"Perhaps he had been civil only because he felt himself at ease; yet there had been that in his voice which was not like ease."
Xxx
A fortnight had passed since the dinner party. While the overall affair was lovely, and Molly could confidently say she did have at least a decent time, it wasn't necessarily an event she would like to repeat. Sure, she enjoyed getting dolled up, eating delicious food, and drinking expensive alcohol. But, after that evening, Molly realized something.
She was, by all intents and purposes, not a social person.
Yes, she quite enjoyed hanging out with her friends, but given the choice between an evening out at a club with lots of strangers, or sharing a pizza with Meena and watching Love Island, she would certainly go with the latter.
Molly looked out the window of the car, enjoying watching the English countryside pass behind her, a pleasant view to calm her troubled mind. Since the party, it had been the only thing on her mind. Primarily, her experience getting to know George's crowd.
George was extremely kind, and a very down-to-earth person. The same could not be said for many of his co-workers and mates. Throughout the evening, she endured more discussion about plastic surgery procedures, fancy diets, exclusive boarding schools, holidays abroad, net worth, and royal gossip than she ever cared to know.
But mostly, she couldn't understand how George had befriended some of these extremely toxic, negative individuals. While some of the relationships were certainly not by choice (such as his, by all accounts, awful boss), many were his longtime mates, the same blokes he went running and sailing with.
The same could be said about John and Sherlock. How did that happen?
At the thought of Sherlock, she tensed, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the green landscape. Her relationship with Sherlock had been nothing but tumultuous in the last year, and all it had served to do was confuse her.
Did he have any right to tell her that George's crowd was not her own? That she lacked the backbone required to survive the brutal criticisms of such a society?
But he's right, Molly. You know it. Just the stylist mentioning your split ends had you upset.
She leaned her head against the cold glass of the window and shut her eyes, going back to her conversation with Sherlock on that balcony.
He's going to propose to you.
Sherlock was rarely wrong, and after her recent conversations with George, she was dare say… expecting the proposal, even before Sherlock confirmed her suspicions.
She gulped and began to fiddle with her seatbelt, considering the situation.
Would she marry George? Could she be happy with that lifestyle? The dinner parties, the yachting, their kids being sent off to exclusive private schools…
But she'd be with a man who'd treat her right, love her, and tell her so every free moment.
What would be wrong with that?
She didn't have a chance to consider it any longer when the car turned suddenly, causing her eyes to fly open and her to jerk as forward as her seatbelt would allow her. From the front seats, a feminine laugh and a deep chuckle filled the air.
"Jesus, Thomas, do you mind? You're going to scare the knickers off Molly! I knew I should have driven," the blonde declared, her hands rubbing the knee of the jean-clad man driving.
From the driving seat, Thomas snorted, before turning to face Molly with a sinister grin. "Well, I do quite enjoy scaring my sister. Say, you hungry, Molls? Ellen has to go to the toilet."
Ellen groaned and smacked her husband, her gaze playful. "Oh, won't you just admit that your coffee went right through you? This is not a long drive! You're killing me!"
Molly grinned, her eyes shifting between her brother and sister-in-law, so deliriously happy by their loving marriage and playful banter. She unbuckled and grabbed her purse.
"It's alright! I can wait until we get there! How much longer, anyways?"
The trio exited the car and moved towards the pub, Molly watching with a grin as the married couple grabbed each other's hands, as if a magnet forced them together.
Someday.
Thomas grinned and used his free arm to wrap around Molly's shoulder, as usual, giving her the playful grin of an older brother. "Well, we should be to Oxford in less than a half hour. Not even a two-hour drive and Ellen is making us stop!"
Ellen rolled her eyes and entered the pub, giving Thomas another glare. "Please, you're just trying to make us late so we see less of my cousins."
He grinned. "I confess, that is a part of my plan."
"Yes, well, knock it off! You know I want to make it to Cotswolds. There's the castle, and Melanie from accounting recommended this family owned garden. She said it was the loveliest thing she had seen in ages. I really think we should go!"
Thomas rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, Melanie also recommended that restaurant by your office that gave us food poisoning, and that awful show on Netflix that gave you nightmares."
Ellen smirked and opened the bathroom door, passing to give her husband one final look. "Tommy, my nightmares weren't from the show. They were from your performance after."
She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Molly laughing hysterically next to her brother. He gave her a pointed look, to which she graciously stopped.
"Thanks for letting me tag along. I hope I didn't ruin your trip," Molly began, watching her brother with a small smile.
Thomas dropped down onto one of the benches, yawning. "Oh, not at all! We were close enough to London, so I'll happily go out of the way to meet you. Not to mention, Ellen's cousins are bloody awful, so I could use as many troops as possible."
Molly snorted and hit him softly. "So, I'm just collateral damage, fresh blood?"
"Indeed. What else are little sisters for?"
Molly laughed and sat beside Thomas, looking over at him with a face of reverence. "I've missed you so much. How's mum?"
At the mention of their mother, Thomas frowned, seemingly going deep into thought. When Molly squeezed his hand, he finally looked over at his sister, a look of concern washing over his features.
"She's been… Different, lately. I'm bringing her to a specialist on Thursday. I'm just concerned that there's something wrong."
Molly swallowed and nodded. "What are her symptoms? What's going on?"
Thomas shook his head and offered his sister a soft smile. "Please, don't worry about it. I'm sure she's fine and that I'm just being overbearing. But, I'll keep you updated."
Molly sighed and nodded. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm not around to help."
He squeezed her hand. "Don't worry about it. You have a life here. Speaking of which, where's that boyfriend of yours?"
"Oh, well, since your visit was short notice, he had plans. He was running a marathon today, in Essex. He's sorry he couldn't make it."
Thomas laughed and stood up. "A marathon? That sounds awful! Well, I do wish to meet him. Especially if you really like this bloke. You know we're anxious for you to settle down and be happy."
Molly smiled and followed suit. "Well, the same could be said about you. I've been waiting for five years to become an Aunt."
Ellen exited the bathroom and smirked. "I've been telling him the same thing, Molly. Hopefully soon, yeah?"
He flushed ever so slightly and nodded. "Soon. We can go once I run to the toilet."
His wife groaned. "Was there any reason you didn't go while I was using it?"
"Sister-brother bonding time!" He announced, before hurrying into the restroom.
Molly smiled at Ellen. "He loves you so much."
"Yes, thankfully so, or I wouldn't tolerate his snoring or smelly feet!"
"Oh, I certainly don't miss that!"
"Yes, and hopefully your future husband doesn't have either of those maladies."
Moly smiled sadly and nodded, her head once again filling with thoughts of the future.
"I sure hope not."
Xxx
Sherlock sat in front of the fireplace, trying to keep a façade of a devoted listener, all the while thinking of what experiments to conduct with human tongues in the following week.
At least there's tea and homemade biscuits.
"You wouldn't believe the nerve of the woman! Ladies like Patricia are such horrid examples of successful, Christian women. We almost let her chase us out of the church! Because heaven forbid I start making the curtains!" Mrs. Holmes declared, wandering back into the sitting room and putting a freshly baked lemon drizzle cake down.
Oh, and lemon drizzle. Perhaps this trip wasn't for naught.
Mr. Holmes eagerly leaned forward and grabbed a slice, taking a hardy bite. "Yes, Darling. But I urge you to forget about what Patricia said. You know her opinions are of little consequence to us."
His wife snorted, a look of delight crossing her features. "Indeed, considering I won the pie-baking contest a month ago! Oh, the look on her face!"
Mr. Holmes nodded excitedly, grabbing another slice of cake. "She got what she deserved! At any rate, your curtains were a lovely addition to the guest bedroom."
She grinned and sipped her tea, decidedly happy with the situation. She looked back over to Sherlock, her eyes softening. She was so thrilled to see her youngest son, relatively happy and healthy. So many nights she had laid awake, worrying about Sherlock's wellbeing. She cleared her throat.
"Now, Sherlock, it's been almost five months since we've last seen you. What do you have to say to that?" She began.
Sherlock blinked, coming out of his experiment preparation, and focused on his mother. He leaned forward and grabbed a slice of cake for himself. "Would you like the honest answer or prefer one that would spare your feelings?"
She scowled. "Is that any way to speak to your mother?"
He sighed. "No, mother, I'm sorry. I have been extremely busy, both with my person and professional life. I apologize for being out of touch."
Her eyes narrowed. "Personal? Is there a girl involved?"
He cleared his throat. "I would like for there to be, but at the moment, no."
She frowned and nodded, sipping her tea with a look of sadness. "Oh, it seems that I will never get grandchildren! Even with dearest Mycroft! Four years and still not a ring on her finger!"
Sherlock blinked, almost choking on the piece of cake in his mouth. He took a gulp of tea to wash the piece down, and stared at his mother. "You and father know about Mycroft and Anthea?"
She waved her hand at his words, as if they were nonsense. "Of course. I've known since they became a couple. She even came on holiday with us to Cornwall!"
Sherlock shook his head, disbelief apparent. Deciding against giving Mycroft another angry lashing, he took an anxious bite of cake. His parents watched him steadily.
"Well, you'll have to come see the garden! Between the gnomes, the new pagoda, the fairytale section, and the gazebo with lights, it's become quite the spectacle! Your mother was listed in a country magazine as a must see. Every few days we have people coming around to see the place!" His father announced, slyly cutting his third piece of cake.
His mother beamed, clearly proud of her accomplishments. "I've considered opening a pie stand. That would really piss of Patricia!"
Her husband laughed. "Oh, indeed it would! She was already fuming when the article was released!"
As his parents continued to babble about church life, and their bloody garden, and a relationship that Mycroft had kept secret from only him, he began to wonder if he was missing a huge part of his life.
Was his family not a burden, but in fact a gift?
As his mother disappeared into the kitchen to prepare his favorite meal, and his father moved around the house to collect some of Sherlock's favorite novels from his childhood, he realized what he lacked.
A family.
And what a stupid, reckless man he had been.
I have already one.
Xxx
Molly stared out the window, absolutely delighted by the single-car road winding up to a gorgeous, mid-sized estate. The house was lovely, with an old-fashioned chimney and stained-glass windows adorning the exterior, and a door that Molly was confident was built with the house, likely two hundred or so years previously.
In the front seat, Ellen and Thomas bickered about the remainder of the day, as Molly's brother was none too eager for the final stop of the afternoon. He cursed and continued to drive up the winding road.
"Is it too much for me just want to get back to London? You made me meet with your awful cousins, endure a tour around Oxford that I had no interest in, and then three bloody hours at Sudeley Castle. Must you be so cruel?" He whined.
Ellen rolled her eyes and began to fiddle with her hair. "Honestly, Thomas, I don't see what was so bad about a meal with my cousins. Howard footed the bill and the campus is quite lovely!"
"That may be so, but how many times did he have to bring up his University friends and his reputation there? As if that makes him better than me." He mumbled to himself and rolled down the windows, desperate for a bit of air.
"There's nothing wrong with him being proud of his accomplishments. And the castle was gorgeous. Now, we'll just stop by the garden and be off. Okay?" She squeezed her husband's knee.
Thomas groaned and nodded. He stopped the car next to the wooden sign, allowing his wife time to read it.
Best Private Gardens in Southern England, Stately Homes Volume 24
Welcome to our home! Take a stroll through our garden and enjoy yourselves. But please, do not pick the petunias or break our gnomes. – Georgina + Curtis Holmes
Ellen squealed and got out of the car. "The article said they have a lovely set-up with gnomes, meant to look like different famous fairytales. Come on Molly!"
Molly got out of the car and stretched, looking around the adorable home and its extensive land. Her eyes landed on the sign and she read it, her body immediately tensing.
There's no way. Must be a coincidence.
She let out a nervous laugh and skipped over to Ellen, who had already moved towards the garden fencing. Thomas followed, groaning and complaining the entire way through.
The trio moved through the lovely garden, astounded by the degree of diversity of the flowers and plants surviving. There was a thriving vegetable garden, sprouting lovely rhubarb and carrots, as well as a gorgeous array of flowers, that somehow appeared to be in order of their shades.
Ellen grinned and turned to Molly. "According to the magazine, they call their garden The Burrow, like a rabbit's home. Personally, it just reminds me of Harry Potter." She laughed and skipped forward, Molly and Thomas following right behind.
They stumbled past a Japanese garden layout, equipped with a tiny pagoda and a lovely bridge, as well as in-bloom cherry blossoms. Ellen shoved her mobile into Thomas's hand and demanded that he take some photos of her on the bridge, so Molly abandoned the couple, deciding to continue through the gates.
She wandered past a street sign with the words "Grimm Way", and smiled at the reference, continuing along the footpath. She practically gasped at the displays, amazed by the intricate plant and gnome set ups, almost giggling to tears when her eyes landed on a Cinderella and Prince Charming gnome. She whipped her mobile out and began to take photos of the display, before a deep, inquisitive voice almost gave her a heart attack.
"Does Mother know that The Little Mermaid is one, not a fairy tale with a happy ending, and two, not a Grimm work? Tell me, could you two not go through some sort of vetting system before putting this ludicrous thing together?" A painfully deep voice asked.
Another male broke the silence as the footsteps got closer and the words got louder. "Oh, please don't upset your mum. She's quite thrilled with the entire thing. We get at least thirty or so visitors a week."
Should I make a run for it?
Deciding that yes, running away would surely be the best option, Molly turned on her heels, only to run right into a one Sherlock Holmes. He grabbed her shoulders and steadied her, looking just as shocked as she did.
"I swear I didn't know! I had no idea! It was all Ellen's idea!" She managed to squeak out, practically shaking in Sherlock's grasp.
Sherlock groaned and let go of her, watching her curiously. "Why in God's name are you up in this part of the country, Molly?"
She bit her lip. "I joined my brother and sister-in-law for lunch in Oxford, and then we visited Sudeley Castle, and then Ellen wanted to stop here, because she read about it in a magazine!"
From beside Sherlock, the older man practically beamed. "That would be Stately Homes!" He turned and gave Sherlock a look, "See, it is indeed a real publication."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked back at Molly, still unbelieving of her presence. "I see… So, your brother and his wife are here?"
"Yes. I left them in the Japanese garden taking photos."
"Oh, isn't it lovely? We even had the bridge shipped from Japan during a holiday in Osaka. I really—" Mr. Holmes stopped talking at Sherlock's perturbed expression.
"Father, this is Molly Hooper, a pathologist at St. Bartholomew's Hospital in London. She is one of my dearest friends." Sherlock announced, causing a soft blush to spread across Molly's cheeks.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Holmes." She told him, quickly sticking out her hand.
The old man laughed and pulled her into a hug. "Please, call me Curtis!"
How does a man who hugs end up with sons like Mycroft and Sherlock?
Molly pulled away and smiled, opening her mouth to respond, until two sets of footsteps reared closer. Ellen and Thomas appeared behind a lovely shrub shaped like a tower, their faces reddened from what appeared to be a loving embrace.
Thomas raised his eyebrow and looked between Molly, Mr. Holmes, and Sherlock. He looked back at his sister. "Uh, Molly?"
She squeaked and bit her lip. "Um. Thomas, this is Curtis Holmes, and his son, Sherlock Holmes," She looked at Sherlock, "And this is my brother Thomas, and his wife Ellen."
Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Say, Sherlock Holmes? Like the famous detective?"
Sherlock couldn't help but quirk his lips. "Yes. And you are the famous Thomas Hooper. The bloke with the goldfish."
Thomas raised his eyebrow, clearly missing Sherlock's reference to his gift to his young sister. However, Molly flushed, unbelieving that Sherlock remembered her silly story about the fish. Thomas and Ellen exchanged pleasantries with Mr. Holmes, and the group continued to walk through the fairy tale display. Mr. Holmes was insistent on taking photos of the loving couple, and began to spout advice about a happy marriage.
"You know, Georgina and I have been married for almost fifty years. One of the things that has kept us together is having a good, old fashioned meal with one another. It's such a shame with today's generation. You lot are all on the go, and miss the comfort of just a simple meal with your family!" He announced, handing Ellen back her mobile.
"In fact," he continued, "We'd be remiss if you lot didn't stay for dinner. Especially since Molly is such a dear friend of Sherlock's."
Thomas opened his mouth, likely to reject the offer, but stopped when Ellen graciously elbowed him in the side. He groaned and nodded, giving Mr. Holmes a polite smile and acceptance of the offer.
"Splendid! Let's head inside! I believe she's making Yorkshire Pudding and a roast. She'll be so thrilled by all the young people here!"
Mr. Holmes led Thomas and Ellen inside, leaving Sherlock and Molly to follow. Molly swallowed and looked at the detective, unable to read his face.
"I'm so sorry," she began, "If I had any idea that it was your parent's home, or that you were going to be here, I promise, we would not have come!"
Sherlock just shrugged. "Truthfully, I had no idea I was to come. But Mycroft called me this morning and demanded I pay them a visit. I normally avoid spending time with my parents."
Molly frowned and gave him a look. "You shouldn't do that Sherlock. You have no idea when your visit with them will be the last. Every day I regret not spending more time with my father before he died, and now, I constantly worry about my mum."
He sighed and nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, admittedly dressed more casually than his normal attire. "I know. I've realized today that perhaps I haven't treated my relations with the best regard."
"Then change that."
Sherlock smiled a bit and looked over at Molly. "That was precisely my intention."
Molly smiled back at him and walked towards the door. "Shall we join? Thomas and Ellen are lovely. Perhaps a bit too social for you, but I reckon you'll like them."
"I'll be on my best behavior. As for you, there's someone I'd like you to meet, someone who I know will be delighted to see you."
"Oh?"
"Georgina." He replied, strolling into the house, quickly slipping out of his shoes. Molly followed suit.
"Georgina?"
"Mummy Holmes." Was all he responded, before disappearing through the doors.
Molly gulped and blushed, rushing after him.
I'm meeting Sherlock's parents. What could possibly go wrong?
Xxx
It had been an interesting dinner to say the least. It had taken Molly a solid ten minutes to process that she was sharing dinner with Sherlock and his parents, in his childhood home of all places. What a bizarre and unexpected twist in the pathetic story of her life.
But once that shock had worn off, dinner had proven to be enjoyable. Mrs. Holmes was downright precious. She was incredibly sweet to Molly, and as with Sherlock, was inquisitive about her life. Of course, unlike Sherlock, she understood social graces and privacy, so she didn't push too hard.
Mr. and Mrs. Holmes had also been exceedingly sweet to Thomas and Ellen, asking them about their careers, and any perspective children. Although, to be quite honest, Molly tuned most of that conversation out, instead watching Sherlock with a morbid fascination, wandering what it would have been like for a small Sherlock Holmes to sit at that table, listening to his parents discuss their days.
But, as all good things must, the meal came to an end, and the group was currently finishing up their tea and homemade Jaffa cakes, to which Sherlock had eaten four.
She had never seen Sherlock eat so much. It was rather refreshing.
As Mr. Holmes recounted the story of putting their garden together, Sherlock bolted up in chair, causing his father to stop his story, and for the rest of the party to look over at him. He cleared his throat, set his napkin down, and forced a pleasant smile.
"Father, Mother, what a delightful dinner. Now, if you'd excuse me, I'd like to invite Molly on a stroll through the garden before they depart."
Everyone looked towards Molly, who unfortunately was in the middle of chewing a mouthful of Jaffa cake. She swallowed and nodded, her cheeks darkening. As she got up and followed Sherlock to the garden, the remaining four watched on.
Mrs. Holmes gave her a husband a pointed look. Amusingly, Ellen gave Thomas an identical one.
Xxx
The stars were out for the pleasant evening, nothing but clear skies and a delicious chill. Sherlock walked ahead of Molly, circling the garden with his hands shoved in his pockets. Molly followed behind, unsure of what to say. She hadn't seen or really talked to Sherlock since her dinner party, and she didn't know where they stood.
She never did. Even before this mess.
But, she preferred to babble rather than walk in silence, so she began to talk anyways. "Your mum has really done a fantastic job out here."
Sherlock nodded and slowed down, seemingly realizing that he wasn't walking at a speed Molly could maintain. "Indeed. This garden has been her passion project. For as long as I could remember, she was out here whenever possible. I have fond memories within the white fencing."
Molly smiled at Sherlock, enjoying the infrequently seen look of admiration across his features. "You don't speak of your childhood much. I had no idea you grew up out here."
Sherlock began to walk again. Molly groaned and followed him, willing her short legs to keep up.
"I was bored out here. There was nothing to play with my senses. Nothing to interest me but green landscape, fresh biscuits, and Mycroft's boasting."
"I see."
They continued to wander along the path of the garden, saying nothing. The light breeze of the evening, the occasional owl's hoot, and the once heard cackle of Mrs. Holmes from the house kept them company.
Finally, they stopped in front of the vegetable garden. Sherlock looked over at Molly, a peculiar look on his face. Molly noticed and frowned.
"May I share a story with you?"
"Of course," she responded, softly.
Sherlock cleared his throat, his eyes locked on the small plot. "When I was a child, I fancied this small rabbit. He frequented this vegetable garden. I had named him Peter."
Molly couldn't help but smile, thinking about a tiny Sherlock Holmes reading Peter Rabbit stories, just like any other child. She continued to watch the man, thoroughly fascinated.
"I used to follow him around. I'd take notes on his behavior, sketch his movements, make predictions about his actions. I really grew to like Peter."
He looked at Molly, pausing to think, before continuing his story. "I suppose the story is rather like your experience with your goldfish. Because poor Peter was brutally murdered by my father's lawn mower, right in front of my eyes. And at the time, it felt like the world had ended. I was devastated, and felt the acutest form of loss, something that I had never encountered before. I hadn't known it existed before that moment."
Molly frowned and grabbed his hand. She ran her thumb across the pad of it, the same way her mother used to soothe her, and continued to listen.
"I even threw him a funeral of sorts. Set some flowers by his home. That sort of thing. And Mycroft found me. He was quick to warn me against caring in the future. That any subsequent sentiment would just hurt me the same way in which Peter's death did."
He sighed and ruffled his hair, his gaze locked on the vegetable garden. "It's rather silly, isn't it? That an event in our childhood, over something as trivial such as the death of a common woodland creature, could have such a remarkable effect on how we deal with our feelings in the future?"
"I don't think it's silly," Molly replied, her voice soft.
Sherlock cursed and looked at Molly, his blue eyes meeting her brown gaze. "In truth, I've always been afraid of caring after that moment. Perhaps it was Mycroft's warning. Or watching Peter's life taken before my eyes, knowing how helpless he and I both were. But… It scarred me."
He began to walk again. "I suppose it's rather like Mary's death. A tragic event that I could have prevented."
Molly walked up behind him and hugged him from behind, causing the man to tense. She put her cheek on the back of his jacket and sniffled.
"Oh, Sherlock, won't you ever get it? Life is unfair. Death happens to those who don't deserve it. But we shouldn't miss out on life because we're afraid of getting hurt. Since when have you ever skipped a case because you were worried that you would die in the process?"
He swallowed. "I never have."
"Exactly! Life is the same way. Don't let your past scare you." Molly whispered into his back, before backing away from his form. He turned to look at her, and studied her face.
"Molly, I'm sorry for how poorly I've treated you in the past. The cruel comments, the manipulation, the danger I've put you in… Everything. I'm so truly sorry, because you, of all people, never deserved it. You are one of the kindest, most thoughtful people I've ever met, and my life would not be the same without you in it."
Molly swallowed and stared at Sherlock, holding in the tears that begged to escape. "Oh, Sherlock…"
"I realize you may never forgive me. But, I would please, if it would not inconvenience you, like to continue being your friend. Would that be possible?"
Molly hugged him again and placed her cheek on his chest. "Of course, Sherlock, of course."
Sherlock swallowed and hugged her back. "Splendid. Would you like to accompany me, John, and Rosie to the park this weekend?"
"I would love to."
He swallowed and pulled away, nodding rather rigorously. "Splendid. So. I'll see you this weekend?"
"Of course."
With that, he disappeared into the house. Molly took a deep breath and tried to steady her breathing before seeing her brother, when Sherlock popped his head back out.
"My apologies. Goodnight, Molly. Have a safe trip back to London."
Finally, he disappeared, leaving Molly grinning like an absolute fool.
You, Molly Hooper, ARE an absolute fool.
Xxx
As their car drove back down to the main road, a full three hours after they originally planned on departing, an awkward air filled the car. Molly was blushing something fierce, staring out the window, remembering both the feel and the smell of holding Sherlock so close.
From the front seat, both her brother and his wife watched from the rear-view mirror, trying to determine what exactly had transpired, and who exactly this bloke was to Molly. Thomas, as any other brother would, had finally had enough of the mystery.
"Alright, spit it out. What's going on between you and the famous detective?"
Molly swallowed and looked away from the window, meeting Thomas's gaze in the mirror. She took a deep breath. "Well, if you must know… He's in love with me."
Ellen positively squealed from the front seat. Thomas raised an eyebrow and studied his sister in the mirror.
"But you have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who, by all accounts, is not Sherlock Holmes."
"Yes."
"Then how do you feel about Sherlock?"
Molly sighed and leaned her head against the window, enjoying the buzz of the car and the breeze of the London evening.
"I hardly know."
