Chapter Nine
Time For Apologies
Molly slowed down at the sight, pursing her lips. She was really not sure what to make of Sherlock's lone figure standing there still. Had he ditched his cab for some reason? Had he stood there for hours specifically waiting for her to drive by again? She brought the car to a halt, stopping before Sherlock. He didn't move towards her, even when she opened the door of the car and walked out. He waited until she spoke to him.
"Is everything okay?"
Molly's words didn't come harsh this time. She was genuinely curious and Sherlock took a step in her direction before speaking.
"You have my phone," he explained.
Molly frowned, putting on her coat. The sun that was still visible in the sky offered now no source of heat, and she shivered, "No, I don't," she rebutted.
Sherlock tried to show a sympathetic expression. He didn't want to infuriate her again and lose his only chance to get back to his hotel, so he explained, calmly, "I put my coat in your car when I was fixing it. I believe that when you threw it to the back seat my phone must have fallen from the coat's pocket."
"What happened to your cab? You could have asked him to take you to a phone booth so you could call your own phone."
Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, "The cab left just after you did. Couldn't wait any longer, I suppose."
Molly nodded, taking Sherlock in, assimilating what he was telling her. Then, she opened the door of her car and she searched for his phone. She had to remove a few bags and items, but she finally found it, placed on top of the back seat. She picked it up and approached Sherlock again. She extended the phone to him. Sherlock took the phone, checked it out of habit and then retrieved it into his pocket.
"Thank you," he said.
Molly's eyes were set on his scarf, placed over his suitcase, "What happened?" she asked. And instinctively she picked the scarf up, measuring the oil stain.
"I didn't have anything at hand to clean my hands with," he explained, "It's okay, I'll get them to wash it at the hotel," he removed the scarf from Molly's hands and held tight to it, but Molly didn't let go of it.
"You got your hands dirty fixing my car. I'll wash it for you."
"Really, there's no need-"
"I'll wash it for you."
Sherlock knew that tone of voice and he knew there was no use in trying to argue, so he was the one loosening the grip on the scarf, "Thank you," he repeated it.
"I'll drop you where you need me to," she offered, and if Sherlock was surprised by this, he disguised it well, "The car is pretty full, though, so I am afraid it won't be a very comfortable trip."
"It's fine," Sherlock assured, "I just want to leave this bloody place."
Molly looked at him as she passed him by, opening the door on the passenger's seat, trying to find some room for a few things on the back of the car. Then it occurred to her, "Why didn't you try to find the main road?"
Sherlock thought for a moment, but then decided to tell the truth, "I did try to do it. I got lost. I wandered around for hours, couldn't find a bloody house in miles, ended up here again."
"You went around in circles?" she asked.
"It didn't feel like it, but I suppose I must have."
Molly turned her face away from him, smirking. Take Sherlock Holmes away from London and you'll find a man who loses his way.
"You can sit now," she informed, "But I will have to put a few things on top of you. It's really crammed. And give me your suitcase; I think I can still fit it against your legs, if you carry the things that are placed on the floor as well."
Sherlock did as told, and he sat down, putting the seatbelt. Molly put a few bags on top of him, and when she closed his door Sherlock seemed to be blending into the seat behind him. She sat behind the wheel and started the engine again. She passed Sherlock her GPS and he inserted the hotel's address. Then, she got on the road and started driving.
They drove silently for a while, Molly looking ahead and Sherlock looking out the window. He could hardly move with all those things placed on his lap, but Molly could see him wringing his hands together, something he did when he was nervous or uneasy.
"You had no right to break into my flat."
Sherlock should be expecting more than for that to be a finished argument.
"I know," he said.
Molly waited.
"I'm sorry," he added.
Molly nodded.
"I accept your apology, but you can't trespass my privacy ever again. Are we clear?"
Sherlock's hands were still closed tight together when he nodded, in way of promise, "Yes."
He waited for her to add something, but Moly seemed to have said all she had to say. She was angry with him still, Sherlock could tell. And she would forgive him eventually, but this was not her accepting what he had done. She would never accept what he had done.
"So," he started, "Are you coming-"
"I'm not returning to London with you," she took her eyes of the road for a second, "You have just apologised and I accepted your apology, don't ruin it."
Sherlock nodded, and stared outside again. He should have known better than to expect anything else from her after she had had the courage to leave him there on the road, all alone. Molly was different, he thought. She was learning to stand up for herself and in the worst time possible for him.
"Do you really have a case?"
Molly's question put a stop to any attempt Sherlock might have ensued to try and change her mind, and he knew when to accept defeat.
"Yes, I told you I had. I wasn't lying."
"How about John? Why didn't he come with you?"
"He has work at the surgery, so he couldn't."
Molly bit her lip, "Sort of a great coincidence that you happened to have a case in Sussex just as I decide to take on vacations here," she remarked.
Sherlock stared at her for a second and then he looked ahead. He could see the hotel in the distance; the images on the website didn't do it justice, he caught himself thinking.
"Those who do not believe in coincidences must lead a very dull life," he said, absentminded. This was one of his mottos, and Molly stared at him now, frowning.
The car came to a halt in front of the hotel's entrance and Molly parked it there, getting out of it to free Sherlock from all the things he was carrying. Then, she gave him his suitcase as well, and stopped in front of him, arms crossed.
"Thank you for leaving me here," he said.
Molly swallowed. Sherlock was gazing at her with intensity, and he seemed unsure of what to say and do next, as if she was now a different subject, someone he didn't know. She took one hand to the left side pocket of his coat and removed the scarf that he had folded neatly, concealing it from her.
"I told you I would wash it. And so I will."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, accepting defeat. Then, Molly turned on her heels, gave him a last nod and left. Sherlock saw her disappearing and then he headed towards the hotel hall.
"It was worth the try," he reassured himself.
It took Molly a few hours to put everything in place, but she found tidying up soothing. It kept her mind at bay, and it gave her a feeling of accomplishment. Now she had pretty much everything she needed, for her and for Toby, and plans for the next day.
She made soup for dinner, and then she tried on the heating, to make sure it was working. She would have preferred the fireplace, but with no wood available yet, the heating would have to do.
The day had gone cold quickly, so she picked one of the blankets she had purchased and wrapped herself in it, while she waited for the kettle to boil. She inhaled the scent that came from the blanket, and her heart faltered inside her chest. It took her a few minutes to realise where she recognised it from, why it seemed so familiar. Then the memory of seeing Sherlock holding it amongst other things on the passenger's seat of her car made everything clear. It smelled of after-shave, and soap. It smelled of him.
She sat on the couch with her tea, looking outside the window. The sun had set already, and the leaves on the trees balanced with the impact of the wind. She remembered Sherlock's words, 'Those who do not believe in coincidences must lead a very dull life.'
She sure hoped coincidences started to work for her this time to keep Sherlock away from her.
