Seems as though you guys weren't averse to some smutty tent sex...well, it had to be done. Now we're off to meet the parents, what will they make of our Molly?

Chapter 14

Molly barely even recalled falling asleep but sleep she did and her fears of being cold were unfounded, probably due to being wrapped up skin to skin with Sherlock all night. So even though the rain continued until the early hours she slept relatively well.

When she awoke the next morning she was alone in the tent but she could hear movement outside. She was in desperate need of both the loo and a shower but as the latter was out of the question she got herself dressed, smiling to herself at the fact that her clothes were strewn in just about every corner of the small tent. The smile only got wider as she remembered the sex from the previous evening; whatever else they had between them they had amazing sexual chemistry. She'd never really, truly shared that with any of her other partners.

She finally emerged, blinking, into the sunlight to find Sherlock pouring freshly boiled water into their two ceramic travel mugs.

He smiled at her and even now, after sleeping with him, her heart flipped over in her chest at the sight.

'Morning, I thought you might appreciate some coffee.'

She climbed out of the tent and stretched.

'Thanks, but I umm...'

'If you need the loo, which I assume you do, I dug you a hole just in there..' he pointed to a thicket of trees just behind the tent. '…third tree in behind the bush. Not exactly the Ritz but well...'

She picked up the degradable wipes that he'd left out and trudged off...maybe camping wasn't all that it was cracked up to be.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Within the hour they were packed up and on their way. Molly was starting to feel nervous again about meeting Sherlock's parents and she asked him what they were like.

He shrugged. 'Like most parents I suppose, muddling along. My mother is the intellectual one if you're wondering where we get our brains from but as my father is also a second cousin of my mother myself and my siblings got double the genetic dose I suppose.'

'Are you close to them? You never talk about them; I didn't even know they were still alive until John mentioned them.'

'No, not particularly. I understand why now that I know about Eurus. The events of that year, when she killed...' he choked on his word a little and Molly instinctively put her hand on his arm to offer him her support.

He pulled himself together with an effort and carried on. 'When she killed Victor, it broke us as a family. My parents were understandably devastated, they lost their house and their daughter, I apparently withdrew into myself and Mycroft was more or less parenting me by himself.'

'Oh Sherlock...'

He gave a dry laugh. 'No need to pity me Molly, I remember very little of that time, though it's starting to come back in pieces. No, the worst part has been feeling as though my mind has betrayed me. The one thing that I thought I could rely on was myself; my knowledge, my brain and it's let me down. I hate doubting myself.'

Molly was sure she knew the answer to the next questions but she asked it anyway.

'What about...'

'Counselling...seeing a therapist. Tried it... more than once. Was forced into it every time I went into rehab and even saw John's old therapist after Mary... Anyway, they're all quacks. Mycroft tried to recommend someone but I think I'll struggle on through by myself.'

His voice was bitter and Molly could almost see him building walls around his feelings and she didn't want that, couldn't bear it.

She took his hand forcing him to stop walking and face her and she brought her other hand up to his face, stroking his cheek.

'Please don't ever think you are alone Sherlock. I'm here, if you want me, you know that.'

He took a deep breath and looked off to the side over one of the many fields that they had been walking past and through.

'I know Molly, but I'm not good for you.'

She frowned and felt confused.

'I think you should let me be the judge of that don't you?'

He looked at her sharply. 'No, not if it affects your safety.'

Molly found fear welling up inside her but greater than that was her feeling of anger and she snapped back at him. 'Sherlock Holmes don't you dare make decisions for me and about me without including me. I'm more than capable of making them for myself.'

There was a beat of silence between them and then a wide smile broke across his face and he shook his head. 'Molly, you never cease to amaze me...why do I always find myself wrong footed around you?'

He pulled her to him for a brief kiss before carrying on walking but Molly couldn't help feeling more than a little concerned as they made their way through yet another field. She still hadn't really spoken to Sherlock about feelings and their future and she knew she was putting it off, waiting for the other shoe to drop and him to turn around and end things and she worried about whether her heart would be able to come back from being so utterly broken.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock was, once again, feeling the complete opposite to Molly. For the first time in a long time he was feeling positive and hopeful about the future, about his future...with Molly. He'd always used the argument of Molly's safety as a reason for him to stay away but maybe she was right. Maybe that was a decision he shouldn't make on his own. And maybe he'd been using it as an excuse to cover up the fact that he had been too scared to embark on a relationship with her but now he was here in the middle of one he honestly couldn't imagine walking away from her...it would literally kill him. He knew that without doubt. He'd spiral so badly that not even John or Mycroft would be able to bring him back.

As they crested the hill he pointed out his parents cottage in the dell below and they made their way down. It was a bit muddy in places and Sherlock had to give Molly his hand more than once to stop her slipping and sliding. Her clumsiness used to irritate him but now it just made him chuckle and he laughed even more at her mulish, angry expression in the face of his amusement.

As the ground started to level out she asked him about his sister. He let him mind flick through the images he kept of her, his first sight of her, his shock at holding her hand and realising there was no glass (he still berated himself for missing that...it should have been child's play), her face on the monitor mocking him at his reactions to trying to save Molly...he physically winced at that memory, his heart contracting painfully. Then there were later memories, those of the two of them playing their violins together, him trying to reach her and help her somehow.

As he thought he spoke. 'My sister isn't just cold and emotionless like Mycroft or myself she is something other. It's not just that she removes herself from her emotions or locks them away she just simply doesn't comprehend them, not in the way we do, so she is endlessly fascinated at seeing them in others and in understanding them and manipulating them.'

'We're all just toys to her, dolls, playthings. Everything is valued by how much they entertain her and when we stop entertaining her...well, she just throws us away with as much empathy as we might give a used teabag when throwing it in the bin.'

'I thought I could help her; thought that maybe I could fashion a bridge between her and the rest of us so that she could live more in our world but I was wrong. I just became her favourite toy for a while...'

He paused for a moment remembering the last time he had seen her...she hadn't even stood up or turned around, just ignored him for two hours straight.

'The only people I've ever seen her show any genuine affection for is our parents...or it could just be that she hasn't seen love from that perspective before. She's quite the expert at love; it enthralls her more than any other emotion; trying to understand all the different types, familial, sibling, friend, sexual, romantic.'

They arrived at a small gate in front of a pretty cottage on the outskirts of a quaint village. It couldn't have been more English if it had tried.

Molly looked up at the house and then back at Sherlock as he opened the gate for her. She'd found his speech about his sister very enlightening. It had helped to fill in some of the gaps and questions that she had had about her.

He smiled as she passed him.

'She's very good at identifying love in other people and narrowing down who they love and how. After all she saw my love for you before I even recognised it myself.'

He strode up the path leaving Molly feeling a little dumbstruck. Had he just told her that he loved her?

Before she could give it any more thought the door to the cottage was flung open before Sherlock could even knock and he was immediately enveloped in a hug by an attractive, older woman in her late sixties.

'Sherlock, thank God you're here. Your father and I have been going out of our minds.'

She ushered him in through the door leaving Molly still stood on the path wondering whether she should follow them in or not.

She made her way to the door and she could hear Sherlock's mother still talking to him ten to the dozen. 'We've been trying to contact Mycroft through all the normal and non-normal channels and nothing, not even a message from his PA. You haven't been answering your phone and you've been plastered all over the news, a wanted man they say, the police have been asking all kinds of awkward and puerile questions, I don't know how you work with them. And to top it all the warden at Sherrinford has refused to take our calls. Now come in here and tell me everything.'

The moved off into a room on the left and Molly hovered in the hallway wondering quite what she should do when an elderly man stepped forward with a familiar smile on his face, he reminded her so much of Sherlock that she knew immediately that he must be his father.

'She's a bit of a force to be reckoned with is my Violet. It's where the boys get all their energy from, that and their brains. I'm sure you've worked out that I'm Sherlock's father, call me Si, and you, I take it, must be Molly Hooper though you look quite different from the photograph they used in the paper.'

Molly put one hand up to her short bob and smiled shyly. 'Yes, yes I am. I'm pleased to meet you.'

She shook his outstretched hand feeling his rough, cool skin. His hands were large like his sons.

'You look as though you've been travelling for days; I bet you'd like a warm shower and something to eat. Am I right?'

Molly smiled and nodded. 'Oh, I'd love a shower.'

'Come on then. Those two will be talking and plotting for a while so let's get you sorted out.'

He led her upstairs and pointed out a bathroom before finding her an old dressing gown of Sherlock's that she could use.

'Bring your clothes down with you and we can stick everything in the washer. I'll have a nice cup of tea and some soup ready for you when you've finished. Take your time.'

He left Molly to sort herself out and she gratefully stripped out of her filthy clothes and stepped into the blissful, cleansing heat of the shower. It had never felt so good being able to wash herself. Even after she had washed her hair and herself she still stood under the spray enjoying feeling clean and warm for the first time in days.

Finally she dried herself off before wrapping up in the old, flannel, winter dressing gown; turning up the sleeves to make them fit. It still smelt of Sherlock and she let herself breath in that familiar scent before she made her way back downstairs.

I hope you like my portrayal of the family and their impact on Sherlock. Re-reading this got me wondering where the names Violet and Sigur came from...are they fanfic names that have started to become canon or do they come from anything in previous books or films? I'm sure one of my brainy readers knows something.