It was quickly settled that they couldn't possibly start any adventures without a nice warm shower, a very necessary activity to clear out the cobwebs from the previous night. They eagerly grabbed the fluffy cotton towels and made their way to the luxurious ensuites.
Twenty minutes later, steam rolled from under the bathroom door like a moist carpet, coating the room in subtle scents of grapefruit and kiwi. Molly was flushed from the heat of the shower, and with a towel wrapped around her dripping body she strolled over to her suitcase and unzipped the main compartment.
Clean underwear, a scarlet tank top, and beige shorts were removed. After she dried her body, the refreshed pathologist was thankful to dress in her own clothing. It was a small comfort, being that they still smelt of home.
Molly pat her hair dry and caught sight of a familiar gleam of metal on her bed, her cell phone. Remembering she still had texts to respond to and surely some painful calls from Sherlock, she headed over to her bed and picked it up.
She skimmed through the waiting messages and after some deliberation, determinedly entered the number for her voicemail. Putting off Sherlock's message was not going to make things easier.
His deep baritone voice cut through the humid air like butter, sounding frantic and strangely enough concerned as he said, "Molly, I've read the text from Mary. I expect you to call me back as soon as you get this, no later than that."
The text from Mary? With her brow furrowed, she moved on to the stream of texts that clogged up her inbox.
Molly, where are you?
I demand you return at once.
Your absence is detrimental to my work, and I won't allow it to be comprised.
Molly, this isn't a joke. Respond NOW.
She sat down on the edge of her bed, and with trembling hands dialed Sherlock's number. Any other time she would have been delighted by being missed by the gloomy detective, but not like this. He sounded like he was driven stark raving mad, and Molly wasn't sure if she should feel guilty, or enraged by his attitude.
The line rung twice before it was picked up, with enough of a pause for Molly to take in a deep breath.
"Hullo, Sherlock. I just turned on my cell, so I have no i-"
"Who is he?"
Molly sputtered, "W-what?"
The annoyance in Sherlock's voice was palpable, and it seemed he too needed a deep breath to calm his temper. "The bartender, Molly. The idiot Mary was sending photos of to John."
"You mean Dan?"
Sherlock tested the name on his tongue, swishing it around until he drew it out in a hiss, "Dan...Hmph, well it doesn't matter. Null your little escapades with him and return home at once."
"No!"
It was Sherlock's turn to sputter, genuinely shocked at the force of her words. "E-excuse me?"
"You heard me. I'm not in a relationship with Dan, and even if I was, it certainly wouldn't involve you! I'm on vacation, Sherlock, so you'll get to see me when I decide to come home."
"But then I'd have to work with that oaf Baur!"
"He's a brilliant pathologist, if you gave him a chance. If not, too bad. I'll see you when I get back, Sherlock. Goodbye."
The sudden clicking sound of Molly hanging up had Sherlock's chest squeezing painfully. At first he was so alarmed by the sensation that he thought he was having a heart attack, but that was quickly dismissed.
He leaned back in his armchair, letting his cell fall limply from his hand as he stared through a fogged window.
Vaguely he recognized the sound of sirens blaring in the distance, though London's welfare was the furthest from his thoughts. He was far too absorbed in analyzing the range of emotions that swirled within him.
It was obvious he was happy that Molly wasn't having some fling with that bartender. Dan, Sherlock recalled with disgust. But miraculously he wasn't satisfied, and it was startling that he didn't know why. And even worse, regret seemed to leave a sour taste in his mouth.
He ran both hands through his hair, uncaring if his fingers were snagged within the jungle mess. Letting out a large sigh, he cradled his head within his hands.
Bent over in his seat, the background sounds seemed to only be amplified. Rain pelting the glass, the smell of cigarette smoke and dirt heavy in the air. He truly did wish that Molly was faring better than he was...
Molly gulped as she stared at her cell, like it was some strange creature that had crawled from the sewers and into the palm of her hand.
She couldn't believe she did that. In fact she needed to pinch herself to verify that she was even awake.
"Ouch" she whispered to herself, rubbing the injured skin. Honestly, she wasn't sure how much of the detective's prissy attitude she could take anymore.
He was just like Toby. Affectionate when it only suited him, but as soon as she petted another cat he'd rip up the carpet in retaliation. It was seriously getting on her nerves.
Thankfully she had something to distract her. Speaking of which...A loud knock echoed throughout her room, enough to jostle Molly out of her self questioning as she rose to answer it. And just as expected, her impeccably timed friend was on the other side.
Mary flashed a grin, "Are you ready to go?"
Molly rolled her eyes, "More than you'll ever know."
"Are you alright?" Mary asked as Molly closed up her room, "You look a little...down."
"I had a lovely conversation with Sherlock." Which was an explanation by itself for an irritable mood.
"Ah."
Molly glanced at Mary from the corner of her eye, "He actually mentioned you." Her friend didn't seem surprised, but rather composed as she made an encouraging hum. It made her suspicion flare up again, like tiny bells ringing at potential danger.
The pair were mutually quiet as they headed down the hall, and it was only when they neared the staircase when Mary responded.
"I guess there's no point hiding it anymore. I never told John I was coming here."
Molly, who had started down the steps, tripped. If it weren't for the quick reflexes of the woman beside her, Molly was afraid she would have gotten to the main floor in an unconventional, but certainly quicker way.
Cautious despite the firm grip on her arm, Molly twisted around, expression dubious as she took in her friend.
"W-what? But you said-"
"I know what I said, and I lied. I never told John I was leaving, well, ahead of time. I did leave a note."
"A note doesn't mean anything, Mary! You went to a different country for fuck's sake! What if you got kidnapped or...or worse?! You would have left a worried husband at home, for nothing!"
The grip on Molly's arm was released, "I didn't come here for nothing, Molly. I was genuine when I told you about wanting to do something bigger and better. To help people! I just...I didn't feel like I was doing my full purpose over there."
Empathy slammed into Molly at full force, leaving her breathless as the two stared at one another. She knew the feeling of standing in someone else's shadow too well, she practically lived in it. But the idea that someone like Mary could have doubts was foreign, she always seemed so well put together. Confident.
"I...I'm not the best with words, but if you ever need someone to talk to..." She let the offer hang in the air.
A smile was slow to flicker on Mary's face, "Thanks, Molls'. I appreciate that."
Molly nodded, "Good, 'cause I'd really love to get back to this sleuthing."
Her friend let out a loud laugh, "You and me both. C'mon, let's get started."
With a bond stronger than before, the pair made their way downstairs. Ready to take on the first steps of their investigation.
