Molly woke up at precisely twelve the next morning. She thanked god internally that she had had the foresight to think to put an alarm on her phone last night. The sun was streaming through her curtains, which immediately made her smile; she always found that she was happier when it was sunny. She stretched out with a groan, and got up, off to brush her teeth and take a quick hot shower. As she conditioned her hair, she was glad to realise she didn't feel too tired, despite not getting home until four am. She'd wanted to leave John and Sherlock alone, but not until she was sure John wouldn't shoot Sherlock. After officially asking Sherlock to replace Mike as his best man (poor Mike!), John had decided to call Mary, tradition be damned, to let her know about the changes to the wedding, and to subtly warn her to be prepared to have her thunder effectively stolen for a little while, though from what she'd heard about Mary, having still not officially met her, she knew she wouldn't care; she'd be happy to just see John free spirited again. Like she was.
So while John had explained the situation to his bride to be, Molly had decided to go home since she was fighting the urge to just close her eyes then and there. She'd turned to Sherlock, whose fingers had been interwoven and his eyes glazed over in deep thought. Tough.
'So I assume you're staying here now tonight?' Molly asked. Blinking twice, Sherlock turned to her.
'Yes, I'd prefer to be back in my own room' he turned to John 'You've left it as it was I hope'. John still on the phone, just nodded offhandedly. Molly smiled at both Sherlock's lack of consideration, and the fact he had doubted whether his possessions were still. Of course they were. John may never admit it, but Molly didn't think he'd ever truly, hand on heart, accepted that Sherlock's death.
'Okay that's good. I better get home though, it's late...'
'Technically its early' countered Sherlock. Molly rolled her eyes, only to catch his eye and blush. He gave a quick smile. She stood up, had a small stretch, and gave John a silent wave goodbye.
'See you tomorrow Sherlock'
'Good night Molly'
She stepped out the shower into her fluffy dressing gown, and began blow drying her hair. Yes she was very glad about how last night had gone, but then that was only one person. So many people who knew Sherlock would be at the wedding tomorrow. People would be pissed. Though she doubted Sherlock would care; John had been the main obstacle. She'd known that last night as she was leaving. She'd been at the curb, waiting for a passing cab to hail, when Sherlock had come out in a slightly rushed manner. She'd frowned and stepped forward to him, wondering what was wrong.
'what's the mat-'
'Thank you Molly' rushed out Sherlock, his face looking slightly reluctant.'For coming today. I very much appreciated it.'. His voice was stoic, very different from his words. Gratitude didn't come easily to Sherlock (he rarely had to implement it), in fact most of emotions didn't. Molly had felt she'd already been lucky in dealing with him today; he had been more considerate than usual, with only a few offensive remarks being directed at her. She beamed at him, her heart beating irrational fast.
'O..Oh, it's alright. I did say I'd help you and I'm a man of my word. Well woman, but you know the phrase is man so...' she tailed off, inwardly berating herself for yet another display of verbal diarrhoea.
'Ah well, good.' replied Sherlock, before stepping out and successfully hailing a taxi she had not seen coming. It stopped in front of them, and Sherlock opened the door for her. As usual, she felt reluctant to leave his presence but got in anyway. He closed, avoiding her eyes, and without looking back had just strode back into the flat. She'd watched him go, sighing. A strange sense of melancholia had overtaken her then, though she refused to fathom why.
Luckily when she'd woken this morning, it had gone. It wouldn't have been the best mood for a wedding. The wedding wasn't until two fortunately, and it was only a ten minute journey so she had plenty of time. She applied her make up, eye liner on the top lid, and some eye liner, she forwent blusher (with Holmes around she doubted she'd need it). Then she pulled on the dress, and her cardigan. Next came the flats, she had known for some time that she just didn't suit, nor could wear heels. With half an hour to spare, she went and had some breakfast, checking the news; nothing yet.
Finally it came time to leave, so she set off for the church, which by a stroke of luck was near to her home. She knew immediately as she arrived that Sherlock was there. The car park full, yet lacked people so clearly everyone was sitting inside already. She'd rushed forward and through the doors, only to be hit by the palpable tension in the air. She chose an easy access seat in the back, and scanned the room. Nearly every eye was on Sherlock, who was standing at the front with John, both apparently oblivious to the drama they'd caused. Sherlock seemed to be talking intently to John, while John seemed to be breathing slowly, and nodding. Odd. Both looked handsome, John's face barely gave away the late and emotional night he'd had. Sherlock's face had the slightest shadow on it, probably a bruise from when John had punched him assumed Molly. Scanning the crowd, Molly could see the array of emotions, ranging from rage to shock. Some looked amused, so clearly John had addressed Sherlock's return before she's arrived.
The wedding march sounded at this point, and in that moment all attention was diverted from Sherlock, and to the now entering Mary. And she looked beautiful. Her blonde hair was curled to perfection, and her pale skin was perfectly complimented by her cream lace dress, which was tight to her body until mid thigh, when it splayed out. All in all she looked stunning. Molly turned back to John, and grinned at the awed look on his face, and then went to turn back to the bride. It was mid turn that she realised Sherlock's eyes were on her. She smiled a little too brightly at him, her cheeks reddening. She could still fell his eyes on her as she watched Mary, and truth be told it made her feel a little light headed. Molly watched as Mary gave her husbands strange new friend a smile in welcome, and watched as Sherlock gave her the rare courtesy of receiving on back. He'd probably already deducted everything about her.
Molly zoned out of most of the ceremony, only really paying attention to the important bits, like the 'I do's'. She'd never seen John so carefree as he was in that moment, nor ever seen him so … blissful. Mary's face echoed his sentiments. Sherlock looked vaguely bored throughout, his eyes continually scanning random people. Finally the priest presented John and Mary as man and wife, and they shared their first kiss, which was slightly more risqué than Molly would have thought John capable.
Molly joined the legions in throwing confetti that a random elderly woman had given her at the couple. She saw no sign of Sherlock, but then again, confetti throwing didn't really come across as his thing. She had been keeping an eye out for Greg and Lydia when she overheard the sentence that would ruin her day.
'God, who does he think he is, Jesus 2.0?'
Molly turned around, instinctively aware that whoever it was, was discussing Sherlock. Molly was met with the faces of two people she didn't recognise; one was a tall woman, dark skinned, with a mass of curly black hair. The other was a pale male, with dark hair, and a sallow, almost rat faced look. They were both laughing at what had been the males retort. Molly felt a rare white hot rage in that moment, and without thinking stalked over to them. They turned to her, surprised at her unexpected close proximity, leaning back a little, but before they could question it, Molly was already in a rage.
'How dare you? You know nothing about what his been through, so why don't you mind your own fucking business'. Her face was red, her eyes sparkling. And with a final look of disgust Molly walked away, ignoring the fact she didn't know where she was going, giving no pause for a rebuttal.
She didn't notice Sherlock leaning on the church rails, only hidden from view by Mary's parents, his furrowed eyes following her as she walked away.
