THE WAR INSIDE MY HEAD

Wow. It's been awhile since I've uploaded a chapter. Sorry…haven't been really doing much editing or writing lately. Work has been keeping me crazy busy. Like, this week I work everyday with no breaks. Today is my only day off unfortunately, but hopefully I'll find a little time to edit more of this and post. I also start NanoWriMo soon, so updates might not come once that starts because it will be my main focus, you know? It's my first year doing it but thankfully not my first time writing a book – just not the series I am currently working on. A brand new thing…in a month. It's going to get crazy haha! Anywho, I hope you enjoy this. But, if any of you are taking part in Nano message me and we can exchange information. We all need the support right?

Enjoy! I'll post another chapter tomorrow, possible.

Much love,

Day


9.

He tossed his head to the cab driver who just spoke, then rolled his eyes when he begin to recognize the face. Sherlock's expression turned as quickly as it took a person to blink. A growl emitted from his throat as he balled his hands up in order not to try to reach over and strangle the person who had blindly allowed himself let alone Molly take them for a ride. "What are you doing?"

"Well I heard you fell to your death and Jim wasn't answering his phone- poor man, rest in peace. I had to find out somehow after I received news that out of nowhere, Moran was captured. I knew only one person could managed that, so that eliminates the possibility of you being dead," the Woman crinkled her nose in mock disgust and continued, "You're such a copycat, you know? Playing death was my thing. But of course, we both know I'm better at that game."

Sherlock hummed, not really knowing how to respond to her or what she had said. "I never liked the game very much. It was time to end it really. I'm not like you, Miss Adler. I have people I want to protect and that is the only reason I copied you as you say. However, if I remember correctly, I was the one who helped you cheat death before."

"Yes and look where it has gotten you in a confusing mess of a maze, torn between that ice surrounds your heart and the warmth of companionship with one mousy pathologist. Have you forgotten about John?" She laughed.

Irene drove off the entrance of Bart's when another car was stopping by, leaving Sherlock silent for a moment. "No I have not forgotten about John. They are... different," he said as he tried to explain what Molly and John meant to him.

"I can tell, Sherlock Holmes. I would fancy that pretty little thing too. She slapped you, after all. I like a feisty one too, more exciting, if you know what I mean," Irene spoke in an icy, cold manner. Sherlock frowned at the lack of jealousy in her voice.

"That certainly would be a change for you wouldn't it? However, she's off limits." He told her in that threateningly scary voice of his. If he had been face to face with her it probably hit the mark more clearly.

"No, we wouldn't want anything to happen to our pathologist, would we? She's quite rare but I'm not the only one who's still interested in her. You still have work to do."

Sherlock let out a sigh. "Are you offering your assistance in the matter then, since you do have a similar interest at stake."

Irene simply laughed.

The car swiveled to a stop at the back of Molly's apartment. "Depends, Mr. Holmes. What do I stand to gain from helping you?"

Sherlock's mind couldn't help but wander upon the pathologist's face when he asked her to fake his death. He recalled how she relentlessly helped him over and over again with no strings attached, expecting nothing back from him as if it was what people do. Her voice echoed in his head, "...all I did was help you."

He snapped back into reality, shook his head in slight disgust at Irene and exited the taxi without a word.

Sherlock found his way back up to Molly's flat and plopped back down onto the sofa where he had spent months settled either for a night of rest or in agonizing pain and there he steeple his hands before his lips, thinking.

She told him to leave and finish what he needed to but yet here he was again. Brought back here actually by a woman who he could never trust, but why would she bring him back here? She heard the words that fell out of his pathologist's mouth and the slap that sounded across his face when she hit him. He would never forget that.

That's where Molly found Sherlock when she got home from work, still there sitting - thinking. She let out a sigh as she placed the bag of takeout on the table in front of them and sat down.

"I slapped you earlier." She said quietly, breaking the silence.

Sherlock snapped out of his mind palace at the soft sweet voice of his pathologist. He nodded his head and cleared his throat in his Sherlock way. "Yes you did," he said, his hand cupping the spot she smacked as if it still hurt after so many hours.

She shot him a glare from the corner of her eyes, shrugged nonchalantly and said, "Well, you kind of deserve it. You kept staring at me and I don't know why. It was uncomfortable, your... gaze."

"You're not the first person to want to hit me you know. John did a few times. I asked him to one time, during the…" He stopped short as if realizing that something hidden became very important to him.

"During the case with the dominatrix, The Woman you called her. I remember her a little…well she was brought to the morgue so, erm." Molly rambled as she tried to figure out what was going on in his head.

He thought other's lack thereof knowledge was baffling, look at how confused he made her when he just seemed to realize things that she couldn't see herself. When he stood up quickly then too, Molly grew alarmed. "Sherlock? Is everything okay?"

He turned to face Molly, his face stern yet his eyes never meeting her. "We... We never had anything," he explained delicately.

It took her some time before she realized what he was referring to. She sunk a little deeper into the seat, mouthing an "oh" to herself.

She looked up at Sherlock; his face was expressing some sort of guilt and shame. She stood up and walk to him, her face concerned as she spoke, "It's okay, you don't have to feel ashamed. For god's sake, I dated a criminal mastermind."

"If I remember correctly you said you never dated him, not seriously. Three dates was it?" He mumbled. The look on her face made him frown. Bringing that up was a bit not good.

"Does it matter?"

She giggled a little. He noticed she did that when she wanted to make it seem like something didn't annoy her.

"No, I suppose not. You brought takeout for more than one person. Either you suspected that I wasn't going to leave like you so boldly suggested I do or you're really hungry." Molly headed towards the kitchen, leaving his question unanswered.

He smirked at that, not that she saw it.

"Aren't you... on a case?" Molly asked monotonously. Sherlock glanced up at her, bemused by her question. He shrugged nonchalantly, the same way she did to him before. She rolled her eyes and joined him at the table. They ate in comfortable silence.

A voice in Sherlock's head kept wanting to escape his mouth, 'I simply want to eat with you.' He kept the voice in, but that did not stop a light, satisfied smile from spreading on his face.

Molly stared at him curiously, her mouth twisting up a bit as she tried to figure out what could make him smile this much. Certainly not her.

She returned to her food, sipping the bottle of water she had brought from the kitchen. Her phone began ringing in her pocket, jostling from consuming the shrimp fried rice she had been eating slowly. She placed her container down to grab her phone and she immediately stood up and walked over to the window. Upon seeing the name on the screen; MOM.

"Hello." She uttered quietly.

Sherlock stopped eating as soon as Molly left the table. But he remained at his seat watching her flutter around while on the phone with big hand gestures. He chuckled to her dramatic expressions, only to be shot with a death glare from her as she roll her eyes for the 5th time to whatever her mother was saying. Her mother was one loud lady, judging by the yelling coming from the phone.

"Yes, okay, okay, yes, okay, alright, love you, bye. Bye. BYE." And Molly clicked the call dead.

He heard her mumble something under her breath as she placed the phone on the table next to her water, and then she just started eating again as if the phone call hadn't bothered her. There was a reason why she interested him other than the fact that she was a great friend even if he didn't get that all the time. She could put up a face of indifference mere moments after dealing with something that bothered her.

Twice in the past seven hours had he seen her get irritated when the subject of her mother, and twice had she just completely shut down afterwards. Most people ranted and raved about how shitty they felt, she just didn't.

"I think you're supposed to talk about things that are bothering you. That's what most people do."

Molly looked up at him, placing her food back down on the table. "I'm not most people and despite what you think I don't want to put you through the ordeal of listening to the long discussion of how ridiculous my mother can be. Nor do I wish to talk about it."

Sherlock didn't seem to want to end it there, so instead he posed a question. "Is it because of your dad?"

Molly paused for a split second before nodding her head a tad too casually. Sherlock raised his eyebrow at that, then asked for her to elaborate. She pursed her lips, only to pick back up her container of rice down and then put it down again as she began rambling on about how her mother was angry and bitter over her father's death and that she mindlessly let this frustration out on the whole family during his last month of sickness, making everything worse than it already was. Sherlock stayed silent during the rant and just watched her speak.

Molly wasn't sure how to feel after venting off one of the most biggest problems she's had personally to a man who for all rights and purposes was considered dead.

The look on his face as he listened to her speak - he was listening she could tell, was something she only saw when he really was taking in all of the information that someone was telling him.

"So that's my little family drama. I guess that's why it's hard for all of us to interact together as well but it's not really all that important. My life is here in London."

"We don't talk about things that have happened in my family either. We might be cut from the same cloth that way, Molly."

"Are you comforting me, right now?" Molly smiled at him.

Sherlock licked his lips before speaking, "I believe I am, unknowingly."

Molly giggled at that as Sherlock stared teasingly. He was looking at her lips. He liked how she had a slightly crooked smile that never fails to bright up the room.

A smile then faded abruptly, he look up to meet her bewildered eyes. Sherlock had been looking at her lips a little too long, and far too hard that how he usually observe things.

Molly covered her mouth, mortified into thinking he saw something wrong with her mouth ("Too small"). She hid her face as she moved around the couch to toss the empty containers in the trash. No words befell her lips but her mind was racing with several questions. When she came back round to retrieve her water bottle, Sherlock cleared his throat to grab her attention. He looked uncomfortable but not in the usual way, but in the "you caught me staring and I don't know what you're thinking but don't run away from me" type of deal. If he even thought that way.

Molly hummed, his hand suddenly coming to brush over hers.

"Molly."

Molly flinched a little at the contact, her face instantly flushing bright red. Sherlock's lip spread to a grin at her adorable reaction.

"Y-y-yes?" her voice was no more than a whisper. She silently cursed her stutter as she looked up to meet the gorgeous pair of eyes.

He knew why she had flustered after him noticing her lips, and his heart wrenched with ache at the recollection of him putting her down in the past. "I like your lips. I lied before. They are not too small. They are perfect."

Molly was red in face - all over it. She wasn't sure if she could even move let alone make a sound in reply. He was staring because he was appreciating her lips. He called them perfect. Where she should begin with this? What could she say here? What was there to say? Thank you, probably. That sounded very lame to her but he had just complimented her. Genuinely complimented her. There were no real stakes here. There were no body parts around to need any flattering statements coming from him, well that wasn't entirely true. There were two fully function bodies full of organs and bones and they were mere fingertips away. Molly flushed even more at the thought and pretty sure she was getting dizzy.

She swayed a little, eliciting Sherlock to reach out to grasp her by the arm and pull her down to sit…on him. She felt him chuckle as he asked, "If I knew being honest would get that reaction, I would have delayed it a bit."

Molly's eyes fell to the ground as she struggled to dismiss the blush painted over her face. She pursed her lips nervously, and then turned her bright eyes to say, "S-s-sorry... And thank you."

Sherlock's eyes were gentle like a puppy. She groaned internally at how adorable he was looking at her, fuelling the urge the kiss him. He did not stop staring at her face, the same way he did in the taxi, only this time, better. She cursed the voice that refused to stop making her want to kiss him.

Sherlock could sense a conflict within the woman who had just pulled onto his lap as if she were a puppy. She would be more of a cat, a orange tabby that would just curl up and sit there while he was thinking.

He wouldn't mind having that. He didn't normally like cats. He didn't normally like women…or humans either but Molly Hooper had become one of those exceptions. He had done everything to push her away but something just kept stringing him along to this position. His head tilted to the side, his hand reaching up to touch her cheek. His index and forefinger coming up to trail against her jaw. He knew it was a strange touch but he had stopped himself from reaching out for her hair. It was pulled back but some strands had escaped, most likely from the wind.

She smiled at him, that adorable smile that she had given him in the cafeteria when he had complimented her hair. "You should wear your hair down more." He told her, hand coming up to pull the ribbon she had put in her hair this morning. Her hair coming down in a waterfall of auburn brown tresses.

"Why are you being nice?" She said suddenly.

Sherlock tilted his head back, looked away to contemplate her question then flickered his eyes back to her fiercely red and curious face. He smirked and said, "What do you think?"

Molly frowned at the great detective's absurd question, but answered without hesitation as she shook her head, "You will laugh at me."

"Say it."

Molly took a deep breath before quickly mumbling, "Youwanttokissme."

She braced herself for his insult, but Sherlock did not laugh.

"You're right." And lean in to her lips.

Molly's hands came up and pressed against his shoulders carefully. She wasn't trying to embrace him really. She was trying to get her bearings before anything else transpired. She really wanted this. She just needed to be sure he wanted this. He had told her point blank that he did but sometimes she wondered about him. His hair brushed her forehead as he leaned against her. His arms were still around her waist, holding her in place.

"Sherlock…are you sure?"

"Molly, I'm going to need you to stop talking."

"Are you telling me to…"

"Shut up, Molly."

He growled as he smothered her with his lips.

Molly felt her heart burst when their lips met. As if she saw fireworks. Kissing Sherlock was like all the cheesy things people had ever written, like all the songs that ever described kissing. She smiled at that thought as her lips remained on his. Sherlock felt her mouth curled up and pressed his lips onto hers more passionately. It felt right, what they were doing. Her lips laid perfectly onto his, and he allowed her to build a home in his heart.

Sherlock felt Molly's fingers start threading and pulling at his locks and he was nearly as surprised as her when he let out a moan at that. He felt her giggle as she moved back a moment. She was smiling at him. Her lips were swollen and he felt a little pride that he had been the one to do that.

It seemed wrong to him for a moment and he didn't really get much time to dwell on it as a certain feline found his way into the small space that the two of them had made. Molly only laughed some more.

"Oh, Toby."

Her eyes meeting his as she untangled one of her hands from around him to pet the feline who had taken up a space on Sherlock's chest than on his actual owner.

He shot the cat a look before looking up at Molly. She looked happy. He felt…warm. Sherlock and Molly burst into a hearty giggle as they stare at each other, allowing the moment to set into their minds.

Molly's blush faded after that, she whispered a small thank you and then excused herself to take a shower. Toby settled himself on Sherlock's lap, stopping him from chasing after her.

"You jealous feline..." he hissed lovingly at the cat. Toby just snuggled to his touch. He lay back onto the couch, his winning smile fixed prominently on his face. His eyes closed for a few minutes. He could hear the sound of humming intermingling with the waterfall of jets coming from the shower.

It was only as he was flicking through the past couple days did he feel his phone in his pocket, breaking him from his palace of thoughts. Toby stirred a little, Sherlock quickly retrieved the phone only to frown at the message.

John Watson is on his way back to Molly Hooper's apartment. It would be advisable if you left.

Mycroft