Chapter Twelve
Okay, this turned out to be a long one, but I definitely wanted all of this in it, so...
William sat on the sofa of 221B Baker Street, sulking. Both encounters with John and Molly yesterday had gone badly, Molly even more so. Even if he and John had technically never even talked, it had still left a hole in him; a hole of lost friendship. It was a different kind of ache than the one Molly had left behind. The loss of Molly was a torture unlike any he had ever witnessed in human history. But, John…John had been a comrade, a brother-in-arms, a companion…a friend.
So, William had come home to wallow. For that was what 221B was starting to feel like: home. Even if his pretend flatmate hated him. Speaking of…
John stepped out of the kitchen with his cup of tea, stepping over to his armchair and settling into it. After taking a sip of the tea, he set the cup on the small table next to him and pulled the newspaper over, beginning to read the front page. After a few moments, he glanced up at the empty leather armchair across from him. He stared at it for a moment before folding the paper back up with a sigh and going back to staring at the chair.
William stared at him for a moment before sighing and shaking his head.
What am I doing?
It was clear by now that all he brought them was pain. He shouldn't have made contact in the first place. If he hadn't been so selfish, they would have been spared. He should just leave now before he caused them more pain.
William stood from the sofa, striding towards the landing outside.
"William?"
William froze in the doorway, terrified. Had he subconsciously shown himself again?
"Are you here?"
William frowned in confusion, turning around. John sat staring around the room in front of him, waiting for a response. For a moment, no one moved or spoke.
John finally bowed his head slightly. "Look…I'm not upset anymore." He then frowned. "Well, no, I am, but I-I'm not angry." He gave a sigh, looking over at the leather armchair. "I just…want to talk."
William stared at him in amazement. An olive branch…
Should he take it? He had already figured out that he had caused them so much pain, so shouldn't he leave them in peace? However…John had offered him a way in, risking further pain for the hope of something better. Couldn't he return the favor?
"I'm sorry."
John's head spun towards the doorway, looking him in the eye. "Hey…" He stared at William for a long moment before looking away and gesturing to the seat across from him.
William crossed to the armchair and settled into it, resting his arms on the rests. He and John glanced at each other for a moment before looking away, staring at anything but each other.
After what felt like forever, William suddenly leaned forward, his arms resting on his legs. "I'm so sorry, John. You have to understand. I wasn't spying on you. It's—"
"William—" began John.
"—perfectly normal for angels to watch over humanity," continued William, on a roll. "It's our job. It's all we've ever known."
"William," John tried again.
"It was just a natural reflex that—"
"William!" yelled John.
William's mouth snapped shut as he realized that he had made John angry yet again. But when he looked at him, he was surprised to see a slightly fond smile on John's face.
"Calm down," John told him. "I understand."
William tilted his head a little, frowning. "You do?"
John nodded. "We're different. What's normal for me may not exactly be normal for you. It's not really fair of me to judge when I don't know your world."
William stared at John, completely shocked. "That's…" He took a breath, nodding slightly. "Thank you."
John pointed a finger at him. "I'm still upset, mind you…but I understand." He lowered his hand.
William nodded again. "What would you like to know?"
John thought for a moment before responding. "How long have you been…following us?"
"I saw you the night before I met you at the movie night with the two of you and Greg and Mary," William answered. "Molly, the day before. I had been accompanying Greg on his cases for years—well, I had been with Scotland Yard ever since Jack the Ripper—"
"So, it's true," John interrupted. "You actually met Jack the Ripper?"
William nodded. "I did."
"And?" asked John. "Was he ever caught? For anything?"
"He did meet his death at the hands of a mugger, but, no, he was never apprehended," William explained.
"A mugger?" asked John. "Jack the Ripper was defeated by a mugger?"
"Well, he had a multiple personality disorder," William explained. "One part of him was a well-maintained citizen, highly respected professor and valued member of society. The other…was a murderous psychopath with a penchant for young women. He was actually the inspiration for Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde."
"Hmm." John nodded thoughtfully and looked back at him. "So, you were following Greg…"
William nodded. "He needed to visit St. Bart's for information on the body. That's when I met Molly. I didn't know why at the time, but she held my interest like no one before. And then she inadvertently introduced me to you. You proved to be another exception to this boring humanity. In fact, every one of your little group offers something unique and special. You, Mary, Greg…Molly…"
John gave a small smile. "You love her, don't you?"
William paused a moment before giving a smile. "I think I do."
John's smile grew. "Well, I wish you luck. Molly is…quite a handful."
William laughed a little. "Indeed she is."
John narrowed his eyes at her. "You've talked with her, haven't you?"
William looked at him, astounded at how well he could read people. "I wouldn't call it talking so much as her yelling at and then slapping me."
John stared at him for a moment. "I'll talk to her."
William raised his head in interest. "Really?"
"Yeah," John told him.
William's gaze drifted away and back. "I'd wager nothing like this ever happened to Sherlock Holmes."
John smiled and laughed. "Probably not." He watched the angel warily.
William frowned in thought, staring at the fireplace. "I wonder if it ever would have."
John frowned. "Pardon?"
William looked back at him. "I wonder how many genres Doyle went through before settling on mystery. Could you imagine Sherlock Holmes battling some mythical creature? A dragon, perhaps?"
John stared at him for a moment before leaning forward. "So…you didn't go through with it?"
"With what?" asked William.
"Finding Sir Arthur Conan Doyle," said John.
William nodded in understanding. "I was going to—was even on my way to the publisher—but then I started thinking. Doyle has never made any public appearances, no one knows anything about him…What right do I have to dig up this person's secrets?" He smiled at John. "Would be a bit hypocritical, wouldn't it?"
John stared at William in amazement, at a loss for words. "That's very nice of you, William."
William shrugged and then paused, hesitating. "On that topic…" he grimaced and shifted uneasily, "I can't promise I'll stop, because it's just who we are—it's in our nature—but…if you ever ask if I'm there and I am, I will show myself. I promise you that."
John nodded. "I appreciate that."
William smiled at him, wondering if he should tell John about when they had met thirty years ago. He had sworn that he would be honest with his friends from now on, but it just didn't feel like the right time. One day soon…but not today.
"So, what else would you like to know?" asked William.
John fumbled for words for a moment, the look on his face suggesting William had interrupted an important thought. "Erm…I-I, er…y-yeah, of course, erm…" He glanced away and then back with an embarrassed smile. "This is probably a stupid question."
"No such thing," said William.
John gave him a look.
William rolled his eyes. "In this case."
John smiled. "That's more like it."
"What's your question?" asked William.
"Can you, erm…" John chuckled, "fly?"
William stared at him before bursting into laughter.
John joined in after a moment. "I'll take that as a 'no.'"
William nodded. "Good choice."
The two friends laughed together.
John glanced up as Molly entered the coffee shop, and he smiled at her.
Molly stepped over to the table he sat at. "Hi."
"Hi," said John as she sat across from him. "How've you been?"
Molly shrugged a little, placing her handbag on the chair next to her. "I've been better."
John nodded. "I know what you mean."
The barista walked over with the two drinks John had ordered and set them on the table.
"Ta," said John.
The girl nodded and strode back to the counter.
John blew on the surface of his espresso and took a tentative sip, flinching at the hot beverage. Setting the mug back down to let it cool, he looked up at Molly, who was cradling her café latte and staring into the white foam on the top of it.
John hesitated a moment before speaking. "William told me what happened the other day."
Molly looked up at him, her eyes wide and—dare John say it?—hopeful. "You…you've talked with him?"
John gave a sigh. "I did. And it sounds like you really let him have it."
Molly frowned sadly and looked back down at her coffee. "I wish I hadn't. He didn't deserve it." She glanced up to see John staring at her. "Well, he does deserve our anger, but…he didn't deserve that. And he certainly didn't deserve my hitting him." She looked miserably back at her coffee.
John leaned forward a bit. "He still cares for you, you know."
Molly's eyes swiftly met John's, her mouth opening slightly.
"Very much," John went on. "I don't think a little slap in the heat of the moment is going to change that."
Molly smiled, wringing her hands nervously. "Really?"
John smiled. "Oh, yes."
Molly's smile faded a little. "But…" She glanced around them suspiciously. "It's just that…how do we know he's not here right now, listening to everything we say? Watching us?"
John nodded before also glancing around. "William? Are you here?"
Molly frowned in confusion as John waited for a reply. When nothing happened, he looked back at her with a smile.
"What was that?" asked Molly.
"William made a promise that if we ever asked, he would show himself," John explained.
Molly's frown turned into a surprised look. "He did?"
"What, no denial that he would keep a promise like that?" asked John.
Molly shook her head. "I trust him."
"You do?" asked John. "After all this?"
Molly shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "Yes, well…"
John smiled knowingly. "You love him, don't you?"
Molly glanced up at him, blushing. That was an answer in and of itself.
"Then talk to him," John told her.
Molly sighed as she fidgeted in her seat. "How?"
"I imagine the library'll do," said John.
Molly frowned. "The library?"
John nodded. "Apparently, they like to hang out there."
Molly looked down at her latte, an uncertain look on her face.
John reached over and grasped Molly's hand, bringing her gaze up to his. "Just try. What could it hurt?"
Molly smiled at him and then nodded.
John gave her hand a squeeze and then pulled his hand back, taking a sip of his slightly cooled-down coffee. "So, 'Walking on Sunshine,' huh?"
Molly's jaw dropped. "How did you know…"
"William reads minds, remember?" said John with a smile.
Molly rolled her eyes as she laughed.
Molly stepped through the front doors of the library, glancing around the lobby nervously. After a moment, she stepped towards the stairs, heading towards the first floor. She passed the help desk, walking down rows of tables and armchairs that people were reading at.
William's eyes widened as he straightened up from his bent position over a library patron reading "The Woman in White." He turned his head to see that Molly had indeed just passed him. He could only stare as she entered the shelves of books.
Molly stepped past the biographies and historical fiction before entering one of the mystery aisles that was empty. She slowly strode down it, glancing all around.
(William?)
William stepped into the aisle after her, watching as she came to a stop in the middle and pretended to be perusing the shelf.
(William, are you here?)
So, she and John had talked. He had told her of the promise he'd made to them. And after everything, he was not about to break that promise, especially if it gave him a chance to talk to her.
Molly waited a moment before turning a little to move to the next shelf of books to continue "browsing." She spotted a figure in black out of the corner of her eye and slowly turned toward it. William stood at the end of the aisle, staring nervously at her.
Molly fidgeted a little before walking over to him. "Hi."
William smiled a little. "Hi."
There was an awkward silence as each of them struggled to push past the memory of their last encounter.
"Sorry for—" began Molly.
"I'm sorry I—" said William at the same time.
They both broke off at the same time and smiled awkwardly.
"I'm sorry for…everything," said William.
"No, I'm sorry for hitting you," said Molly. "I was so upset about the secrets and everything that it all just…spilled over. I wished I could take it back almost as soon as I had done it."
William shrugged. "I deserved it."
Molly quickly shook her head. "No, you didn't. Maybe the yelling, but the slap was taking it too far."
William stared at her for a moment. "You were wrong, you know."
Molly gave him an inquisitive look.
"I did feel it," William whispered.
Molly's eyes softened at that, understanding exactly what he meant.
"It must be nice," said William.
"What?" asked Molly.
"To feel," William told her. "Even if it is pain."
Molly was filled with such sympathy for him then that it nearly overwhelmed her. To be forever close to humanity but never able to touch it…
"Must be lonely…" muttered Molly.
William stepped closer, smiling down at her. "Not anymore."
Molly could see how he felt in his eyes—could see the feelings there—and her heart raced in response. She couldn't believe this was happening. Finally, a man that she loved had loved her back.
Molly's gaze dropped in uncertainty. But did he? Did he really love her? After all, he was an angel. He had never experienced these emotions before; John had told him as much. So, how could William know what love was? What if somewhere down the line he realized that it wasn't love at all and abandoned her? She couldn't take that again.
Molly took a step back from him, her heart pounding in her chest. "I, erm…"
William frowned as Molly stepped away from him. Had he done something wrong?
"You should probably know that, erm…" Molly fidgeted nervously, trying to come up with something. "Well, the thing is…" She finally landed on something. "An old friend stopped by Bart's yesterday and asked me out."
William's face fell as his heart did likewise, afraid of what she would say next.
"I said yes," said Molly quickly before finally looking up at him.
William's face just about broke her heart, but she stayed resolute. It was best for both of them if they just went their separate ways.
"I mean, let's face it," said Molly shakily. "It never would've worked with us. We're too different."
William's heart clenched so painfully that it felt like it would burst. Was this what a broken heart felt like?
Molly hesitated a moment before stepping forward. "I hope you see that." She brushed past him and hurried out of the library.
William stood in the aisle of the library, staring at where Molly had left his life forever.
She was gone.
William wandered the streets of London all night, not really paying attention to anything or anyone. What did any of it matter anymore if he didn't have Molly? He had thought it hurt before, but nothing compared to the pain of this heartbreak. In a weird way, Molly was right; they weren't even the same species.
William froze on the spot. That was it. The way back to her: the Fall.
William began glancing around for the closest tall structure before realizing that he was standing on the roof of St. Bart's Hospital. Perhaps his subconscious had known what he should do before he had.
William turned towards the edge of the building, staring at the stone precipice. This was it. After this, there was no turning back. But why would he want to go back? Back meant an existence without Molly, which would be absolute hell.
So, now, his two choices stood before him: heaven or hell, Molly or infinite loneliness, human or angel. There really was no contest. Just a glimpse into this Molly-free world was more than he could bear.
William walked slowly to the ledge, stepping up onto it. On the street below, a few early-morning risers wandered the square, humans going about their day. Only a little while longer, and he would join them. He would fall from his world and into theirs.
A slice of brilliant light hit his face, and he looked up to see the sun breaking over the horizon. A pure, enchanting hum filled the air, piercing his soul. William smiled and closed his eyes, letting the song wash over him. Somehow, this one seemed so much more beautiful than any that had come before it. Perhaps it was just the knowledge that he would never hear it again, but it was as though the earth knew it would be his last. If he could just enjoy the one thing about being an angel that he had loved…
William smiled as the song enveloped him. It's okay. I'm only trading one heaven for another.
William's eyes opened, the sun filling his vision as he slowly spread his arms. He looked up towards the stars, his arms stretched out to either side. The sun's song came to a slow, exquisite end, and William closed his eyes.
I'm coming, Molly…
William moved his foot over the ledge and pitched himself forward.
Just so you all know, the reference to Sherlock fighting dragons was not a reference towards The Hobbit (although, now that you mention it…). It came to me because of Mycroft's line in "His Last Vow" about Sherlock being a dragon slayer. It fit so well…