Chapter 4—The Gilded Age of Train Travel

"Dickey will have a car pick us up in Inverness," Sherlock told his companions. It was 7:30 and they were all in the dining car. The train wasn't due to departed until 8:00. The ride to Inverness was usually only eight hours long, but due to an unusually early winter snowstorm the trip was now predicted to take ten hours because of ice on the rails. Sherlock had secured them two sleeper cars, one for John and Rosie and one for him and Molly. "Then it will be a two hour drive to Roane Hall."

"Why the train?" John asked. "Why not just fly and be there in a few hours?"

"Because of Rosie," Sherlock answered.

"What about Rosie?"

"I was afraid the air pressure would hurt Rosie's ears," Sherlock replied. "I didn't want her to be in pain. The research I found clearly stated that children her age were susceptible to ear pain during take off and landing."

John was still amazed at times by the complexity of his best friend. On one hand he could be completely self absorbed, but then he turned around and did something so thoughtful and kind as to think of Rosie and whether flying was a smart idea for her.

The waiter came and placed their meals in front of them. John raised an eyebrow at the indulgent meals. Lobster soufflé, beef tenderloin, seared scallops; the meal must be costing a fortune.

"Is Mycroft paying for this?" John asked.

"No, Dickey is. As a paying client he is responsible for all travel costs for me and my associates," Sherlock said.

"Makes sense," John said. He offered Rosie some of the cream of potato and leek soup he had ordered for her. "It's not like you though, to worry about payment for a case." Usually it fell to John to follow through with clients and make sure the bills got paid.

"Yes, well, some things are different now."

Sherlock didn't elaborate, but John got the message. Sherlock was a man who suddenly had financial obligations, like making sure the rent was paid for Rosie, and making sure there was money to marry Molly. The great Sherlock Holmes was becoming a family man.

"This is delicious," Molly said after swallowing a bite of her soufflé. "Sherlock, thank you for including me. It's been ages since I have had a holiday. I mean, I know it's for a case, but thank you all the same. It feels like we are going on an adventure. I don't normally do this sort of thing. With no family and most of my friends moved away, I've never had anyone to travel with. It was easier to just stay home and work."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you could come." He placed his hand over the one she had in her lap. "I would hate to go away for a week without my fiancé. What would the papers say? Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper have called it quits!" he teased.

"Oh, you did see that," Molly groaned. She put her fork down and placed her hand over her eyes. "I'm sorry Sherlock."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I am fairly certain you were not the one hiding in the bushes snapping photos."

Sherlock turned to John. "When we get to the estate I will need to know the exact locations of where the victims were found. I have no doubt they were murdered somewhere else before having their bodies dumped, but we will still need to visit each spot."

"Right," John said.

"I need to figure out if this is a motive killing hiding behind a serial killer smoke screen or if this is indeed the work of a real serial killer."

"Serial killer," Molly gasped. "We are going after a serial killer?"

"I'm sorry, in all the excitement I never told you what the case was," Sherlock replied.

"How many people has he killed?" Molly asked.

"Four so far," Sherlock told her. "Two tourists and two locals."

"Were they all women?" Molly asked.

"Yes," Sherlock confirmed. "He strangled them with his own hands, always with gloves on so there was no DNA or fingerprints."

"How awful," Molly said sadly. "I will ask the local coroner to let me examine the bodies. Perhaps I will find something he missed."

"Unfortunately two of the victims have already been cremated and one buried back in her home town. You will only have access to the latest victim who was murdered last week. I called ahead to make sure the body wasn't released to the family before we arrived there to examine it."

"Those poor families," Molly whispered.

"We will stop him," Sherlock said, giving her hand a small squeeze.

The rest of the meal was eaten with minimal conversation. John was taking turns eating his meal while feeding Rosie. Molly was lost in her thoughts, worrying no doubt about stopping a mad man before he claimed another life.

Sherlock should have had his mind in the game, but instead he took a moment to ponder Molly, his Molly. She wore her hair long and loose tonight, and it hung down her left shoulder. She was wearing one of her new outfits; a pair of perfectly cut black trousers, a simple ivory button down blouse that was tucked in at the waist, and a pair of black loafers. She looked timeless and lovely. Her figure was clearly visible for once without the oversized jumper and baggie pants. In fact, what Sherlock noticed next was how small Molly looked. True, she had always been petite, but now that he could really see her he realized just how tiny she really was. A surge of protectiveness coursed through him. Was it wise to bring her to Sutherland? A killer was targeting women. He didn't know the specifics yet, but he knew he would need to keep her close. He wouldn't fail her like he had Mary.

By the end of the meal Rosie started to get a little fussy. Molly volunteered to take her back to their sleeper car so John and Sherlock could finish their meal and have a brandy.

"You're wondering if you made a mistake bringing Molly with you on this case," John deduced.

"What makes you say that?" Sherlock asked.

"Just a feeling," John replied. "There was a look on your face when Molly asked if all the victims were women. Then during dinner, your face was rather…expressive."

"Really," Sherlock replied. "I don't think I have ever been accused of that before."

"True, but you have also never openly loved a woman before either."

"It is just now dawning on me that being in a public relationship with Molly puts her in danger."

"Don't do it, Sherlock," John warned.

"Do what?"

"Send her away. Break up with her. Cancel the engagement. Tell her you are no good for her. Tell her you are leaving her to keep her safe. Act like a complete ass to make her leave you. Did I forget any?"

"I could fake my own death…again." Sherlock actually smirked.

"Sherlock, if you do any of the things I just mentioned, you will destroy her. You think losing seven pounds is bad. Molly has waited patiently for you to get your act together for seven years. She survived your cruel words, she survived Moriarty, she survived Euros' evil schemes, but if you deliberately break her heart now under the delusion of protecting her, she will never allow herself to love ever again. You have spent the better part of your life alone, would you really wish that on her? I'm afraid there is no going backwards for you two at this point. You either move forward, or you have nothing at all."

"My heart, however small it may be, knows you are right, but my brain worries that I might be dragging her into danger."

"Tell that massive intellect of yours to shut up! Has it ever occurred to you that Molly likes the danger? I would be lying if I didn't admit that played a part of why I am here. True, you are my best friend now, but in the beginning, I missed the action, the danger, and the excitement. You bring that same excitement to Molly with your experiments, always turning to her for help, having her assist you with cases. Trust me, Molly may seem like a small, helpless, naïve girl, but she is stronger than you think and she is exactly where she wants to be."

"She is isn't she?" Sherlock agreed. "Back, when I had to fake my own death to keep you, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson safe from Moriarty, I went to Molly for help. I was not handling the realization of what I would need to do very well. I dare say I was rather upset by the notion. Molly…she was so calm. She was worried obviously, yet she helped me to take control of the situation and do what needed to be done."

"It's like I've been trying to tell you. Sentiment, love, friends, they aren't a weakness. It makes us stronger. It makes us better. All of it, it makes us become the men we want to be."

John and Sherlock finally retired to their rooms. Molly handed Rosie back to John. The train's rocking motion had lulled her to sleep and even moving her to John's room did not wake her.

"Did you want to pull down the top bunk?" Molly asked once they were alone.

"No," Sherlock said. "We will be arriving at roughly six am. There doesn't seem to be a point. Besides, I can't hold you if I am sleeping in the top bunk."

Sherlock sat down on the long bench and motioned for Molly to join him. He stuffed two pillows into the corner of the wall and the bench and leaned back. Molly sat next to him and rested her head on his chest, extending her legs along the length of the bench. Sherlock wrapped both arms around her and held her close.

"Tell me about the people who hired you for this case." Molly said.

"Ah, that would be Dickey Thurgood. He and I went to boarding school when we were younger."

"Oh, so he is a friend?"

"Not quite. We hated each other. I am an odd man; I know this, so I don't think it would be too much of a stretch for you to use your imagination to realize I was also a rather odd child. I never tried to make friends, or fit in. I was perfectly content to be alone, left to my own devices. Naturally the other boys were ruthless in their treatment of me. Donovan is hardly the first person in this world to call me a freak. At least while Mycroft attended the school the boys never physically hurt me because they were afraid of him, but once Mycroft left that was when the beatings began."

"How awful," Molly said, her heart braking for a little boy alone and helpless.

"You know what they say, 'What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger.'"

"No," Sherlock could feel Molly's head shaking back and forth as it rested on his chest. "Their actions didn't make you stronger. Their actions only served to further your retreat into yourself. What they did was wrong, and you did not deserve it."

"It doesn't matter anymore," Sherlock said. "My life up to this point may not have been an easy one, but this moment, right now, I wouldn't change a thing." Sherlock picked up Molly's hand, the one with the large engagement ring on it. He lifted her hand up to his lips and kissed it.

"I never would have thought you to be a romantic," Molly said.

Sherlock chuckled, "That makes two of us."

Sherlock had arranged for all of them to get a five am wake-up call so they would have time to go to the dining car and have breakfast. Sherlock and John went down with Rosie to grab a table while Molly freshened up and changed clothes.

Molly opened her new suitcase and still smiled at the sight of all the beautiful clothes Sherlock had purchased for her. She quickly ran a brush through her hair. She pulled the front of her hair up and secured it with a clip and let the rest fall down her back.

She changed her thin blouse for a thick cable knit turtleneck sweater. The temperature had definitely dropped since they were so far north. She looked out the window to see snow falling and the ground frozen over. She changed her loafers for a pair of knee high riding boots and tucked her pant legs inside them. She finished off with a swipe of pink lipstick and a little mascara. She only had a small mirror in her train case to use but Molly had to admit she liked the way she looked. She felt more feminine, and definitely classier. Sherlock's observations of her last night had not gone unnoticed!

Finally Molly headed down toward the dining car. She spotted the boys and Rosie right away.

"I hope you don't mind, I ordered for you," Sherlock said.

"Not at all," Molly said, picking up her coffee. She tore off a piece of the croissant that was waiting for her. She looked at Sherlock and saw he only had a coffee. John and Rosie were both eating breakfast. "Where is yours?" she asked.

"I never eat on a case," Sherlock replied.

"Hogwash," Molly said. She waved her arm to get the attention of one of the servers.

"Yes, miss?" the waiter asked.

"Hello, we will need another croissant, a pat of butter, and a bit of jam," Molly said.

"Right away," the server replied.

"Molly, what are you doing, I told you I,"

"You are going to have some breakfast," Molly insisted. "If you don't eat, then neither will I!"

"That's just silly," Sherlock protested. "You need to put on a few pounds. Not eating isn't good for you."

"Not eating isn't good for you either!" Molly snapped.

The waiter appeared with a plate containing the items Molly requested.

"Thank you," Molly told him and passed the plate to Sherlock. Molly then proceeded to stare at Sherlock waiting for him to take a bite, and refusing to touch her own breakfast until he did."

John sat there thoroughly amused by the whole situation. John had tried to get Sherlock to eat during a case for years and had finally given up. Something told him Molly was anything but a quitter.

"This is ridiculous," Sherlock protested.

Molly didn't even reply, she simply pushed her plate, untouched, to the center of the table and stood up to return to their sleeper car.

"Fine," Sherlock relented a little too loudly, startling several travelers who were sitting near by. He made a point of smearing butter and jam on the croissant and then taking an insanely large bite. Molly gave him a victorious smile, sat down and proceeded to nibble on her own croissant without saying a word.

John couldn't wipe the smirk off his face fast enough and had to turn to look at Rosie when Sherlock looked over and glared at him. "Well, if you two will excuse me I am going to take Rosie back to the room and change her nappy before we pull up to the station." Molly and Sherlock could hear him chuckling as he walked away carrying Rosie on his hip.

"Molly, while I appreciate that you are trying to look out for me, I must inform you that I already have a mother. I have a way of doing things, a process that I have spent years perfecting."

"Sherlock, we are going to be in Scotland for a week. You are telling me that you are going to spend an entire week not eating. I went to medical school. Admittedly I work on dead people but I know a great deal about the human body and the damage that undue stress puts on it. In the past you have been so self-absorbed in the work that you didn't care if your body went to hell because you had no one that depended on you, no one who cared about what happened to you. That's not the case anymore. I understand that your work is dangerous and I agree to those conditions because I love you, but, I do not agree to sit here and give you my heart only to watch you fade away or have a heart attack because you refuse to eat or sleep. Please don't make me a widow before we even have the chance to be married. Don't make Rosie grow up not remembering how much her Uncle Sherlock loved her."

"Molly, it isn't going to be easy for me to change."

"I'm not asking you to make drastic changes. I love you the way you are, but I am asking that you have a morsel of food every now and then, and maybe you could join me in bed for just a few hours while you are working a case." She deliberately lifted her eyebrows for effect when she said that.

"Molly Hooper, are you trying to seduce me?" Sherlock asked.

"Only for about seven years now," she laughed. To her delight he tore off another piece of his pastry and swallowed it down with a gulp of his coffee.

Please let me know what you think of the story so far? I do hope you are enjoying it.