"What 'm I suppos'ta do now? He-he said he loooves me, but-but!", Molly blubbers, "I d'know if I can b'lieve 'im...I don't" she rambles, sobbing but laughing at the same time, as her best friend, Meena Jordan, leers at her with a look of utter hesitance on her face.
"Moll, I told you not to get in so deep for this guy. Yeah, he's pretty famous now, and good-looking, but he's also an utter arse. You've told me all the things he's done and said, and how he purposely tugs at your heartstrings. It's not worth it. You deserve so much more than that. I mean what the hell kind of real man would force the woman who has a huge crush on him to tell him that she loves him if he was only going to say it back as a joke or something!? It's cruel and unusual punishment. You're not a game or an experiment and he shouldn't be treating you like that, ever."
Molly sniffles and wipes her face, smearing mascara around her eyes as she does. Meena tries to tell her, but she's cut off. "Hey, I-I-I knowwww he's not prrrrfct, but he-he's broken too."
Meena rolls her eyes. "You're still defending him, and I don't think you should be."
"He's still m'friend, Meeeen", Molly retorts as she holds up her glass to the bartender. "I'll hav'nother 'un, pleaseee."
Meena grabs her glass and stares down the bartender, before turning back to Molly. "No! Absolutely not. You're a lightweight who is way too drunk already. Drinking this much isn't going to do anything for your situation. You're a big girl, Molly, not in Uni. You have to just...talk to him. Again. I know you said he apologized and explained a bit, but clearly, you need more than that. Honestly, he owes you more than that after everything you've done for him over the years. Seriously", she sighs as she dips the napkin into her water and tries to wipe some of the smudged mascara off of Molly's face, but her attempts are thwarted by an upset Molly who begins bawling again.
"Oh, Moll...c'mon. I'll get you a cab back to your house and you can get your car tomorrow, how's that?"
All Molly can do is nod in the affirmative, tears running down her cheeks and she laughs again. "Y'know he prob'ly pities me", she mumbles. "Which I di'nt want y'know."
"/I/ pity you right now. Look at the state you're in. Ridiculous. You need to go home and crawl into bed and sleep this off. I'll make sure you have a female cabbie too", she says as she slaps money down on the bar. Wrapping her arm around Molly, she carefully walks her to the door.
As they struggle out the heavy glass door, pushing it with their body weight, they stumble and crash into none other than the man they were speaking of: Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock gasps and looks over the pair, scrutinizing them both for a moment before his eyes go soft, realizing the state that Molly is in.
"Molly...", he says softly, attempting to make it a question.
"Shrrrrlooockkk!", Molly grins and giggles. "Meen, look it's himmm! Whatta co-inky-dink!"
"The universe is rarely so lazy", Sherlock mutters softly. "Molly, who is this?"
"Who am /I/? WHO am /I/? I am her best friend, Meena. Her real best friend. The one that actually cares about her and loves her. And you don't deserve to even be near her right now! Don't you see what you do to her!?", Meena yells, jabbing Sherlock in the chest with her finger.
Sherlock retreats a bit as the protectively feisty, caramel-skinned woman shouts at him, knowing that he deserves every bit of it for doing what Eurus had made him do to her. Meena's own wild, brunette curls bounce as she continues her verbal assault on him. Sherlock stands quietly, accepting the things she accuses him of (most of which are sadly true), until Molly stops her.
"Meena, stop!", she squeals brokenly. "I-I don't need you to do that. Okay?", Molly says insistently, stumbling over her words slightly.
"I'm getting Molly a cab home; one with a female driver because I'm not stupid. You can continue on your way", Meena mumbles, waving him off.
"Do you see the state she's in? I'm not leaving her with a stranger, why can't you drive her home?"
"Because I didn't drive here. My husband dropped me off because he had a meeting, and my car is in the shop. He won't be here for another half hour and at the rate she drank, I'm pretty sure she'll be extremely sick before then. I know her. Not that I have to explain myself to you."
"Let me escort her home then. It'll be faster to find a cab with a male driver, and I'll be there with her. I wouldn't let anyone hurt her. I'm her friend too, and yes, I've done some terrible things and I admit that. But I do care, despite my flaws."
"Well...considering how you've treated her, I don't exactly see you hurting her physically...but I don't know you, and I honestly don't like you because of your history with her."
"I'm her friend. Not a good one, but I digress. I've stayed at her home before, I know her cat, I know what type of tea she likes with an upset stomach, and I know that she's a lightweight. I assure you, she's in good hands with me, despite whatever arguments we've had in the past. I know some of the things I've done make it seem like I don't respect her, but I respect her more than anyone in this world. I don't blame you for hating me, and I don't blame her for hating me either. But she's in no state to be out in public right now and I /will/ take care of her. Please."
Meena takes a deep breath and looks at Molly, whose eyes are watery and who nods enthusiastically. "He's right...I-I'll be fine with 'im, Meena."
"Fine. But if I hear anything negative that happens after I put her in your care, I'll have your balls. Got it?"
Sherlock raises an eyebrow and nods. "Uh, yes..."
Molly stumbles over to Sherlock and throws her arms around his middle. "Don' be mean t'night…mmkay?"
Sherlock holds her up. "I won't. I do care about you Molly, and the state you're in is concerning."
Molly sniffles and buries her face into his chest, breathing him in. "Howww d'you always smell so mmmm!?"
"I...uh, I don't know, Molly. Probably the expensive cologne Mycroft buys me for my birthday every year."
Meena bids them farewell, and Sherlock hails a cab, helping her in and getting in after her. Molly looks around, dazed before a deer-in-headlights look comes across her face. Sherlock quickly pulls a plastic bag out of his Belstaff pocket and thrusts it in front of her just as she hurls into it.
After a moment of wretching, she sits back against the seat, shivering a bit with how terrible she feels. Sherlock ties up the bag, crinkling his nose in disgust, but remembering what it felt like the night of John's stag do, and can't exactly judge.
Sherlock wraps her coat tighter around her gently and she looks over at him wearily and clearly humiliated.
"Molly, I've been in a similar situation, and I'm sure you heard about it. I'm not judging you if that's what you think. Also, no, I wouldn't tell anyone. Everyone has a breakdown at some point in their life. Hell, you've been through more than any one person should ever have to go through, so you deserve to let loose and drown your feelings once in a while. More so, because I know you wear your heart on your sleeve and...it must be hard when you get crushed by things."
Tearing up again, Molly cries weakly into his arm and Sherlock sighs softly, a lump of regret and guilt in his throat for all he's put her through. Especially recently. Despite explaining the whole Eurus situation to her, and Molly claiming to forgive him, he knows what happened between them through the screen wouldn't just go away. As he had said, she wears her heart on her sleeve and it's too easily shattered, which is what Eurus was counting on.
Once they get to her flat, Sherlock pays the cabbie and realizes Molly is sound asleep against him. Rifling through her purse, he finds her door keys and then glances at her door. For such a large house, she has the narrowest doorway; reminiscent of the one he has at Baker Street. Weighing his options very quickly in his mind to get her out of the cab and into her house, considering her has to unlock her door, he goes with the best option.
Carefully dragging her over to the open cab door, he lifts her up and drapes her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, holding her waist tightly with one arm and clutching her belongings in the other. "C'mon Molls...I really hope you don't get scared if you wake up and make us trip or something", he mutters.
Fidgeting with her keyring for a moment, he finally gets the key in the lock and successfully gains access. The guilt of what happened at Sherrinford seems to rush back to him ten-fold when her kitchen comes into view, and he isn't sure if he will ever be able to be here without the reminder of how awful he used to be to her. "Yes", he thinks, "how I /used/ to be. I won't be that way to her anymore. I can't or I'll lose her."
He kicks the door shut gently and immediately makes his way into her bedroom, making a pitstop in the kitchen to throw away her vomit bag. Once in her room, he very carefully lies her down on her bed. He slips his Belstaff off, since she likes to keep her home so damn warm, and goes across the hall into the loo, grabbing one of her colorful washcloths and dampening it with lukewarm water. Returning to her side, he gently wipes the makeup from her face, so she doesn't get it all over her pillow.
A warm feeling takes over his chest; the same one that took over after the rage of smashing the coffin. The feeling he got when looking at those three little words on that little gold plaque. Those three, little, truthful, words.
Once he's finished removing her makeup, he slips her shoes off and tucks her into bed. "I love you, Molly Hooper", he says softly. "It was true, and I'm an idiot, I'm so sorry."
Sherlock gets up and slips his Belstaff back on. He is heading for the door when he hears a small voice from behind him.
"I'm sorry too."
For a moment he thinks he is imagining, but when he turns back to look at her, she's looking at him, her brown eyes warm and soft.
"Wh-what do you have to be sorry for? As your friend pointed out, I'm the arse, Molly."
"C'mere."
Sighing, Sherlock makes his way back over, sitting on the edge of her bed.
"I'm sorry you had to see me like this", she slurs slightly still.
"It's alright. I told you I'd take care of you; now you need some rest."
"We...we have stuff to dis..dicsus...to talk about."
"I know, and we will. Tomorrow. Once your headache subsides. Alright?"
Molly sits up and nods, throwing her arms around his neck and attempting to kiss him. Sherlock turns away and lightly takes her hands off of him.
She tears up and looks absolutely crushed. "B...but y-you said..."
"Molly, you're still drunk. That is a boundary line I wouldn't ever toe. I know you feel like you have a handle on yourself right now, but you don't, and I say that because I care for you. Please, don't take offense. But I refuse to take advantage of you when you're like this. It's wrong, and I won't even if you hate me for it."
Rubbing her face, she sniffles and shakes her head. "I don' hate you. But- But youuu...", she points at him accusingly, "youuu were high 'member? In the am'blance when you tried to kiss ME."
"Yes, I was, and it was wrong, and you knew it was wrong, so you immediately pushed me away regardless of your feelings. Remember that?"
Molly looks like she's thinking hard for a moment, then nods slowly. "Oh yeah."
"Now, we will talk tomorrow. I promise. But you need some sleep. Get some rest, okay?"
"Okay...hey Sherlock?"
"Yes, Molly?"
"Stay", she whispers. "I don' wanna be alone."
Sherlock nods slowly and takes off his Belstaff and shoes. "Alright, but just a hold."
Molly nods and smiles cutely, scooting over for him. Once he's under the blankets, he draws her close gently and Molly lies her head on his chest.
It takes her mere minutes to fall back asleep, but Sherlock is wide awake, worried about their conversation tomorrow. But for the moment he chooses to be grounded by Molly's presence and enjoy the feeling of comfort that comes when she is in his arms.