Chapter 12

As the door closed behind her, Molly stood in the large hall of the manor house, hugging herself with her arms to warm up and allow the heat of the house to seep through. She had stood outside a little too long without her coat. Sherlock wrapped a long arm around her and pulled her into his warm chest, chiding her gently. "Molly Hooper, your jacket is not solely for decorative purposes." Molly smiled boldly and tugging his shirt out of his trousers, she placed a very cold hand on his lower back. He jolted exaggeratedly and trapped her hand in his.

"If you'd like me to heat you up Dr Hooper, you only have to ask," he drawled as he placed her hand on his chest and began to walk her very slowly backwards. Molly began to flush rather deliciously, he thought, as she grabbed his bicep with her other hand for balance. She started to giggle as he gently nibbled at her earlobe.

"I thought you knew everything Sherlock, therefore, why would I have to ask?"

Not an unreasonable argument, he thought, as he pressed her up against the living room door. She nuzzled into his neck but shuddered slightly and he grew slightly concerned. He looked down at her quizzically.

"Are you ok Molly?"

She looked up at him and nodded and then shivered again. He frowned and opening the door, he ushered her into the room and over to the deep armchair beside the roaring fire. He grabbed the throw from the couch and wrapped that around her too. Crouching down, he tugged her leather boots off and rubbed her feet with his hands. "Christ Molly, you're freezing. I don't understand, you were only out of the car for about five minutes?" He looked up at her anxiously as she cuddled into the throw and curled her feet underneath herself.

"I'm really fine Sherlock, don't fret. Sometimes I get really cold when I'm tired and hungry." He expelled a relieved breath.

"Hungry, right. You stay here, and I see what gastronomic delight Marie has prepared for us."

She smiled down at him, holding his eyes for a long moment. Then she reached out and ran her fingers softly along his cheekbone.

"Thank you for bringing me back here, Sherlock." He took her hand and kissed the knuckles tenderly.

"Oh Molly, I've been looking forward to this every bit as much as you have, more, if possible." She smiled at his earnest face.

"It's going to be so great, Sherlock," she said and he grinned, remembering her saying that to him before, in this very house, and he knew, just as he did then, that she wasn't just referring to their next week here in Ireland.

"It already is," he affirmed, placing a swift kiss on her lips. "You stay here and warm up and I'll bring in our supper, alright Molly?"

She nodded and curled up on the chair, sighing contently. As he got to the door he couldn't resist turning back to look at her again and he caught her gazing after him with what could only be described as an adoring expression on her face. He winked boldly at her and then smirked as the blush rose on her cheeks, loving the visible evidence of the effect he had on her. Then he murmured to her softly, "the feeling is mutual Molly," and she smiled delightedly at him. Grinning, he left the room to go to the kitchen to find dinner.

Marie, true to her word, had left a cottage pie cooling in the oven. It smelled delicious and he began to feel hungry. He was exactly what they both fancied eating. He turned on the kettle and smiled in gratification at the tray already set on the kitchen table. He chuckled to himself, determined to tell Mrs Hudson all about Aoife's housekeeper, knowing it would wind her up.

While he waited for the kettle to boil he sent a reminder text to Mycroft to perform the DNA analysis on the samples he took from Moriarty Senior in the nursing home. He wanted to confirm his identity and close the Moriarty case, hopefully forever. He'd entrusted them to his brother because he didn't want to wait, and the temporary lab that Aoife had set up in this house was long gone. Within a minute Mycroft replied.

'Already on the way to Mike Stamford at Barts. He has the Moriarty families DNA files there already. I do hope that meets with your approval?' He rolled his eyes.

'Fine Mycroft. Let me know ASAP please?'

'Will do. Am taking the week off. Contact me on mobile only, if you need me. Now go away, little brother, and enjoy your break.'

Sherlock laughed and pocketing his phone, he made the tea and then carried the loaded tray into the living room to a dozing Molly, resting it on the coffee table. He stooped down and ran the back of his hand gently along her cheek, partly because he wanted to check her temperature and also to wake her. He wanted her to eat a hot meal before she slept. Molly groaned good naturedly.

"Oh dear, I think jetlag is setting in Sherlock." He smiled sympathetically at her.

"Just get this down you Molly and we'll have an early night. You'll feel better, and you'll definitely sleep better with something in your stomach." She smiled at his fussing. It was a very pleasant surprise, to have discovered how solicitous he was with her, and she relished it. She sat upright and stalled him by catching his hand in hers. He raised his brows quizzically at her, squeezing her hand in return. She looked into his eyes; emotion flooding hers.

"Nobody has ever taken care of me the way you do Sherlock, not since my parents passed." He paused and smiled tenderly at her.

"That's because they were all idiots Molly, and they weren't me!" he quipped. He softened his voice then and said, "I'd like to take credit Molly, but it's so easy with you. I find I want to please you, to ensure your well being and happiness, whenever possible. That's my role now, for good, I hope. It's certainly what you do for me, my love." Molly's heart surged at his words and errand tears ran down her face. She wiped them with her hands before he could, and then she beamed at him.

"I bloody love you, Sherlock Holmes." He laughed as he sat on the couch, and stretching his long legs out in from of him, he replied,

"Yep, I know, now eat your dinner, woman, before I give up and drag you upstairs to bed!" Molly giggled, took up her cutlery, and tucked in. The cottage pie was delicious and Molly hadn't realised just how hungry she was. She ate with gusto and he grinned at her enthusiasm. They chatted and planned their week over their meal and Molly relayed her conversation with Aoife about the 221B refurbishment. Sherlock smirked and told her that Mycroft had taken a week off from work and he suspected Aoife would not be too concerned about Baker Street for the duration. She smiled, pleased for Aoife and wiggled her eyebrows at him. He mock shuddered, making her giggle.

"Seriously though Sherlock, I am glad, because Mary told me that they'd both been working flat out to get me home, and hadn't seen much of each other. I felt bad because they've just started out themselves too."

"Don't be silly Molly. They love you, especially Mycroft. He's been a fan of yours for years, ever since you helped me with 'the fall.' He kept watch on you, and reported back to me on how you were doing while I was gone." Molly's head shot up in surprise.

"He did? You never told me that!"

"Of course he did. I insisted." She laughed and rolled her eyes.

"Pity it wasn't a 'quid pro quo' arrangement then. I missed you and worried for you all the time." He sighed, sitting forward in his seat.

"I'm sorry Molly. We couldn't. We'd burdened you enough with knowing I was alive without the constant worry every time I moved or went 'dark'." She nodded, understanding the logic of the decision. He looked into the fire then and said quietly, "I thought you'd forget about me. Move on." She looked at him curiously and smiled gently at him.

"Then you're not as clever as you think you are, Sherlock Holmes." She chewed on her bottom lip and asked him shyly then, "did you think about me, at all, while you were gone?" He smiled ruefully as he continued to watch the flames dance in the fireplace.

"All the bloody time. In the darkest of times Molly, the thought of you, seeing you again, gave me solace. I thought of you after every successful mission too, because each one brought me closer to returning home to you." Molly swallowed a lump in her throat as he continued.

"I didn't know Molly, not until the night I left, how important you were to me. I tried to tell you then, but I had hardly figured it out for myself and so much else was going on. It was only afterwards, when I'd left, that I'd realised just how significant you are to me. That was when I decided that any revelation of my feelings would endanger you." He was quiet for a long moment, lost in thought.

Molly stood and moved behind him on the couch, wrapping her arms tightly around his chest and nuzzling into his neck. He covered her hands with his, then brought them up to press his lips against her knuckles, enjoying the comfort of her warm body pressing against him. She sighed sadly into his broad back.

"One of these days, you are going to have to tell me about those 'darkest of times', Sherlock." Lest he missed the point, she kissed the spot over his left shoulder blade, where the scarring on his back was the most pronounced. He remained contemplative for a long minute and then nodded.

"Alright Molly, but it's not related to that scarring at all. That was the result of a beating in a dungeon in Serbia, but I knew Mycroft was present in the room and would not let me get too badly hurt." He paused and pursed his lips, deciding to tell her because he knew she wouldn't let up until he did. He took a deep breath and continued.

"It was the long weeks before that deliberate capture. I was hemmed into a deep forest, in the pissing rain, in December. I was exhausted, soaking wet and sick with flu. I was unsure, for the first time, whether I would survive. I'd sat down against a tree and knew if I closed my eyes, hypothermia would set in very quickly and I'd just slip away." Molly inhaled sharply, and clutched him tighter.

"What stopped you?" she asked him, as evenly as she could, very glad that he couldn't see the distress on her face. He laughed drolly and kissed her hand again. "You did, Molly. You slapped me hard across the face and ordered me to get up and use my brain." He twisted around to face her then and tilting his head, he teased, "so you see, when you slapped me in the lab for real, I wasn't shocked, because you'd already done it in my mind palace.." Molly spluttered indignantly.

"Sherlock!" and his chest shook with laughter. She grinned but shook her head reprovingly at him.

"Oh no you don't. Stop distracting me and continue please. What happened next?" He grinned at her and rolling his eyes, he continued.

"What always seems to happen Molly Hooper. I did what you told me to do!" Molly rolled her eyes in amusement.

"Oh if only that were true. Now stop prevaricating Sherlock." He couldn't resist it. He kissed her firmly on the lips and she pulled her head back after a minute and frowned at him.

"Sherlock.." He relented and continued.

"I mean it, Molly. I did what you told me and went into my mind palace. Then I remembered the co-ordinates of a hunters cabin and made my way there. I found it and broke in. It was fully stocked with preserves and firewood, the lot. It even had dry blankets. I remained there for days until I recovered."

He hugged her to him and lay back on the couch, pulling her with him. She dropped a kiss on his chest and then snuggled in. "So you see Molly, that's what I mean when I say that you always save me."

Molly wrapped her arm around him and said nothing, both of them deep in thought. She lay quietly, listening to his heart beating rhythmically beneath her ear, and he smiled as she fell fast asleep in his arms. He watched the firelight softly illuminating her long silky hair and stroked it gently, careful not to wake her. He rested his lips on the crown of her head and inhaled the very essence of her. That special, sensual scent that was uniquely Molly. A contented smile played on his lips as the great detective drifted off to sleep.