Author's Note: Two chapters in one night! I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
Chapter 8-The Person Who Means the Most
"Well," John said as he clapped his two hands together and rocked on his heels. "I think now is a perfect time to go pick up Rosie. We can have a little time together before we go back for dinner tonight."
"Coward," Sherlock said. Rubbing his temples. Molly was mad at him and he hadn't even said anything that was rude, at least he didn't think he had. "For the record, why exactly is she mad at me?"
"Well, you implied she is a bad judge of character," John explained.
"Well, that's true, though. She thought Moriarty was straight and boyfriend material. She thought Duncan was just being nice. She almost married a man who thought it possible to commit murder with a meat dagger! It's not that she's a bad judge of character, but she is definitely gullible!"
"Perhaps, but she's not so gullible that she doesn't see right through you. Also, are you speaking as a consulting detective right now, or more like a jealous fiancé?"
"I'm not being jealous. I'm…I'm concerned."
"Why?" John asked.
"I'm concerned that Molly, sweet, trusting, loveable, Molly, might not recognize a dangerous man for what he is. I'm afraid her kind heart will get her killed," Sherlock explained.
"I'll be careful. I promise," Molly said from behind them. Neither of them heard her open the door and come out of the room.
"Well, excuse me. I must go get Rosie," John said and quickly left the room.
"I'm sorry I was rude," Sherlock started.
"You really think I am sweet and loveable?" Molly asked.
"And kind and trusting," Sherlock added. "Too trusting." Molly walked up and stood before him. He placed his hands on either side of her face. "I just want you to be safe. Someone in this town is a serial killer, and I have yet to deduce who it is. I need to know you are protected. I need to know you aren't going to open a door and let the killer walk right in."
"I'm not completely naïve," Molly said. "I did manage to survive the two years you were gone."
"I know, but with me gone no one was in danger due to my presence. No one could use the people I loved against me."
"If you are trying to scare me away forget it. I'm not going anywhere."
"Trusting but brave," Sherlock mumbled, then he leaned his head forward and kissed her deeply.
"Can you zip me up?" Molly asked. Sherlock finished tying his tie and then turned to assist Molly. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing a body hugging black A-line dress that flared out at the waist. The dress was off the shoulders with a heart shape neckline that showed Molly's cleavage. She wore her hair up with small little ringlets of curls hanging down framing her face. Around her neck was the thin gold chin with the heart shaped charm he bought her. She was also wearing three-inch patent black pumps.
"You look ravishing," Sherlock said. Molly graced him with a beautiful smile. She turned her back to him so he could pull up her zipper. Instead he ran his long fingers up her back, sending a shiver down her spine. He leaned in and placed small kisses going up her back and neck. Molly couldn't stop the small moan that escaped her mouth.
"You need to stop if we are going to go to this dinner," Molly warned.
"Damn the dinner," Sherlock mumbled, continuing to nuzzle her neck.
"What about the case?" Molly asked. Sherlock let out a long sigh. "Fine, but when we get home from dinner I expect us to continue where we are leaving off," Sherlock insisted. Finally he pulled up the zipper to her dress, placed one last kiss on her shoulder, and reached for his dinner jacket.
They stepped out into the living room. John was already sitting in the chair, dressed and ready. Rosie was in the floor on a blanket playing with her toys. She was wearing an adorable pink footie pajama.
"Ms. Poole said that Rosie can play in the nursery during dinner. Then we will bring her home with us afterwards."
"That sounds perfect," Molly said. She scooped up Rosie and nuzzled her tummy, making her laugh. John slipped his warm coat on and Molly handed Rosie back to him. Sherlock helped her put on her long wool coat and then pulled on his own Belstaff coat with his scarf. Sherlock opened the door and everyone was surprised to see that there was suddenly two inches of snow on the ground. When John had come back with Rosie earlier there had only been the occasional flurry.
"Oh darn, I need to change my shoes," Molly said.
"Leave it to me," Sherlock said. Before Molly even knew what was happening Sherlock had scooped her up into his arms. Molly squeaked and quickly circled her arms around his neck. Sherlock carried her out to the truck, opened the door and then slid her into the back seat. Molly blushed from ear to ear, yet she couldn't deny that was the sexiest thing a man had ever done for her.
John set Rosie into the car seat next to Molly. Molly quickly buckled Rosie up for the short drive to the main house. The drive only took five minutes until they were pulling up to the main entrance.
Molly was a little disappointed to see that the front of Roane Hall had been shoveled. Still, Sherlock opened the door for her and offered her his arm. She slipped hers into his and together they walked to the front door with John and Rosie behind them.
"Welcome back," a man wearing a suit said to them as he let them in. "My name is Alistar, the family is waiting for you in the library."
"Actually, Alistar," Sherlock said, "before we join the Thurgood's in the library would it be possible to see Ms. Lorna's bedroom?"
"I don't see why?" Alistar started.
"It is necessary for the case," Sherlock explained. He gestured with his hand that Alistar should lead the way.
"Very well. Follow me." Alistar led them up the grand staircase and then down the right wing of the house. The upstairs was just as ornate as the downstairs. There were actual suits of armor, large family portraits, antique furniture and items collected over centuries on display. They walked past many doors and finally came to one that Alistar stopped in front of. He pulled out a circle of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.
"Why is the door locked?" John asked.
"The constables asked that we stay out of the room and keep it secure for the time being."
The door swung open and Sherlock stepped inside the room. John stayed in the hallway with Rosie. Molly stepped inside the room behind Sherlock, careful not to touch anything. Molly watched as Sherlock took the whole of the room in. Molly looked around herself. The room was absolutely breathtaking. It was very feminine but not overly flowery like Agatha's room had been. Molly examined the vanity table. The most beautiful set of silver brushes and a hand held mirror was on it. A large bottle of Dior perfume set on top of a mirrored plate along with several pieces of jewelry.
Molly turned to see Sherlock open the wardrobe and start examining the clothes inside. Lorna had great taste, Molly saw. Sherlock stopped to look at a pin on one of Lorna's coats.
"University of Saint Andrews," Sherlock mumbled. He walked over to the bedside table. A dead bouquet of flowers sat on the nightstand. "My dearest Lorna, you have made me so happy, Love Henry." Sherlock read.
"Those must be the ones Agatha brought to the house," Molly said.
"Precisely," Sherlock replied.
Sherlock opened the drawer to the small desk that was in the room. He began to look through the assorted papers inside. "This is nothing but plans and receipts for fundraising projects that she was helping Lady Thurgood with." He spotted her calendar on top of the desk. He flipped the pages. Again it was nothing but work details. There was mention of a holiday she had planned in the next month to go with Henry to Aruba. Other than that there was nothing here to explain why the murderer had targeted her.
"Lorna did not die in this room. If the room has truly been preserved since the moment she went missing there is nothing here to suggest a struggle happened here. So for some reason Lorna left the house and met her killer."
"Where is her mobile phone?" Molly asked. "The cord to charge it is next to her night stand but the phone itself is not here."
"It wasn't with the evidence collected by the constables which implies the killer took it or disposed of it somewhere," Sherlock said. "Perhaps we can get the records. I believe I have all I need." Finally he and Molly stepped out of the room and Alistar finally led them to the library.
Inside the library Dickey, Lady Thurgood, Angelica, Ms. Poole and the children were all collected.
Cecilia and Thomas rushed over to John to see Rosie again.
"Hi Rosie," Cecelia said. "Come on. Come play Rosie. Look, see what I got."
John smiled at the little girl's enthusiasm. He set Rosie down on the floor and watched as Rosie giggled and crawled over to the pile of toys Thomas and Cecelia had brought with them into the library.
"May I get you all a drink?" Dickey asked, holding up a decanter of scotch.
"Yes, please," John said. Sherlock nodded an affirmative.
"No, thank you," Molly replied.
"Lady Thurgood," Molly said.
"Please, call me Ainsley," she replied.
"Fine," Molly replied. "The night that Lorna died, can you think of any reason why she would leave her room?"
"No. We had returned home from a girls' night out to celebrate her engagement. It had been loads of fun. We all drank way too much but we had a driver so we didn't care. I don't really let my hair down too often as they say. I'm usually much too busy for that sort of thing, but that night we did have a grand time of it. Several of our friends from University joined us. It was a rare time when we all got together. It's hard to imagine that such a joyous night ended so tragically."
"While out on your girls night did you happen to bump into anyone you knew?" Sherlock asked.
"We know most of the people in town."
"Did you bump into Duncan, or the florists grandson, Charlie?" John asked.
"Duncan was our driver than night," Ainsley replied. "As for Charlie, I do believe he was at one of the pubs we went too. We started at the local pub here in town before going to Inverness to visit a club. It was a Friday night though, practically any young person here would be at the pub."
"Did Duncan pay extra attention to Lorna?" Sherlock asked.
"No, not really. If anything he seemed rather taken with my friend Gemma. Duncan is very handsome, and an insatiable flirt, but he is a hard worker and has been with the family for as long as I can remember."
"What about Charlie?"
"Charlie didn't interact with us. I saw him at the pub and he saw us, but he didn't come over to chat," Lorna said. "Mr. Drever's oldest son, Liam, came over to talk with us, as did several other local gentlemen."
"How old is Liam?" John asked.
"I'd say he is about thirty."
"Is he strong? Strong enough to carry the weight of a dead woman out onto the moors for two kilometers?" Sherlock asked.
"I…I suppose so. He looks strong and healthy. Plus, Lorna was rather small. She didn't weigh that much," Ainsley said sadly.
Something about Ainsley's comment made Sherlock look over at Molly, his Molly, so tiny, sitting on the loveseat, the skirt of her dress fanning out around her legs.
"Dinner is served," Alistar announced, entering the room.
"Thank you, Alistar," Dickey said.
"Ms. Poole, will you please take the children to the kitchen and see to their supper," Ainsley asked.
"Of course," Ms. Poole replied.
Alistar led the way to the formal dining room. Sherlock was disappointed to see Molly was placed across the table from him and that Angelica was positioned right next to him. A trolley was rolled out carrying dinner. There was squash soup for the first course, along with baked fish in a caper sauce and roasted vegetables. It smelled delicious.
"So," Angelica said. "Of all your cases what was your favorite one?"
"I don't know. There have been so many," Sherlock replied.
"Surely one must stand out from the rest, though," Angelica persisted.
"I guess that would probably be The Hound of Baskerville. That was a rather fun case," Sherlock replied.
"Yes, loads of fun, until the moment you exposed me to fear gas and locked me in a room," John said.
"You didn't," Molly said, looking at Sherlock, her soupspoon paused midair.
Sherlock sighed. "It was a necessary experiment. I knew I had been exposed to the drug the night before. I needed to see John's reaction to confirm my own experiences, especially the power of suggestion."
"Have you caught many murderers," Angelica continued.
"Yes," Sherlock replied.
"Of all of them who was the worst?"
Sherlock had to think about that one. It would have been easy for him to say Moriarty, but then again, Culverton Smith had probably killed as many people as Moriarty had, and Smith's motivations for murder were far more deranged than Moriarty's. Then, heaven forbid, there was his own sister. Sherlock couldn't even fathom how many people she had killed.
"Honestly," Sherlock said. "All murderers are evil. Whether they kill for sport, for motive, or for pleasure. Once you decide to take a life for any reason other than defense you have blackened your soul."
"Perhaps I can go with you tomorrow while you work on your case. I would love to see you in action," Angelica said, a little too seductively.
"I don't think that would be wise," Sherlock said.
"Why?" Angelica asked.
"Because you could potentially draw the killers attention to yourself. If the killer feels threatened by your actions he could make you the next target," Sherlock said.
"I agree," Lady Thurgood said. "You will most certainly not work on this case. In fact I have made arrangements for you to travel to America tomorrow. You will be staying with Gemma in New York."
"But why?" Angelica demanded. "I'm not engaged to be married. I don't even have a boy friend. Why would the killer target me?"
"Veronica Marsh didn't have a boyfriend and the killer still targeted her," Molly said.
"Veronica Marsh had been secretly dating Father Clark for over a year," Angelica said. "Father Clark was getting ready to propose to her."
"Angelica, it is not nice to spread gossip. You have no way of knowing if that is true or not," Ainsley admonished.
"Wait, this could be important," Sherlock said. "Please, I need to know what you know, and how you came about this information."
"I also volunteer at the cathedral. Charity work is a big part of our family. Veronica was there every Sunday, cleaning, working, and listening to Father Clark as he practiced his sermons. There was also gossip in town about how she would visit Father Clark during the week to take him hot meals. Father Clark was in love with her and he adored Vicky, her daughter."
"So why didn't he just propose? Why keep it a secret?" John asked.
"Because Veronica was a divorcee. The church wouldn't grant his request for a marriage," Angelica said.
"I thought she was a widow. That's why the sister is raising her child now," Molly said.
"No, her husband ran off to America and abandoned her. No one knows where he is. He's been gone for years. But the church still recognizes the marriage even if legally Veronica was able to get a divorce due to abandonment. There was even talk of Father Clark leaving the church so he would be free to marry her."
"Mr. Holmes, my sister is spreading village gossip. This story may be true, or it could be a work of complete fantasy," Lady Thurgood explained.
"True, but I do think a discreet visit to Father Clark is in order none the less. So is there any other village gossip I should know about?" Sherlock asked Angelica.
"Only that the great Sherlock Holmes is in town to catch the serial killer. Some are saying your engagement is a fake, that you used it as a cover to come here, pretending to be looking for wedding destinations," Angelica said, a mischievous twinkle in her eye as she looked over at Molly and saw the hurt in her face.
"Angelica!" Lady Thurgood gasped.
"I can assure you," Sherlock said, "my engagement to Molly is very real. I asked her to marry me because I love her and because I want to be married to her." Sherlock looked to Molly, wanting her to believe him. She gave him a small smile, but it wasn't totally sincere. She was putting on a brave face. He hated to see the doubt in her eyes. He knew what she was thinking, She was thinking about Janine, and how he faked proposing to her to get access to Magnusson's office.
Molly turned her attention back to her meal and swallowed a bite of the fish, which she washed down with a large gulp of the white wine being served with dinner. Sherlock noticed the slight tremble in her hand as she placed her wine goblet back on the table.
The rest of the meal passed rather uneventfully. There was small talk about the weather, the excessive amount of rain this season, and of Dickey's latest business dealings. Sherlock was bored by all of it. The only thing he wanted to do was talk to Molly, reassure her and calm her fears. He was greatly annoyed that Angelica had said such an awful thing.
Molly felt relief when the meal was finally over and they were able to collect Rosie and return to their cottage. She thanked Dickey and Ainsley for the fine meal and let Sherlock put her coat on her. She was suddenly feeling exhausted, which wasn't that surprising considering she had been on the train last night an got very little sleep and they had been working the case all day today non-stop. Two large glasses of wine hadn't helped either. She needed a real night's sleep.
The cold air outside woke her up enough to get into the truck. The drive back to the cottage was so short Molly just cuddled with Rosie in the back seat instead of buckling her into the car seat.
Rosie was all bundled up against the cold and was absolutely precious in her pink and white fuzzy snowsuit. Sherlock pulled up in front of the cottage. John collected Rosie from Molly. Molly was about to get out of the back seat but Sherlock was there once more because of the snow. He effortlessly slid his arms under and around Molly and lifted her out of the back seat. He kicked the door shut with his foot. Molly stared into his face as she wrapped her arms around his neck.
"This…this isn't just for the case, is it? The engagement?" Molly sounded so timid.
"No, it's not. I swear to your, I would never do that to you. I would never deliberately hurt you like that."
"You have…in the past."
"I know, but never again," Sherlock said. "I swear it, never again." He carried her through the door and gently set her down on her feet.
"But Janine?"
Sherlock placed his hands on Molly's waist and held her tight. "You are not Janine. You are Molly, Molly Hooper, my Molly, the person who means the most. I put that ring on your finger because I love you. If you will have me I want to be your husband." Sherlock watched John carry Rosie upstairs, careful to give him and Molly a little privacy.
"Promise me you won't break my heart." Molly begged. "Please."
"I promise. Ever since Euros…since that day, when…when I had to look at a coffin that was made for you. I felt so helpless. I truly believed your flat was rigged to explode. I truly thought I was going to lose you that day. I couldn't be sure that Euros wouldn't kill you just for the emotional context even if I did get you to say the words. She had already murdered several people in front of me simply to see my reaction." Sherlock closed his eyes, remembering that day. "Your safety and happiness have become a top priority of mine. I won't lose you, Molly Hooper. I can't lose you."
Molly raised her hand and placed a finger on his lips to silence him. "I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere." Then she graced him with another smile, but this one was pure Molly, right from the heart. Sherlock leaned in to kiss her and quickly undid the bottom on her wool coat and slid it off her shoulders. He tossed it onto the couch. A moment later his own long coat was tossed on top of hers. Sherlock once more swept Molly off her feet and carried her into the bedroom.