Richard went back to Jim's flat to get one thing before meeting Molly at work. They took the tube to as close as they could get to Baker Street and walked the rest of the way. Unlike Sherlock Holmes, neither could truly afford to take a cab everywhere, though Richard would soon be able to, he'd never be able to think of himself like that.
"What parts do you want to play?" Molly asked.
"If I could play any part?" Richard asked. "You want my list? Okay, I want to be Iago, and Stanley from Streetcar named Desire, and Mortimer and Jonathan Bruster from Arsenic and Old Lace. I want to be Tevya though I doubt I can sing, and I want to be Edward P. Dowd, and want to be John the Baptist. Have you seen Cotton Patch Gospel? No, I know you haven't, there's no way you have, but I'd love to do the whole thing, a one man show like it's supposed to be. I want to play John Adams, hopefully from 1776, not that I think they'll let an Irish-man play him if they ever heard my real accent, but I just want to. I'm like to be Judas to, I don't care in what, I don't like to try. I'd want to play Jesus too, again, I don't care in what. I think I'd like Lyndon Johnson, and Willy Lowman, and Peter the Great, and Aristotle… I'm sorry, I've gone off on a tangent."
"No," Molly said, grinning like a fool. "It's lovely. I've never heard you be so excited about anything before."
Richard blushed scarlet. "I sound like a crazy man."
"You sound like an ambitious actor," Molly said.
"Not really ambitious. I'd play a carrot if I could just get a part at this point in my life." He felt the frown on his face turn into a smile when Molly reached out and took his hand.
"People might forget," she pointed out.
"Unless I move to America, unlikely," Richard said. "I about shot myself in the foot. Who's going to want to hire me to play any part? Or if they do, it'll just be to play Jim… which is just the last damn thing in the world I want to play."
"Maybe you shouldn't worry about it yet," Molly said. "Let's talk about something else."
"What do you want to know?" Richard asked. He could tell she had a question she wanted to ask him.
"Well… it's a bit… invasive," she said.
Richard smiled a bit. "I'm a big boy, I can handle it," he said.
"Natalia… I mean, she's very beautiful… what I meant is… "
"Why did we break up," Richard filled in. "You can say it."
"Why did you break up," Molly said, her cheeks now very pink.
"Let me put it to you this way, basically any relationship I had that broke up had to do with Jim," Richard said.
"Did he threaten her?" Molly asked.
"He would sometimes, but he realized that it really bothered me enough that I'd yell at him when he did that. That and Natalia had a crush on Jim, so he couldn't really… threaten her because she'd just stick around anyway," Richard tried to explain.
"Really? And she knew what he was like?"
"We were all very young," Richard said with a shrug. "But I knew anyway and I didn't care. She was sweet to me and she stuck around me even though Jim hated her, and I cared about her very much."
"So why did you break up?" Molly asked.
"Well… see, I need to talk about Jim a bit more before I can get to that," Richard explained. He was trying to tell her about himself, but this wasn't a story he could talk about without Jim.
"It's okay Richard… you don't have to never talk about him," Molly said.
"Yeah," Richard said, feeling a bit dumb. "So… Jim's always been very good at reading people. Your friend… Mr. Holmes seems like he was very good at reading clues, but not exactly people or motivation. Jim could read people, manipulated people… but not always for bad. If Jim didn't like one of my girlfriends it became easier for him to find another man for them. It was easier for me if they found someone that made them happy. You remember that movie um… Good Luck Chuck?"
"You saw that?" Molly asked.
Richard snorted. "God, no, it looked awful."
"It was," Molly said with a smile and a little blush.
"Yeah, I remembered it because that was kind of what my life seemed like to me. I'd date a woman and then life, aka: Jim, would find them their perfect mate."
"Oh," Molly said, suddenly getting a picture of what that would have been like for him. She moved a bit closer. Richard frowned for a moment before grinning, slipping his arm around her shoulders.
"Jim would have made the best matchmaker in the village," Richard said, starting to hum the tune to "Matchmaker, Matchmaker." Molly giggled when she finally understood. "Yeah… so I like Tim, Natalia's husband. He's a good guy, even if I make him a bit uncomfortable. Natasha doesn't spend a lot of time with me anymore because it makes Tim uncomfortable. I can't blame him," Richard added. He glanced at Molly. "What?"
"Nothing," Molly said, a warm smile on her lips and in her eyes. "You're a good man Richard… I was just feeling… very lucky," she admitted, blushing and looking away. "I think it would make sense for you to not ever want to see me."
"Why?" Richard felt flummoxed by her words.
"I… went on dates with your brother."
"I'm not going to hold that against you," Richard assured her. He felt a knife in his gut anyway, thinking of the ring.
"I'm excited for our first official date," Molly said. "Though, I also like the idea of all those lunch dates being real dates too," she said.
It was Richard's turn to blush now. "Christ woman! Are you trying to kill me?" he asked, rubbing his chin in some half-hearted attempt to hide his blush. Molly giggled.
Shortly afterward they arrived at Baker Street. Richard glanced up and down the buildings, deciding fairly quickly that he really liked the location. Molly rang the doorbell and he stood to the side, looking down the hall.
"Molly, dear," Richard heard from behind his back. He could hear the sounds of Molly being dragged into a hug. He smiled secretly, glad the woman couldn't see him yet. His face had been plastered everywhere between the trial and the confessions of Richard Brooke. "Do, come in, I have tea on."
"Come on Rich," Molly said, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside. Richard was led back into a kitchen. "Mrs. Hudson… this is Richard, my boyfriend," she said, sounding shy.
Richard got a good view of Mrs. Hudson then, she went from delighted to horrified the second she got a look at Richard's face. "I'm sorry!" He said instantly, nearly a cry. He remembered being a boy and having the same near-cry ripped of him when he could feel his parents getting angry… and Jim's strong silence.
"Mrs. Hudson, please," Molly said, helping the woman into a chair. "Please, it's not him, it's not, I promise."
"How?" Mrs. Hudson asked, looking betrayed. "Why are you here?"
"Ma'am I'm not…" Richard felt at a loss for words and then reached into his pocket, drawing out what he'd gone back to Jim's flat for: the picture of the both of them as boys at their birthday party when they were small. They had the same scruffy black hair, the same wide brown eyes. "Ma'am… I'm Richard... Brooke now… Jim was my brother."
"She said your brother died recently," Mrs. Hudson said, looking at the picture. Molly moved around behind Mrs. Hudson, clearly curious about the picture.
"Please be careful, that's precious to me," Richard said. They wouldn't know how much those words would cost him. Admitting something was important was admitting that hurting that thing was a way to hurt you. "He did die recently… When… um… Mr. Holmes jumped… my brother, he, well, he um… he shot himself. I buried him two weeks ago."
"That's so late," Mrs. Hudson said, examining the picture.
Richard felt his hands clench, and his teeth grit together. "I could have done it sooner if Mycroft Holmes hadn't kept Jim's body on ice and out of sight for so long," he said. He could hear the anger in his voice. He had to let it go. "I'm sorry… it's not easy for me to talk about."
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Hudson said, standing up and motioning Richard into the seat she'd just vacated before she began to move around, making tea. She seemed to have at least accepted him in some small capacity.
"I'm so sorry about what happened to Mr. Holmes," Richard said. "I've already spoken to Dr. Watson about it."
"Has he forgiven you?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"For whatever part I played in… what happened? I'm not going to ask for it," Richard said. "He's lost someone very important to him, and I had a hand in it because Jim said he'd finally leave me alone… it was very selfish of me. I'm not going to ask for it," Richard said. He felt pressure on his shoulder, and his eyes shot over to Molly, who was still standing next to him. She was squeezing his shoulder. Richard reached up, his larger hand covering her smaller one.
"You're looking for a room then?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Ah, yeah," Richard said. "My old flat no longer belong to me, and I'm stuck at Kitty Reilly's flat for now because my only other option is one of Jim's places and I'd rather walk in front of a bus than stay there." Richard paused, realizing how that sounded. "I know that having me here could be very hard for you, and I'll understand if you can't have me, but I can pay the rent in full and I probably won't stay any longer than it takes me to find another flat, especially if it's hard for you for me to be here."
Mrs. Hudson brought a cup of tea over to him, pushing it into his hands. "We'll see how it goes. Come on, I'll show you the rooms," she said, motioning for him to follow.
Richard took a sip of his tea (no milk or sugar, how he liked it), and stood up, following after her. He could feel Molly at his side as he was led upstairs to 221b. Richard was struck with two very different feelings. The first was sadness. Half of Sherlock Holmes' things were still there: the furniture, half the books, a skull, a mirror. The other was a feeling of home.
"It's brilliant," Richard said, looking around the flat. Between the wallpaper and the space and everything. "It's absolutely perfect," he said before blushing. "I mean good… yes." She hadn't told him he could stay. He couldn't let his mind start thinking about what he wanted to do with the room. He couldn't get attached just to let something else he wanted be ripped away from him.
"That's what Sherlock said when he saw it," Mrs. Hudson noted. Richard's eyes flicked up, meeting the older woman's gaze.
"I didn't… know… I didn't mean-"
"It's okay, it's okay," Mrs. Hudson said, reaching out and patting his arm. "We'll see how this works out. The bedroom is upstairs," she said, nudging him toward the stairs.
"What? Really?" Richard asked, looking stunned. "You mean it?"
"Yes, I think we can work something out, at the very least for a little while."
Richard looked honestly moved. "Thank you," he said; so much weight on the word. He noted it for later, for acting purposes, but for now it was genuine.
"Go see the room," Mrs. Hudson said.
"Thank you," Richard said, heading up the stairs to the bedroom.
"Thank you Mrs. Hudson," Molly said.
"Is he good?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"DO you actually trust my opinion?" Molly asked. "His brother fooled me pretty badly."
"What do you think of him?"
"He tries," Molly said. "He tries very hard to give me what he thinks I want and what I ask for. He tries to impress me and to make me happy… but he's not afraid to ask to me wait so that he can perfect whatever he'd doing for me. It feels… like a relationship because I want to do things for him and he lets me, but he seems to want to do things for me too. I like it," she said. "I like him."
"Is this really okay?" Richard asked, coming back down. He was smiling, but it was still unsure.
"Do you want to stay here?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
Richard hesitated. "More… more than any place I've ever seen or lived in," Richard admitted.
"Then it's okay," Mrs. Hudson said.
"You… very kind, I… when do you want me to… move in?" he asked awkwardly.
"You can start moving in whenever you need to," Mrs. Hudson said. "How about you start tomorrow," she suggested.
"Yes… I can get what's left out of Ms. Reilly's place. I think Seb will let me crash on the sofa."
"Seb?" Molly asked.
"Oh… uh… Jim's…. friend? Is that the right word?" Richard asked and then shrugged. "You met him at the funeral.
"Oh, yes," Molly said. She looked curious. Richard couldn't tell if he'd just tried to walk around the fact that Sebastian Moran worked for Jim, or if he'd just suggested that Jim and Sebastian were in a relationship. Richard decided to leave it be, at least Seb might get sympathy from Mrs. Hudson if the sniper ever came over.
"So, tomorrow then," Richard said. "Thank you."
Tomorrow couldn't have come sooner for Richard. He was just so thankful to be out of Kitty Reilly's flat. It didn't help that he had to actually call Seb to come help him get everything. Kitty was a very ambitious, very hungry woman. Richard hadn't been completely sure she would have let him leave if Sebastian hadn't been massive and so obviously dangerous.
"Seb, you're a life saver!" Richard gasped when they took his only two other bags back to Jim's flat.
"If you hadn't been living with her, then Jim would have had to, we both know how that would have turned out," Sebastian said, waving off the thank you.
"Will you… would you mind helping me move in to my new flat tomorrow?" Richard asked.
"Where are you going to be living?" Sebastian asked, dropping Richard's bag in Jim's room and then heading to the kitchen.
"221b Baker Street," Richard said.
"Are you out of your tree?" Sebastian asked, stopping midstride. With a less fit man, he might have twisted his ankle stopping like that, but Sebastian was always in control of his body.
"Possibly," Richard said. "But you can see why I didn't want to tell you when Kitty was around," Richard said, tossing his bag into Jim's room and throwing himself down on the sofa. "Will you help me move?"
"Yeah," Sebastian said, going and getting two beers. He handed one to Richard and sat down next to him. "At least I'll be able to keep an eye on you," Sebastian said. He picked up the remote and turned the TV onto a specific channel. It took Richard only a second to realize that it was 221b.
"Of course he had the place bugged," Richard groaned. "Please do not use that!"
"I'm not making any promises," Sebastian said, smirking into his beer as he took a swig.
"You're an utter bastard," Richard said, taking a sip of his own.
"I'm helping you move tomorrow, aren't I?"
"Half a bastard then," Richard said.
"Damn straight," Sebastian said, changing the channel to a movie.
"Patton? Really?"
"Don't tell me you don't love it," Sebastian pointed out.
"Three-fourths a bastard," Richard muttered, snuggling back in the sofa to watch the movie.