Chapter Nine
So, I thought I would get to start the excitement this chapter, but it turned out I had some more to fill in before that happened, so the excitement starts next chapter!
On a side note, it may be a week or so before my next update. I got promoted, so my schedule is more full, and my grandma passed away yesterday, so we're dealing with the services and all that.
William sat in the black leather armchair in 221B Baker Street, watching as John read through a newspaper at the dining table while sipping at a cup of tea.
(…Parliament stated Thursday that delegations would be decided as to the direction they would take—)
"What were you thinking, William?"
William's gaze broke away from John, turning off his mental hack in the process, to see Michael standing behind the other armchair. "Pardon?"
"What did you think jumping off Tower Bridge would accomplish?" demanded Michael as John obviously flipped a page of his newspaper.
William gave a frown. "That was three days ago. Where have you been?"
"Busy," replied Michael haughtily. "Which you should be. You have been especially absent."
William rolled his eyes, looking away. "What do you care?"
"This behavior is unhealthy."
"Again, why do you care?" asked William.
John closed his newspaper and stood, taking his tea into the kitchen.
Michael's gaze followed John into the other room before moving back to William. "Nothing good can come of this."
William shot his eyes back to his brother. "Oh, how would you know? When was the last time you stopped to admire the world and not just do your job?"
"We were created to do our jobs."
"Ah, yes. God's little automatons." William shot to his feet, striding past his brother's glare and moving to the window.
John, meanwhile, was cleaning up his morning refreshments, oblivious to the two angels standing invisible in his home.
"Careful, brother," said Michael hotly. "You are close to blasphemy."
William spun around to address his brother. "See, this is the problem with you, brother dear. You're so worried about rules and appearances. You never bother to use your heart instead of your head."
Michael stared at him long and hard, a frown creasing his features. Only after John had left to head upstairs to his room did he finally speak. "You've changed."
William frowned, watching him closely.
"You used to be a hard-hearted, logic-minded machine," Michael went on. "Now, you are holding your heart above all else." He narrowed his eyes, tilting his head a little. "You love her."
"What?" asked William, taken back by this statement.
"You love her," Michael repeated. "And it's changed you." He raised his head a little. "I approve."
Now, William's frown contorted his face to an impossible degree. "I'm sorry?" He had never done anything that garnered his brother's approval.
"What's her name?" asked Michael.
William stared a moment longer before replying. "Molly."
"Well, my congratulations," said Michael. "This one human has managed to do the impossible. I wish you luck." He turned and disappeared into thin air.
William stared at the place where he had stood long after John had returned downstairs, fully dressed, to lock up and leave, contemplating the other angel's words. Love? Did he really love Molly? If Michael said so, it must be true; he was one of the best angels of the whole host.
So, what did this mean? What does one do with this newfound knowledge? What could he do? As he was now, he couldn't pursue anything with Molly. It wouldn't be real. But how long would it take before he was ready to change that? If it took too long, she might move on. And that, he would not be able to handle.
"Rogers, take your team and sweep Danbury Street," Greg told the few officers assembled in his office. "Donovan, your team will search Clerkenwell Road. He's got to be at one of those locations. Go."
The two sergeants nodded and took the other officers out of the inspector's office. Greg piled some paperwork together as the last officer pulled the door closed.
"I can't see you, but I know you're there," Greg spoke to the empty office.
William smirked as he shed his shield. "You're good at that."
Greg glanced up at him. "You learn to recognize the signs."
William frowned. "Signs?"
"You'll understand one day," Greg told him, leaning back in his chair. "Speaking of, why'd you change your mind? You were all ready to join us last time we met."
"I haven't changed my mind," William told him. "I'm just not ready. Being an angel is all I've known for thousands of years. My mind is unlike any other; I can't just force that big of a change on it. It'll implode. I need time to adjust to the idea of being able someday soon to feel…everything."
Greg nodded. "Fair enough."
"On that subject, may I ask you a question?" asked William.
"Sure."
"What does the sun feel like?"
Greg frowned. "May I ask a question myself?"
William nodded.
"Why the sun?" asked Greg. "Out of all the things to pick, why the sun?"
"Every morning, we gather for the sunrise," William explained. "I know what it sounds like, but I've wondered for years what it would feel like."
Greg nodded, understanding the explanation. "It feels like…" He smiled after a moment, raising his hands and shaking his head. "There are no words to describe it." He laughed a little, his pleased smile growing as he went back to his paperwork.
William's expression sank. What kind of an answer was that? He supposed that Greg found it so pleasant that his mind was overloaded and couldn't think of words, but…Nothing? Not one tiny, little adjective? How great could it be if one couldn't describe it? Was this humanity deal really worth it?
"I see you and Mary haven't parted ways," William muttered from what he was starting to think of as his armchair in 221B Baker Street.
John glanced up from this side of the game board, staring before shaking his head. "How do you do that?"
"Your haircut," William said brusquely, his gaze never leaving the board.
John's eyes moved upwards (as though it were possible to actually see your own hair) before looking back at him. "I don't see the relevance."
"You would eventually," said William, leaning back in his chair and looking up at John. "Dr. Black in the conservatory with the revolver."
John frowned, as though unsure if he heard him correctly. "Dr. Black is the victim."
"Yes…" said William slowly.
John stared at him for a moment. "So, you're saying Dr. Black committed suicide by shooting himself."
William stared at him like he was stupid. "Obviously."
John grimaced and looked down, trying to think of the words to explain. "William…" he looked up, "that's not really how this game works. Dr. Black is the victim, not one of the suspects."
"Why?" asked William.
"Because he's the victim," John explained in frustration.
"It's the only possible explanation," said William.
"Dr. Black can't be a suspect," said John, pointing at the little envelope in the middle of the board. "He's not one of the suspect cards. It's not in the rules."
William shrugged. "Well, then, the rules are wrong."
"William—"
"Then who is the suspect?" asked William, gesturing at the envelope.
John sighed and reached for the envelope, pulling one card out and dropping it onto the board. "Conservatory." He did the same with the next one. "Revolver." He reached his forefinger and thumb back in to get the last card, a smug look on his face. It then morphed into a frown as he looked down at the envelope. "Oh…I forgot to put the suspect card in."
William returned the smug look at the fact that he had technically been right.
John pointed at him. "That doesn't count, and you know it."
"I still won," muttered William.
"All right, you know what? Let's play something else." John began gathering the game up.
"So, you talked with Mary," stated William.
John glanced up at him, staring for a moment before putting the board back on the table with a sigh and leaning back in his chair. "The only reason I'm telling you this—because it's really none of your business—is because I know you won't leave it alone until you've cracked the mystery. So, for your peace of mind—and mine—I will tell you what she told me, on one condition…"
William nodded his consent.
"You don't breathe a word of this to anyone, including Mary," John told him sternly.
"I promise," William replied.
John sighed again and looked away for a moment before turning back. "Mary Morstan is not her birth name. Her name is—was—Anna Gwendolyn Rebecca Abbington. She chose the name Mary Morstan to escape from her past life…as a CIA assassin."
William leaned forward in interest. "Of course…"
"She decided to retire from the CIA early, and, well, CIA…" said John.
William nodded. "They assigned a new identity to protect her."
John nodded. "Gotta say, it's not as bad as I was expecting." He gave a self-conscious smile.
William smiled at him. "She's your girlfriend now, isn't she?"
John's smile widened. "Yeah, we are."
"Well, I wish you luck," said William, clearing Cluedo off the table and pulling Operation out. "Shall we?"
"Ooh, finally," said John. "Something I can beat you at."
Molly glanced around at the skyline around her as she stood on the roof of St. Bart's. "It's so beautiful."
"Looks better from the spire of The Shard," William muttered absently from his spot a few feet away from her.
Molly frowned over at him. "You've actually gotten to the top of The Shard?"
William realized his mistake and thought quickly. "The manager owed me a favor."
Molly smiled and shook her head. "You're so eccentric."
"That's what makes me unique," said William with a smile.
Molly smiled at him and looked back at the view. "I like it up here. It's like the whole world is spread out before you."
William looked over at her as she closed her eyes, letting the sun bathe her face. She would love our sunrises so much.
William stepped up behind her, slowly leaning forward and wrapping his arms around her. Molly leaned into his chest, placing her hands on his in front of her. She tilted her head back against his chest, and William was amazed at how perfectly she fit against him. It was perfect. Humans had it all wrong; this was Heaven.
"There are a lot more sides to you than you let on, aren't there?" said Molly.
"You have no idea," William told her conspiratorially.
He glanced down to see that she still had her eyes closed, basking in the warm sunshine. He was brought back to the question he had asked Greg the other day. The answer he had gotten had been less than satisfactory, but that had been an ex-angel's answer. Everything he knew about being human was only a few years old. Perhaps if he asked on actual human…
"What does it feel like?" William hesitantly ventured.
Molly frowned without opening her eyes. "What?"
"The sun," said William.
Molly's frown deepened, and she looked up at him. "What does the sun feel like?"
William nodded. "Yeah."
Molly looked back at the horizon. "Um…" she chuckled, "well, it's…warm and…bright…"
William closed his eyes and tilted his face upwards.
"It's like being in an empty room and suddenly surrounded by everything and everyone you love."
William breathed out a sigh, loving how she could explain it in terms he could understand, even if she didn't realize she was doing so. He could almost feel it.
"Is that what it feels like for you?" asked Molly, looking up at the serene look on his face.
"No," said William, opening his eyes and smiling warmly down at her. "It's better."
Molly smiled, their gazes drawn together and held there. After a moment, William's face drifted towards her own, as though drawn by a magnet. Molly tilted her face up as his fell down. Their lips met in a soft caress, hesitant and tender. The two of them pulled away slightly and smiled at each other, going back in for another kiss. William was sure that it was supposed to feel so much better than this, but if this was what it felt like when he couldn't feel anything, then he couldn't wait for the day he would be ready to take that fall.
Yes, finally!
And I just had to have the infamous (yet unseen) Cluedo scene. That was so much fun to write. I had to give Sherlock some kind of props for his "victim did it" hypothesis.