, thankful her legs were at least clothed.
"Lestrade informed me you had quite the...expedition last night," he began coolly.
His immediate dive into the conversation alerted her that he might have been rehearsing what to say for quite a while.
"Shouldn't have informed you in the first place, but yes. Thank you for paying my bail. Next time, though, you don't have to get involved. You don't owe me any favors."
It felt harsh to say, but Sherlock's presence did nothing but annoy her at the moment. Knowing that Lestrade thought something still existed between them, made it even worse.
"What favors could I possibly still owe you?"
And this is exactly why she had to be harsh with him. His own responses could tear a lesser woman to shreds.
"None," she confirmed tightly. "Now, if you'd excuse me-."
"-we're not finished."
His lack of motion from the entrance to her cell, coined with his demanding statement, only further incensed her.
But, she kept reminding herself that he had paid for her bail. For whatever reason.
At least she could show him the courtesy to listen.
"Make it quick."
"Have somewhere to be?"
"None of your concern."
He narrowed his eyes at this, but otherwise, appeared unruffled.
"Lestrade told me he found you without trousers."
"So he did."
"Why?"
"When I find out, I'll make sure you're the first to know."
"Is the sarcasm necessary?"
"Is this conversation?" she countered tiredly, running a hand through her hair. "Sherlock, please, just let me go home. I've already expressed my thanks. That was very...thoughtful of you. Now, let me go and get some sleep."
She made to move forward, but her steps faltered when he stayed rooted in the same spot.
With a sigh, she tried swerving around him, but he easily blocked the entrance by moving with her, half of his mass now in place of her way out.
"I swear you are such a child at times."
"Most people tend to agree. And yet, you were in love with me for years. Endearing, but I do hope you don't make it a habit of falling in love with children."
Molly's hand jerked, wanting in that moment to do nothing but slap that building smirk from his face.
However, she refrained.
Bail, she reminded herself. He'd paid for her bail.
"Not anymore," she commented wryly. "I've moved on to men."
"And a man allows his girlfriend to stumble drunkenly around the city at one in the morning, without thought of what could happen to her? Hardly a man," he dismissed swiftly, stepping toward her. "Ending the relationship now might possibly save your head from making anymore stupid and irresponsible decisions."
She didn't know how she kept her temper in check with that one. But, Christ was he pushing it.
Her level headedness might also have been because he had a point.
In her head, she recalled Noah being as hammered as she'd been. Not able to make cognitive decisions, much less stay upright for long. Her justification for his sending her out thoughtlessly, had been that he'd been far too drunk to convince her it was a bad idea.
However, were the positions reversed, she believed she'd have talked him out of it. Some part of her would have at least sensed the potential threat of wandering London at such late hours, drunk and vulnerable, and gotten him into a bed.
Then again, she hadn't been in Noah's mindset at the time. Who knew how much common sense he still retained?
Either way, she blamed herself more than she blamed him. And she certainly wasn't going to let Sherlock blame the both of them.
"You see my point, don't you?" he observed.
"I was drunk, so was he. No one was in their right mind to make good decisions. He's probably at my flat, worried sick, if he hasn't called the Yard already. As to my irresponsibility...well, I really don't think that's any of your business. Now, this is the last time I'm asking nicely. Please, get out of my way, Sherlock."
"Are you aware of what sort of person you're turning into?"
She hadn't noticed just how close he now was to her and she backed away, not out of anxiety, but frustration.
"Are you aware that you have a dreadful time letting go of your distractions? Honestly, why are you still intruding in my life when we both know you never had a permanent place in it? I'm sick of it, Sherlock. Sick of having to put up with your moodiness and insults just because you think you know better. In this case, you don't. How could you possibly know my life, my desires and wants, better than me? And don't go on about living with me for a year. You saw a routine, not my inner thoughts. You saw the Molly I forced myself to be in your presence, nothing more. I have a voice and a thirst for adventure and sometimes, I like to get wasted and take my bloody trousers off!" she roared, voice having amplified in the cell. "If you have a problem with that, tell someone who gives a damn. Because I don't and I haven't for awhile."
His expression fell, and she detected that same hint of surprise she'd seen in the lab when she told him off then. And beneath that...well, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. What it made her want to do, naturally, was not only apologize, but wish she would have kept her mouth closed.
But his constant surprise at what she had to say, at the truth of how he'd made her feel, only spurred on that need to keep holding her own. If he hadn't known in the first place, then the words needed to be said.
Rather than continue analyzing him, Molly decided on squeezing through the small gap of freedom made between his shoulder and the wall cell.
Sherlock let her go without a word, but he made no move to accommodate her attempt at squeezing through the narrow gap. Which made it slightly uncomfortable as she had to exit it sideways and her entire frame brushed across his arm.
When she finally got her entire body out of the cell in one piece, Sherlock spoke up. Coldly, but it seemed with intent.
"Why didn't you inform me sooner of my behavior towards you?"
"You'd just brush it off and assure me you were like that towards everyone. Not exactly a subject I wanted to breach, especially since your cases were usually top priority. Anyway, I had hoped you'd pick up on it without me telling you, brilliant detective that you are. It was there, in flashes. Just needed a closer look is all."
He sniffed at this, but she didn't bother dissecting it.
"Though, I'm not sure how you would have responded even if you had known."
"Allow me make it up to you."
She could sense his eyes were on her now. But his request only made her all the more weary. It was nice, she thought, that he might be trying.
However, she had all but moved on. And as sad as it was to admit, some things simply weren't worth the trip back just to be salvaged.
Plus, his dedication remained to be seen. He was needed constantly and she doubted his attention could be spared even for a night just to make it up to her.
She didn't consider herself selfish in this regard, but realistic. A few soothing words and compliments weren't going to patch up their relationship this time around. And she would rather see him at work on an important case than attempt blindly to cure something she'd already gotten over.
By her silence, it appeared Sherlock also reached this conclusion.
She supposed he needed her to confirm it audibly, however.
"There's nothing to make up," she confessed gently. "You are you and I am me. Having the relationship we did, wasn't meant to last forever. That constant...imbalance."
At his muteness, she continued, feeling equal amounts relieved and pained in her chest area. While it felt like a great weight was being lifted away, it didn't ascend without discomfort.
"I want to apologize, Sherlock, if I ever made you uncomfortable with my affections. Especially...that night," she announced awkwardly. "But you have to know that it would have killed me to keep holding it in. At least now I'm completely sure that there wasn't a chance of reciprocation. And that's what has allowed me to move on so easily. We can still have a working relationship, if you want. Stop by Bart's and I'll help you the best I can. But in order to have that and assure your ability to do your job, our friendship can never be hung in that imbalance ever again. Which means that I'll be closing parts of myself to you that may have once been open, including my personal life."
She doubted he'd been prepared for the speech, but he replied as if he were.
"Understood."
"Thank you," she expressed, turning to absorb him. "You know, in a way, this is just as much a convenience for you as it is for me."
"Of course."
His voice may have sounded detached, but his gaze was piercing. Unreadable, but on her with such intensity that she was surprised she didn't combust.
"See you around, then?" she finished.
Although their conversation had landed into territory she hadn't planned on trekking, Molly couldn't say the result was all that awful. At least the tension and near pugnacity having recently developed between them, could simmer for awhile. And with his understanding and acceptance of her speech, she felt she could finally do her job properly for once by helping him solve crimes without carrying a burdening affection for him on the side.
"Plan on it."
She assumed he meant the morgue so she sent him a nod and soft smile before swaying cautiously to the precinct doors.
Well, that wasn't so difficult.
Upon mulling over this thought, Molly felt unease rather than excitement. Since when were things ever not difficult with Sherlock?
But for her sake, she submerged this musing. They both had what they needed. Where was the problem?
()()()()()()()()()
"I don't ask for it much, but is there any chance you could ever forgive me for being such a shitty boyfriend?"
Molly's eyes softened while one hand grabbed onto his own.
"Don't ever let me do it again and I will."
It seemed fair enough and his presence in the precinct cleared up a lot of the uncertainty she'd felt towards his lax action. Everyone was drunk and stupid at one point. It'd be unfair to criticize him when she'd been equally reckless.
"Fair deal. Don't think I'll be touching the drinks for a while after this," he confirmed, pulling her into a deep hug. "I'm just glad you're safe."
She ignored her brain when it wondered if she'd be so quick to forgive him had something bad happened last night.
Noah must have noticed her stiffness because his hug grew tighter as his lips moved to her ear. He was entirely un-self conscious in his action and from a vantage point, their embrace probably looked rather intimate.
"I love you, Molly."
It was breathed just low enough for her alone to hear, but the remedy was immediate.
She relaxed into his hold and allowed herself to feel the full capacity of those three words, unaware of the figure watching them only for a moment, eyes narrowed darkly, jaw set uncomfortably rigid, and hands curled in the pockets of his coat, before stalking out of the precinct.
"Before I forget," she exclaimed, jumping out of his hold, "do you know what happened to Cassie by any chance? We split off, I think, because we were being chased."
"Sorry-."
"We're fine now and that's what matters. Has she gotten in contact with you?"
"Texted your mobile, then mine. Said she slept off the night on a fire escape."
While the news came as a great relief, Molly couldn't help but crack a smile.
"What a night," she beamed.
"But how soon are you going to forget it?" he pointed out.
"When I remember it all, I'll let you know."
()()()()()()()()()
Only when she had taken a forty minute shower inside her flat and fed Toby, did Molly remember she had a shift. Last night, she planned on calling in sick, but it being one o'clock in the afternoon already (her shift started at seven, bright and early), she doubted her absence could pass as her being ill.
But upon calling Bart's, more specifically, Mike to apologize profusely for her tardiness (at this point, saying she was sick would be more of an insult to him than admitting the truth), she got a rather unexpected surprise.
"Don't you even think about coming in today," Mike argued. "Not until that stomach flu is out of your system."
She paused, having been ready to explain a censored version of what led to her not showing up at seven, but decided to work with the stomach flu she apparently had already.
"Um...yes. The flu. Did Noah inform you?"
It was the only person she could think of who might cover for her and knew what sort of hell she raised the night before.
"No, it was Sherlock. Texted me around six this morning, explaining your condition and that you weren't able to talk. Good man, that Holmes. Glad you got someone like that watching out for you."
"Yes," Molly agreed, frowning, "I am. I'll try to make it in tomorrow-."
"Nonsense. Take the next three days off, if you need. Need you at your full strength. Rest up, Molly. And only come in when you're ready."
"Okay. Thank you."
When the call ended, Molly slumped back on her couch, staring ahead at her wall, mobile still clutched in her hand.
Well, that was nice of him.
She nodded her head in response to the thought, ignoring the miniscule sliver of affection still remaining for the consulting detective, that grew, decidedly, just a little bit wider.
Next chapter will have some John POV. He's like the neutralizer between the two and I purposely kind of want to leave what Sherlock is feeling exactly, in the dark. John somehow manages to skim the surface of his friend. Plus, Janeen will be making a brief appearance. Hope you enjoyed all that and let me know your thoughts in a review!
