Chapter 4
After cleaning up the kitchen with Mrs Hudson's help, John told his friends to get comfortable in the living room to eat dessert and decided to go upstairs to call Molly. He had reached the last steps before the landing when he heard Molly say, with a hint of amusement in her voice, "Haven't we already said goodnight, Mr Holmes?". John instinctively flattened himself against the wall.
"You mean you want to know if Sherlock has sensed something" he clearly heard Molly say. She waited for the answer then said, "I think not. He behave himself so far. Anything else, Mr Holmes?" after her words followed a few seconds of silence, then again Molly chuckled "You're a naughty man, Mr Holmes! You know I have to punish you for this!".
John widened his eyes in amazement, had he heard right? He peeked around the corner at his friend, what happened to the shy and clumsy Molly Hooper? She pushed her hair behind her ear and lowered her voice "I already know how you can be forgiven", she took a few steps "Don't be impatient, Mr Holmes!" she scolded him in an amused tone and then Molly covered her face with one hand as if what Mr Holmes said, had embarrassed her.
John decided that it was no longer the case to eavesdrop, so he went downstairs beckoning Sherlock to follow him "Can you help me serve the cake?" he asked him. "What happens?" Sherlock asked him, "You were right. There is something going on between Molly and your brother" replied John taking the chocolate cake out of the fridge.
"What made you change your mind?" inquired his friend opening the cutlery drawer, "I just overheard a phone call" John revealed to him, "And how can you be so sure Mycroft was the one she was talking to?" the blond doctor gave Sherlock an impatient look, "Molly called him Mr Holmes…how many Mr Holmes do you know? And since she talked about 'naughty man', 'punishment' and 'forgiveness', I don't think she was talking to your father!" John answered ironically.
Sherlock raised his eyebrows in disbelief, "I swear, it seemed to me it was Irene Adler speaking and not Molly! I expected her to name riding crops and handcuffs and some other gadget for…you know what!" he looked up shaking his head, "Is it possible your brother has certain…'kinky tastes' and involved Molly?" asked as Sherlock seemed completely engrossed in watching their friend come down the stairs.
"Whatever Mycroft has involved her in, I think she isn't totally over me yet, John. Before, when I hugged her, I felt I still affect her" he said in a very low voice with an uncertain smile, "Then, as I already told you some time ago, do something while there's still a chance. Say something before she gives up on you forever!" John said firmly, emphasizing each word.
The two friends turned and found Molly on the other side of the table who looked at them questioningly "Any problems?" she asked, "Oh! Take no notice, you know…Sherlock must have his say also on how to cut a cake!" John answered with a chuckle. She turned on her heels and walked towards the living room, John nudged Sherlock and motioned him to go after her.
An hour later Sherlock and Molly found themselves alone in the kitchen in front of dessert plates, saucers, cups of coffee and various cutlery. Mrs Hudson and Greg had been gone for about ten minutes and John had gone upstairs to check on Rosie.
They both looked at the dishes to be washed and then looked at each other in the eye "Do we toss the coin or do we do as usual?" asked Molly, "In other words…I wash and rinse, you dry" Sherlock specified, "Exactly" she giggled as she grabbed a tea towel.
He rolled his eyes, pretending to snort, as he pulled up the sleeves of his aubergine shirt, "At your orders" he said, taking sponge and detergent. They positioned themselves in front of the sink, side by side, "So" he said opening the tap, "From what you said at dinner, you had a good time in Baltimore", she nodded looking up at him "Yes I had, but I missed Bart's. I missed you all" she said.
Sherlock smiled at her handing her a cup so that their fingers touched, Molly stood motionless for a few moments, then firmly grabbed the cup and said "They offered me a permanent job", "And are you going to accept?" he asked her with his heart pounding in his chest.
She shrugged "I don't know. It could be an important step in my career. I could work with FBI" Molly said biting her lower lip, "They want an answer in two weeks". Sherlock stopped and tilted his head to look at her "Are you seriously thinking about it?" his voice cracked slightly as he asked the question.
Hadn't Molly just said she'd missed them? So why think about going to work in Baltimore permanently? Wasn't her relationship with Mycroft strong enough to keep her in London? Questions after questions crowded into Sherlock's mind, it ran in thousands of different directions to find answers for them.
"Hey!" the snap of Molly's fingers in front of his eyes brought him back to reality, "Sorry" he whispered, "So, do you really want to leave?" he asked again clearing his throat, trying not to reveal how much that idea made him feel sick.
Molly burst into a cheerful laughter, "Don't be a drama queen as usual!" she said giving him a playful elbow in the ribs, "I'm not going anywhere for now" she said looking him straight in his blue eyes. Then Molly gave him a sly smile leaning forward towards the tap.
Sherlock was taken aback by the splashes of water that hit his face and while he blinked from the droplets, Molly took the opportunity to splash him more water. He let go of the sponge and the plate in his hand in the sink and turned to look at her, "You know you're in big trouble, right?" she laughed heartily and walked away from Sherlock backing towards the table, "If I remember correctly, I won our last water fight!" Molly declared raising her chin to challenge him.
"Yes, you did" he admitted taking two steps in her direction "But here we are not in your flat, and you cannot wet the floor to make me slip and soak me with a glass full of water!", he took two more steps but she hadn't move an inch "Mm, am I that predictable?" Molly asked with a mischievous light in her eyes.
"On the contrary, Molly. You are a constant surprise to me" he said, another step forward. Sherlock watched her to deduce what she had in mind but he could not see beyond the blush on her cheeks, her bright brown eyes, her lips full from her constant nibbling and her breast rising and falling according to the rhythm of her breath.
Sherlock was aware that since that famous Christmas party in Baker Street she had become much more careful about what she was revealing to him about herself, which made her harder to read.
Molly had been successful in hindering his deductions and for this reason for example Sherlock had not realized instantly, upon his return, that she had become engaged with Tom. Or he hadn't understood, until the revelation a few months earlier, that she had never stopped being in love with him. Just as now he couldn't figure out what was going on between her and his brother. Sherlock saw only what appeared before his eyes.
She backed away, "Do you think you can escape?" he asked amused stepping forward and reaching up to grab her wrist. Molly, suddenly, with her left hand grabbed him under his elbow and with her right hand she pinned his wrist, brought his arm behind his back and pushed him away, running to the other end of the table.
Sherlock found himself against the fridge "I didn't hurt you, did I?", he turned "Self-defence, Molly?", she shrugged "I took a class. Who better than you to practice?", he raised an eyebrow adjusting his trousers at his waist "Okay, I'm in" the tone of his voice, low and seductive.
John, getting ready to go backstairs, first froze in the middle of the hall when he heard the laughter of Sherlock and Molly, then ventured to the landing and leaned against the wall with his arms folded to watch them perform foreplay. Yes, because their chasing each other around the table, their running away, their splashing water as soon as they approached the sink, in John's eyes was clearly foreplay.
Now that Sherlock was able to let go, it was plainly that there was a certain chemistry between them, "If Sherlock alone with her has always been like this, it's obvious why she has never been able to move on" thought John to himself and looked at his friend, but the cold and calculating detective wasn't in that kitchen with Molly Hooper. There was simply a man in there. Defences down, vulnerable, ready to love and finally be loved.
John recovered from his thoughts and found them in each other's arms "I caught you! I won!" Sherlock was saying panting, Molly had both her hands on his chest, laughing and panting at the same time "You cheated! It's not fair to trip!", he ran a hand over his wet face "I remind you last time you let me slip" he said in a fake scolding tone interlacing the fingers of his hands behind her back.
"Here we are!" thought John, their laughter had faded, the atmosphere was charged with electricity, "Now he kisses her" he whispered to himself as soon as he realized that Sherlock's head had started to descend towards hers.
And unexpectedly, Sherlock's phone ringtone interrupted the magic moment. Molly broke free from his embrace and he, bewildered and annoyed, grabbed the phone from the table, "Lestrade, I hope for you it's at least an eight to call me right now!" he growled as he answered the DI's call.
Within half an hour Sherlock and Molly were sitting in a cab headed to a private college just outside London where a sixteen-year-old student had been found dead after rehearsing for a school play. John had promptly suggested that Sherlock take Molly with him, if she didn't feel too tired, because he preferred to stay indoor with Rosie.
Sherlock had understood his friend's ploy and agreed with him. Molly had said yes and now sat silently beside him looking thoughtfully out the window. "I should call Mike" she said point blank turning her head towards him and Sherlock frowned "My brother?".
A questioning expression appeared on her face "Mike, not Mickey. What does your brother have to do with it now?" she asked him. Sherlock didn't answer, taking note she knew the nickname Mycroft was called in the family. Impatiently, she waved a hand in the air as if to erase what he had said.
"Forget it…Do you want me to do the girl's autopsy?" she asked him and Sherlock nodded, "So I had to call Mike and get authorized. My official return is set for tomorrow afternoon" she explained rummaging through her bag looking for her phone. Sherlock notice that in inserting the pin code, Molly had slid slightly on the seat to the right as if to hide the image on the home screen of her device.
They arrived at 'St. Barnaby College' five minutes after Molly's phone call to Mike Stamford. At the entrance to the institute there were several police patrols and several officers engaged in the collection of depositions. It was Sergeant Donovan who accompanied them to the huge library where Greg was questioning the Dean and Anderson and the forensics team were at work.
"I want Molly to take a look at the body" Sherlock said in a firm voice to Greg as the pathologist on duty moved from the girl's corpse and rolled his eyes, "After Molly is done, have the body taken to Bart's. Stamford has already been warned" he continued undaunted, then he smiled at Molly as she walked cautiously to one of the desks at the base of which the murdered girl lay. "Now, update me" Sherlock said to Greg starting to carefully observe every point of the room.
They arrived at Bart's at precisely at one in the morning and walked side by side towards the employees' front door "I'm going to the locker room to change" Molly said, taking her locker keys from her bag. Sherlock nodded and told her that he would wait for her in the lab where, in the meantime, he would start analysing the samples he had collected.
About three hours later Molly entered the lab and found Sherlock sitting on the stool and bending over the microscope, completely focused on what he was observing. Without saying a word, she placed the cup of coffee on the table within his reach and turn on her heel to sit at the desk at the back of the room and start filling out papers.
"Stay here" Sherlock's baritone voice stopped her and when she turned he looked up and leaned back on the stool, "What about it?" he asked reaching for the cup of coffee. "She didn't defend herself. A sudden blow to the right parietal bone with a sharp object. She didn't die immediately though, she bled out. Presumably she was struck between 9.30 and 10 pm" Molly said leaning her back against the table, "And she was ten weeks pregnant" she added sipping her coffee.
Sherlock motioned her to come closer "What do you think?" he asked, pointing to the slide inserted in the microscope as he lowered the eyepiece to be level with her and sliding the stool back to give her enough space. Molly took her position and watched in silence for a few seconds, then adjusting the micrometre screw said "It looks like a seaweed. Where did you find it?" she asked continuing to observe.
"Not far from the body. There were a couple of footprints. Anderson took the cast, let's see what comes out" he answered with a long sigh, "The girl, Lizzie Sterling, is the daughter of George Sterling, of the Sterling & Baker construction company" Molly informed him turning and rubbing her neck with one hand, "I guess you will be besieged by the press" she said with a quick smile knowing how much Sherlock hated giving statements and interviews.
"Does it hurt?" Sherlock asked her and she looked at him bewildered not understanding what he meant, "Your neck, does it hurt? You've been massaging it for a while" he explained, "Oh! No, no big deal. My muscles are tense. I slept badly on the plane and doing the autopsy made it worse" she said smiling.
"Come over here and turn around" Sherlock ordered in a harsher tone that he intended, "What?" Molly, who had lowered her head, replied looking at him from the corner of her eye. Sherlock, remaining seated on the stool, reached out to grab her left wrist, tugged her towards him and spun her.
Molly found herself standing between his legs with her back to him. Sherlock reached out his right hand and began to free some buttons of her coat and work-blouse. Molly stiffened and put a hand on his "Sherlock, what are you…", he leaned over "Relax, Molly and trust me" he ordered with a whisper in her ear.
She let go of his hand and Sherlock continued to unbutton her garments to her breast, then he pulled them down to her shoulder blades. He rubbed his hands together before placing four fingers of each on her shoulders, then he began to apply firm pressure with his thumbs in a circular motion.
After a few minutes he changed the massage by sliding his fingers up and down her neck, then lightly pinching her nape and continued moving his hands in circular fashion over her shoulder blades. As he progressed, Molly felt her body totally relax. With her eyes closed she was leaning against him completely. If someone had asked her what her name was at that moment, she would not be able to say it.
"Oh, God! Sherlock…" she whispered sighing without even realizing it, he smiled hovering over her, that sigh had given him a long-lasting shiver down his spine, "Do you like it?" Sherlock asked in a hoarse voice, "Yes, definitely" her reply was accompanied by a nod of her head.