Day 5: Enemies to Friends to Lovers.
"But, mother, it is not fair." 5-year-old Sherlock whined.
"William, go and apologize to Molly." Violet Holmes repeated sternly. She was sitting in the office of the school's principal, with her husband, her younger son, 5-year-old Molly, both the young girl's parents and Mrs. Patterson, the children's teacher.
Reluctantly, Sherlock took a few steps towards his classmate and nemesis, Molly Hooper, before murmuring in a low voice, "I am sorry."
"Raise your voice, son." Mr. Holmes urged him.
"I am sorry." Sherlock repeated, gritting his teeth, and not meeting Molly's eyes.
"Okay." Molly replied, smiling softly at him.
"Good, now that it is settled, can you please accompany the children to class, Mrs. Patterson?" the principal said calmly.
"Of course." Mrs. Patterson replied, standing up to take the children's little hands in hers and walk them back to their class.
The short walk to the class was silent, but as soon as both children took their seats, Molly turned to Sherlock and quietly said, "I am sorry Sherlock for telling Mrs. Patterson, but you really hurt me when you pushed me to the ground. See?" Molly lifted the hem of her yellow dress, revealing the red scrapes on her right knee.
"I said I am sorry." Sherlock clenched his fists, still not meeting her eyes.
Molly ignored his tone before saying sweetly, "We can be friends."
"I don't want to be friends with you." Sherlock replied sharply, before opening his book to start reading.
Five years later:
"Now, who is going to solve this problem?" Mr. Adams, the math teacher, asked his students.
Both Molly and Sherlock raised their hands eagerly.
"Yes, Molly? Why don't you come over here and show us how to solve this problem?"
Shyly, Molly got up and walked to the blackboard. She picked the chalk pen from Mr. Adams and started scribbling on the board. Thirty seconds later, she turned with a smile and silently handed the chalk pen to Mr. Adams.
"Excellent, Molly. This is the right answer." Mr. Adams beamed at her.
Molly smiled shyly, then returned to her desk. As she sat down, she glanced at Sherlock, whose desk was next to hers. She smiled sweetly at him, but her smile dropped when he scowled at her.
After the end of the math period, Molly turned to Sherlock and asked him, "Is something wrong, Sherlock?"
"Everything is wrong." Sherlock murmured with a deep frown on his face.
"But why?"
Sherlock suddenly turned to face her, "Because you are the only other kid in class who knows all the answers and every time you raise your hand I just want to break something. You are totally insufferable with your adorable face and cute ponytail and I hate it!"
"But…"
"And they all like you and no one likes me. Why don't they like me? I am smart and cute, too."
"I like you." Molly said quickly.
Sherlock scowled at her and said nothing.
Six years later:
"It is the prom, Molly. You have to go." Mena, Molly's friend, said.
"I can't. My mum is in hospital. I need to stay by her side." Molly replied tiredly.
"But it is only for a few hours. Your dad will be staying with her." Mena insisted.
"I don't know." Molly bit her lower lip, wanting to join her friends but still wanting to stay by her mother's side.
One week later:
"Molls, get the door, please." Molly's father called from the kitchen.
"Okay, dad." Molly called back.
Molly went to open the front door, and to her surprise, her friend/enemy, Sherlock Holmes, was standing in front of her, looking as handsome as ever, in a black suit.
"Hello, Molly." Sherlock greeted her politely.
"Hello, Sherlock." Molly replied automatically.
Sherlock scanned her form quickly, then he said, "I see I have come early. Do you still need time to get ready?"
"Get ready for what?"
"For the prom. I have asked your father to take you to the prom and he agreed."
Molly turned her head abruptly to stare at her father who just came out of the kitchen to stand behind her. She watched him in confusion before turning her head to look at Sherlock.
"But, we were just leaving to the hospital."
Mr. Hooper put his hands on his daughter's shoulders and said in a gentle voice, "It is alright, Molls. Go enjoy some time with your friends. Your mum and I will be fine."
Molly stared at Sherlock wide-eyed, still not believing that he was actually at her doorstep, asking to take her to the prom, and that he actually was respectful enough to ask for her father's permission first.
"But I didn't buy a prom dress." Molly argued weakly.
Mr. Hooper tightened his hold on his daughter's shoulders affectionately, "Remember that dress you bought a few months ago with your mum? I think it is time you let it out of the closet."
"But, dad…" Molly murmured, turning her eyes to glance at her father.
"Your mum would want you to enjoy your time. It is her wish, Molls." Mr. Hooper smiled.
Molly glimpsed at Sherlock who was, uncharacteristically, standing patiently and waiting for her reply.
"Can you wait for me inside, Sherlock? I won't take long." Molly finally said to Sherlock, a wide smile on her face.
Two months later (the funeral of Molly's mother):
"It gets better." Sherlock's voice invaded the haze of her mind.
"How do you know that? Have you travelled into my future and seen how much better it gets?"
"No bu-"
"Have you lost someone close to you before?" Molly continued angrily.
"Actually…."
"I didn't think so. You have no idea, so please, don't tell me it gets better." Molly cried, before she turned around and walked out of the cemetery.
Two years later:
"For God's sake, Sherlock. Stop moving my things around." Molly shouted.
"I am organizing them." Sherlock stated, while lying on his bed and reading a book about ash.
"I didn't ask you to."
"Well, it is my room." Sherlock shrugged.
"It is our room, you idiot. Our shared dorm room. So stop touching my things or your things may start disappearing magically."
Sherlock put aside his book then turned to his roommate, "Is that a threat, Molly Hooper?"
"It is merely a warning" Molly replied, raising her eyebrow in defiance. Then, she turned around and started rummaging through her desk. "Where did you put my phone charger?"
When she received no answer, Molly turned to stare at him, putting her hands on her hips, "William Sherlock Scott Holmes, where is my phone charger?"
"On that shelf." Sherlock replied, pointing to one shelf above her desk.
"And why in God's name did you put my phone charger, which I use daily, in case you haven't noticed, on the highest shelf above my desk?" Molly gritted her teeth furiously.
Sherlock smirked and said nothing.
Molly huffed loudly, "You are completely incapable of being a decent human being for more than five seconds. You keep moving my things to high shelfs because you know I can't reach them and your smirk every time you do it is so annoying. Damn it, Sherlock."
"I will stop when you promise me."
"Promise you what?" Molly burrowed her brows in confusion.
"That you will not go out with Moriarty anymore." Sherlock said calmly.
"This is none of your business." Molly shouted.
Sherlock shrugged, "Then I will keep doing what I am doing."
"AHHHHHHH!" Molly groaned loudly before she smacked Sherlock's head with her pillow.
Three days later:
"This dress is awful." Sherlock commented.
"You are awful." Molly replied, not wanting him to ruin her mood.
Sherlock stood up from his bed and walked to where Molly stood in front of the mirror, "Molly, seriously, don't go out with him. He is not right for you."
"Then who is?" Molly asked, gazing at him in the mirror. She saw Sherlock swallow visibly before averting his eyes.
Molly smirked sadly, "That's what I thought. See you in a few hours."
Three hours later:
"See, that's why I warned you not to go out with him." Sherlock chided Molly.
"Please, just stop talking." Molly pleaded, holding her head with both her hands dejectedly.
"I warned you and you didn't listen. Now look what hap—".
Molly stood up and pointed to Sherlock angrily, "What are you doing in my life, Sherlock? Why do you even bother who I go out with? Because sometimes I feel like the only purpose of your life is to make my life a living hell. I have known you for as long as I can remember and almost every memory of you is accompanied with something horrible or embarrassing. So can you please stop saying horrible things about my love life and my clothes and my hair and even my handwriting?"
"But I was merely…." Sherlock argued weakly, not prepared to Molly's outburst.
"God, I hate you!" Molly screamed.
Sherlock took a step back as if Molly has just slapped him. He looked at his feet and muttered in a low voice, "Well, I don't."
Several moments passed in silence, before Molly whispered, "I'm sorry, can we just pretend I never said that?"
Two weeks later:
"I don't want to feel that way." Sherlock pouted while sitting with his friend, John Watson, in the campus cafeteria.
"Why won't you just admit that you care about her?" John asked Sherlock.
"Because, if I don't care, she can't hurt me."
"Molly would never hurt you, you know that." John commented.
"Then what if I hurt her?" Sherlock replied sharply.
Two years later (The first day after Sherlock's graduation):
"I know you are scared." Molly's voice suddenly filled Sherlock ears. He was sitting under his favourite tree in the garden of the campus.
"You know nothing about me." Sherlock replied coldly, closing his eyes tightly.
Molly kneeled beside him on the grass, "Oh, but I do. I know you want adventure, that's why you're sitting here with this piece of paper in your hands that says 'I want to be a consulting detective'. You think I don't know?" Sherlock's eyes snapped open to watch Molly, the girl who turned his life upside down.
Molly explained with a smile, "I have seen you write those words on that same pale yellow paper when we were 10 years old, back at school. You want to rebel against everyone and everything that your mind can't accept. You want mystery in your life…and maybe even a little danger."
Molly touched his hand lightly before continuing, "And I am sure you will get everything you want."
"Why would you think that?" Sherlock asked breathily.
"Because though you are not an angel, you always fight on their side."
Ten years later (Barts Hospital):
"Ah, Molly. You brought my coffee." Sherlock declared cheerfully.
"Yeah, here." Molly handed him his coffee; black, two sugars.
"What happened to the lipstick?" Sherlock suddenly asked, frowning at her lips.
"It wasn't working for me."
Sherlock pouted and turned to his favourite lab chair, "Oh, I think it was a big improvement. Your mouth is so small now."
Molly closed her eyes for two seconds, before she silently left the lab, whispering to herself, "I don't know why I bother."
Five years later (The next morning after Sherrinford):
"I told you on the phone to leave me alone." Molly hissed at the tall man who just let himself inside her home without permission for the millionth time.
"I know you did." Sherlock replied quietly.
"Then why the hell are you here?" Molly yelled.
"I need to explain."
Molly shook her head, trying to block his presence out, "I just need some space."
Sherlock took a step towards her, "Space isn't going to fix anything, you need to talk to me and stop pretending that time is going to make this better. We both know that, Molly."
Molly shook her head vigorously, trying to stop her tears from falling, "I trusted you."
"Molly, please, let me explain." Sherlock pleaded, hurt etched on his face because Molly's trust in him was shattered because of his actions.
"Don't pretend you're hurt because I know you don't care." Molly spit out, infuriated.
"Why would you say such a thing?" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Because your actions speak louder than words."
"But you don't know the whole truth."
Molly took a deep breath, then stared at him coldly, "Then, tell me everything. What happened?"
Two hours later:
"Please tell me you did not just say what I thought you said" Molly whispered.
"That depends…what did you think I said?" Sherlock whispered back.
"You said you ….you love me."
"I did. And I mean it. I'm not quite sure how it happened, but it did."
Feeling confused, Molly rubbed her eyes, "I don't know what to say."
"I'll do whatever you want." Sherlock added quickly.
"I don't know what I want." Molly shrugged, "I hate that I still love you."
Sherlock smiled tenderly, touching her cheek with his injured fingers. "And I love that I have always been in love with you. I am just scared."
"Of what?" Molly asked, enjoying the touch of his fingers on her cheek and leaning further into it.
"Losing you." Sherlock's voice cracked.
Molly averted his eyes and stared at her hands. When she didn't reply, Sherlock couldn't stop himself from asking, "You still love me, right?"
Molly raised her brown eyes to meet his blue ones, then she tentatively said, "I will always love you."
Next morning (Molly's house):
Molly woke up at 6:00 AM to find Sherlock still lying next to her, his left arm draped over her middle. She smiled softly and opened her mouth to speak but he beat her to it, "Will you marry me, Molly?"
"It's too early for this, just go back to sleep." Molly chided him gently, though she couldn't stop the hope and warmness that spread in her heart.
Six months later (Molly and Sherlock's Wedding Day):
"You hurt her, I shoot you, okay?" Ghost-Mary threatened Sherlock teasingly, staring at him in the mirror, where he was adjusting his tie.
"I miss you, but then I remember that you were an assassin who actually shot me in the chest and the feeling fades." Sherlock laughed heartedly, though his heart still ached whenever he saw his dear friend.
Six years later:
"But, daddy, I don't want to eat my vegetables", 5-year-old Cassandra Holmes whined to her father.
"I'd rather do a lot of things than eat my vegetables, too, bumblebee, but you have to do it. Nothing is going to change that, young lady." Sherlock said gently.
Cassandra pouted adorably before she sighed dramatically, two traits she proudly inherited from her father, then she started eating her vegetables. Sherlock kissed his daughter's forehead then glanced up to watch his wife walking out of their bedroom. Sherlock stood up and walked to Molly, wrapping his arm around her shoulder lovingly.
"Out of all the things you could have said, and you went with that." Molly smiled at her husband.
"She needs to know the struggle is real." Sherlock smiled back, before getting on his knees to place a kiss on Molly's growing belly.
Two years later:
"I didn't ever think we'd be here, like this." Molly whispered to Sherlock, both taking their seats in the school's theatre before the beginning of the play their daughter was participating in.
"Me neither, but here we are; watching Cassie participating in her first school play." Sherlock whispered back, taking Molly's hand in his and kissing her wrist tenderly.
"And hoping our twin boys don't tire their Nana before we return home." Molly laughed.