"Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can."
Xxx
To say the morning had been arduous was an understatement. As expected, Sherlock practically bolted out of the lab after their hug ended, leaving Molly to her own devices and a stack of paperwork to shift through before even getting her hands dirty.
She couldn't stop thinking about Sherlock. Of course, that was nothing new but… her heart ached for him. He was so lost, and confused, and desperately needed to for once let his feelings out.
Molly frowned as she opened a new folder and dug into the papers stuffed inside. He needed her right now. And Molly was not a selfish woman. She would be there to help Sherlock through his struggles, just as she had before. But her romantic interest had to end.
Per typical Sherlock behavior, the detective entered the lab, seemingly knowing that her thoughts had drifted back to him. He held two takeaway coffees as he approached her desk, setting one down beside her folder.
"I bought Rosie a gift."
Molly looked at the coffee and back at Sherlock, unable to hold back her smile. "Yeah? What did you get her?"
Sherlock sipped his own coffee and looked around the lab, his face red from the brutal London wind. "A plush dog. A best mate that will always be there for her."
The pathologist smiled softly and sipped her coffee, unsurprised to find it flavored the way Sherlock took his own. "That's sweet, Sherlock. I'm sure she'll love it."
Sherlock just nodded and took a lap around the lab, his eyes moving over every inch of the sterile room. "If you died right here, right now, would you be happy?"
Molly set her coffee down and looked over at the detective, who now stood by her file cabinets. She sat up straighter, trying to process his question.
"Come again?"
Sherlock sighed, clearly annoyed by the necessary repetition. "Your father said that death was fine as long as you were happy with the life you lived. So, Molly Hopper, would you be content should death take you now?"
Molly frowned and played with the hem of her cardigan. "Well, I wouldn't want to die right now. I'm too young."
"That's not what I asked. This isn't a question of what you want or don't want. If you were to walk out of this lab and get hit by a bus, would you be satisfied with the life you lived until this very moment?" Sherlock stared at the brunette, his gaze unrelenting.
Molly looked up from her focus on her torso and back to Sherlock. "No, I wouldn't be."
Sherlock took a step back, rather surprised by Molly's response. "You… wouldn't be?"
"No. I wouldn't be."
Sherlock cleared his throat and fiddled with gloves, which he clasped tightly in his right hand. "Why not?"
Molly studied the detective for a few moments before answering. "I haven't done anything I've wanted to do. I want to travel the world. Take a road trip across the States. Backpack through the jungles of Vietnam. Lay in the sun in Sydney."
The pathologist took a deep breath, feeling her heart begin to pound rapidly in her chest. "I… I want to be with my soul mate. I want to get married. I want to have children. I want to own a home and have my own garden and see my mum more than once a month and get a dog and buy a car and just… live."
Molly let out a strangled breath, her cheeks bright red from her declarations. She met Sherlock's gaze, the detective appearing rather surprised by her confession. She looked away from Sherlock and couldn't help but frown, realizing how pathetic her life was. She hadn't done anything she had wanted to do. And here she was talking about marriage and children and a bloody family dog to the man she loved and could never have.
Sherlock shuffled his gloves from his right hand to his left hand and moved his gaze towards the floor. "I see."
Molly swallowed and focused her attention back on her paperwork, determined to finally get some work done. "You seem surprised."
"I am."
That got Molly's attention. "Why?"
"Of all the people I know, Molly, you are the only person who seems to always be happy. You're always so… cheerful. Always smiling."
"Oh… Thank you, I suppose. But I'm not always happy."
"I know. When you're not, it's typically because of me."
Molly sighed and shook her head. "Sherlock—"
He interrupted. "And if you, Molly Hopper, the pathologist with a smile always on her face, isn't happy with their life, then who truly is?"
Molly opened her mouth to respond, but instead stared wordlessly at Sherlock.
"I will see you on Sunday at John's. Mrs. Hudson is bringing the cake."
With that, Sherlock disappeared out of the lab doors, his Belstaff billowing behind him. Molly looked back at the papers sprawled in front of her, a fresh set of tears filling her eyes.
What do I do with him?
Xxx
Sherlock laid across his sofa, his mind palace positively overflowing with details and conversations of his day to go over. He had no idea where to start. And of course, he was bloody exhausted. One moment continued to replay in his head.
I want to be with my soul mate.
The detective shut his eyes. He expected more of Molly than to be sucked into such superficial nonsense.
Is it nonsense? You didn't believe love existed until someone sacrificed their life for your own.
Sherlock growled and threw whatever he could get his hands on at the wall. At the sound of ceramic shattering, he looked over to notice one of John's old plates in pieces. He shrugged.
At the sound of footsteps outside the flat, he sat up, relaxing as soon as Mrs. Hudson entered the room, a tray with tea and biscuits in her small hands.
"Good afternoon, dear. I hope you had a good day," the old lady offered politely, her eyes looking over Sherlock with a knowing concern.
Mrs. Hudson set the tray down and took a seat in John's old chair, her eyes studying the tired detective. Sherlock reached over and grabbed one of the biscuits.
"It was uneventful. I went to the lab. Then to the shop to purchase a birthday gift for Rosie. Then back to the lab."
"Sounds like a lot of time with Molly," the old woman spoke cautiously, knowing she was entering dangerous territory.
Sherlock seemed unaffected by the comment and bit into the biscuit. "I suppose."
"What a shame she isn't marrying that boy. Tom, was it? Oh, he was lovely!"
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Lovely? He had the IQ of a primary school student and spent forty percent of his monthly income on sport betting."
Mrs. Hudson shrugged. "We all have our faults, dear. Love helps us move past a lot of things."
The detective tensed. "She doesn't love him and never did."
Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but smirk. "You seem quite certain of that. But how would you know? You were dead for most of the relationship."
Sherlock flinched and finished his biscuit. "The engagement is over. Therefore, this conversation is a waste of time."
His landlord just nodded. "Right you are. I wonder if she'll be back on the dating scene anytime soon."
Sherlock fidgeted in his seat and grabbed another biscuit, focused on keeping himself busy. "Don't know. Don't care."
"Hmm… My nephew is coming to visit. I reckon they'd be a good match."
Sherlock snorted and took a bite of the biscuit. "Whatever you say, Mrs. Hudson."
Mrs. Hudson gave him a small smile. "I know things didn't work out with you and John but—"
The detective groaned and shook his head, irritated by the old woman's constant mislabeling of his relationship with his best friend. He paused and thought back to his earlier conversation with Molly and looked back to Mrs. Hudson.
"Mrs. Hudson, you're interested in rather… dull things. Tell me. Do you believe in soul mates?"
A giant smile grew on the older woman's face, her eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lighting of 221B Baker Street. "Oh yes, Sherlock, I do. They say that everyone has got someone out there for them."
Sherlock just shook his head. "Why?"
Mrs. Hudson offered a genuine smile. "Why not? Doesn't it sound wonderful? Knowing that somewhere on this earth, out of more than seven billion people, there's a person that's been made just for you? Someone who completes you. Someone who acts as your second half and makes up for all your shortcomings. It's… oh it's a bloody wonderful thought!"
Sherlock stared at Mrs. Hudson, curiosity overtaking his disbelief. "Your relationship with your husband failed."
"Because he wasn't my soul mate! I reckon people can fall in love and even live happily ever after with someone who isn't their other half but… I believe there's that perfect person out there for everyone. Even now. My soul mate is out there. I just hope I find him before it's too late." She laughed.
Mrs. Hudson rose to her feet and gave the detective a smile. "I know you probably think I'm just some batty old lady. And maybe I am. But sometimes it's nice to believe in something bigger than us. Gives us a greater purpose and all that."
She moved towards the door and grinned. "Get some sleep, dear. You're looking a bit pale."
With that, the older lady disappeared from the detective's gaze. Sherlock brought the teacup to his lips and took a tentative sip, thinking through the endless chatter of the women he had spoken to today. But of all the words spoken, one phrase stuck out above the rest.
My nephew is coming to visit. I reckon they'd be a good match.
Sherlock collapsed back onto the sofa and shut his eyes.
I'll just delete this all tomorrow.
He shifted into the worn-out cushions, Molly's form appearing behind his eyes.
Everything is going to be okay.
And like a lullaby, the promise soothed him to sleep.
