"He had the distinct impression that she was toying with him, verbally challenging him to a duel that she was certain to win, for she established the rules and kept them a secret from him."
Xxx
They sat in the first-class section of the train, Sherlock with his nose buried deep in a medical journal. Molly, on the other hand, held a cup of tea in her hands, her eyes locked on the scenery, knowing that as soon as the sun went down, she'd lose the gorgeous landscape.
Sherlock glanced over at her, surprised by her silence. He shut his book and continued to study her.
"You're awfully quiet. You've yet to ask about our case."
Molly sniffled and glanced over at Sherlock. She simply shrugged her shoulders and continued to glance out the window.
He sighed and shut his eyes, slowly evaluating the different ways to approach an upset woman. He wasn't very good with people, especially sad people. How did he broach the subject?
He groaned and sat up. "Molly. I would like to know why you're sad."
Molly looked back over at Sherlock, her eyes tired. "What makes you think I'm sad?"
He sighed. "Must we, Molly?"
She just shrugged again.
He cursed. "Alright, fine. You haven't said more than six words to me in the first hour of the train ride. You're wearing dark colors, which on a Friday for you, is especially uncommon. Between the option of green tea and hot chocolate, you picked the tea, which is especially unlike you considering your penchant for chocolate."
He tilted his head, watching her curiously. "Most of all, we're going on an adventure, and you seem miserable. So, Molly Hooper, please tell me. Why are you sad?"
Molly frowned and dropped her gaze to her lap. She blinked a few times, desperate to keep her tears at bay. She sighed and finally glanced back at Sherlock, who watched her with an unexpected look of concern.
"It's my mum, Sherlock. She's… She's dying."
Sherlock took a deep breath and reached across the seat, hesitantly dropping it next to Molly's on the armrest. She made the decision for him, gently picking up his hand and squeezing it.
"I'm sorry. Everything will be okay." He told her, his voice soft.
"How can you be so sure?" She asked him, her voice hoarse, her eyes wet.
"Because you told me the same thing when I was in your position. And you would never lie to me. Not to mention, you were right. Things got better. They were never the same but… They got better."
Molly hiccupped and squeezed his hand, her eyes locked on his blue gaze. "I don't want her to die."
"Maybe she won't. Medical science is improving every day."
"What do I do if she does?"
Sherlock frowned and caressed her cheek, captivated by her beautiful, sad brown eyes. "It will hurt considerably. But you will remember the wonderful moments, and be content that she died a happy woman."
"I just hate being so far away from her," she began, fresh tears falling down her face, "I'm saving my time off for when she begins treatment. Am I an awful daughter for going with you, instead of sitting by her side?"
Sherlock shook his head, continuing to study her. "No. I don't believe so. You've done what you can."
She frowned and nodded, before pressing her face against the cold window. Sherlock watched, a sadness filling his chest, unfamiliar with the sympathetic response of his body.
Molly sniffled and took a deep breath, forcing herself to give Sherlock a small smile. "I'm made you suffer enough, haven't I? Tell me about the case."
Sherlock couldn't help but chuckle. "Are you sure?"
"Very sure."
He gave her a curt nod. "Well, we're following an arms dealer to Edinburgh. She's ruthless and clever. She has ties to a small village outside of the city. We'll stay at a bed and breakfast owned by her sister."
He took a breath and continued. "So, the first course of action—"
Molly watched on, unable to hold back a smile, content with just listening to his voice, even if she wasn't paying attention to a single word he said.
Everything will be okay.
Xxx
Once their train arrived, they rented a car, and were on the road. For reasons unclear to Molly, and since she was unwilling to ask Sherlock for the exact details of his case, they drove three hours north of Edinburgh, finally arriving at a small bed and breakfast a little after one in the morning.
She yawned and stumbled out of the car, half asleep after dozing off on the ride over. Sherlock grabbed their bags and led her inside, where he approached the front desk, and engaged in a playful banter with the old lady manning it.
Molly, on the other hand, circled the cozy living area, enjoying the heat of the roaring fire, and the wonderful photos of the Scottish coast. For some reason, her lungs finally filled with air, and for the first time in weeks, she felt like she could take a deep breath. As she studied one photo of a grassy hill, Sherlock's voice awoke her from her stupor.
"Love, our room is ready." He announced, before wandering back outside. Molly blinked, surprised by the term of endearment, but overlooked it knowing it was for the case. She quickly followed Sherlock down a paved pathway, until they ended up in front of a small cottage.
They entered, and Molly couldn't help but gasp. From the deliciously old-fashioned furniture, to the glorious roar of the giant fireplace, to the four-post bed, commanding the attention of the center of the room, the room was stunning. She held her hand to her mouth, truly enamored with the scene before her.
Sherlock, as Sherlock would, simply yawned and tossed the bags on the floor. He stretched and dropped to the sofa, grabbing a biscuit from the tray set out in front of him. He looked over at Molly, who still looked around the room, her mouth agape.
"If you have not figured it out for yourself, we will be playing the role of a married couple. Your wedding band is inside your handbag. I will be William, yourself Elizabeth. The bed is yours. I will be on the sofa."
Molly swallowed and nodded, still looking around the room like an overwhelmed child. Sherlock ate another biscuit and watched her, just as enamored with her response as she was with the room.
"Let's head to bed. I'm sure you're exhausted. Besides, we wouldn't want to miss breakfast."
Molly simply nodded and grabbed her bag, before disappearing into the bathroom. Sherlock sighed and rose to his feet, quickly changing into a set of pyjamas, as even he was a bit chilly in the Scottish breeze. Molly reappeared, dressed in a pair of cozy pyjamas, and offered Sherlock a small smile.
"Goodnight, Sherlock." She whispered, before climbing into the bed, entirely too big for only her.
He grabbed a blanket from one of the chairs and sprawled across the sofa, his eyes locked on the roaring fire.
"Goodnight, Molly." Was all he offered, before the room became silent.
And just like that, the two drifted off to sleep, both wondering how much warmer the evening would be if they were holding the other.
Xxx
She was at Baker Street.
Why was she there? And why were there photos of her along the mantle?
She emerged from the kitchen, holding a tray of tea, extremely confused. In the sitting room, Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft Holmes chatted away, offering Molly pleasant smiles during their conversation.
Molly swallowed and leaned against the wall, wondering what weird world she had entered. And then she heard it.
The crying.
The telling wail of a young child, desperate for the attention of its mother.
Was it Rosie? Was she also at Baker Street?
But for some reason, an ache in Molly's chest grew larger, and she found her body moving towards the walkway. Before she could even exit the sitting room, Sherlock Holmes appeared, clad in a lavender shirt and a white dressing gown, holding a baby boy with big blue eyes and dark curly hair.
Molly's eyes locked with the young boys' and her heart grew six sizes. Sherlock beamed at her, bouncing the child on his hip.
"I believe Ben wants to see his mother," He announced, as he held the child out towards Molly.
She gulped and took the boy, practically melting as his small frame met her arms. He nuzzled his face into her chest, and she returned the favor, practically burying her face in his baby-scented dark curls.
"He had a lovely nap. He enjoys sleeping on top of me. You should have joined us," Sherlock announced, before dropping to his chair. He gazed over at Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft, a grin spreading across his features.
"I am glad to see my nephew developing so well." Mycroft said, his gaze shifting between Molly with Ben, and Sherlock, who had begun to pluck at his violin. "In fact, I brought him a gift."
Sherlock looked over at his brother curiously, and set his violin down. He grabbed the fancily wrapped package from Mycroft's hands and opened it, practically snorting as his eyes met the tiny deerstalker.
"Does this entertain you?" Sherlock asked, clearly amused, even if he wanted to appear annoyed.
Mycroft simply nodded, before rising to his feet. He grabbed the hat out of the box, and approached Molly, who was still holding the baby close to her chest, practically inhaling his scent.
"May I?" Mycroft asked, motioning towards the hat.
Molly swallowed and nodded, her gaze focused on Mycroft as he set the hat on the young boy's head. Ben looked between his mother and his uncle, before tugging on the hat. Sherlock joined the trio, immediately grinning once he saw his son.
"Well, Mycroft, I for once appreciate your presence. My wife and I have a young detective on our hands!"
Before Molly could even open her mouth to respond, Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. As the two passionately kissed, Ben giggled and pulled at his father's shirt, a mischievous grin across his face.
"Say," Sherlock began, as he gently separated himself from Molly, "I very much hope that our next child is a girl."
"Another baby?" Molly squeaked out, shocked by his words.
"Well, yes. You are pregnant, Molly. Were you unaware?"
Molly blinked and looked down, surprised to now find herself very much pregnant. She looked back at Sherlock, who was grinning something fierce.
"This is splendid. We're going to beat John with offspring count."
Molly opened her mouth to respond, but was again pulled into a passionate kiss with her… husband.
His lips trailed up her neck, until they rested below her ear. He made a gentle bite on the skin.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Holmes."
Molly's eyes shot open, her entire body shaking as she slowly woke up. She glanced over at the clock, surprised to see that it was only five in the morning. She swallowed and wrapped another blanket around her body.
What the hell was that about?
She glanced over at the sofa, where Sherlock still appeared to be fast asleep. With a shaky breath and a plumping of her pillow, she shut her eyes, determined to return to sleep.
From across the room, Sherlock gazed at the dying fire, himself also awoken moments ago from a dream. He shifted on the sofa and shut his eyes, willing himself to fall back asleep.
Mycroft would gift my child a deerstalker. Even in my dreams he is predictable.
Xxx
As they sat in the main cabin of the lodging, settled in an intimate table at the back of the dining room, Molly still couldn't believe where she was. If someone had told her she was going to spend her Saturday in the beautiful Scottish countryside, staying in the most adorable of B&Bs around, she would have laughed.
Yet, as she spread some jam on her toast, she was delighted to realize this was real life. While she continued to eat, the waiter came around, presenting a dish of freshly cooked rashers to the table. Before Molly could even reject the offering, Sherlock's voice was audible.
"No, thank you. My wife does not eat pork. Please ensure we aren't offered any other pork products…" he looked at the young server, until his eyes landed on a badge, "Ross. And see to it that's she's brought a pastry with chocolate."
Ross nodded and scurried away, leaving Molly to sip her tea and stare at Sherlock with wide eyes. He took a bite of the eggs in front of him and gave her a curious look.
"What?"
Molly swallowed and shook her head, preoccupying herself with another bite of toast. Ross was quick to return with a fresh chocolate croissant and a plate of turkey bacon, immediately clarifying the meat content before disappearing.
Sherlock grabbed a piece and took a bite, before returning his attention to his eggs. Molly grabbed the croissant and dove in, holding in a moan as her tongue hit the chocolate. She looked back to Sherlock, who was watching her intently as she finished her breakfast.
"So…" Molly swallowed and nibbled on her lip, "William. What's on the itinerary for today?"
Sherlock sipped his tea and considered the question. "After breakfast, we'll take a walk along the area," he began, "before visiting a local castle. Then, we visit a whisky distillery for a tour, before ending back here for dinner."
Molly just nodded and pushed her plate away, deliciously full of the wonderful breakfast. "That sounds delightful. But when do we… You know?"
Sherlock gave her a look, reminding her to watch her words. "Do not worry about that, dearest Elizabeth. I'll take of it."
Molly just nodded and finished her tea, quickly entertaining herself with the gorgeous, very local artwork of the dining room.
Sherlock sighed and finished his own tea, sincerely hoping that he was doing something right.
I doubt John would support my scheming.
Oh well.
What he doesn't know certainly won't hurt him.
