Look who finally got chapter four up. Sorry about the wait, had a bit of writers block. Hope you guys enjoy and thanks for all the people who followed my story, added it to their favorites, and left a review.
Molly just finished delivering a note to the last member of Sherlock's Homeless Network on the list he wrote out for her. He was out doing the same except he took the routes on the other side of London, planning to come together when they were both finished. She didn't read what was written on any of the pieces of paper, but certain people had to get a specific letter.
Sherlock briefly explained the task Mycroft gave him, mentioning how it will take some time locating the man they were looking for and that this was merely the first step. Despite the fact that she was hardly used to doing this sort of thing, having to be discreet and on her guard constantly, he still asked her for help. She was a bit surprised but also not at the same time. This task, if he were to do it alone, would have taken well past midnight to complete.
The brunette was on her way to their meeting place which was a block away from Bart's. She received a text a few minutes prior to her exiting the subway station, where the final member she needed to contact was, stating that he was on his way.
The sun set about an hour ago, leaving the air cold and the streets still damp from the rain shower in the afternoon. Molly kept her hands in her coat pockets as she crossed the road. Very few people were walking about, most were at home or on their way. Without the crowds and usual traffic cluttering the area, getting to her destination was a quick and simple process.
The young detective was seen the moment she turned the corner. He was on his phone and if she had to guess, he was still doing something regarding the case. She knew once he was on a task nothing else could take his focus from it. She was sure if there wasn't a small splashing sound every time a step was taken, he wouldn't have noticed her coming at all. All he did was glance over at her for a moment before looking back down.
"I'm hoping you delivered every message without a problem," Sherlock mentioned as he sustained a constant rhythm with his fingers while searching for a few things on his cell.
"It was a little difficult finding them all considering the directions you gave me, but all the notes were received," Molly told him, keeping her gaze towards the ground. "Why do you need so many people helping you out this time? I was under the impression one could get in contact with the others more subtly than we could."
"They can. Unlike other tasks I give, this one requires more than one assignment. Each member is doing the same thing but they have different person to trail." He handed her his phone, showing the brunette what he was researching. "I quickly thought up a few associates of the similar upper-class lifestyles who could be possible targets and having them trailed for a few days, three at the most."
Molly read through a few of the names, nodding as he spoke. "So, you're trying to figure out who the next victim will be not just by connection but by related traits the previous targets shared. Such as how they spend their day and who they're in contact with."
"Precisely," he replied. "Of course, I need to get more information on the others who were killed. Tomorrow I will go to all the scene of the crimes and if you could look at the bodies and see if you can find any other resemblances, for instance the way they were murdered, that would be helpful. I'll have to come by some other time to have a look myself and run some tests."
Sherlock took his phone back and placed it in his pocket. Her ability to catch on to his plan was faster than he expected, most of the time no one could figure out exactly what he was doing. He glanced at her for a moment, just before speaking, and saw how she began fidgeting with her hands. Since a ring was no longer on her finger the habit simply transferred to something else.
"I don't think I'm charge of any of their postmortems. I'll have to check the schedule for the autopsies and see what I can do. It shouldn't be a problem though." Seeing as she normally got things changed around so she could help him out, which mostly included coming in after hours, an agenda alteration was in her realm of capability.
"Good, now we just have another stop to make." He started walking again, turning the opposite way they stood. "Afterwards, I'd say we're done for the night. It's late already and I have a lot to do in the morning. The stop won't be long."
Molly caught up to him quickly and kept an even pace with him. "Where would that be?" Of course she'd go without complaint, but she still had to get up early for work and add a few more things on her list that needed to get done the next day.
"There's just one more person we need to see," Sherlock mentioned while fixing the collar of his coat. "He isn't a member of my network, but he does owe me a favor." In hindsight, there were many people who were indebted to him for various different reasons. The detective found it useful to have other connections and besides, most of their cases they presented were intriguing enough to hold his attention.
The walk was semi-longer than Molly expected, probably a few blocks from where they met up. It was quietly spent as Sherlock was in thought the majority of the time, she didn't mind though. The atmosphere was calming and the rain started picking up again, but it was more like a light mist than a shower. Darkness was descending upon the streets, causing the lampposts to flicker on.
"A coffee shop?" Molly questioned upon approaching the building. It was small, most likely family owned and from what she could see only a few customers were inside. "What exactly did you do for the guy who owns this place?"
"Saved him from going to jail for a crime he didn't commit." Sherlock opened the door entering the structure after her. "The evidence was stacked against him, nothing I couldn't sort out with a few calls and research." His eyes scanned the place until they rested on a familiar face. "I'll be right back, you can order something if you want." He left it there, heading towards the older man he was seeking.
Molly sighed a bit and sat down nonetheless, she might as well while they were here. After a few moments someone came over to ask what she wanted, to which she just requested a beverage. It only took about two minutes for the waitress to come back. Sherlock returned to her right as she was taking her first sip of the hot liquid and glanced down at the table.
"You got me coffee," the detective said after sitting across from her. He didn't plan on staying or even settling down into a seat, but he did without thinking. He held the cup for a few seconds before looking over at the brunette.
"You said you don't eat when working, and well, this isn't eating. I hope you don't mind." She knew it wasn't good for him to cut out food just because he was on a job; however, it wasn't her place to mention. "Black, two sugars just the way you like it. You've asked me to get coffee for you a lot in the past," Molly added, seeing as he arched a brow at her statement.
Nodding, he wore a fairly tight smile as the gesture was accepted. He drank some prior to setting it back on the table. "The information he gave me will help when you're doing their autopsies, certain aspects to look for and things such as that." He extended his arm to hand her the slip of paper. "Since Mycroft made it apparent to keep this assignment quiet, I can't say much to anyone…"
Sherlock's voice trailed off when his fingers brushed against hers just before she took held of the small note. She drew back rather quickly and turned away while his hand just stayed in place for a moment. His digits flinched inward as he tilted his head a fraction of an inch to the side. Oddly enough, a simple touch robbed him of speech. The contact was brief and yet it caused a bigger reaction within than he expected.
He pulled back unsure what to say or how to reconcile with what just happened. He felt somewhat stiffened by the interaction. Despite the coldness of the air they were just out in, her skin was warm and even with his vast knowledge; he couldn't quite understand the want to draw back to her touch. There was no trace of confusion on his face, but his mind was succumbed to thought about the encounter.
Something felt off about his expression and Molly tried not to let her brows furrow in thought while she wondered what had caused it. He didn't seem the type to be affected by something as small as that, not in the way she was. There were several excuses she could make, some valid, some not so much, about why he was so absorbed in what occurred but instead she gave up on the matter.
She let her heartbeat return to normal before noticing how he paused. Molly could endure the quiet when she was high-strung, but this just felt different. "I'll make sure to hold onto it," she muttered. That was the best ice breaker she can think of given the circumstances, yet he still made no reply. "What were you going to say about the case?" she asked, trying another time.
It took a second for his withdrawn look to disappear. He nodded a bit and found his voice again. "Just that my brother wants this to stay quiet, I'm sure I don't need to ask you not to say anything." Sherlock quickly took another sip from his cup, closing the space for him to talk another time.
Molly lightly bit down on her lip. He was acting reclusive; she could see it by the way he pulled back from the conversation. She wasn't naïve, something was up with him. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that John wasn't going to around as often. It could be that but it didn't quite seem like that was the cause, after all nothing was said about the army doctor.
"I don't want to keep asking you this, but are you alright? You seem a bit… distracted," she said, looking for the best word to describe his actions. Seeing the way he looked up at her, eyes blinking a few times just before he gave a reply, proved she was on to something, although she wasn't relatively sure what that particular thing was.
"I'm fine," he mentioned in a fleeting tone. "Something Mycroft mentioned is just occupying my thoughts." Keeping his head lowered, he took a second to gather himself and push aside the feelings, no matter how strange as they were to him. "He can be very temperamental when it comes to the assignments he gives me."
Again, her brows rose inquisitively when he went around the question and decided to speak about his brother but this time, she decided to leave it at that. She already said enough on the matter. "I've only met him once, it wasn't an official meeting; we spoke a bit though. He seems nice enough to me."
"That's because you don't really know him. He can be very crafty, especially when we were younger." Sherlock shook his head a bit on the notion. They got along for the most part, but snippy remarks would always follow through their conversations, on his end mostly.
"I never hear you talk about your past, your family even," she told him somewhat surprised at the mention. "Not that you have a reason to with me. We're friends, but not that close I suppose." All they ever really did together were things within the morgue, nothing that felt like it made a big impact. Although, when he asked for her help concerning his fake death, he presented a level of trust she hardly got a glimpse of.
Her words caused his gaze to land upon her. He made some kind of mental reservation when it came to her importance at first, but his views were realized on the simple mention of 'I don't count.' He rested his arms, closing their proximity a bit just as he lifted his chin almost having to challenge the ambiguity of what she said. "You've changed while I was gone, not completely but you have."
When he leaned forward, she didn't veer back like she wanted to. The impulsion was there yet Molly could only stare back at him as she shifted slightly. This wasn't the closest Sherlock Holmes has ever been to her. On two accounts he's been near enough to feel his breath against her face, to take in the soft touch of his lips when he placed a kiss on her cheek. Quite frankly, she wasn't sure how to interpret anything he did. "Have I?" she queried back, tilting her head to mirror his motions. "Sometimes I feel like some things will never change, like they're just meant to be one way."
Possibly like they were. Never destined to be romantically involved, but she sensed the attraction that pulled her towards him, the thing that made her want to believe in love at first sight. It was his cleverness, his burning intellect that fascinated her. His ability to calculate was commendable, something she revered. Molly was always a sensible girl, yet when he was near all sense flooded from her.
He replied with unwonted slowness, normally he would have been quick to comment but something stalled him and contradicted a quip remark. "You never know for sure. Sometimes the most unlikely to change can surprise you. Certainly you've realized that yourself."
"Yes, I think I have," she commented, in fact she was looking at someone who has. Sherlock could still be cold and say horrible things but he was letting so much more of himself out, maybe without even recognizing he was doing so. It became silent and she felt herself flush at the stall. It was moments like these, ones rendered with gentle dialogue, she wanted to preserve in her mind. When there didn't feel like so much space between them, like he never left. "I can't imagine what's different about me," she further expressed to take away some of the muteness.
Sherlock smiled a bit, allowing the incline of his lips to stay for a few moments. "You were always more of a quiet girl, a tad reserved, but strong at the same time. The contrast lies in the way you speak, more solid and outgoing, the way you hold yourself, upright with additional self-assurance. They are all good aspects if to be opinionated by a ridiculous man such as myself."
She felt her cheeks burn another time. It was rare to get any form of compliment from him, but what he said was very true. "Ridiculous is hardly the term I'd use to describe you." He called himself that during his speech as well, perhaps he really viewed himself like that despite his small ways of telling other his mind exceeds theirs in multiple ways.
"What would you go with then?" he asked, bringing his hands together. His brow was raised in an inquisitive way, making his curiosity known. There were only so many adjectives individuals used to describe him.
Several words surfaced but died before they could leave her lips, ones too charismatic than he would have wanted to hear. Saying too much could make him uncomfortable; it would raise too many questions. She couldn't allow her interest in him to be shown so openly. Simple conversation wasn't something that could change his mind about her, where they stood, or how he felt. She wanted to tell him everything, but instead she opted to keep her affections inside like always.
"I don't know, maybe something less normative than that. A lot of people say you're brilliant, which is true." Molly paused for a second, attempting to think of a better term. "You seem to be more extroverted then others realize."
What was praise if not fulsome? The consulting detective leaned back, opening the space between them once more. "Interesting, I haven't heard that one before. Most have to do with how smart I am or simply how rude I could be, which let's face it, I tend to offend people on a daily basis."
She gave a light shake of her head. "I can't disagree with that entirely, but I believe there is more to you than that. If I was being completely honest, I'd say I know there is more to you than you let others see." His mind was always racing, he was in an endless state of alert, and she had to wonder if it got to be too much sometimes.
His eyes narrowed infinitesimally in consideration to her way of amenably speaking. Again, the constant why bubbling onto his lips, despite what he knew about her the way she was always able to hold a high regard of him no matter what he did was bewildering. "And if I was to ask why you feel that way, what would you say?" Somehow, he knew she'd give him an answer.
Her head tilted to the side when she heard his doubts spoken aloud. "I guess it's because I've seen how good of a person you can be. What you'd do to protect the people you care about. I also understand why you don't show it often."
Sherlock kept his gaze straight for a few moments. She was able to grasp more things about him that he was sure only someone close to him, such as John was, would be able to do that. Perhaps her fondness of him was the cause of it.
He's learned over the years, due to certain circumstances and events, attachments, especially romantic ones, held you down. Sherlock decided a long time ago he didn't need anyone in that sense; he couldn't afford to accept those types of feelings. Whether he actually wanted someone was an entirely different argument, though he'd never let his mind linger on it.
He wasn't sure exactly how to make a reply to what she said, however he felt like he had to give some sort of acknowledgement to her words, although it came out a bit callous than he intended. "And what exactly makes you think you know so much about me?"
At his almost harsh questioning, her brows raised as she finally gave an elusive answer, straying away from the strict truth of the matter. "No reason. It's nothing important anyway. Sorry if I was being a bit too intrusive. I didn't mean anything by it." She should have known by now, acclaiming wasn't something he was used to and by saying such things, even if it wasn't much, she was sure he felt too exposed for his liking.
"You don't have to apologize," Sherlock told her in softer tone. When had life become so complicated that a conversation or even a cup of coffee with her didn't seem as simple as it once was? "I know all of this may have seemed a bit… out of the blue, me asking you to come along during cases since I never asked you before but I appreciate you coming."
The corner of her lips pulled up in an appreciated sort of smile at his reply. This time, she didn't avoid giving an honest comeback, not completely anyway. "Like I told you before, I really don't mind. It's very different than I imagined, from the things John writes on his blog I thought it would be more dangerous, so to speak. You probably wouldn't ask me to come if they were though."
Before Sherlock could give an answer his phone went off, alerting him of the text message he received. Nodding a bit to her response, he took his cell out of his coat pocket and quickly read through the message. "It's from someone in my Homeless Network. They got that task done sooner than I expected. Look at this," he said, placing the device in front of her.
"You wanted them to map out London for you?" Molly questioned, getting a look at the screen. She supposed he had his reasons for asking for such a thing, he always did. "What do those dots represent?"
"They're all the locations our attacker has killed someone. Evidently, he stays in a certain radius, which is good for us." He leaned forward and pointed out the first place to her, seeming to pass off their previous conversation the moment the assignment was back into discussion. "This is the place he initially started, meaning I'll have my best chance gathering evidence here as long as it hasn't been tampered with."
He started murmuring a few coherent verses, a bit lost in his racing thoughts to notice they both went to grab the phone at the same time. The initial contact made this rambling come to a stop just before he jerked his hand away in an attempt to avoid the same reaction he had previously. He didn't even realize his sudden movement knocked her coffee over until she made a small gasping sound as the liquid dowsed her clothing.
"Sorry," he quickly muttered almost stalling his motions prior to handing her a few napkins. Getting up, almost too swiftly, he gabbed some more at one of the other tables, passing them to her and knelt down to clean off the floor some.
"It's okay. I can get the stain out," she mentioned, dabbing her shirt. She didn't expect him to yank his arm back that way, but banging into her cup was an accident and he did express regret. "At least your phone's alright." Despite it all, Molly smiled a bit, unable to be mad at him for something as silly as this.
"Yes, well I can't say the same for your clothing," he mentioned, shaking his head due to his actions. The moment Sherlock looked up he met her eyes and once again endured a lack of speech as no sound was pass his lips. And to add to this strange occurrence he felt his heart as it started beating at a faster rate than normal. He cleared his throat in hopes to get rid of the lump forming and the pressing silence that followed. "I mentioned before how many things are the same, but there is one thing about you, Molly Hooper that will never change."
She was a bit too flustered to ask what that was or even render some kind of response. Their faces were close once again, far more near then they had been at the table. She wasn't able to move an inch went her brown orbs were locked with his. Her eyes followed him as he stood, catching the slight hesitation as he did so.
"Apparently, it's pasted closing time," he stated, glancing around to calm his nerves. Neither of them noticed the people leaving while they were talking or the fact that they'd been conversing well into the night. "We should probably get going."
She gave a slight nod as he placed some money down. Once outside a few words was thrown between them, but Sherlock was acting differently again, his focus laid somewhere else as if he was trying to concentrate on anything but her.
It wasn't that strange to see since he has been distant to her in the past, pulling away from anything that went beyond simple conversation. Truthfully Molly didn't know much about him, but what she did know, and what she could see from a mere glance, put many things into perspective and explained so much. Sherlock Holmes was proud, oftentimes too much, but never vain.
Since he was spending time with her rather than brushing her aside showed how much he had altered over the course of two years. It made her expression soften, and she wanted to say something, comment on it perhaps, but she knew that would only make it worse on him.
He didn't need to say he was walking her back to her place, she figured it out when he didn't separate from her. It was dark after all and there weren't many cabs driving by. The quietness, which seemed to form around them a lot lately, wasn't hard to endure; actually it was a bit peaceful.
When they finally reached her building, he paused a few steps from the door. "Molly," Sherlock said, stopping her movements. Whatever these feelings were he doubted they'd be leaving anytime soon. Clearly being with her was making him feel different and he was unsure on how to make things go back to normal. He could say something on the matter but decides against it. "…Never mind."
And just like that, she wanted to take a step forward, the level of detachment in his words concerned her. She gave an incline of her head. Distancing one's self she can understand; he always separated himself from others. She couldn't even tell him that she wanted to know what he was going to say, for he was sure to know that already.
Tonight, she was too tired to press the matter. The fact that he was still standing there, just looking at her with an eased filled expression was enough. She accepted his profound gratitude for helping him with Moriarty and in return he was treating her as a friend, someone who mattered. It was enough to make her heart ache, because there was nothing else she could do to thank him in return, to tell him how much she cared for him even if it was on a different level.
Molly merely gave a short nod, saying goodnight before heading inside. It was clear that nothing else was going to be said and there was no use standing around when they both had so much to do the next day.
Sherlock stood there for a while longer, shaking his head dismissively. The one thing that wouldn't change about her was how caring towards others she was. It wasn't something he could pride himself on, he admitted to that a long time ago. Heading back to Baker Street, he let out a sigh as his mind became muddled in too much thought about the woman he parted from.
The main point of this chapter was to get more progress in their relationship. I don't want to go too fast but I also don't want them getting together to take forever. I hope my story is still keeping everyone's interest, please review and let me know what you think.
