She was caught in a nightmare from which she couldn't wake up.
Sebastian Moran was pinning her down and his hot foul breath was on her face as he tried to kiss her.
Molly twisted her head from side to side, desperately trying to avoid his rough caress.
He ripped at her blouse and mocked her. "This time your precious fiancé won't be able to save you. You will be mine." He laughed maniacally.
"No, no," she wept. "Sherlock, save me."
A deep baritone cut into her nightmare, slowly bringing her to consciousness. "Molly, sweetheart. Wake up. You're safe. Nobody is ever going to hurt you again."
Molly opened her eyes into semi-darkness, to see the anxious face of the man she loved hovering over her. She promptly burst into tears, great wrenching sobs erupting from her as she trembled.
Sherlock's arms were around her, holding her close. "It was just a nightmare, my love. I'm here."
Delayed shock had obviously set in as the pathologist realized how close she had been to being violated by the criminal a few days earlier. She had managed to repress most of the memories by distracting herself with all the wedding planning. In sleep however, there was no distraction.
"I'm sorry," she wept. "The nightmare brought it all back, what Moran almost did to me. If you had arrived just a few minutes later..."
"But I didn't," the detective soothed. "You know God led me to you in time. He answered your prayers."
Molly clutched him. "Why am I so weak? This happened days ago. I thought I was over it, had moved on from it."
"Sweetheart, shock from a traumatic event doesn't have a set time limit. I'm just glad I can be here for you, to reassure you." He kissed the top of her head, where it leaned against his shoulder. "Don't forget, I managed to repress memories for over thirty years before they came back to haunt me."
The pathologists tears slowly subsided as she regained control of her faculties. "How can I stop having nightmares though? I can't control that from happening."
"I don't know, love. I hope you won't have any more, but I will be here for you if you do."
"Except when you are out if town on a case," she said, holdding her fiancé tightly, as if to prevent him from leaving her.
"I promise you I will endeavour to get through any out-of-town cases as quickly as possible, and I won't take any that will take me away from you for over a week. Now that Mycroft will no longer be enlisting my help for international cases that would keep me from you for weeks, I will be here most of the time."
"I don't want to get in the way of your sleuthing pursuits. You'll end up bored and hating me for it."
"I am never bored with you. You fulfill me in a way no case ever could. The beauty of being the world's only consulting detective is that I have the ability to pick and choose my cases." He stroked her hair and Molly relaxed her convulsive grip.
"Thanks for letting me breathe again," joked the detective, and Molly gave him a wobbly smile. "Do you want to go back to Sleep?"
"No," replied the pathologist. She glanced over at the bedside clock to see it was past seven o'clock. "Will you just hold me for awhile before we get up?"
"Of course," the sleuth assured her.
The couple lay in bed, Sherlock gently rubbing Molly's back in soothing circles as she reciprocated with her hands at his back. She could feel the faint ridges of the scars on his back, and remembered the torture he had endured himself, in the past. He had had nobody to help him afterwards. Had he suffered nightmares as a result of that beating? After awhile, they exchanged several tender kisses, enjoying the comfort of their close embrace. Molly felt protected and safe. She would have liked nothing better than to stay in bed all day, in the arms of the man she adored, but she knew that wasn't possible.
With a sigh of reluctance, the pathologist was the first to make the move to get up. Sherlock lay there languidly, putting his hands behind his head and watching her as she gathered clothes for the day. "Sherlock," she said, once she had clothes in hand, "does your washing machine work?"
"Hmmm? I suppose so. I don't know the last time it was used. I use a dry cleaning service. Once in awhile Mrs. Hudson does a few things for me."
"You can keep using a dry cleaning service, but I intend to take care of your regular laundry," asserted Molly. "I have washing powder that I brought over from my flat. I did see my radiator clothes airer and regular airer are up in the spare bedroom, so I can use them."
"You don't need to do the laundry. We can afford to send everything out for cleaning," remarked her fiancé.
"That isn't the point. I want to take care of you."
"Well, if you change your mind, I won't be offended."
Molly leaned over the bed to kiss him. "We'll see. I'll try putting in a load before we leave the flat for the bank."
"HSBC isn't far from here and it is open at eight o'clock today, so we can walk there shortly."
"Okay," Molly agreed as she went into the bathroom to get dressed. When she reappeared, Sherlock was just buttoning his suit coat over a white shirt. He always looked so devastatingly handsome, she thought. He was definitely not the average type of man who wore jeans. The detective was impeccably dressed any time he left the flat, his only concession to being casual was the lack of a tie and leaving the neck of his shirt open. The pathologist looked at her own shapeless attire.
"Can I buy some clothes after we've been to the bank?" she asked.
"I have no objection, but what's wrong with your current wardrobe?"
"Have you ever looked at the two of us side by side? You are so dignified and elegant. I just look dowdy next to you."
Sherlock took Molly's hand and kissed it, then drew her towards him and kissed her lips. "I think you make everything you wear look beautiful."
She smiled at the sweet compliment. "Nevertheless, I would feel better if I had some nicer clothes to walk around in. If any photographers were to snap a picture of us when I look like this, I'd be embarrassed."
"As you wish, my love. Bank, then shopping. Anything else on the agenda for today?"
Molly laughed. "I think by the time I've dragged you to a few clothing stores, you'll be glad to get home and rest."
The couple had just sat down for breakfast, when Molly got a phone call. After a brief conversation, she hung up. At Sherlock's questioning look she said, "It was Mike Stamford. He wanted to make sure I was okay to go back to work for night shift on Sunday night. I am the one who is usually the acting supervisor in Mike's absence, you know. My shift starts at midnight on Sunday."
"I did not know that, but I am not surprised. You have been at the hospital for many years, so I can understand why he considers you to be his second in command."
"Too bad the extra responsibility doesn't come with a pay raise," quipped the pathologist. "Of course, it does mean I get to sit in his office and spend most of my time on the computer, rather than in the lab, when I'm acting supervisor."
"Does that mean you can authorize the release of body parts to me for experiments?"
"I hope you are joking," said his fiancée sternly.
"Yes, yes of course. I know. No more experimenting outside the lab. But perhaps I might have just cause to work inside the lab on things, and it might happen to coincide with times when you are the 'boss' perhaps?" he suggested hopefully.
"Sherlock Holmes, you are incorrigible." Molly stood up to clear away the breakfast dishes as Sherlock stood also.
"You wouldn't have me any other way," he said in his sexiest baritone, helping her put the plates and utensils in the sink, before taking her in his arms and kissing her tenderly.
"I'm going to test out the washing machine," Molly told him when he released her. She went to the bathroom and pulled several blouses and jumpers from the laundry basket. Returning to the kitchen, she placed them in the machine, added washing powder from under the sink and turned the machine on. She was pleased to discover it seemed to be working.
"Well, we should probably get going now. The sooner we leave, the sooner we get back home," proclaimed the pathologist.
The couple gathered their things. Molly reminded Sherlock he needed to bring the cheque, which he retrieved, as well as his phone from the charger.
Molly saw the detective glancing at his missed messages. "Anything important?"
"No," he replied. "Just the missed call from Mycroft and his text. Let's go."
They walked the short distance to the bank. Once inside, the manager himself came up to Sherlock. It was apparent that the detective was well-known at the bank.
" ," exclaimed the bank manager. "It's so nice to see you. This must be the lovely fiancée I saw on the news when you announced your engagement. I'm Eric." He extended his hand to Molly.
She shook it and smiled at him, grateful the manager hadn't made any reference to her last television appearance from the other night, after the kidnapping ordeal.
"So, how can I help you today?" asked Eric, after he had ushered them to seats in his small office cubicle.
"My fiancée and I would like to open a joint current account and savings account. I have a cheque here with which to open the savings account. For the current account, I would like to close the old one and transfer the balance to the new one."
"That shouldn't be a problem. Do you have any current cheques outstanding which need to be paid?"
Sherlock shook his head. "I rarely write cheques."
Molly realized her mouth was open in surprise, and she quickly closed it. She had not expected Sherlock to be ready to completely close an account in favour of opening one with her. She was touched that he was ready to share so much with her.
The couple provided their driver's licenses when asked, and the process was completed within a half hour. As they were finishing, the manager said to Molly, "Once you are married, just bring in the marriage certificate and we will change your name from Molly Hooper to Molly Holmes."
As they left the bank, the pathologist couldn't help smiling at the thought of her future name.
"Why are you smiling like you won the lottery?" questioned her fiancé.
"Can't you deduce it?" she countered.
"I suppose it is because of the last thing the bank manager said to you. You really are looking forward to taking my name?"
Molly slipped her hand into his. "Of corse I am," she assured. "I'll be the envy of thousands of women when I become your wife. Being Molly Holmes will mean that we belong to each other in the eyes of God and everyone else."
The couple spent the rest of the morning visiting various boutiques and department stores. Molly purchased several new ensembles, including two new evening dresses. Sherlock offered to put the purchases on his credit card, but Molly declined. She was grateful, however, for the extra pair of hands to carry the various bags of clothing.
It was after two o'clock when the pair arrived back at Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson happened to see them arrive and commented, "Busy day?"
"Yes. I dragged Sherlock all over London to do some clothes shopping," grinned Molly.
"Did you have lunch? I made some of my special scones, if you'd like to come over and have some," offered the landlady.
Molly looked over at Sherlock, who nodded. "That would be lovely. We'll just take these things upstairs and be back down in a few minutes."
As soon as the bags were deposited on the bed, Sherlock took Molly in his arms. "Do I get a reward for letting you drag me all over London so I could carry your purchases?"
Molly lifted her lips to his and offered him a passionate kiss before saying, "Thank you." She paused a moment, then added with a twinkle in her eye, "next time you can buy me some lingerie."
The detective shook his head. "Oh no. I am not going into a store to buy lingerie for you. I'd rather shop online for that." He caressed his fiancée's face.
"We had better go downstairs now or Mrs. Hudson wil wonder why we are taking so long," said Molly, a little breathlessly. She rather liked the idea of Sherlock buying lingerie for her. It would be interesting to see what he liked.
In Mrs. Hudson's flat, the engaged couple enjoyed scones still warm from the oven. When the landlady inquired as to whether they would like tea, Sherlock asked a little suspiciously, "Will it be just tea this time?"
Mrs. Hudson looked a little embarrassed. "Of course it will be just tea. The other day was a special circumstance."
"Very well, then, I will have some tea."
"Me too," chimed in Molly.
Sherlock's phone pinged and he took it out of his pocket to glance at it. Setting it on the table, he told Molly, "It's just John letting me know his sister can babysit while we are in Dartmoor next week."
After the late lunch, it was time to go back upstairs. Immediately, Molly went to the washing machine and pulled out the clothes she had washed.
"Sherlock, would you mind helping me set up the airers in the spare bedroom?"
The detective took the armload of laundry from her and suggested, "Why don't you do that while I carry the clothes? I'm a novice when it comes to using a clothes airer."
In the small upstairs bedroom, Molly positioned the radiator airer correctly, and then set up the regular one next to it. Taking the clothes one by one out of Sherlock's arms, she placed them on the racks, saving the thicker jumpers for the radiator airer.
"That's my favourite jumper," commented Sherlock unexpectedly, when Molly took the final jumper from him, a multicoloured horizontally striped one, and placed it over the airer.
"This old thing? I've had it for years."
"I know. You were wearing it the day we went out to solve crimes, when we had such a good time together, until I found out you were engaged."
"Then why on earth is it your favourite jumper?" asked Molly.
"Because you were wearing it the day I told you I loved you, when I finally realized what I'd been denying for a long time. I was afraid that opening my heart to it would make me vulnerable. It's amazing what you come to understand after the fact."
"Opening your heart does make you vulnerable, admitting it out loud even more so. When you were pushing me to say the words, it was like a cruel trick. I felt like my soul was being ripped open. Even though I figured you knew I cared for you deeply Sherlock, I knew that things were going to change once I told you I loved you out loud. That's why I asked you to say it first. Even if it weren't true, I could salvage my pride somewhat." Molly looked down, embarrassed.
Sherlock put his fingers under her chin and lifted it, so she could meet his turquoise gaze. "Making me say it was the smartest thing you ever did. Who knows if I would ever have acknowledged it otherwise? How many more years would we have gone on, pretending our friendship was enough? I'm just grateful it wasn't too late for us to have a future that includes having a family of our own."
He kissed her then, a tender kiss of such devotion and love that Molly felt tears forming even as she closed her eyes to savour the touch of his lips.
Without quite knowing how it happened, Molly found herself laying on the small bad next to her fiancé, being thoroughly kissed by him. He had removed his suit coat and was kissing her lips, her cheeks, her neck. His arms were around her, holding her against him as he murmured, "I love you my sweet Molly, more than you will ever know."
Her hands reached to pull his shirt from his trousers, so she could put her hands on that warm, scarred back. Her fingers traced the slightly raised lines even as his hands reciprocated. He reached beneath her blouse to caress the skin of her back. Waves of passion spread through Molly as her heartbeat quickened and breath became shallow. She knew Sherlock was experiencing the same as he clasped her even tighter, his own breathing ragged.
Suddenly a voice from the floor below interrupted their embrace.
"Yoo hoo, Sherlock," called Mrs. Hudson from the sitting room. "Where are you? You left your phone on my kitchen table. I didn't notice it until I heard one of those dings."
Sherlock released Molly and took a few steadying breaths before answering. "I'm just upstairs right now, putting some laundry onto the clothes airer Molly brought from her flat," he called to the landlady. Softly, so only Molly could hear, he muttered, "Damn, forgot to lock the door again."
Molly had to stifle a laugh. Sherlock's voice did not sound as composed as usual, he sounded like he had been exercising.
Mrs. Hudson however didn't seem to notice anything amiss with his voice as she called back, "I'll just leave your phone on the coffee table then. Bye now."
After they heard the door close behind the elderly woman, Molly said, "It's just as well she didn't take it upon herself to come upstairs to this room. She might have thought she was interrupting a rather delicate moment."
"She was," growled the sleuth.
Molly looked at her fiancé closely. "So, to what do I owe that rather remarkable display of passion? It was really quite intense."
Sherlock raked his hands through his curls. "Memories of that phone call. I honestly thought you were going to die. When I was begging you to say 'I love you' back to me, the counter my sister had running on the screen was ticking down. I had just realized I was in love with you, and you took a lifetime to say it back."
"It was only a few seconds. I was just taking it all in, that you said it twice."
"Well, it felt like a lifetime. There were two seconds left on the timer after you said it. Until my sister said there was no bomb, I thought I had won her game, had saved your life."
"You know, I did believe you meant the words the second time. They sounded sincere, but when the phone went dead I was so confused. Then of course Mycroft called me later to 'explain things' as he termed it. I was a complete emotional mess for the three days that passed between the phone call and your stopping by my flat."
Sherlock laced his fingers with hers. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. I didn't know Mycroft had called you to say I had only been playing my sister's game. If I had known that, I would have gone to you sooner and proposed to you without a ring."
"Well, it's all water under the bridge now. We'll certainly have quite the story to tell our children." Molly smiled at the man she loved with her whole heart. "We'll tell them how it took Daddy seven years to realize he loved their Mummy."
The detective chuckled. "But only eleven weeks after that to marry her, once he did. That has to count for something."
"If you say so," teased Molly.
Author's note: Finally the delayed shock happens for Molly.
I think sharing finances displays a lot of trust between a couple. It shows a commitment to sharing a life together.
Oh, the small washing machines in England make me glad to have my big one in America!
What did you think of the phone call discussion and subsequent passion? In the movies, often intense discussions lead to intense encounters. I think heightened emotions definitely play a part in passionate encounters.
