I was debating on what to do for this chapter because you guys wanted different things but I hope what I decided won't disappoint anyone. Keeping everyone in character is really hard sometimes, especially when it comes to Sherlock. All I can really do is try my best, but your support really helps. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. Now on with the story!
Molly found the silence somewhat unsettling, but the closeness, having him so near, seemed to settle her nerves. She could still tell there was something, perhaps a few words that wanted to escape Sherlock's lips that just couldn't break free, otherwise, he wouldn't have paused. He wouldn't have stopped at the place he had, repeating words similar to what was spoken in the past.
She found herself giving a light sigh as he continued to look way too much in thought. If only she knew what was racing around in that head of his. He was always thinking, in a constant state of awareness and it was exhausting just looking at him. The grip on his shoulder loosened a bit. They were still moving slowly to the soft music in the background but his footing wasn't rightly placed.
The brunette almost wanted to say something herself, yet couldn't get her mouth to open, not right now. She was sure there wasn't much time left before either John would text him or the hosts would make their appearance. Staying quiet wasn't difficult, only a little when so highly strung, but maybe getting some verses out of her own would prompt him to keep going.
In a way his silence spoke louder than any words could, at least that's what she perceived. The way his gaze remained fixed off in the distance, how his jaw was set ever so slightly, she had somehow came to the conclusion that he didn't want to talk anymore, or simply couldn't. And although seeing him like this, somewhat out of character, it only confused her more. It also added more unanswered questions.
Finally she took a small breath and voiced her thoughts. "I don't know what you're trying to say but you can always tell me later," Molly said, facing him. Her words were softly spoken, because she didn't like the look treading down his face, hated the worry she seemed to add to his troubled features, and disliked increasing the weight upon his already burdened shoulders.
He didn't want to pay heed to what she said, the urge to ignore her sentence was almost too good to pass up, but she was right on one account, he was trying to tell her something. It would be easier to offer one excuse after another, it was simpler. He didn't ask to feel this way and never expected to either. Sherlock wasn't even sure himself. How can he admit things to her that he hadn't yet accepted?
The chance of losing their friendship was a lot to risk, no matter how much he wanted to just stay like this for as long as possible. He just couldn't get any of it out but telling her, the words might as well fall on deaf ears, it was just a useless attempt and verbalizing them would be even worse. Or would it? And that was where he would become confused all over again.
"I don't think saying anything later would make it any easier," Sherlock vaguely mentioned, only seeming to further prompt her curiosity. "What if I was to tell you something that could very well change things between us, either in a bad or good way? Would you still want to know?" Part of him had to ask, possibly for himself or for her sake.
That reply was thething she wasn't expecting. It caught her off guard, causing her brown hues to gaze up at him once more. And yet, despite his body language being so different than his standard, despite everything he's done this week that was just so incongruent with his normal mannerisms, she could hear something in his voice, yet couldn't quite place what it was.
"Could it really be so awful that I would think differently of you?" Molly asked. She was trying to make light of the situation because she believed she had to. Maybe that's what he needed to keep going. But she would have been lying if she said she didn't feel them somewhat drifting apart and yet at the same time felt as if they were closer than ever.
He forced himself to swallow, knowing, for some reason or another, Molly could never really change her view of him but this, it was stressing and very strange for him to deal with and especially to admit. "Awful? Probably not, depending on how you look at it. No, sorry, that's undoubtedly the wrong way to put it if you knew what I was trying to say."
"Don't apologize, you don't have to," she quickly said. Those words slipped passed than far too often for her liking. She just wanted to figure out what was wrong, wanted to know what he couldn't say. After all, Molly knew Sherlock, sometimes better than he knew himself. "I just wish things were easier." But she already knew he tended to open up to her, wasn't that enough?
A tight sort of smile tugged on his lips, drawn merely from her choice of wording. Simplicity wasn't always easy to achieve, even more difficult to maintain. Taking how he felt right now into consideration, it pained him at how strained his own words were, at how hollow they seemed. Because regardless, he knew he could turn to her whenever. Now, he was trying to mask it, pretending everything was okay, not realizing it only made matters worse.
This was getting increasingly ridiculous. He should just come outright and say it. But even Mycroft's disputes, the whole 'caring is not an advantage' thing was weighing him down. Instead of speaking he moved a bit closer. "In a sense, I'm not all that sure myself. But this… it keeps nagging at me day after day and quite honestly I don't think it's going away anytime soon."
Was he ever just going to tell her what was going on? Molly felt her body freeze as he drew nearer. It was the type of closeness they have shared before, but it was never long, a few seconds at best. And she didn't know what to do. Instead of speaking again, she remained quiet, waiting to hear what else he had to say, if he could get himself to carry on.
"You always thought I was too good for you. When honestly, I'm not good enough for you," Sherlock finally said, his words softly spoken as his eyes directed away again but he could feel her fingers, tighten on his shoulder but inagentle, careful way. And, just like it always was in her presence, things didn't feel as difficult once they were out in the open.
"What do you mean by that?" Molly asked, not quite sure she understood what he was trying to say. The words escaped quickly, as soon as they came to mind, because with him it didn't used to be like this, he was never this cagey, this cautious, she might even add guarded to the list, when conversing with her. It was almost too difficult, for she knew something wasn't okay, yet he wouldn't admit it. However, he didn't have to, but lying had never been a part of this, whatever this was.
"I'm probably only confusing you further but I'm rather at odds myself… I'm not exactly used to feeling what I am right now, towards you, I mean," Sherlock admitted, catching sight of her slightly widened brown eyes, even the minor change in the coloring of her cheeks were noticed. He could only smile a bit at that. "The truth is I-"
His words were suddenly cut short when his phone started to ring. A small huff was released before stopping their dance and taking out the cell. Reading the text sent by John, who really had horrible timing today, he didn't see Molly's confusion growing more apparent on her face. She knew what it sounded like he was trying to get out, but being too hopeful only seemed to crush her more in the end, it always had in the past.
He could have even been trying to set her down gently prior to completely rejecting her, since he was very much aware of her affections. Molly looked away then back at him. The case would obviously come first; it had to when people's lives were at risk. She would ask him later, had to get him to continue even if it wouldn't end in her favor.
"Molly, I need you to go find Mary," he mentioned, still somewhat taken aback by the sudden switch of situation. But he had to be stoic again, had to force everything bubbling up back down. "Remember everything we planned and stay together. It's about time we go to the second phase and ended this." Leaving, he shook his head almost wanting to look back at her but kept moving.
After sending a quick message to Lestrade, he spotted the army doctor. Approaching the man, Sherlock took a similar stance, his focus turned back to their original objective. "You sure they're making their move right now? Seems a bit early, but if they're that eager, I would suspect no less." He could always mull it over later or maybe when in their target's presence.
"I just saw someone slip past security a few minutes ago, we have to get upstairs," John mentioned, keeping his tone low. "I'm guessing this means whoever these guys are, they're after the people throwing the charity event. It makes sense, I guess, seeing how much money the made tonight and just going off how rich the couple is already."
"And I think I might know who our culprits are," Sherlock mumbled after glancing about the room. "No point in wasting time." He was sure he was right when it came to who the criminals were now that all the clues were coming together in his mind. He could also say it was fairly obvious, maybe so apparent that he might have looked it over if not for all the evidence and one remaining factor.
After John nodded, they made their way around the men posted near the entrance. They could hear as the hosts came out and started speaking, which meant their time limit was set, meaning they had to take care of the job before the couple finished. Sherlock slowed his place a bit before entering the small room closest to the stairwell, spotting someone there already.
"Look who it is," the detective immediately announced, gaining the man's attention. "Alan Archer. Plan on murdering your own brother just for his money? I only had two suspects that came to mind and you were the first." His response was withheld some because he seen this guy before on the television and just from mere observation, Sherlock could pick up on his personality.
Alan wasn't exactly the nervous type, somewhat introverted, but not one you should anger. Sherlock didn't pity a man now standing before them, who was apparently more alike to his brother than given credit for. No, he couldn't pity him, he did however hold some level of understanding, in a way that would help him talk with him and gain an advantage.
"Sherlock Homes and John Watson, I should have guessed you two would be here," Alan replied, eyes narrowing slightly at the new company. His position shifted but other than that no more movement came from him. He was aware of how long he had to wait out before making a move, the question now was what he should do about them.
"There's no point in trying anything, we have the exit blocked," John told him, just in case he tried to make a run for it. In all likelihood they had this one handled but trusting in that thought didn't always prove to be the best idea, things could always take a turn for the worse. He might not have picked up on half the details Sherlock was able to but he was still aware of who this man is.
"So tell me, how did you know?" he asked, making sure his own weapon was visible. He couldn't be too careful because there wasn't a person in England who wasn't aware of these two and what they did. Their job was to take people like him in, people who murder and turn to crime. "I must have made some kind of slipup for you to notice someone like me."
They are always curious to know how and of course, Sherlock was more than happy to give an answer, perhaps one a bit longwinded though. "I should have realized it sooner, it was all over the news, a middleclass man discovers oil and suddenly becomes one of the wealthiest people in London, who just happened to be your brother. He left you high and dry, wouldn't give a dime to his own family and you were facing bankruptcy at the time, hence the stressor. Left with no other options you start killing to gain income. Not a very good strategy if you ask me."
Sherlock took a small pause and a few steps inward before continuing. "Oh, and let's not forget the newspapers, another mistake made. I noticed something rather peculiar about every one that had those anonymous columns. They were only there when an article featuring George Archer was written, a very rudimentary error on your wife's end. Shall I go on? I do have so much more."
"Sherlock, maybe you should-" John started to say prior to getting cut off. Maybe the consulting detective was ignorant of the growing look of irritation on the man's face or perhaps that's what he wanted. He was never sure with his strategies but they worked, for the most part anyway, and he supposed questioning him would do nothing to stop him anyway.
"I think I will," he said, bringing his hand together. "Now we can tell just from your appearance you're not exactly as high-class as the others. Though you have the stolen money, you cannot use it just yet, being the fact that you have no way to prove your sudden increase, therefore your suit isn't newly bought like everyone else downstairs. The cuffs are dirty, sticking out too much on one side from overuse. Your tie is clearly stained from wine, a small splatter but not from any brand being served tonight, though hidden well. And your shoes are scuffed up from excessive walking. If you wanted to blend in, you should have done something, I don't know, more creative."
"You could have waited until after the charity event, it would have been easier to kill your brother and his wife," Sherlock unrelentingly went on saying. "Then you could have taken their money and the donations, making it look like a burglary gone wrong. But instead you choose to make a move now. The question is why. And the answer is simply because you're impulsive, couldn't stand seeing him take any more from you, is that right?"
Sherlock took another step, shaking his head a bit. "No need to give an answer, I can see it in your face. And if you were for some reason thinking of using the people downstairs as hostages to barging your way out of this one, it's a tad too late for that." Just as he spoke the fire alarm went off, knowing Molly and Mary were the ones responsible. "Clearly you just lost your chance to kill them. Why don't you just admit it? It will make things so much easier for me."
"Okay fine, but so what if I did all of this to get back at him? You can't prove anything," Alan remarked, anger evident in his tone. All that planning put to waste over a few mistakes. "Besides, who's going to stop me from killing you and your friend right now?" He held up his gun, aiming it at Sherlock, who seemed unfazed by the item.
He made a glance towards John prior to bringing his phone up to his ear, which he had in his hand the entire time. "Did you get all of that?" A small pause was made. "Wonderful. Mycroft's men should be here shortly." He turned back to Allan, who was now wearing a more confused expression. "And to answer the question about stopping you at this moment, that would be him," he mentioned just as Greg showed up, pointing his weapon at the culprit. "You're late. I specifically said in five minutes, not seven."
"Had a bit of trouble getting through the crowd of people rushing to get out of the building," Lestrade remarked, keeping his eyes focused on the man. He walked past both Sherlock and John, making sure to give them a way out. "Put your arms where I can see them and move against the wall," he directed. It took a moment but Alan eventually did as he said, giving up rather quickly since there really was no way out of this predicament.
As Greg handled that, the detective turned some and continued talking to Mycroft. "Even with the police coming, to the press it would only seem like a mishap with the fire alarm. So, as you wanted, I will not be in the newspaper or anything else and so forth with those people who hold a position under you. Lestrade will be there with them shortly. I do hope you're satisfied, dear brother, I had to go out of my way."
"Seeing as things worked out, I am," came the older Holmes' response. "But I will need those mobiles you used, part of the evidence, so to speak, as well as the folder with all the papers I gave you, back. Be sure to return them to me soon, actually as early as possible would be best, or else I will have to come down there myself to get them. For the rest of the case, we can close it and remember, brother mine, not a word about it."
"Yes, yes, I'm well aware how top secret your jobs usually are. Regardless, it's finished." After a few more words were passed between them, he closed the cell and placed it back in his pocket. "Glad that's over, although it didn't turn out half as exciting as it could have been if it wasn't for Mycroft's ridiculous rules." With a small sigh, he left the room with John following behind.
It was just then as they returned to the somewhat empty area that he remembered Molly and what he was about to tell her. Sherlock didn't have much time to contemplate over it, seeing as both she and Mary approached them. Even if the whole job was complete, he still had to deal with his feelings towards the brunette, who would obviously be asking what he was going to say.
Before anyone could get a word in the detective spoke. "I'll need all of these." He held up his phone and took back the other three. "I'll be heading to see Mycroft to return some important documents, which I made sure to bring knowing he'd want them. I'm sure you can all handle getting home on your own," Sherlock said, a bit too quickly. It was simple avoidance, trying to get away so he could think some more, and he knew it.
Regardless, he had left the group standing there as he walked away. Though the moment he got outside he lit a cigarette, breathing in the smoke before letting it out into the air. It seemed like all he was doing lately was attempting to reason with himself in regards to Molly. After a moment he shook his head, deciding to walk for a bit before taking a cab.
The night came and went rather quickly, but Molly wasn't all that surprised when she woke up the next morning and Sherlock still wasn't in the flat. She had to remind herself that he did things like disappearing for a while pretty often. But why did it have to be today? She couldn't stop thinking about what he was going to tell her and it was bugging her more and more as they day continued.
However, when she walked in the door after work, he was there, and just seeing him reminded her why, easier or not, he was the way he was. His job made it rather hard to sit around, he was always leaving when he had to, or when it was insisted upon. He was gone for hours though, and suddenly she decided she wasn't going to ask. Sometimes, the answers had a funny way of providing themselves better when they weren't being forced out by questions.
She merely walked into the room, waited for him to say something, bring it up. Because if he didn't, maybe he still wasn't ready to say whatever it was and wanted some quiet or perhaps he just needed to be alone for all of that time. Although, Molly couldn't figure out what it was he wanted in the slightest. "When did you get back?" she asked, solely out of interest.
"About an hour ago," he remarked, shifting his gaze towards her for a moment. He was currently lying on couch, his hands brought together while his fingertips touched his chin. Toby was sleeping on his stomach, but the cat's presence didn't really bother him all that much and besides, he couldn't get him to stay on the floor. "You're later than normal."
"Oh, well I ran into Tom on my way back. We just talked for a bit, caught up on a few things," she mentioned, shrugging. It was nice to see him again, considering they haven't seen one another since she moved in here. But she was a tad disappointed that Sherlock didn't mention last night instantly like she had hoped he would. A sigh escaped yet it was quiet and went unnoticed.
Sherlock remained silent after that, his brows only furrowing upon the mention of her former fiancé. He was more focused on the fact that he was actually going to tell her. Never had he made a decision that seemed so off his moral compass. It befuddled him so much he avoided all company the next day, not even bothering to reply to any of John's messages.
But now she was here again and he was painfully aware nothing, no matter what he tried, would stop him from feeling this way. And now he didn't even have a case to work on to distract him, not that the last one was very helpful in the first place. There was no escaping how he felt because even as he lay still, he could hear the increase of his heartbeat every time she spoke.
At some point he found his eyes moving to where she was. He was constantly alert of every small change in his normal behavior when concerning her. And the smile on her face when Toby suddenly jumped off of him and came up to her seemed to form easily across her lips. There was a slight look of relaxation taking over her features, opposed to him, who looked tired since he hadn't slept very much the past few days.
It was funny how even while he could be so immersed in himself one look in her direction was all it took to quickly change that, after all his thoughts tended to stray. Sherlock let his lips tug upwards a bit, less forced and more careful than anything else. He wasn't quite sure what he should do, if anything. Of what she remembered, how much of their conversation she dispelled. Knowing Molly as well as he did, he already knew she recalled every second of it.
"Do you have any other cases to work on?" Molly suddenly asked, trying to rid the silence in the room. Besides, she knew he got rather bored if his mind wasn't occupied. "There's always something for you to do, I supposed. Though I'm sure not every one of them catches your interest." And she was right about that because he had the habit of disregarding the smaller ones.
"Not at the moment, nothing exciting enough has come up yet," he replied, able to keep his normal epitome of composure in his tone. He turned his gaze from her after giving a reply. But in all honesty, he had no motivation to go searching for something to do. How could he when Molly was clouding his thoughts? It was something akin to horrible to endure, yet at the same time it felt quite the opposite, like he needed her to remain on his mind.
Amongst all confusion, one thing became clear. He most certainly cared for Molly, he may even be so bold to say he developed genuine feelings for her, which to most it would seem impossible to consider. He was Sherlock Holmes after all and made it known to everyone that his work was his first priority. When that aspect changed, he wasn't sure himself.
It may have been unsteady at first due to the delicacy of the situation and circumstances over the years, but her affections for him have never once been wrong, Sherlock just disregarded them the whole time. He heard people wait all their lives to find the right person, that they're told it happens when you least expect it. He had ignored those words, not believing much in them.
But then he started to realize, when he was with Molly thing didn't seem so difficult and being around her wasn't hard. He had lost a lot time, spending it on crime and focusing on catching the people who went against the law. And yet the one thing that never truly gone astray was Molly's devotion to him. The fact that he had no idea it meant so much to him until now was bewildering. Here he was a great detective, a man who was supposedly knew so much, blind to her for so long.
It was a cruel twist of irony that showed him through losing her, perhaps by disappearing for two years or maybe even to Tom for a brief period, without much reverence to the latter, how much she mattered to him. Her 'I don't count' really put a few things into perspective, though he could only do so much when the words were expressed during a bad situation. But it prompted him to go to her anyway and ask for help; really it could only be her.
Sherlock had done so many things as of late, against his judgment, against his own personality. But he honestly couldn't take much more of this, the way his feelings for her swelled up every time he saw her. To think, after everything, he still wanted to tell her. Yet the words, they were caught in his throat. All he could do was look at her, which he found to be just as testing.
He was at a loss on what to do, how to tell her exactly what he wanted because he wasn't sure if it would make sense if spoken. So instead, after so long of trying to hold back, of struggling to wait out his growing affections, he decided to do something about it. Not caring whether it betrayed rational thinking or not. But in all matter of circumstances, he could care less about that.
She was in mid-sentence, talking about something that went completely unnoticed, when he stood from the couch. It only took a few steps to reach her. Molly had looked up at him, a mix of confusion and uncertainty colored her expression. Heedless to what could be diverged afterwards; Sherlock placed his hands on the sides of her face and pressed his mouth to her, capturing her lips in a kiss.
I know, I know, you're all going to hate me for leaving you on yet another cliffhanger. First I make Sherlock get interrupted and then he kisses her. Since this is my tenth chapter I thought something should actually happen between them, but don't worry, I still have so many ideas to incorporate. This story won't be ending anytime soon, at least I hope. Now I just need to think about what's going to happen next. On a different note, please review and let me know what your thoughts are. I'm always interested in hearing what you guys have to say.