Sherlock opened his eyes to find that he was facing Molly. She was turned over on her side facing him a half-smile on her face. Sherlock wondered what it was that made her smile. If only I could get her to smile like that, Sherlock thought to himself. Her smile was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He would be happy to try and spend the rest of his life making her smile.
Molly rolled over in the bed. Her hair had fallen out of her cap while she was asleep and was now framing her face. Outlining her features. She looked so peaceful just lying there. So peaceful. So perfect. So vulnerable. Sherlock felt the need to protect her from whoever wanted to hurt her. From the person that had kidnapped her parents. There would only be pain to come. He wanted to stop that pain.
Molly's eyes opened and met his. For a moment the eye contact held, speaking unspeakable words. She does not love you. The words burned through his mind. They ripped a giant hole through his chest. "We need to leave." Sherlock said, standing up. He pulled his saddlebag off of the fireplace mantle. He tossed Molly an apple out of it. She caught it.
"Where do we go now?" She asked sleepily. She tried to stifle a yawn. It was obvious that she didn't want Sherlock to see it. Why was that? He wondered.
"The given address isn't that far from here." He said. He turned around to see her reaction. She was nodding. Her face showed no signs of emotion. No signs of sadness or pain. Sherlock applauded her at her ability to hide her feelings. It would help her in the future. "About half a days ride."
Molly nodded at hearing his statement. She climbed out of bed and stuffed her long hair in to her cap, not even bothering to tie it up. She was tired. Had she had nightmares? What of? What scared Molly Hooper? Sherlock shook his head. Love is a chemical defect. Only an idiot like you would develop such a fault. Sherlock shouldered his saddlebag. "Are you ready to go Mark?" He asked her using the name he'd decided to give her.
Molly looked around the room expecting someone to appear out of thin air. Her eyes widened as she realized that Sherlock was talking to her. "Me?" She pointed to herself. "I'm Mark?"
Sherlock laughed and nodded. "Yes." He said.
Molly smiled and rubbed her hands together. "Well, I always wanted to be a boy." She said. "That way I could do whatever I wanted and not have to get marri-" her voice trailed off. She paused for a moment and looked at Sherlock. She seemed to be searching for something from him. Some sign of emotion. Whatever she was searching for, she didn't find it. She shook her head. "Mark's as good of a name as any other one." She said with a false smile. She took her own saddlebag off of the ground. "Are you ready to go Sherlock?" She asked him.
Sherlock nodded, speechless. He shook his head clear of his previous thoughts. Illogical. "Let's go Mark." He said and left the room.
They rode until noon. Molly kept glancing at Sherlock, trying to memorize him. Trying to remember his black curls and galaxy eyes. Trying to make sure to never forget the way he held himself or the way he acted as if he was better than everybody else. She tried to memorize the way he walked. The way he spoke. Even the way he smiled. She tried to remember all of these things because whatever the person in the letter's purpose was, it was not good.
Sherlock seemed to be noticing her attitude. He looked over at her. His cold eyes running over her from head to toe, as if to read her mind. "Everything alright?" He asked.
Molly nodded. "Fine." She said. "Everything's fine." She stared off in to the distance. There was only farmland for as far as the eye could see. A few small houses doted the horizon. Her parents could be in any of them.
Sherlock steered his horse so that he was right next to Molly. "Are you sure?" He asked. There was tension in his voice. What for? Molly wondered.
Molly nodded again, trying to reassure Sherlock. "Perfectly fine." She said even though everything was not fine. Someone had her parents. Someone could kill them any moment. Someone wanted to hurt her.
"I won't let anyone hurt you." Sherlock said. His voice was so quiet that Molly wondered if she'd imagined it. "I won't let anyone hurt you or your parents." Sherlock said a little bit louder.
Molly looked at him. He seemed to be telling the truth. "Thank you." She whispered.
Sherlock smiled at her, but said nothing. A few moments later he pulled his horse to a stop outside of a small, worn-down, farmhouse. "We're here." He said. He dismounted his horse and pulled a pistole out of his bag.
"What are you doing?" Molly asked him as she dismounted her own horse.
Sherlock looked at her. "I'm coming with you." He said stuffing the pistole in to his jacket.
Molly shook her head. "No, you're not." She said. She didn't want him to get hurt. Whatever was in that house, she would deal with it alone. He would not be hurt because of her.
"I am." Sherlock said.
Molly looked up at him. His eyes were filled with such determination. "You are not." She said. "I can't have you being hurt because of me."
"Nobody's going to get hurt because of you." He said and headed in to the farmhouse. Molly sighed in aggravation. Why did he have to be so stubborn? She ran in to the house after him.