Day:56. Feeling Smashing.

As soon as he could Sherlock Holmes accessed his mind palace and sought the door labeled Molly Hooper, Registrar Official St Bartholomew's, Pathologist and Senior lab technician. Walking into to the familiar room he glanced around. It was a replica of her small flat. The comfortable second hand furniture in gaudy mismatched floral patterns against creamy yellow, however where the real flat had nothing but blank walls (Molly had never hung pictures. No tools past a duel screw driver set, and she never remembered to purchase necessary things to do so) Sherlock himself had decorated the walls of the mind palace with framed images of Molly.

Oh the images he had collected here. They were varied and eclectic. Ordinary and exceptional moments of their times together. Glancing around he observed the day they'd met while she was still in residency. She'd made an obscure, yet correct observation that her superior had missed despite clear signs of the beginnings of exhaustion from the end of her long shift. That may not have been the first date she had become aware of him, but that small occurrence certainly was when took notice of the mousey petite woman who was doing her obligatory turn in the mortuary. He had praised her and mentioned that she had an aptitude or this line of work. She had been startled by his attention and blushed and shyly thanked him with a smile. But it had still surprised him although pleasantly when she became a permanent member of the morgue staff. Even more so that her skills were exceptional. So much so that he would refuse to work with anyone else.

On a further viewing he saw other moments that sought to remember. They were not at all pleasant, but necessary to remember. There were ones of her body language and expression after he had related that her so called boyfriend from IT was in fact Gay. Also the distraught look she had given him when she was told said man was also a murder and psychopath who had attempted to kill he and John. The look she wore when he'd broken her apart piece by piece on Christmas Eve...

There was also a lovely candid shot of the look on her face as she helped him prepared to jump of St Bart's roof. Calm, steadfast and determined to get it right. She saved his life that day without a single doubt in his plan or hesitation to do what needed to be done.

His eye became focused on he picture that hung over her fireplace. The smile she saved for rare moments he found her approval. Just looking at it made his own lips turn up did something basic but powerful to him to receive that look. He compared the smile to her newer, more intimate smile and felt the rush of heat flowed through him again.

He turned around and nearly stumbled over something, on the ground: those heels where in the floor along with a trail of clothes belonging to both him and to her leading a path to her bedroom. He followed them down the hall to do so. He gently pushed open the door and saw the familiar sight of her bedroom, the one she willingly gave up when he turned to her in need of care and rest. The room was flooded with a hazy early morning light. On the bed he was captivated to see her naked back. It was so elegant to behold with curves so simple and similar to his beloved violin. Her hips were covered in the coral sheet that she kept on her bed. He watched as his hand appeared on her hip and followed the line of it higher till it rested on he edge of her waist and rib cage. The fingers of his left hand were making soft, brushing movements. He wondered how soft her skin would feel in that intimate spot...

The thought took him by surprise. It wasn't lust that made him curious it was simply the desire to hold and be close to her. Is this what caring was like? Wanting to be that free, that close and available to someone else well her in particular.

It was an idea. A charming idea. To wake up by her and have her warm at his side and smiling that half smile at him...

Sherlock focused more on what to do with this new development in their ...relationship. It was pointless to deny he desired to be with her and that he cared about Molly, but that did not mean he was able to be what she would want and desire him to be in return. Sherlock Holmes was not now, nor would he ever be a good 'boyfriend'. The word alone made him cringe just to think. Yet, being near Molly, and enjoying a more physical relationship with her was something he was interested in pursuing. What the details of that relationship would be remained to be determined.

It looked like a discussion would have to be had between them. Some agreements or arrangement. His stomach knotted at the thought. Communicating feelings. Emotions. Sentiment. Weakness.

Not that he possessed much of those, well excluding the weaknesses. But what would the cost be? Wondering what would require of him as a... person of value in her life. Dinners and evenings together? Dates ( another shudder passed through him.) What about commitments with her?Could she truly imagine he would escort her to functions with coworkers and friends and him sitting quietly and passively while they discussed personnel issues and gossip? Yes, he was doing that now but on a more regular basis that would be hell. What about more personally, what if she asked for commitment? Not that there was anyone else, but what about his cases?After all he was already committed, life long to his work. Was she prepared for the inevitable standing her up and abandoned her for days or weeks if need be and canceling long standing plans in favor of spur if the moment chases? Was Molly going to whine, cry and ask him to give up consulting to make her feel cared for? What other demands or limitations would she make on him.

Sherlock knew himself, he wasn't able to change. It was absolutely inevitable that he would hurt her in dozens of small ways. It was impossible for him to make Molly happy long term.

Disappointment and anger flooded fear was sickening. This...relationship was doomed. It was toxic and it was was going to leave a festering vacant hole in his life as well as hers. Panic began to flood him again. This would destroy every aspect of their professional and personal relationships. The thoughts were turning to how frustrating it was going to be to find a replacement for Molly at Bart's.

The knot tightened further. God help him,the idea of replacing her sickened him worse than the previous thoughts of disappointing her. He was a bastard.

And how he hell would he replace her personally? A brief moment passed where he tried to assure himself that her assistance in the fall could have been performed by any number of Mycroft's lackeys. Yes, the thought that he could have survived the fall without her eased his mind. Perhaps he had not even needed her when he had been shot... But she had been the first person he thought of. The one he'd needed. Molly, was the one he could always count on to help him no matter the situation and, she was always willing to be there for him. She had made a huge difference when he'd been shot.

Molly Hooper was irreplaceable.

She was also now standing in the room with him again dressed not in her casual clothes pulling on a pair of shoes. Sensible, stylish flats for the cocktail dress she wore. The dress, oh Molly. The dress was fine in theory; black and white stripes with a single car of a bright, deep pink. In practice though the bars overwhelmed her and the bright headband that equaled the pink of her dress created a youthful affect. Far to youthful for a 32 year old medical professional.

Molly met his eyes and blushed. Damn, she dress like an overgrown child look like a child but the look in her eyes was far from innocent.

"There's been a change of plans." She said.

Sherlock felt the desire shoot through his blood. He wasn't sure he could speak without breaking his voice like a school boy, so he tilted his head in acknowledgment.

"It seems The restaurant where the rehearsal was scheduled had a small fire the other night, their banquet room is closed. So they will be catering it up hill. Jillian has decided that I am best qualified to oversee that, so I'm skipping the rehearsal and heading up now. Care to join me? "

She sat down on the bed across from him and worked her foot into her shoe. Sherlock strode over to her and sat beside her. She looked up at him and waited.

He pulled her face in for a kiss. A brief press of greeting and stood up. " I'll just get dressed then." Molly nodded, slight surprise from the kiss showed on her face as pulled out her jewelry roll and started going through it till she found the pearly earrings she had been looking for. "I'm going to run down and meet Jillian in the lobby. She's bringing some things for me to take uphill."He sat on the bed by her and riffled through her collection of bracelets and earrings. If it bothered her that he went through her things without asking he paid no mind, he wasn't after anything, just enjoyed fiddling a bit as he looked. He stilled when he came to one set of earrings.

"Molly, how come you never wear these?" The pair in question where a tiny, delicate set of skulls with sapphires set as eyes.

"Oh. Aren't they awesome? My dad got me them when I declared pathology. Too sentimental to wear I suppose. It would break my heart to loose one. I love them." She took them back and rolled them in the pack. Sherlock made no comment.

"Ok, I'm off. " she said grabbing an overly large Yellow. Oh Molly.

"I'll be ready in 10 minutes. " he finally said. She smiled and slipped back our the door.

He grabbed his own bags and took his turn in the en-suite. He splashed cool water on his face and studied his reflection. An aging man stared back at him. Was he truly 35 and still struggling with accepting someone in his life? Granted the last person he allowed himself to become closer to shot him...

But Molly wasn't new. In fact they had known and worked with one another for nearly 6 years. Molly knew who and what he was and his temperaments and she had learned to ride the tide. Perhaps she knew what she was getting into more than he had finished dressing and was out the door in less than five minutes.

As he came into the lobby he heard a voice calling out Molly's name.

"Honestly Molly!" The woman, a petite brunette around the same age as Molly was snapping.

" Here is everything that needs to be set up when you get there. Mother has printed out everything you need to do when you get there. Just please follow it will you- it should be clear enough even for you to figure out. And do not re-adjust anything up there. It's all been stylized and we don't need your unique 'eye' throwing it off. Speaking of which THAT is what your wearing? You look like a walking chair in that over sized print."

Sherlock stood a bit back and watched to two cousins interact. The two were of similar height, coloring and build yet Jillian's eyes were more almond shaped and her nose far straighter than Molly's own. The bride wore her hair up in an elegant twist and her sense of fashion was far more appropriate for a woman their age. However, Jillian was speaking to Molly as if his... Friend were half her age. It was time to stop that behavior once and for all. He took a moment while he had her in her personal element. Jillian was a closet anorexic and had multiple complexes and narcissistic inclinations that where severally bloated with her crowned title of bride despite the fact she knew the groom cheated on her frequently. With men. Seeking to deceive and belittle anyone who threatened her so called happiness.

"Everything alright?" He said approaching the ladies. Molly turned and murmured a placating yes and taking the bag from Jillian.

The bride however eyed Sherlock with surprise and to his own, hatred. She tuned back to her cousin.

"Are you kidding me Molly! You brought Him, Sherlock Holmes to Richard and I's fucking wedding? A known fraud and drug addict here on MY day. I know you are jealous of me but this is too far. Oh, I don't believe you! I told mother that you are trying to ruin my wedding, like you let him ruin your own engagement? I told mother you'd try something and this well this proves it. God, Molly!How desperate are you to hurt me that you'd bring this Arse. I asked you to bring a date not some, erstwhile sex crazed celebrity!" Oh, but she was raging. It was a fearful thing. Every eye was turned to the shouting people being the curious sheep they were.

And Molly just stood there and took it. Sherlock could not believe it. She looked remorsefully both to Jillian and towards himself. Sherlock quickly connected the adamant insinuations of exactly why she did not want him to come with her to whatever reason her family Hated him. And that allegation that he had ruined her engagement, that would have to be figured soon, but first he needed to diffuse the bridezilla bride before him.

"Well Hullo Jillian, yes lovely to meet you to too. Yes, Sherlock Holmes as you know. Do you always draw such attention wherever you go?" All the right words where said but, the false sweetness left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Jillian met him glare for glare. The analytical part of him noted how similar he and Molly looked when they were both angry with him. Their eyes, so similar in color, but not shape deepened to the same dark chocolate. But this was no Molly. There was no care behind the anger only abhorrence. It felt rather unjust really m, but he felt given two more minutes in her company as the feeling would be mutual.

"Oh,I know just who, and what you think you are you complete arse! You had better believe that I you open your mouth even once tomorrow and berate anyone I will sue you. And no, that is NOT an empty threat." Jillian pointed her finger at his chest in warning one last time, than turned on her stilettos and stormed away as fast as they carried her, followed by three far plainer woman clearly the other bridesmaids.

He glanced after them as the ladies, ( ha!) no women made their way out. Jillian and Molly also shared a posterior it seemed. Oh shut up Brain!

Sherlock turned to where Molly stood, still and flushed with embarrassment. She seemed rooted to the ground. Now was the time he needed John to know what to say to make her feel better. What to do? Last time he'd seen her like this was the damn Christmas party where he'd deduced that she was trying to impress some fool, only to find out that the fool had been him all along.

He had kissed her check then, but since they were in a very public place he grabbed her hand and squeezed firmly instead.

"What a charming cousin you have Molly." He spoke with a bitter tone. She didn't move. Sherlock tried to catch her eye, but she evaded his gaze.

"Molly?" He squeezed a bit harder but she still refused to look up to him. With his fee hand he softly tilted her chin till they her eyes finally gave in and met his.

"Is there a reason that Jillian hates me?" He asked far calmer than he felt.

Molly nodded.

"Does that reason have to do with you and Tom ending your engagement?"

She paused, and dropped his gaze before she nodded once again.


a/n

Oh he utter agony of transitional chapters. Sorry for the delay folks. I'm definitely a post as I go person. That being said this chapter refused to fill itself out. I actually got a whole other story started while trying to figure what the heck these people wanted to say to each other and to move the plot along.

Thank you to all of you who review, follow and message me. Especially about the state of my head. I'm so much better than I was and I've stopped sayings stupid things like 'brain crystals' .So yes, I am doing well once more. But if you see something really off, do let me know.

You are all so dear to my heart.