The next morning Molly wakes up slowly, her neck and back aching. Confused, she sits up and blinks a few times, finally taking in her surroundings and realizing that she is in Sherlock's hospital room. She barely remembers Mycroft telling her when he was leaving and her insisting that she stay in case he woke up, as she didn't want him to think nobody came, or that he was alone.
Rubbing her neck, she sighs and sits back, looking at Sherlock peacefully sleeping. It's a rare sight to see him so peaceful, but she wonders if that is due to the anesthesia and the fact that his mind is blank, finally getting a well-needed rest. He claims that it goes on overdrive a lot of the time, and she can't imagine the manic feeling that comes with an overrun thought process.
Molly slowly slips her hand into his, the way she had the day before, gripping it with the right amount of pressure for him to know that she was there with him, but not to hurt him or annoy him. Slowly stroking her thumb across the slopes of his knuckles, she hums one of his favorite songs that he had disclosed to her the last time she had detoxed him at her home. After a moment and without realizing it, she begins to sing it softly. Suddenly she hears a low rumble and realizes it's the voice of her...Sherlock.
"I never know you could sing so well."
Her cheeks turn red, and she looks up at him. "You're awake...how...how long have you been awake?"
"Long enough to hear that sweet performance. I was...enjoying it", he smiles ever so slightly, still groggy.
"Oh th-thank you...", Molly makes a face, scolding herself for stuttering over him after all this time.
This time he smiles fully, looking down at their hands. "It's alright...I'm not very great with compliments either, not that I deserve any anyhow. But you do, especially after all you've done for me in the past. Things you were not obliged to do after the way I've treated and dismissed you, and I know I have been trying my best to make that right, but...in a way I'll never be able to repay the debt I owe to you. Especially now...you've saved my life what...three?...times and counting?"
"Sherlock, you have made incredible strides to be a better person and you have been for years now. You don't have to keep apologizing for the past. It's over now, and we've both changed and evolved...we're different now, in a good way. You are forgiven and we're good. I promise."
"I know...but I see the way you still flinch sometimes when you're complimented and such, and I feel responsible for that because I used to say terrible things to you when you didn't deserve them. None of them were right to say, and some weren't very true, I was just...overwhelmed at the time and I should have not taken it out on you, but you were one I knew would always be there, so I did take it out you so I wouldn't lose anyone and I'm so sorry. You were and are the most important friend that I have, if only for the sole reason that we have a longer history and you're the one who always comes to my rescue regardless of my bad attitude or actions...it's hard not to feel guilty for assuming you could take all that shit and still not turn your back. I was astonished and a bit annoyed that you never did, because we both know there have been times I didn't deserve your support. I've come to notice there are truths in your promises, especially now, so I believe you when you say you've forgiven me for my past indiscretions.
"Good...you should believe me by now. Also, you know my history. You know I don't react that way solely because of you, Sherlock. So I don't want that on your shoulders, blaming yourself. Okay?"
He nods and groans in pain, reaching for the morphine tap. Catching Molly's eye, he immediately looks like a scolded puppy and only turns it up slightly.
Molly squeezing his hand slightly. Before she can say a word, he pipes up again.
"Just so you know though, some of the things I said to you in the past sounded mean but had concerned undertones..."
She raises an eyebrow and looks confused. "Like...?"
Sherlock takes a shuddered breath through the pain. "Like er...when I pointed out you gained three pounds...the day I met John."
"How is that nice, Sherlock?", her face turns a bit solemn.
"Because at that point I was the only one who knew about your history...about your past struggle with anorexia...and I-I guess I said it to tell you that I knew...I dunno...I wanted you to know that I was proud that you were allowing yourself to gain, but it didn't come out right and it was in the wrong context..."
"Oh Sherlock...", she tears up a bit. "I didn't think of that...it was a touchy subject and I just thought it was a dig...I was so image-conscious back then. I hated my body so much and everything anyone said I would take literally and hammer myself with..."
Sherlock brings her hand to his lips and kisses it softly. "I got it wrong, and I was so harsh to you. I was so...despicable to you." He looks into her eyes, his still tired looking and weary. "I thought I was going to die yesterday, for real. All I could think about was everything I never got to divulge to you...all of it. Everything that I never said or explained that I should have. I-I didn't...don't...want to die without giving you explanations.
Molly sniffles. "I was so scared that I wouldn't be able to keep my promise. Your injury was horrific, Sherlock..."
"I know. I'm sorry I've upset you again."
"Shh...you're still here. That's all that matters."
"Not to upset you further but er.../that/ Christmas...that deserves an explanation too."
"Sherlock I-"
"Please, Molly."
She looks into his eyes and sees how genuine he's being, baring his soul while he can. "Alright."
"You know all about the Irene situation, we've talked about that. But the way I humiliated you...the way I degraded you...it...", he trails off and sighs. "I thought you were dressed up that nice for another man, I thought your little crush on me had stopped. Back then, it had stroked my ego to know you were pining for me, however evil that sounds. When I thought you were no longer interested, I found that I immediately missed it, missed the feeling of being wanted, and I never would have admitted that back then, but it hurt more than I would've imagined, because I think I had always liked you too. So when you came in and you stunned the room with your attire, I assumed it was for another man later that evening and I lashed out and hurt you back. I never should have picked on your looks, Molly. It was mean and unacceptable. When I saw that the name on the gift was mine, I realized you had dressed up to impress me after all, and I recoiled. I was at such a loss that I was speechless and the only thing I could have done was apologize to you. Which I meant every word of. I felt awful, and I decided that rather than face my actions, I delved deeper into the case and made as it had never happened to spare myself. I should have thought more about you instead, the way you do for me. On top of that, I had put away your present believing that I had no right to open it."
A tear falls down her cheek and he reaches over slowly and strokes it away. "You're an impossible man to read sometimes, Sherlock. And back then it was impossible."
"I know. I'm so sorry."
"I know you are. I just wish I had known your inner context, maybe I would've learned to brush those things off sooner."
"You shouldn't have to brush anything off, Molly."
"I don't anymore. I've come to terms with my life as it is, and I welcome whatever turns come with it. I've stopped trying to force myself into what I want to be, and started going with who I already am."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out with Tom too...sort of."
Molly snorts softly. "As I told your brother yesterday during our little chat, I'm not. We worked really well at first and then it all fell apart. He wanted to force me to be something I wasn't to, and I wasn't going to be unhappy the rest of my life, so I called off the engagement. We agreed it was for the best, and he left. It was a bit sad because I spent two years of my life with him...but it was good to just breathe and be myself afterward. I didn't have to repress myself."
"First off, you had a "chat" with my brother? Secondly, what do you mean he was repressing you? Why didn't you tell anyone? Tell me? I would've beaten his arse."
She giggles softly and rolls her eyes. "It was a weird conversation. But uh...yeah, he wanted me to quit my job and move with him for his job ad be a stay-at-home Mum when we had kids. But I wanted to stay in London, and I love my job. I wasn't going to give up something I've worked so hard for just because he said so."
Sherlock grins at her handsomely. "Good for you. I'm proud of you for that. Old Molly would've let him walk all over her. I'm glad he met new Molly and got roundly kicked."
"You're just happy because you hated him anyway."
"Well…I really tried to keep that a secret, but he was just so dumb, I couldn't contain the way my face looked in his presence. But I mean it, I am really proud you stood up for yourself. I always loved it when you did, especially to me. I think one of the best things that happened to me when I was regressing was when you slapped me. I deserved it, I knew I deserved it, and I was actually thrilled you gave me hell for being a dick."
"Of course me trying to be tough was thrilling for you", she rolls her eyes.
"In a good way! You were growing as a person too. Plus, when I saw the lack of your engagement ring, I was even happier that you dropped him."
"You're impossible, Sherlock."
"Ahh, but yet here you still are, after all the crap I've put you through."
"I believe that friends should be there in the highs and the lows. I'm not someone who gives up easily when things get rough."
"You're an incredible woman, Doctor Hooper."
"You're an incredible man, Sherlock Holmes. Surviving all these fatal accidents. You're like a cat with nine lives."
He chuckles softly, then groans as a sharp pain shoots through his leg. "I suppose."
"So speaking of new and improved...I've learned to speak up a bit more, as you can tell. I was actually going to let this slide, but I can't exactly let the opportunity pass."
"Oh God...what?"
"Well, you said you were jealous of me dressing up for another man...that you had liked me too. But I thought you were 'married to your work'."
He sighs and leans back, looking up at the ceiling. "So you caught that bit, huh? Well...I was back then, and I didn't want any distractions. A relationship with anyone would have taken away from my work. So I kept everything to myself. Not to mention the fact that keeping you at arm's length, even to this day, is an advantage. We both know what happened with Moriarty. I was only saved because he truly thought you didn't matter to me. More importantly, /you/ were saved because of that, which made it possible for you to help me defeat him partially and survive in the process. That's why you're a gigantic asset to me, as a friend and as a work partner at times."
Molly nods softly and looks at him. "That's understandable, and you have every right to worry, especially after what I saw yesterday. But Sherlock, I can also take care of myself. I'm not some damsel in distress that you need to protect from all the big, bad guys. It's sweet that you want to protect me, and I know where you're coming from, I really do. But don't you think that being closer to me, would protect me more than pushing me away?"
Sherlock raises an eyebrow and she blushes.
"Sorry, sorry. I just mean...keeping me at arm's length is the reason why we didn't know that Jim from I.T was Moriarty, and why we had that miscommunication about Irene, and why Eurus used me to get to you...because we never truly talk like this. We assume and we make it work, but there's this really long, really wide line of do's and don't between us. All these things that we hide from each other...and I hate that."
Sherlock looks over her face and takes a breath. "I do too. But it's better than the alternative, Molly."
"Is it though?"
"Most times..."
"If you had told me what you were doing yesterday..."
He cuts her off abruptly. "Then you would've gotten killed, Molly!"
She crosses her arms. "No, maybe I would have actually known to check on you instead of having to happen across you bleeding out in the fucking street while people watch instead of helping you!"
Sherlock sighs. "Molly..."
"You died twice you know", she says weakly, tears welling up in her eyes.
Furrowing his brow, he looks up at her questioningly. "What?"
"You practically died in my arms and I-I had to do CPR for what seemed like a lifetime, just to get keep what tiny fragment of a pulse you had. The surgeon said they lost your heartbeat in surgery and had to shock you too, so don't think for one second that you came through this without a hitch because you didn't. You died twice and we had to revive you! I had your blood all over me a-and I had to change into the spare clothes from my locker and...", she chokes up, and her lip trembles. "I thought we were gonna lose you for good. So don't act all high and mighty thinking this was just another fluke because it wasn't."
Sherlock looks down guiltily. "I-I...I had no idea. You did CPR on me in the alley?"
She nods and wipes her face from the fallen tears, sniffling. "Yeah...I don't know how long, time kinda stopped..."
He takes her hand again and pulls on it gently. She moves with the pull and he embraces her tightly, to her surprise. Molly sniffles and leans into it, gripping him tightly as well, a sob escaping her. "I thought we'd have to bury you for real", she hiccups through her sobs.
Tears come to his own eyes as well and he turns his face into her hair, the slight strawberry-vanilla scent still there from the last time she had washed it. The scent that always calmed him because it was reminiscent of her. "I don't know what to say...how to thank you..."
"Just don't pretend you're invincible because you've gotten lucky. Because you won't always...if you don't stop being reckless the next time you won't be here..."
His arms find their way to tighten more around her, holding her close to him as she cries for the ordeal she went through seeing him like that yesterday.
When she finally pulls away, he finds himself immediately missing her warmth. However, he stays quiet, stroking hair from her face behind her ear gently before she is once out of arm's length, the irony not lost on him.
"I wish you hadn't witnessed that, but I am more grateful than you will ever know that you were there. Knowing you kept me alive...with your own hands and your own breath..."
Molly sniffles and shrugs. "I'm sure you would have done the same if it were me...I meant you went through Serbian torture for your friends, so...you've done more heroic deeds than just CPR."
"Molly", he grabs her hand and looks into her eyes. "It was not 'just CPR'. You kept my heart beating, you saved me. We aren't comparing. It was heroic and traumatic, and I will always be grateful to you for that, and for everything else. Okay?"
She nods shyly and squeezes his hand gently as well. Molly lets go of his hand as the doctor comes in, happy to see that Sherlock had woken up. Selfishly, Molly did not want to be the person to bear the bad news about his mobility but was glad that Sherlock was adamant that she stay when the doctor told him that they needed to have a conversation. He was not thrilled whatsoever and began yelling at the doctor. Knowing that it's a defense mechanism for how he's really feeling, she gently grabs his wrist.
"Sherlock", she says firmly, then turns to the doctor. Sorry, I...I think he just needs some time to process. It's a big hit for him."
The doctor nods and leaves the room, leaving a very frustrated and hurt Sherlock.
"He's a liar and a fraud! Where's Mycroft?"
Molly takes his hand again and squeezes it gently. "Sherlock...it was a really bad would, through a major artery. You could have lost your leg or even your life. I know that after the hospital, it will suck, and it will be a constant challenge and you're going to hate t for a while. But the doctor isn't lying I swear to you. I know you'll believe me, right?"
Sherlock sniffs in annoyance and looks away. "I can't entertain not being on my feet for that long, I have to work Molly, this…this is my livelihood. I can't just sit around for months on end; I can't do that!"
"Listen to me. I understand that you're frustrated and angry, and probably very upset by this. But you are /alive/. This could have ended very differently. Honestly, I'd rather see you through a handful of miserable months as you heal, than see you on my slab. ANY DAY."
He looks at her and his eyes are soft and depressive. "What am I going to do, Molly? If I can't work, my brain rots. I need to keep moving. I-I need to work..."
"You need to let your leg heal and get strong again the right way so you /can/ be as good as new at some point. But the more you allow yourself to heal and follow Doctor's orders, the quicker you'll be back on the street chasing criminals. You won't be alone, alright? Your friends aren't going to forget about you just because you're hurt. We didn't before and we won't now. In fact, if...if you need to temporarily move into my house again while you heal so I can help you, then you can. We can talk to Mrs. Hudson, figure out the rent situation. I'm sure Mycroft will take care of it, but if he doesn't then I will, once your funds are diminished."
"Don't worry about the rent. I tend to pay in increments of three months, if...certain situations arise such as this. But do you really want me to move in with you again? You remember the last time, don't you?", he raises an eyebrow.
Molly rolls her eyes. "Yes, I remember last time. You were puking and shaking and a blatant ass, and you rearranged my entire kitchen when you were bored and tried to experiment on Toby. This time I won't be so foolish and there are going to be ground rules, however knowing you can't walk is a bit of a comfort regarding the state of my house, if I'm being honest."
Sherlock grumbles in annoyance and huffs. "Well, it's not my fault you have nothing interesting in your house."
"Oh, I'm not interesting then, huh? Dumb little morbid Molly...always the bore."
His face immediately softens and fear returns to his eyes. "What? No, no! I didn't...that's not..."
Molly snorts and laughs softly. "I'm kidding, I know you didn't mean it that way. But your face was priceless."
He gapes and crosses his arms across his chest. "Not nice."
"So we're being nice now? Mhh...okay, remember that."
"Yeah, yeah...I need more morphine", he grunts in pain.
"No, you need more rest and to calm down. Are you hungry? I can get you some breakfast from the café."
Sighing, he looks up at her and nods a bit. "A bit peckish actually, yeah. I hope you'll be getting something for yourself as well?"
"Sure. I think that have those little flapjacks today. I know the syrup isn't your favorite, but it'll have to do. I'll be right back okay? I'll grab some of their famous cold coffee as well."
"Ugh", he groans. "Ok...Molly?"
"Yes, Sherlock?"
"Thank you...again. For...all of this."
"It' my pleasure Sherlock", he smiles softly before heading out the door of his room towards the elevator.