PART 7
"Ah, ah, Sherlock..."
Molly wanted to wince at how minuscule her voice sounded, but she could not help the small waver that entered her squeaky tone. Sherlock caught her off guard, and his voice - oh, his voice - was still as... alluring as it once was all those years ago. Now, he looked so menacing as he stared at Molly, despite the fact that he kept his face neutral, and Molly wanted nothing more than to grab Theo and go running about to Miami, taking the small shred of dignity Sherlock left Molly with her.
Sherlock simply raised an eyebrow at her, his hair falling into his beautiful, blue-green eyes as he bent his face forward to look at her. Molly could not help but notice the gray hairs that peaked up around his hairline and the faint wrinkles on his face left from years of scowling. Despite the growing signs of age, time was kind to Sherlock than it was to most. Molly felt like slapping Sherlock for his sheer beauty, despite his aging. She felt as if Sherlock's face came closer and closer to hers until it rested right in front of hers. She could feel goosebumps rising on her skin, and if she leaned forward only a little, she could...
"Molly," Sherlock greeted, "you look relatively the same." His eyes roamed over her face and body. "Other than gaining some weight and wrinkles, you still look like that woman from years ago."
She gasped, stumbling back from Sherlock, who looked both confused and amused at the same time. "O-oh, s-sorry," she mumbled incoherently, trying to catch her breath at Sherlock's sharp, cutting words.
"Sherlock, you bloody bastard!" John bellowed.
Molly just stared at the ground. It felt like her whole body rebelled against her. Why did she feel like she just ran a marathon? She didn't remember her heart rate elevating and her breathing speed up. Molly felt like crying because she realized it was Sherlock's doing.
Even after hurting you and your son and critiquing your looks, he still has this power over you? her mind thought sadly.
"How dare you come here and insult Molly like that!" John bellowed, continuing his rant. Her friend came to stand in front of her, hiding her from the man who fathered her son that stood on the opposite side of the room.
Molly felt Sherlock's piercing gaze leave her and settle onto John. "You have no reason to be angry at me," he replied coolly to the angered doctor.
"Oh, Sherlock, I have every right to be irate with you!" John snapped. "You were so wrapped up in yourself that you didn't even notice Molly's absence until months after she left," Molly winced, keeping her eyes at the floor, as John yelled this at Sherlock, who stared coldly at his friend. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, but it was very apparent to her that she never meant anything to this tall man in all black. No matter how much Molly wanted to fight it, the realization left her wounded and upset. John was oblivious to Molly's sudden sadness and continued his sentence, "and, now, you stand here glaring at her because you've just discovered your carelessness fathered a son! And, to add to that long list of things, you waltz in here and start to berate her about aging! May I remind you, Sherlock, that you've gained some weight and wrinkles as well, you fucking arsehole!"
Molly kept her eyes glued to the tile, not risking even the faintest glance. She did not want to have to face those eyes - the eyes that, over fifteen years, she'd grown used to staring at her with amazement and love due to her son - that only looked at her with contempt. No, she did not yearn for the reopening of a wound that never truly healed, no matter how hard she tried to move on with her life, but how could she move on when she had a son that reminded her everyday of what once was?
The room quieted as John's seething words echoed around the morgue. Molly vaguely thought about how grateful she was that no one else was in St. Bart's for the time being. This moment was private, and she surely did not want to whole of St. Bart's to know that Sherlock knocked her up fifteen years ago, and he is just now finding out that he is a father.
No one spoke - not her, not John, not Sherlock - but there was a sniffle every once and a while that would break the silence. It wasn't until later that Molly realized that the small sobbing was her. She hiccuped, trying to quiet her crying, and looked up to see John and Sherlock looking at her, John with concern. Sherlock's expression was truly unreadable, and Molly made no attempt to try and decipher it. She tried in vain to compose herself, hating that Sherlock hadn't heard even five words from her mouth and was now seeing her crying. It was not the way the first meeting of ex-lovers should be.
She looked back to the floor, the awkwardness flooding the room making her uncomfortable. She knew that, at the moment, she was the center of both John's and Sherlock's attention, and that was number one on Molly's list of Never Want These Things to Happen.
The silence was borderline menacing until John broke the silence, snapping, "You could have told me you were coming, you know!"
Letting out a grateful sigh, Molly simply let the conversation take it's course, still staring at the floor. She knew that John and Sherlock argued like brothers, and that Sherlock could not stay angry at John for long. Herself, however, she wasn't so sure. Molly never truly angered Sherlock before, but the situation could have changed that.
"I was unaware you weren't alone," Sherlock gritted through clenched teeth. "If I had been, I wouldn't have called you."
"Who the bloody hell would you have called, then?" John spat. "Mary? Her?" Molly looked up to see John pointing an outraged finger at her.
Sherlock glanced at John and then proceeded to give the wall behind the doctor a hard stare. "I-I don't know. I called you in the hope that you could enlighten me on the situation, perhaps give some advice, but," Sherlock's eyes snapped to Molly, who recoiled at the angry light in his ever-changing eyes, "you were already talking to the very woman who never informed me about the son I apparently have now!"
He glared coldly at her, and Molly felt a boldness boil inside of her. He blamed her for this, for their son?
Oh, hell no, she thought angrily. Our son was no mistake.
"Well, excuse me, Sherlock!" she snapped. "I wasn't aware of you ever wishing for a child! Excuse my ignorance!"
Sherlock seemed mildly shocked at her outburst, as did John, as they both stared at her comically with wide-eyes and dropped jaws. The surprise on Sherlock's face quickly dissipated. "Well, I would have liked to know at least!" he retorted, his voice just as angry at hers, "instead of finding out by the sight of him!"
"What did you expect me to do?" Molly questioned, her voice hot and her face red. "Go running back to the man who broke my heart after finding out I was pregnant? Tell him not only is the woman he fucked still madly in love with him but also pregnant with his child?" Sherlock looked at her, his eyes slightly wide but his mouth closed. "No thank you, Sherlock!"
"You still should have told me," Sherlock replied after a moment. "I could have helped you."
"No you wouldn't have!" Molly screeched. "You dumped me on my ass when I even breathed a word of love! Did you think that I, a single, 29-year-old pregnant woman, would be dumb enough to go back to you and risk, not only having my heart broken yet again, having our child grow up in a home where his father didn't want him?" Molly felt herself shaking, quivering in anger. She felt hot and irate and accused. After years of oppression, her emotions bubbled to the surface, hot as lava. "You would not have helped! You would have made the whole situation worse! I le-"
Suddenly, the sound of her phone ringing broke the silence. Molly let out a breath, trying to calm herself. "Excuse me," she said curtly. She walked to her purse, retrieving her phone and answered it without looking at the number. "Hello?"
"M-mom!" Theo's shaking voice broke through the speaker at her ear.
Molly's anger at Sherlock disappeared as the concern for her son replaced it. "Oh, Theo, honey, what's wrong?"
There was a quivering breath on the other end of the line. "I-I saw him, Mom! I saw him - my dad!"
"Oh, dear, calm down," Molly soothed, turning her back to the two men behind her.
"I don't know what to do!" Theo cried breathlessly.
"Dear, dear, you need to take a breath, breathe, sweetheart."
"I-I want you to come home, mommy," her son whimpered.
Molly felt her anger returning as she listened to her son, her baby boy, asking her to come home. He even called her 'mommy,' something that Theo hadn't done since he was ten. "I will, baby, my shift is over in a couple minutes, and then I'm coming home to you," she replied softly, hoping that the promise to come home would soothe her son.
Theo gave a small sigh. "Okay, I'll be here."
"Okay, dear, I'll see you soon, okay?"
A pause. "O-okay."
Molly ended the call and turned around, her eyes going to Sherlock. She glared hotly at him, but his gaze was not on her. It was on her phone, which she still held in her hand.
He gulped. "Was that-"
"Theo?" she interrupted. "Yes, indeed, it was."
Sherlock shifted uncomfortably as Molly glowered at him. For once, it seemed that the magnificent Sherlock Holmes was without words. He cleared his throat. "He sounded-"
"Upset?" Molly shocked herself by her boldness, but Sherlock pissed her off beyond belief. "Why were you even at my old flat?" she hissed.
Sherlock didn't respond; he only matched her angry gaze with a cold, steely one of his own. The two - mother and father - locked themselves into a staring match, neither party willing to back down. Molly wanted to hit Sherlock upside his head so hard, but she knew that even her inner mamma-bear could accomplish that feat. If looks could kill, Sherlock Holmes would be obliterated where he stood.
Molly'd forgotten that John was still in the room. She jumped, startled, when John cleared his throat and spoke, "So, are you two going to just glare at each other for the rest of the day?"
Sherlock looked at his feet, while Molly tried to regain her composure. It seemed outrageous that only this morning everything was calm. There was no Sherlock, no crying Theo, and no royally pissed off Molly. Now, it seemed, Sherlock ruined everything with his uncanny ability to be an utter asshole and show up at the most inopportune moments.
"N-no," Molly, collecting her thoughts, mumbled to John, who moved closer to her. She looked up to see her friend staring at her with wide, concerned eyes. She could see the unspoken question in John's eyes. "I don't what I'm going to do yet," she said quietly, glancing at the clock. "All I know is that I have a son at home who is absolutely shaken from seeing his father for the first time - how they met, I've not a clue - and I need to go be mom now."
John nodded stiffly. "Do you want me to come over later?"
She shook her head. "Theo plays tough, but I think one encounter of a person from my past is enough for one day... or forever," she replied, the last part under her breath. She moved to collect her purse when a voice stopped her short.
"When do I get to see my son again?" Sherlock asked quietly.
Molly whipped around, an incredulous expression on her face. Her shock melted away as quickly as it came. "Give me one good reason why I should let you, Mr. Holmes?"
Sherlock opened his mouth, but his brain struggled or an answer. Molly gave a satisfied nod. "That's what I thought." She collected her things. Molly felt remorse at being so vile to Sherlock. Why - WHY - must I have a bloody conscience? Molly thought crossly.
She walked towards the door, giving John a look that showed she wasn't angry with him and she'd be in touch. Her hand pushed the door open slightly before she took a deep breath and said, "I will talk to Theo. If he wants you in his life, then maybe - maybe - I will consider letting you into our lives, Sherlock."
Without another word, Molly walked out the door.
John stared at the door for a long time. He didn't move; he just stared. Sherlock seemed to be doing the same. John looked to her his friend and saw a tortured expression on Sherlock's face. John swallowed a gasp; he'd never seen Sherlock look so... helpless, desperate. Sherlock just looked blankly at the door, his eyes glazed over.
John shook his head. "Good job, Sherlock."
"What did I do?" Sherlock mumbled, still staring at the door.
"You managed to not only drive away the mother of your child and the only woman who've you had a sexual and emotional relationship away, but now it's very possible that you've managed to take away the only chance you've ever had at knowing you son." It was almost comical how much Sherlock screwed this up. John shook his head, collecting his phone and clipboard. "I need to go, Sherlock. See you... whenever."
With nothing else, the doctor left his friend standing there, alone, in the middle of St. Bart's.
A/N: One of these days I will actually follow through with when I'm going to update, but, alas, SammyKatz implied another request, so here we are! Admittedly, I already had this whole chapter typed up, so I didn't really have to work at it. LOL. Read and review! I hope you enjoyed!
PS: I uploaded another story. It's called A Penny for Your Silence? It's an AU with a twist. If you want more strong Molly, read THAT. I've gotten no reviews on it so far, and I wondered if I should take it down. It would be multi-chaptered, like this, and I was excited for it, but if no one will read it I won't bother. Please either review what you think here or on the story. Thanks!
