Chapter 12
Hello everyone! I truly hope you enjoyed the last chapter! I am really trying to update as quickly as I can! I love you guys so much and appreciate all of the wonderful reviews, they are what keep me going! :D
Crooney83: Thank you so much! I had so much fun writing it! :D
Edwardia: Yes she will! I couldn't keep her away from Bart's for long! What's Bart's without Molly Hooper after all?! :D and I appreciate your patience, I truly do! :D
Rocking the Redhead: I love strong Molly too! She is my favorite to write! :D and I am trying my best to make Sherlock 'over the moon' in the most Sherlockian way possible! :D
4May: I doubt it possible, but it'll be interesting to find out in later chapters with his clothing options! Haha Thank you! I love writing about Sherlock's mind palace. Yes, Sherlock should acknowledge, even his own subconscious should know what he is doing is wrong. Bad Sherlock! :P I love writing Mycroft, as a little side note. I miss writing him in more often; I have oddly found him as a wonderful source of comedy relief. He's oddly a sweet man in an unorthodox way I think. And Of course I had to weasel in the pastries! :D I have to make sure Molly doesn't make an overnight change, ya know?! That would be far too drastic, but I understand, it would be too simple letting her become strong overnight and as Sherlock would say, "Boring!" :P Also, I will do my best to keep doubting Molly at bay. :)
Kathmak: I know I teetered on Molly becoming too harsh, which is why I brought her back to Bart's. She needed to be grounded! :D I know some people were not happy with how she was treating Sherlock, and I didn't realize it myself until after I read it a couple times. Yet, I wanted that effect, but I told you that, already. Hehe I wanted Molly to feel guilt, just like Sherlock did, when John and Mary came over, so I'm glad you liked it! And I can't wait for the reunion either, and I'm writing it! Squeeeee! :D
Ellemonster: I know, right?! I wish someone gave me an awesome flat after leaving their brother in the dust. Haha With a brand new wardrobe and all! That's what I look forward to! Molly's new wardrobe around Sherlock. Woohoo! Hahaha
Silkenslay: I'm happy she's going back too! Well, I don't want Sherlock to grovel too much, he may become bored or irritated, and you know how he can get. I would love for her to drive him crazy. I like Molly having the power for once, its fun. Hehe. Thank you! I am so happy you liked the chapter! And 10 too! :D I will write as fast as my fingers allow! :D
Louvreangel: I have been debating this myself, my friend, I don't like the girl, and neither does Molly. But that may be harsh. We will see what unfolds! :D And yes, she ruined the place… RUINED! ARRRRGHHH! Ahem… sorry.
Niafadra: I'm glad you're happy Molly's back! :D Yay! I always worry that when it comes to Sherlock I may not do well, I'm so glad you liked my take on it. I can't wait how it plays out between the two of them as well! :D only time will tell, yes?! And YES! I'm glad someone ELSE loves Mycroft! I find him a good source of comedy relief. His diet is three sheets to the wind. So far gone. Hahaha :D
Poodle warriors: and good things will happen! I promise you! :D
AdaYuki: I can't wait to WRITE Sherlock's reaction to Molly's return! Hahaha :D
221silentwordsnotspoken: Oh! Hahaha Thank you so much! Well lucky for you, you didn't have to wait long, and you got two! :D
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Okay everyone! Thank you for your wonderful patience on what seems to be the most slow paced story in all of history when it comes to fluff, no? I apologize. Haha I promise you, it'll be well worth the wait when the time comes. I love fluff and Sherlolly love, so don't fret! It will come! I just needed to build the wonderful strong foundation on which their love will conquer! Hahahaha
I hope you all have enjoyed everything so far! Also, if you have become impatient waiting for steamy Sherlolly-ness, you could read my other story in the meantime The Doctor and Detective which has some serious steamy bits, no doubt. I have seemed to take somewhat of a hiatus on it though and for my other loyal readers who do read it, I sincerely apologize! :( haha
Well on with the chapter! :D
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John and Mary stayed until about two talking about all of the hilarious scenarios of what could possibly happen once Sherlock would find out Molly was once at Bart's again. John tried to not stare at Molly's obvious excitement at being at Bart's once more.
Molly said her goodbyes to the happy couple. She didn't want to keep them too long. She knew they wanted to have the little time they had together as she knew sooner or later John would have to force Sherlock to take on cases so as to not become 'bored' and start shooting the walls. Molly could only imagine how the man felt. Not taking cases or going to the lab, thinking about it thoroughly, she never truly thought much on the impact of her leaving Bart's would effecthim .
According to John he wasn't taking cases because of the risk of going to the lab, or at least take ones interesting enough that would inevitably cause him a trip to the lab, and if per chance some did happen to cause this, he would send John down to grab whatever Sherlock may need to perform whatever he could at home, which wasn't much.
Then his experiments had to be taking a blow as well. After all, he wasn't getting any parts from Molly, and he definitely wasn't getting any from Jennifer, since the sheer mention of the woman's name seemed to only make the man seethe. Part of that made her happy, which she felt bad for. She was conflicted. She should feel bad, because Jennifer was nice, but she ruined her lab! Now Molly had to fix it all over again! Molly sighed as she went to the den to try to unwind.
She couldn't decide whether to paint on her easel, or to play the cello today.
"Maybe a bit of both." She hummed out. She waltzed over to the cello and positioned her petite frame just behind her wonderful instrument and began playing a wonderful tune off the top of her head. It wasn't really anything special and it wasn't any concerto at all really, it was just notes strewn together in her mind that she liked. It made no sense, but it helped her unwind. They didn't form a song, but she supposed if it were anything, it was the song of her heart. She swayed on the chair; eyes closed humming the melodic tune to herself while tapping her foot, the bridge of the cello laying lightly against her breast bone.
She felt a calmness rush over her at the comfort of it. She hadn't done this in years. Her hands seemed to move effortlessly over the strings like they had done it every day. She wondered if it were like this for Sherlock when he played his violin. Then she remembered his light fingers gracing her sides as they danced in the club. Her breathing became deeper at the thought and she had chills at the sensations. She could feel his hands ghosting over her hips and pulling her closer. She moaned lightly as her eyes fluttered and she pulled the cello tighter to her body.
She tilted her head to the side as she imagined his feather light kisses on her neck and she let out a sigh as her notes on the instrument became lighter and breezier to match her mood. She could almost feel his breath. She missed him so much. She supposed playing an instrument such as a string only reminded her of him and it made her picture him even more so. She saw him by his window, a dark silhouette of curls pulling the wonderful bow he held so delicately in his one hand across the strings of his violin, just as his other hand plucked lightly at the strings. She moaned as she saw his eyes gleam at her the way they did that night in her mind, with desire. That night she knew that's what it was, but she had no clue what to do which was why she pushed him away. She almost wanted to slap herself for being so foolish for seeing those wonderful blue eyes gaze at her with such hunger.
She had stopped playing now. Her right hand lax against her thigh, bow still in hand, and her left was lazily running her fingers up and down the strings, as if waiting for a response. Her head had been tilted back against the chair with her mouth slightly agape slight breaths coming out each moment. What a sight.
"Am I interrupting something?" She heard a regal voice break her wonderful thought and her head snapped up immediately and she peeped to only to be graced by the presence of a Holmes, just not the one she had been hoping for.
"Oh, Mycroft… well, hello." Molly tried to say casually, but that obviously didn't come. She stepped up from her chair and pulled down her dress which she hadn't realized hiked all the way up her thighs from the way she was sitting with the cello. This caused her to blush an even deeper shade of red.
"I won't tell Sherlock if you won't." Mycroft joked. He joked?
"I—what? I have no idea what—"
"Oh, please Miss Hooper, I know your...affections for my little brother. They are quite apparent, after all." Mycroft said to Molly leaving the den to head to the kitchen.
"Right then…" She heaved a sigh in defeat and was headed towards the kitchen to begin making a kettle of tea and spotted Anthea on the sofa.
"Hey." She said typing away on her mobile.
"…Hey…" Molly said warily. After all Molly had only met the woman once and it was the day after she moved into her flat, and the woman did absolutely nothing to help her with getting off her floor.
"You have any more pastries?" Mycroft seemed to peek out from the refrigerator. It was so un-Mycroft like to see him in such a way. When had anyone ever seen him like this? Yet, what could Molly judge? She could say she had seen Sherlock like this though and it almost made her giggle. Mycroft must've picked up on his sudden change of demeanor, because he straightened his back stiffly and looked at her pointedly.
"No pastries then." He tried saying without a pout.
"If you don't mind staying around for about thirty minutes I could make some fresh baked ones, and you could take some home." Molly chimed.
Ah, there's the Holmes sparkle. Sherlock got it when he learned something new about a case; Mycroft got it when he learned something about him receiving fresh baked pastries for him, apparently. Surely he got excited for other things as well.
As promised, Molly made enough pastries to last for a week, or in Mycroft's case, three days. Sherlock surely will have something to say about his infamous diet now.
She packed him a nice little to-go tin and set in on the coffee table for when he was ready to go. In the meantime, she brought out a tray with a kettle of tea for three and some fresh pastries along with little sandwiches, always the gracious host Molly was.
"So, what's up Mycroft?" Molly said to him casually.
Mycroft looked at her almost disgusted by her informality, so much so that even Anthea took a moment to look away from her phone in surprise. Molly widened her eyes a bit and covered her mouth and giggled.
"Oh, sorry." She cleared her throat. "Ah-he-he-hem… Par-don me sir… for what do I owe the pleeaasuure?" Molly exaggerated the last word and made sure to ask him in her most posh accent for full effect. He narrowed his eyes.
"If you didn't know how to bake…" he whispered. "I came to drop off your new badge for St. Bartholomew's, Miss Hooper." He said dripping with formality.
"Well… why thank ya sir." She almost couldn't hold back the giggle. She hoped she could be this way with the consulting detective. After all the man in front of her was practically the British government and she was mocking him! But, she didn't love Mycroft. He sighed.
"You start you normal shift on Monday. The woman that took your place, a Miss... Jennifer Hanley? It seems? Will not be staying. Monday will be her last day. She will only be there to let you know of any changes that happened to the lab in your absence." Mycroft stated.
"Which just happened to be everything..."Molly grumbled. She swore she saw the slightest smirk on the older Holmes' face.
"Your pay will not change, and you can keep the flat, courtesy of... well, honestly... nothing. That is quite strange, is it not? John has seemed to make me soft as well. Sherlock's companions cannot rub off on me." Mycroft chimed in taking a sip of his tea.
"Hey! You said we would be even if I kept you in an unlimited supply of fresh pastries! I'll even take requests!" Molly said. There went the sparkling eyes again. "Truly. You can tell me what you like, and I would be more than happy to make the treats for you, Mycroft. It would be the least I could do." Molly said sheepishly.
"Well, I suppose that will have to be an adequate arrangement until I find something else that may suffice." He concluded. Anthea did everything but scoff. Mycroft gave her a side glance. A warning possibly?
"Thank you again, Mycroft." Molly said. As she took a sip from her tea and a bite of her biscuit.
"I look forward to my little brother's reaction at your return Miss Hooper. Good day." He said to her finishing up his tea and grabbing his tin waiting for Anthea by the door.
"So do I, Mycroft." Molly said sincerely.
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John felt it necessary to go see Sherlock to make sure the man didn't lose his mind at the lack of information he seemed to not be intaking. He also truly wanted to tell Sherlock about Molly's return because he knew her being away was the root of what was truly hurting him, yet he did promise her he wouldn't say a word.
Once he got back to Baker street he found Sherlock sitting on his chair with his knees pulled up to his chin watching crap telly screaming at the people on screen.
"No! c'mon! Why on earth would you pick the red one?! Are you blind woman?!" Sherlock seemed to yell with such fervor.
"What the hell are you watching?" John tried to sound upset at his outburst, but he truly found him being upset at such trivial things comical.
"Apparently this American show called "The Price is Right" these people are nothing but buffoons." Sherlock spat as he angrily shut the telly off with the remote.
"All right, all right, it's not the clicker's fault." John said. And Sherlock looked at him oddly for using such a strange word for remote.
"A… what?" Sherlock said to John questioning him.
"A clicker—Oh no… no Sherlock. Not now." John tried with great willpower to hide what he thought were sure signs of his night with Mary and his eventual morning with Mary and Molly, but he had no idea what to hide. Was it something on his shirt, hair on his pants he couldn't see? A smell he didn't notice? The way he carried himself? He never knew what Sherlock knew to look for, and frankly, Sherlock had been off a case for a very, very long time and is probably fearing he may be rusty, so… that meant John will be his new guinea pig. His experiment that he can't have because Molly's gone or now will probably discover is coming back because he is so damn brilliant and no one can hide a damn thing from.
"Where were you today?" Sherlock said casually.
"With Mary." John said automatically. Dammit, I answered too quickly. John thought.
"What are you hiding from me.?" Sherlock asked, even more causally, yet standing up this time. He was wearing a gray t-shirt, blue silk pajamas, and his blue silk dressing gown. John almost became depressed at the thought of when Sherlock might have worn one of his impeccable suits. He honestly couldn't remember. Molly had done a number on him, he knew that whether Sherlock admitted to himself or not, he missed their petite pathologist and it showed on both parties.
They both tried hiding it well, but the signs were there. John knew the both of them well enough to know when they had lack of sleep. He may not have been Sherlock, but he could tell by looking at Molly that she was over working herself and it wasn't because she had a huge work load, it was because she wanted her mind off of a certain detective. His speculation on the matter was only sated at breakfast this morning when she admitted to missing his flat mate, and frankly he was happy she decided to come back. She hid the sadness well, possibly because she had so many years of perfecting it.
Sherlock on the other-hand was like a sulking teenager. He played sad concertos, laid on the sofa for all hours, never changing his clothes, barely showering, or leaving the flat, barely eating unless forced. He would only take cases if he were forced, and only if they were extremely important and didn't involve the lab, which sounds more difficult than one might imagine. Frankly John knew he would've been upset at Molly's departure, but never knew he would've taken it so horribly. Yet he assumed it was because he discovered he truly cared for the once mousy pathologist, because Molly was mousy no more. She was fiery and brazen, John knew Sherlock had to know that by now by her wonderful display in the restaurant just two nights ago. Aside from shocking him, he was sure it hurt him more than anything. He thought that was what bothered him the most. Then Molly confessed that she loved him this morning. John always knew she loved Sherlock, but hearing her saying it was almost ridiculous and laughable. Living with the man for as long as John had, and knowing how the man truly was, knowing how the man treated Molly over the years, and still managing to say she loved him only made him admire her for her dedication.
The git better not mess up this time he thought.
"Nothing, why?" Dammit! John chastised himself. Have I learned nothing?!
"If you were hiding nothing from me, you wouldn't ask why. You're asking why because you are insecure and truly want to tell me what you are hiding, but promised you wouldn't. It isn't something life-threatening, or you would tell me so it'll come out in time. I suppose it is nothing that would cause me distress, seeing how well that went for you not too long ago." Sherlock jibed. John flinched at the mention of when Sherlock found out Molly was gone. Watching that unfold for Sherlock was like watching his world collapse, part of him wondered if it had.
"So…" Sherlock continued. "I will not bother you with the subject. I assume I will find out in my own time I suppose." Sherlock waved his hand dismissively walking towards the kitchen to perhaps grab a few slices of cheese. It seemed to be the only snack they had in the fridge.
"I'm sorry, what?" John said with disbelief in his voice.
Sherlock audibly groaned and did indeed grab a few slices of cheese and plopped down onto the sofa, folded the food and stuffed it into his mouth.
"Do you want me to deduce you to pieces? Because I can." He said mouth full of cheese. John had to stifle a laugh.
"No… no. It's quite all right." John added as he sat down and fished the newest paper from the pile on the table and unfolded it and began to read. He quickly looked to Sherlock on his right and saw his hands steepled under his chin, the same expression on his face he had the night John left, from the night Molly and Sherlock had dinner. He was sad.
"I miss her, John."
Sherlock said, and it was nearly a whisper. John almost asked him to say it again because he thought it was his mind playing tricks. He thought it was his subconscious waiting for it to finally fill in what John had already known the man felt for the woman, but he knew it was real. What should he say? What could he say? Well… I guess there is one thing he could say that could possibly give him the hope that would make him never give up. To know to keep hanging on, and in truth, he would still be keeping his promise to Molly.
"She misses you too, Mate."
John added and stuck his nose immediately into the paper avoiding his best friend's gaze. Sherlock's eye's shot up and bored holes through the paper, John could feel it, and he tried his best to not waver under his scrutiny, to not look up from the writing. Burglary at high end London Jewelry store... interesting... he's still staring... Lestrade worked on the case... was probably bored. He won't stop staring...John began shifting in his chair and turned the page. Oh, a few movies came out this week. Mary wanted to see that. Sherlock please stop shooting daggers through me... I really don't want to see a romance movie though. Maybe if I take her to dinner, I can convince her to go to an action film? Probably not...
"JOHN!" Sherlock yelled finally grabbing his blogger's attention.
"WHAT?! Couldn't you see I was reading?!" John yelled back with just as much gusto.
"You were not, you were avoiding me!" he said as his voice began to elevate. He was beginning to panic.
"Of course I was avoiding you! I was expecting you to be all Sherlock and scoff me off and go 'heh, well of course she misses me'!" John said as he dove back into the paper.
Sherlock fumed at this and in two long strides faced his blogger and snatched the paper right from his hands and looked him in the eyes.
"What do I do John?! I don't miss anyone! But I can't! She's in my mind, all over..." he began pacing in front of the fire place. "I became so pompous and arrogant of her affections and assumed they were only for me..." he said weakly as he turned away from John looking at the skull on his mantle. "I never truly realized the damage I caused her John, until she inflicted it upon me." he said to his friend sitting down on his chair feeling quite awkward with nothing in hand.
"What do you mean?" John asked cautiously.
"At dinner..." Sherlock laughed bitterly, "I flirted with Molly shamefully, and what I had not expected was that-"
"She slapped you." John finished.
"Yes, but—how did you know that?" Sherlock turned to him baffled. "We'll dwell on that later." He continued. "That was not it. I shamefully flirted with her, in hopes of her coming back to Bart's, not that it wasn't all sincere... but it was empty, you see?" he looked at John, eyes pleading that he would understand. John urged him to go on and make his point. "Well, what I did not expect was that... well, she did the same... to me." he finished and the words left his mouth quietly and the room sat still.
"I'm sorry? You're upset that Molly gave you a... a pity flirt?" It took everything in John to not laugh. Sherlock shot him a glance and his eyes were almost glassy. John's eyes widened from the emotion on his face. He hadn't realized his friend had fallen so hard and so quickly for their pathologist.
"I always thought that what I did was harmless, yet when she did it to me... it, well it..."
"Sucked?" John smiled.
"Yes, I supposed it 'sucked' would be a sufficient word." Sherlock concluded.
"Now it shouldn't surprise you why she left then." John added almost in a reprimanding tone as if saying 'I HOPE YOU LEARNED YOUR LESSON'
"It doesn't. And It wouldn't surprise me if she never came back either." he said as he plopped himself into his chair letting out a huff with the air of the chair. John let out a breath from such a confession.
He was beating himself up. It was true, he probably should. He treated Molly horribly over the years, and if he loved her or not, he should worship the ground she walked on for all the things she does for him as a friend and associate. The woman has been there for him when no one else would be, and that is why Molly is coming back, because no matter what, Molly will always come back to Sherlock.
"I'll go make some tea." John said absently as he stood up from the chair to walk to the kitchen and put some water in the kettle.
"You saw Molly today, didn't you." Sherlock said. It wasn't a question. John looked at his friend. He truly hated seeing him in such a way, what was he supposed to do? He thought saying that she missed him would make things better, but it only seemed to make things worse. Would telling him the truth do the same?
"Yeah, I did." he said looking at the man fleetingly as he went back to prepping the tray trying to gather whatever snacks he could from the kitchen they could nibble on.
"Is she well?" his voice faltered a bit. Emotion was such a rare suit on Sherlock it was almost frightening. John almost missed the expressionless face of his normal companion who would sit across from him and drink tea most evenings, but this was the real Sherlock, the human.
"Yeah, happy." He flinched. "But, as I said... she misses you, a lot." he scoffed. "I'm serious Sherlock. Couldn't you tell if I were lying?" John said seriously and looked his best friend in the eyes. Sherlock looked him over in the dark room, Sherlock had opted for the fireplace tonight, John swore he loved dramatics. He looked at everything from his furrowed brows to his combed hair, to his creased sleeves, then he let out a sigh.
"You're right. At least I still got it." Sherlock said almost playfully. John chuckled.
"Well, I'm gonna hit the hay. See ya in the morning? Goodnight Sherlock. Do get some rest, please. If not for me, then for her." John added at the end while standing at the frame between the sitting room and the kitchen. Before he turned around he saw Sherlock's brows rise slight and he gave him a curt nod.
"Night John." He said. "Oh... and John?" Sherlock called to the short blonde at the head of the steps all he received was a 'hmm' letting him know he heard him.
"What were you hiding from me?" he asked in an almost childish voice.
John slowly walked back in to the kitchen so that Sherlock could see him clearly.
"Patience is a virtue, Sherlock, and one of which you will surely be rewarded, I promise you. Good night." John smiled and headed towards his bedroom leaving Sherlock sitting on his leather chair, a smug smile playing on his lips.
