Mmm, I take it you guys have seen the latest pics of Benedict (selling his latest watch)... I have to say they were a very welcome sight and cheered up my weekend no end. As did finally being able to go for a meal indoors and even back to the cinema - happy days. I'm just waiting for The Courier to be released now.

As for the fic so many of you enjoying seeing things from Molly's perspective, but wanting to know how it was for Sherlock… shall we see…

Chapter 4

Within minutes of Molly leaving them Sherlock was striding down the length of the boat with John struggling to keep up.

'Hang on Sherlock, just stop a minute.'

Sherlock didn't stop though, until he'd reached their cabin. It was more of a suite really, up on the main deck, the best on the ship. When John had finally persuaded him to make this trip, he had at least insisted that they do it in some comfort, not 'squashed in like chickens in a coop'. It consisted of three rooms; a sitting room with a low sofa against one wall, a writing desk with accompanying chair, and two wing back chairs near to the small bar. The latter were turned so the occupants could have a view out of the windows, when the blinds were open. They could be closed for privacy, opened fully, or slatted, as they currently were, to give both air and privacy. Beyond was a twin bed room, which no doubt could have had the beds linked together, if they really had been a couple, and finally a small en suite bathroom.

Sherlock threw his jacket down onto one of the chairs, and made his way to their small bar to pour himself another whisky. He was struggling to come to terms with having seen Molly again, and even more so with how she had made him feel.

His voice, when he spoke, was barely controlled anger. 'Did you know?'

'Know? Know what?' John laughed nervously and Sherlock turned on him.

'You know perfectly well what I mean, and your reaction tells me your answer. You knew Molly would be on this boat, and you booked us on as well. Why?'

John held his hands up placatingly, still holding his drink from the bar in one.

'Look, fine, I did. She mentioned something about a holiday a month or so ago, and I spoke to Mycroft...'

'You roped my brother in on this.' Sherlock's voice was raised in outright anger now, and it had John hurrying on.

'I had to, there was no way I was going to be able to find out the details of her trip on my own.'

Sherlock started to interrupt but John kept talking. 'You needed to see her Sherlock, you needed to sort this all out. Don't forget, I've seen how you've been since she left, you've been out of control... and that says a lot for you because you're never much in control at the best of times.'

He carried on. 'I used to think it was Irene that you had feelings for, but after that call, and seeing you over the last year... well, I was wrong. You have feelings for Molly, don't you?'

Sherlock shook his head...but it was more of a jerk back and forth as though he was internally battling with himself, but then he paused and spoke. 'I...I...I don't know John...maybe. Seeing her tonight was...'

He turned and ran one hand though his hair, and John took a step forward. 'Was what?'

He saw Sherlock shoulders sag, as if he was giving in, but it was a moment or two before he finally spoke. 'It was good John... more than good. I... I've missed her.'

John nodded, and moved past Sherlock to the bar to top up his glass.

'OK, that's a start. No need to decide it all tonight. Why don't we just see how the holiday goes?'

Sherlock seemed to slump down as he sat in one of the chairs, and he sighed. 'Fine. That sounds... reasonable.'

John couldn't help but smirk. 'And if you need me to give you some space, like the bedroom, you just have to say.'

Sherlock glared at him, as John laughed at his own joke.

Neither of them noticed the person, hidden outside on the deck, listening at the window to their conversation.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Molly went straight back to her cabin when she left Sherlock and John. She quickly changed into her nightdress and dressing gown, and then she sat out on the balcony sipping the baileys that Sherlock had bought her. She'd forgotten she even had it, just brought it back with her absent-mindedly, but she was glad she had. Taking the time to drink it gave her a chance to think through everything that had happened that evening.

She was still in a state of shock that John and Sherlock were even on board, but now she had some time to really mull it over she couldn't say that she was unhappy. Sherlock was right, she should have told him she was leaving, but she also knew that she couldn't change what had happened, so maybe this would be a chance for her to...to what? Make it up to him, apologise? Well, she'd already done that. No. Maybe this was a chance for her to see what the state of their friendship was now, and how easy it would be to be around him.

She took a sip of the creamy drink and let herself savour the taste, just as she savoured the feeling of Sherlock kissing her cheek, and the ability to talk to him more openly about how she'd felt about that phone call. They had never really talked it through. It had been John who had explained the circumstances, and even as he did Molly had been quick to shut him down...her embarrassment and humiliation at that time not allowing her to discuss it in detail. But now, with time having passed, it just didn't feel quite so raw, and she appreciated hearing that Sherlock had been affected too, even though she doubted it had been equal to her own pain.

That had her wondering what he would have said if they hadn't been interrupted by John. He'd been saying 'you are my...' His what? What was she to him?

Yes, it was a good thing that they were here. She needed to talk to Sherlock a bit more, and maybe then she could make a more balanced decision about her future; whether that was in Cardiff or maybe...just possibly, moving back to London. Even just thinking the latter had her heart fluttering and her excitement levels rising, and she rather suspected that said more about what she actually wanted than anything Sherlock could say. One thing was certain she knew Barts would have her back. Mike Stamford was regularly in touch, in both a professional as well as a friend capacity, and she knew he hadn't managed to replace her with anyone as capable. He was often hinting about her coming back.

She yawned and finished her drink. She needed to sleep on it, and just let the holiday play out. She wondered just what a holiday with John and Sherlock would be like? Things were never run of the mill or boring where they were concerned, trouble always followed them... but then that was what made them so exciting to know.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

When morning came around there was no sign of either John or Sherlock at breakfast. She wasn't overly surprised, she knew for a fact that Sherlock was never an early riser, and maybe John was enjoying a lie in given he didn't have Rosie getting him up at the crack of dawn.

She chatted easily with Rob and Jay, and when they mentioned they were heading to the pool area after breakfast she agreed it was a good idea. The ship wasn't due to stop until after lunch so the morning was hers to do with as she pleased, and that seemed as good a plan as any.

By ten o clock she was installed on a rattan sun lounger and soaking up the morning sun, which was already hotter than anything she'd known over summer in the U.K.

Her nerves about seeing John or Sherlock had her keeping on the beach dress that she'd thrown on over what now felt like a remarkably skimpy bikini. It was a lovely orange colour and she'd felt very brave when she bought it, and even braver when she'd worn it to the pool in the hotel, but the thought of Sherlock seeing her in it had her feeling hot and bothered. After an hour though, with no sign of either John or Sherlock, she was starting to feel a little ridiculous. After all, when she looked around her, she was the only one covered up.

Rob and Jay had managed to bag one of the hot tubs, and the pool was fairly quiet so she decided she needed to get over herself, take off the dress, and go for a swim.

The water was unheated by anything other than the sun, but it felt deliciously refreshing after sitting sweating in her dress for too long. She did a few lazy laps and then leant against the side watching the world go by for five minutes, before she decided it was time to get back to her book, or just snooze and sun bathe for a while.

She was half way back to her sun lounger before she realised there was someone sitting on it; Sherlock to be precise. It was too late for her to be shy though given he'd been watching her progress from the pool, yet it didn't stop her from quickly using her towel to half cover herself whilst she pretended to dry off.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock had been unsettled since the moment he'd seen Molly the night before. It had brought back all those feelings and turbulent emotions that he'd spent the last eighteen months trying to ignore and repress.

He'd been more honest with John the night before than he'd actually been with himself since she'd gone, and he'd only realised it when she'd turned her head the night before and he'd recognised her. His heart had immediately leapt into his throat, and he'd struggled to even take a breath of air for a moment. He could tell that his pulse had accelerated, and he felt hot and flushed, all signs of attraction and arousal... he knew... he'd turned those very signs back on Irene all those years ago, and taken advantage of them with Janine.

It had made him remember just how hurt and miserable he'd felt when she'd left London. He'd tried to tell himself it was just because she hadn't said goodbye, that she hadn't considered him enough of a friend, but it wasn't. In a lot of ways, it had been harder even than losing Mary. It had seemed as if a gaping hole had literally opened up inside him, and no matter how much work he took on, it didn't ever seem to lessen. He'd only felt whole again when he'd seen her...and he had seen her...more recently that either she or John knew.

The last time had been six months ago.

For the first few months after she'd gone he'd been angry with her, and determined to forget she even existed. Needless to say that hadn't lasted, and then he'd become paranoid, convincing himself that she was in danger, that maybe she needed him. Of course he knew where she was... it wasn't really a secret. John had her new address in his phone (it wasn't Sherlock's fault he left it lying around in his flat with a passcode he hadn't changed in five years). And once he knew her address, finding her new position in a Cardiff teaching hospital had been child's play.

Still, he'd waited.

Then he'd had a case in Bristol. John hadn't been able to go with him, and when he had solved it it seemed mad to not just hop over the border... just to see her, to make sure she was safe. There was still a chance that one of his enemies might be tracking her. That's what he told himself, but looking back on it now he realised he had just wanted to see her.

He'd dressed differently so that she wouldn't recognise him... jeans, t shirt, baseball cap, and he'd hung around the main entrance to the flats where she lived, until all of a sudden there she was. She'd pushed open the doors, distractedly putting her keys into her bag and checking the time before muttering something and starting to pick up her pace, and he'd known she was late for work.

The sight of her had initially knocked him for six, but he pushed any emotions down, concentrating on keeping up with her. It had been easy to follow her through the streets, making sure he was the only person tailing her, which he had been. The fact that he'd felt alive for the first time since she'd left he'd put down to the thrill of being undercover, no matter how lame that sounded.

He'd gone back again two months later, then a month after that and each time he'd stayed a bit longer, followed her more closely.

The last time he'd been almost determined to say something, to let her know he was there. He'd been disguised as a street sweeper and she'd looked right at him, and for a split second he'd thought she'd recognised him. Her face lit up and she'd held up her hand in greeting, but then he'd realised that her focus wasn't on him. After all who sees a cleaner. She'd been looking past him and when he'd turned his head his stomach had dropped. She was waving at a guy; six foot, blond, a doctor. His deductions went on and on and none of them made him feel any better... single, no drug or drink habits, dog lover with a hobby as a painter, and more than anything it was obvious that he was attracted to Molly.

They greeted each other with a quick kiss on the cheek, but it was enough to have Sherlock turning away and heading back to his hotel. There was nothing here for him; he just needed to come to terms with that... Molly obviously had.

So, it seems Sherlock did seek Molly out but being the idiot that he is didn't approach her. Let me know what you think of his thoughts and feelings xx