Molly stepped just inside the open door of 221B. Sherlock was not looking her way; instead, he was staring out the window.
"You wanted to see me?" she ventured hesitantly.
Sherlock turned towards her then and she couldn't help wondering how a man could look so handsome in a suit covered by a dressing gown.
She flushed with embarrassment when the words "Have dinner?" popped out of her mouth as he was only asking her to solve crimes.
It turned out that the proposal he had for her was to act as his assistant for the day. Apparently he and John were still not on speaking terms. She jumped at the chance. Perhaps spending time with Sherlock would remind her of the abrasive way he usually acted towards other people, and reassure her that her life would be much more settled with a man like Tom. Of course, it wasn't as if Sherlock was interested in anything more with her anyway, was it? So even entertaining thoughts of that was ridiculous.
Molly settled into a chair, ready to take notes.
She wasn't surprised by the quick and dismissive way Sherlock handled the first case of the cheating spouse. What did surprise her though, was the kindness he exhibited towards a young woman whose online penpal had disappeared on her unexpectedly. She had never seen Sherlock behave so sensitively with someone, and her heart constricted.
It was when he said sympathetically to the woman, holding her hand, "And you really thought he was the one, didn't you? The love of your life?" and looked over at Molly, that she knew.
It didn't matter whether Sherlock would ever want anything more than friendship with her. The simple truth of the matter was that she still loved him, he was the love of her life, not Tom.
Even as Sherlock walked up to Molly to explain quietly that the stepfather was the phantom online boyfriend who wished to break the young woman's heart so that she would swear off men forever and stay at home to bring in a wage, Molly curled the fingers of her right hand over her engagement ring. She had to let Tom know as soon as possible that the engagement was off. It wouldn't be fair to prolong it, knowing that she was in love with someone else.
Once the clients were gone, Sherlock picked up his phone to read and respond to a text that had come in earlier. Molly took this opportunity to send a text of her own to Tom. She considered breaking up with him over text, but thought that would be too cruel, especially in light of the fact they had been together for several months already. He deserved better than that.
Tom, there's something important I need to discuss with you tonight. Can you come over at seven?
She figured that should be enough time for her to finish this day with Sherlock and get home. She didn't hear back immediately from Tom, so presumably he was working in his dad's shop as usual and was too busy to check his phone.
Sherlock finished what he was doing on his phone and looked over at her. "Lestrade has a case for me, then I need to return a hat to a client who left it by accident at Mrs. Hudson's this morning when I was out. Apparently he has some urgent case he wants me to look into as well. Do you have time to come along?"
"Of course," Molly responded. She would take every precious moment she could get with him.
While Sherlock was picking up the funny hat with bobbles on the sides, Molly made a decision. She took off her engagement ring and put it in her trouser pocket. There was no point in wearing it when she knew she would be returning it to Tom. It might not be official yet, but in her heart, the engagement was already over and the implied promise of the ring no longer applied.
There was something freeing about no longer wearing that ring, being able to finally allow herself to feel once again the deep love she felt for the man whom she was accompanying. They really did work well together, even saying a phrase together when investigating what turned out to be a Jack the Ripper hoax.
If she hadn't known better, she would have thought Sherlock was trying to impress not only Greg, but herself as well.
Molly's phone buzzed as she was about to leave the building. She quickly read Tom's text that he would see her at seven, then pocketed the phone again and headed back upstairs to the street to join Sherlock. Greg headed back off to New Scotland Yard, seeming most put out over the wasted time on a hoax.
Molly's favourite part of the day was the trip to the flat of the train enthusiast, to whom Sherlock was returning that bobble hat. She felt as though she and Sherlock were sharing an inside joke as Sherlock made asides to her. It was like being part of Sherlock Holmes's inner sanctum in a way she had never been before, and she enjoyed it immensely.
When Sherlock invited Molly to get some chips with him, her heart thundered in her chest. She knew she couldn't accept, she had to go home and get ready for her meeting withTom, but she wanted to see what Sherlock's motives were for inviting her over to spend the day with him. There had to be more to it than her acting as a replacement for John. And she was right.
"Sherlock, what was today about?"
"Saying thank you," he told her as she moved down the stairs toward where he stood at the bottom.
"For what?" she questioned. She hadn't really helped that much, taken a few notes, made a few observations. She was surprised at his response.
"For everything you did for me."
She felt shy all of a sudden. This was not at all what she had been expecting him to say because she knew he was talking about two years earlier. "It's okay It was my pleasure," she said automatically, as she reached the ground floor and moved past him.
His voice arrested her movement and she turned towards him. "No, I mean it."
"I don't mean pleasure, I mean I didn't mind, I wanted to." She felt suddenly very flustered. Sherlock was giving her a very intense look and he interrupted her before she had even finished speaking.
"Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn't matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible."
Her heart thudded in her chest. Was he expressing interest in her or not?
Then he took a deep breath and seemed to return to the way he usually was with her, friendly but not overly so. "So, did you want to join me for chips or not?"
"I'd love to, but I'm afraid I have something rather important to take care of this evening," she said, and saw the disappointment in her own eyes reflected in his.
He gave her a gentle smile and surprisingly bent to kiss her cheek. She closed her eyes at the touch of his lips, wishing she dared to move her head slightly so their lips could meet, but of course she didn't.
"I'll see you later then, Molly Hooper," he murmured, exiting the building before she even knew what was happening.
She exited as well and watched him walk away down the street without a backwards glance, then headed back to her flat.
As soon as Molly arrived home, she prepared a quick meal, ate it and then waited for Tom's arrival. Her stomach felt twisted in knots. How did you go about telling someone you no longer wanted to marry them?
As usual, Tom was late. Punctuality was not one of his strong suits and she had learned over the past several months that when they made a time to meet, it generally meant he would be 10 to 15 minutes late. He drove his parents' car, but would never take into account potential traffic conditions or difficulties in finding a parking spot. Finally, at seven-fifteen, the doorbell rang.
Come in, Tom," she invited, turning her face slightly so the kiss he planned to put on her lips as he entered missed and hit the corner of her mouth instead.
He hung up his coat, the one that looked eerily similar to Sherlock's, and turned to look at her. "So, Molls, what's so important that you want to see me in the middle of the week?" he asked curiously. "Did you want to start making plans for the wedding?"
Molly bit her lip. This was not going to be easy. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, and he walked over to the sofa. She thought about offering him a cup of tea, but decided prolonging things would just make it worse. Instead she sat in her yellow armchair to look at him, rather than sit beside him.
She twisted her fingers together nervously. "Tom, I-"
Tom's gaze narrowed suddenly as his eyes alighted on her hands. "Did you lose your engagement ring?"
Molly swallowed, then reached into her pocket and withdrew the ring. "No, Tom. I took it off." She held it towards him. "I've decided things aren't going to work between us," she said, and her voice trembled slightly.
Tom gave her a shocked look. "What do you mean, things aren't going to work out between us? Is it because you thought I was pressuring you to have sex? I promise I'll do better, I'll wait as long as you want." She could hear the earnest note in his voice and felt even worse than she had before. He really was making an effort to respect her wishes.
Molly felt tears prick her eyes. "No, Tom, it's not that at all," she told him gently. "I have to be honest with you. I...I can't love you the way you deserve to be loved because there's someone else who recently came back into my life unexpectedly. I didn't think I'd ever see him again and I thought I was ready to move on with you, but now that he's back, I realised I'm still in love with him."
She hung her head guiltily even as Tom took the ring from her and buried his face in his hands. His voice was muffled as he said in a disconsolate tone, "What are my parents going to say, my sisters?" He raised his head and leaned forward. "They really like you Molly. How am I going to explain to them that you aren't going to be a part of our family anymore?"
A tear spilled from Molly's lashes. "I'm so sorry. If it would make you feel better, you can tell them you were the one who changed your mind, that you realised we didn't really have anything in common." Her lips quirked slightly. "It wouldn't be a lie, after all. We have very different careers."
Tom stood then and pocketed the ring. "Well, I guess there's nothing else to say. Whoever this guy is, he's a lucky man."
Molly stood as well. "It isn't like that, Tom. He isn't aware of my feelings for him, but I can't deny they exist. I hope you'll find someone who will love you as you deserve to be loved." A few more tears escaped down her face.
Tom gave her a short, sorrowful nod. She almost wished he had been more angry with her. This acceptance made her feel even more guilty.
Tom was just putting on his coat to leave when a knock sounded at Molly's door.
She opened it, swiping at the tears on her face and nearly gasped with astonishment when she saw who was standing there. It was Sherlock.
He looked decidedly the worse for wear, he smelled of smoke and his coat looked slightly singed. "Molly, I need to speak with you," he burst out, pushing past her into the flat then stopping short.
Molly watched as the two men came face-to-face. Sherlock cast a sweeping glance at Tom from head to foot, while Tom merely looked awestruck.
"Oh my God, you're Sherlock Holmes," he gasped as Sherlock gave him a decidedly condescending stare.
"That would be me," he returned, "and who would you happen to be? And why are you in Molly's flat?"
Molly stared in fascinated horror at the man she loved and the one with whom she had just ended her engagement.
"I'm Tom, Molly's fiancé," here he looked at Molly, "or rather, I was her fiancé until a few minutes ago." He furrowed his brow slightly in confusion. "Molly, you never told me you knew Sherlock Holmes, even though you knew I was a fan of his."
"Er," Molly said, clasping her hands in front of her tightly, "I didn't think it was important."
"Why didn't you tell me you were engaged, Molly?" questioned Sherlock with a slight frown, even as Tom's eyes widened.
"Oh, my God, this is the guy you were telling me about, Molly, isn't it?" Tom asked simultaneously, with a rare flash of insight.
Molly didn't know who to answer first. Both men were staring at her. She gulped. "I…don't know what you're talking about, Tom. You should leave now," she told him desperately, ushering him to the door, even as Sherlock watched her progress.
She breathed a sigh of relief after she closed the door on a still rather confused-looking Tom, leaning back against it.
She looked over at Sherlock whose arms were folded. "So what brings you here? And what happened to you? You smell of smoke."
"You didn't answer my question, Molly," he countered. "Why didn't you tell me you were engaged?"
She drew her brows together. What difference did it make to him anyway? "Well, I'm not engaged anymore, and I hardly think it is any of your business, Sherlock. You were gone for two years. People move on."
His lips compressed in a thin line. "I would not have asked you to spend this afternoon together if I had known you were engaged to someone else. I certainly would not be happy if my fiancée was spending time with another man." He looked at her accusingly.
Molly blushed. "Well, the point is moot now, isn't it? I'm not engaged anymore," she shot back defensively, feeling her eyes fill with tears again. Why was he being so cruel to her?
Sherlock blew out a long breath and unfolded his arms so he could clasp them behind his back instead. "This was obviously a mistake. I'll leave now so you can deal with your break up."
Molly walked closer to him and looked up at him imploringly. "Please don't do that. You said you needed to see me, and you still haven't told me what happened to you, why you smell like smoke." Suddenly she hit upon an idea. "Why don't you take a shower and clean yourself up? I still have some clothes from when you were staying here before the funeral."
He hesitated.
"Please?" she pleaded and he relented.
"Very well. I do feel rather…smoked," he admitted with a wry smile.
Molly took Sherlock's coat and scarf from him and hung them on the coat rack. They would definitely need to be dry cleaned. It was just as well there was Still a spare coat hanging in her wardrobe as well from those few days he had stayed with her. She fetched a towel and change of clothes for him, wondering what on earth had caused him to be in this state in the space of a couple of hours.
Sherlock took the items from her with a mumbled, "Thanks," and headed off to the bathroom.
Molly sat on the sofa with her hands folded in her lap, awaiting his return.
When Sherlock emerged from the bathroom ten minutes later, Molly couldn't help the way her heartbeat quickened. He was so incredibly beautiful, especially with wet hair and his curls tumbling over his forehead. How she longed to trail her hands through them, to admit how desperately she loved him, but of course she didn't. Instead she patted the seat next to her. "Why don't you tell me now what happened this evening?"
Sherlock nodded and placed his pile of dirty clothes onto the floor beneath where his smoky coat hung. Then he moved to sit beside her. He shifted slightly to face her, and their knees brushed together.
"After I got home with my dinner, I had a visit from John's fiancée."
Molly furrowed her brow. "John's fiancée? I had no idea."
Sherlock's lips twisted slightly. "Apparently you've both been busy moving on with your lives since I've been gone."
She pressed her lips together but did not speak, waiting for Sherlock to continue.
"Anyway," he continued. "Mary, the fiancée, came by with her knickers in a twist. She had received a text and I deduced it was a code to save John Watson, and it gave the address as Saint James the Less."
"That church is in Westminster isn't it?" questioned Molly.
"Yes, it's about twenty minutes by car. I felt the need for urgency, so had to employ creative methods in which to get there."
"Creative methods?"
Sherlock's lips quirked. "I had to borrow a motorcycle and find some alternate routes that were not quite legal to reach John. Mary kept getting taunting texts, so I knew there was imminent danger. Anyway, when I arrived at the church, I saw a bonfire had been lit, and by the tone of the texts I deduced that John was inside it."
Molly gasped. "That's terrible, Sherlock! Who would do something like that?"
He huffed out a breath. "I don't know, Molly. I don't like not knowing. However, that is beside the point right now. Long story short, I managed to pull John out from inside the woodpile of the fire before it got to him."
"Is he okay? Where is he now?" asked Molly in concern.
"He'll be fine. A little smoke inhalation, that's all. Mary took him home."
Molly let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God. How about you though? Are you okay? She looked at Sherlock carefully. Thankfully he seemed none the worse for wear.
Sherlock smiled. "There are definite advantages to wearing a woollen coat. Flame retardant, you know." Here his lips curved upward slightly. "Although my gloves may not be the same. They did protect my hands, however." Molly didn't see his gloves, they were probably in the pockets of his coat.
"I'm glad things turned out okay for both of you." She touched his knee gently and Sherlock stiffened.
"Well, I had best be going. Thanks for letting me use your shower," he said, rising abruptly from the sofa. Molly couldn't help feeling unaccountably disappointed.
"Was that…was that the only reason you came over? To tell me about what had happened this evening?"
Sherlock picked up his spare coat which she had laid over the armchair for him and put it on. He didn't look at her as he spoke. "Please don't ask me. Anyway, the reason no longer exists. Take care, Molly." He reached down and picked up his dirty clothes, then took his scarf and coat from the rack.
"Goodbye, Sherlock," she said quietly as she opened the door for him and he passed through it, taking the short path to the street. Whatever she had expected from Sherlock when he found out she had been engaged, and that she had broken it off, it was not this. For a moment she had dared to hope that his bewilderment about her engagement had meant he cared about her as more than a friend.
Apparently she'd been wrong.
She watched silently as Sherlock lifted a hand outside to call for a taxi, flagging one down almost immediately as usual.
And that night she went to bed and cried, not for her broken engagement, but for her broken heart.
Author's note: So, Molly has done the right thing and broken off her engagement earlier rather than later. As far as I am concerned she should have done it at this point in the series as well.
I kind of liked the idea of showing Sherlock coming to see her after the bonfire - hey, it could have happened, couldn't it?
So, what do you think was the other reason that "no longer exists" is, for Sherlock coming to see Molly after what happened to John. Hint: that line is from The Sound if Music and is used by Maria. If you are familiar with the musical you will know what the reason is/was, so come on, have a guess and tell me whether you have seen The Sound of Music and therefore have the "inside scoop".
How do you see the final chapter playing out?