She looked at the time. It was nearly nine o'clock. Soon, she'd reach London. The closer the train got to her beloved city, the more her heart pounded away in her chest. It was a relief that things hadn't ended too sourly. Even if it had been a right mess, Molly found she wouldn't have cared. It was time for her to do something for herself for once. After all, it wasn't a crime to free yourself from a miserable situation in order to go after what made you happy.
Molly had felt lost these past two years, like a piece of her was missing. When Sherlock Holmes left London, he had gone and taken her heart with him. And she gladly let him have it. Whatever he needed, it was his to keep. She fell into another man's arms to fill the void in her chest where her heart resided. It was stupid and reckless and it caused nothing but misery. Meena had meant well setting them up together, but looking back, Molly felt embarrassed that any of it happened. She had heavily flirted, kissed him, desperate to cling on to someone who was keeping her pain at bay…at least until Sherlock returned. And then it was a whole ordeal.
And she was there. London. Molly stepped off the train, breathing in the familiar air. The cab she reserved waited for her, and she climbed in the back, practically bouncing in her seat. "221B Baker Street, please."
"You've got it, luv," the cabbie told her.
Looking out the window, taking in the scenery as it blurred by, she felt trepidation begin to set in. She continued to shake it off, refusing to allow her fear to get the best of her. Molly had come too far to turn back now.
The cabbie spoke to her again. "You got a case for Sherlock Holmes?" Obviously, he recognised the address.
"Sort of," Molly grinned. "Something was stolen." And I don't want it back—I just want his in return. She had to stifle a giggle at her cheesy, sentimental joke.
The cab came to a stop beside the snow covered sidewalk leading up to the door. She paid the cabbie, adding in a little extra as a Christmas gift, grabbed her bag, and stepped out. The snow crunched beneath her feet as she approached the door, the knocker tilted to the side. She rolled her eyes at the Holmes brothers' strange sibling squabbles. She took a deep breath and turned the knob, taking a step into her long-desired future.
Sherlock was tossing and turning, sleep becoming an impossible goal to reach. For some reason, his mind was adamant about keeping him awake for God knows why. He reached out for his mobile, checking the time. It was going on nine-thirty. Sherlock ran a contemplative hand through his curls. He had tried to go to bed ridiculously early after he ended up drinking a second glass of whisky earlier. Scrolling through his messages, his thumb hovered over Molly's name, enticing him to just ring her up. Sherlock longed to hear her voice, even if it was just for a few minutes.
He pressed the call button, listening to it ring, waiting for her to answer.
"Hello?" she said breathlessly. He really didn't want to imagine why she sounded out of breath. "Everything alright, Sherlock?"
"Not really," he sighed. "Can't sleep."
"So you called me?"
He could hear the smile in her tone, which made him smile too. Sherlock was done hiding. "I wanted to hear your voice." A knock on the door had him groan as he got out of bed.
"Well, that's a relief," Molly told him as he made his way to the door, "because I wanted to see you."
"You wanted to—" Sherlock stopped, his hand on the knob, and slowly turned it. He threw open the door to find Molly Hooper, phone held up to her ear, her deep brown eyes gazing at him.
"Hello," she smiled. This was it—the constant tug of war was over. Her eyes traveled over him, clad in a white t-shirt and green tartan pajama pants, a look of bewilderment on his face. She was home.
Author's Note: Anddddd that's all you get until Monday! ;p
