King and Lionheart: Chapter 7
AN: SO sorry for taking so long with this update. I work in a lab, and the amount of research we've been trying to wrap up over the past two weeks has been ridiculous. But I haven't forgotten about y'all! Also, how about that Season 3 teaser that came out today?! Also, notice the change in the story description- Petra Todd requested that I change the description from "prompt" to "mini-story", and I was more than happy to comply, considering that she makes amazing photosets! The title of this chapter is from "Mine Is Yours" by Cold War Kids. Anyways, enjoy this chapter- reviews, favorites, and follows are always appreciated! Hugs and kisses! :)
Mollie woke up the next morning feeling significantly colder than she had the night before when she had fallen asleep. She immediately knew that it was because her bedmate had once again vacated the bed long before she woke up. She touched her lips as she sat up in bed, curious if they would feel any different than they had felt before she laid down in bed the previous night. It amazed her that she could have experienced such a huge milestone in her life, but felt no physical alteration. Mollie was still surprised that Sherlock had kissed her the night before. Her heart fluttered as she recalled the exact feel of his lips gently pressing against her own. Mollie's mind was also fluttering, though in a very different way- her brain seemed to play out hundreds of different scenarios for how her relationship with Sherlock would proceed. Curiosity began to nag at her, and she finally rolled out of bed, resolving to go find Sherlock and see how he would acknowledge the new developments in their relationship.
When Mollie walked out into the parlor, she found Sherlock sitting on the lounge, reading in his nightshirt. His thin, muscular calves were exposed, and Mollie couldn't help but quietly admire his shapely legs. When he murmured, "Yes, Mollie?" without ever looking up from the book he was reading, Mollie's eyes snapped up to his face.
"Well, erm, I was just wondering what we would be doing today. When we'll be off and such."
Behind that innocent sentence Mollie was also probing for acknowledgement of the previous night's events. She felt a bit uncomfortable asking outright- but it seemed that Sherlock was either oblivious or willfully stubborn.
"Well, I suspect we'll be off in the next hour or so. I've gotten the driver up here to load up everything except your yellow dress and its accompanying undergarments. You should probably go put them on so that we can head downstairs for breakfast. Does that answer your question?"
"Well, yes, I suppose so. Is there, um, anything else you'd like to say to me?"
Sherlock cocked his head to the side for a second, looking deep in thought, then came back with a quick rejoinder, "No, I don't think so. Why, did I miss something?"
A flash of hurt, anger, and sadness rushed through Mollie's body all at once. So this was how he was going to behave. "No, I think that covers it." Mollie rushed out of the parlor to the bedroom and slammed the door behind her, feeling a few hot tears slide down her face as she slammed the door.
He had never intended to let it go this far. He knew what Mollie was implying as she stood in the parlor, practically a white wisp of cotton in the morning light. However, he also knew that he had made himself vulnerable the night before- too vulnerable. And he had lost control of himself. Kissing her had been nice- he wouldn't go so far as to say pleasurable, because the kiss wasn't given with the intention of pleasure. But it was nice. Mollie had soft lips, and delicate hands that tenderly ran through his hair. However, he knew that now he needed to return to the real world. He could not promise Mollie Hooper anything that she desired or deserved. He didn't consider himself to be paternal material, and knew he wasn't the type to settle down. His friend, Sir John Watson, was undoubtedly all of those things; Sherlock was more of a man to wander the world, constantly asking questions and weaving in and out of trouble. No, despite his growing attraction to Mollie Hooper, he knew it was better to hurt her with the sting of rejection now than to break her heart later with betrayal or abandonment. What he was doing wasn't cruel, it was logical. However, as he saw a tear leak from her eye as she ran to the bedroom, it was exceptionally difficult to tell himself that he was not being cruel. He wished desperately that he had not given into his baser desires, had not exposed his innermost feelings, and had remained a distant gentleman to Mollie. This was uncomfortable now, but he could tell that Mollie was resilient- she would recover soon enough. As for himself, he would gather his wits and regain his self-control very soon. He could already tell he was more on his guard than he had been the previous night. If he waited out the storm, things would resolve themselves.
Mollie quietly emerged from the bedroom, refusing to meet Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock read a few more lines in his book, before saying, "Let's go get some breakfast so that we can get on the road and finish the journey in good time." Mollie nodded, still refusing to verbally recognize Sherlock's words. She and Sherlock walked to the dining room together, and while Rupert and Ellie noticed the visible tension between the couple, Rupert mistook it for something besides anger.
"Well, I can see that you two had a rather long night last night. Pray tell, did you sleep well?" Rupert finished this with a rather obvious wink and smirk.
Mollie blushed bright red, and quickly spooned porridge into her bowl. Sherlock, meanwhile, gave a grunt, and pointedly avoided the looks of the other three people in the room. It looked as though Rupert was going to make another suggestive comment to the embarrassed couple, when Ellie put her hand on Rupert's arm and said, "Let's eat some breakfast, dear." Rupert smiled at his wife and squeezed her hand, and took a place next to her at the breakfast table. Breakfast afterwards was mainly an exchange of small talk and pleasantries. After Sherlock and Mollie had finished their breakfast, they excused themselves from their company. Mollie thoroughly thanked the innkeeper and his wife for the delicious meals and comforting hospitality; Sherlock, not being one for casual sentiment, nodded his head curtly to Ellie and shook Rupert's hand. He stiffly held out his arm to Mollie, who hesitated for the briefest of moments before linking her arm into his. Sherlock moved towards the carriage at a quick pace, wanting to banish the memories of breakfast's detestable awkwardness from his head as quickly as possible.
Mollie and Sherlock seemed to be playing a game of who could look like they cared least as they sat in the carriage for the first hour of their journey. Sherlock took a quick glance at Mollie and noted that while her mouth was set in a firm line of stubborn determination, her eyes still betrayed a little of the hurt that he had seen earlier. As he looked upon Mollie's countenance, he felt a queer little pang in his chest, something akin to a knot being tugged tight around his heart. With dismay, he realized that the source of his own discomfort was his guilt over Mollie's clear unhappiness. However, he didn't want to break his resolve, so he chose to solve his problem instead by starting a new line of conversation with her to dissolve the tension.
"We need to discuss our plans for housekeeping and budgeting."
Mollie looked back at him in surprise; it was clear that while she was physically in the carriage, mentally she had been far away until the moment Sherlock spoke to her.
"What sort of demands would you put on me for housekeeping?"
Sherlock internally cringed at the brightness that didn't quite ring true in Mollie's voice. Normally, her enthusiasm was deeply sincere; however, as she spoke now, there was a false excitement in her voice.
"I'm sure that Mrs. Hudson has filled you in on my basic expectations. You can sweep, mop, scrub, and do whatever you like- I will not dictate your housekeeping habits so long as everything looks clean and neat. However, in my private rooms, such as my study and library, I would request that nothing be moved. Even when I am traveling, I like to carry out certain experiments. These experiments are often delicate in nature, and moving them or shifting them in any way could damage the progress being made on them."
Mollie nodded. Mrs. Hudson had already told her to expect this, so nothing Sherlock said really surprised her.
"Furthermore, I will give you a weekly budget that will be more than ample for anything that we may need. I'm going to give you a larger than usual sum this week- I'd like you to use the extra money to buy yourself a warm winter coat. Your thinness may give you an unusual brand of attractiveness, but it certainly does not give you proper insulation in the winter months. I'll require you to buy food for us to eat at market, and for you to prepare meals every night that I am hungry. In addition to all of this, I'll occasionally send you to the local apothecary or alchemist. You'll need to pick up components for my experiments there."
Mollie quietly nodded again. She wasn't quite sure what to say in response other than a simple "yes", and deep down, she wasn't ready to be on speaking terms with Sherlock again.
"Do stop nodding. It makes you look rather dumb, and stupidity is never flattering on anyone."
Mollie's eyes flashed up to Sherlock's face in shock. Had he really just said that?
The next thing Mollie did neither Sherlock nor Mollie could have predicted. She pulled open the curtain that prevented cold air from drafting in, leaned her head out the open window, and shouted, "Stop the carriage!" The carriage lurched to a halt at Mollie's command, and before Sherlock could reach out and grab her, Mollie had thrown open the door and taken off running. She heard Sherlock chasing after her and swearing, and knew she probably wouldn't get far in the heavier garments that she was wearing, but she decided to keep running nevertheless. She finally felt two large hands clamp around her waist and jerk her to a sudden stop.
"What in the devil do you think you're doing?" he hissed in her ear.
"Trying to get away from you, my Lord. You've treated me abominably all through the day today, and I've had quite enough of it."
Sherlock took a deep breath and loosened his grip on her waist slightly. After a rather pregnant pause, Sherlock responded.
"I am sorry for how I have treated you today. My…actions last night were not ones I intended to make. I was trying to prevent any further complication in our relationship by proceeding in the manner in which I have today. Forgive me for my rudeness. However, I would like to point out that we are quite far from any town, and a pretty young woman traveling alone in the solitude of the forest would be a tempting target for a common criminal of any nature."
Mollie relaxed slightly in Sherlock's grip as she considered his words. While she still found Sherlock's reasoning for his behavior quite flawed, she also acknowledged that her current course of action was inherently illogical. It was with a small amount of trepidation and a large amount of sensibility that she agreed to get back into the carriage with Sherlock. Mollie was still quite unhappy with Sherlock despite her return to the carriage, and sought to communicate as much to him non-verbally. Sherlock, meanwhile, felt deeply uncomfortable. He could tell that he had gone too far in his treatment of Mollie earlier in their discussion. While he wanted to make it up to her in some way, he also found his pride limiting him from truly rectifying the situation. Finally, after riding an hour without a word exchanged between them, he quietly murmured, "Would you like to hear about the house we will be living in?"
Mollie shifted her gaze from the window to Sherlock's face. She silently nodded, and Sherlock chose not to comment on her nod this time. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the piece of parchment that Mycroft had written to Sherlock on. Sherlock cleared his throat and began reading. He chose to skip the introductory niceties, and instead cut to the middle of the letter, where Mycroft described the accommodations.
"The cottage you will be living in in Oxford is a comfortable place, despite its modest external appearance. You shall find yourself wanting for nothing inside of it. There is a large bedroom with a bath, and a stream running outside the cottage where you can fetch water. There is a hearth on which you may cook- however, even more convenient is a novel invention known as the clay oven. My understanding is that they are quite popular in India and Italy- this device made its way to England because the cottage's previous owner traveled often. Anthea tells me that the clay oven is good for baking breads and similar items. There is a parlor where you may take company, though I find myself doubting that you would do anything of the sort. Outside of the cottage there is a small terrace with a patch of land that could be useful for gardening. If any of your experiments require fresh plants, this could be useful to you. There is a fireplace in the bedroom to ensure your warmth. I have had a friend in Oxford hide the key under a pot in the front of the cottage- he has been keeping an eye on things there since I alerted him that you would be staying there, so the cottage should be safe and ready for you to reside in."
After he was done reading, Sherlock looked up at Mollie. He could see that she looked more excited than before. He cocked his head to the side and murmured, "You are pleased."
Mollie was indeed quite pleased. As much as she wanted to remain angry at Sherlock, she could not ignore the inherent pleasure that came from the idea of running her own home. Mollie had never envisioned herself having a home of her own- she had always expected that she would marry a man who apprenticed with her father, and would live in the small loft of the shop with her husband. The idea of having a large cottage to manage and take care of was almost too much for Mollie to take in at once. She felt giddy as she realized that she could make this place her home, at least for the time being. She blushed when she realized Sherlock had been gazing at her with a gentle and curious look in his eyes.
"I am happy that this brings you joy. This house may be mine, but I want you to run it as your own home. As long as my experiments remain intact, you may do whatever you want with the house. Just let me know how much money you will need."
Mollie was struck by Sherlock's sudden generosity, and smiled brightly at him for the first time that day. "Thank you, that is a very generous offer, and I promise not to abuse your generosity."
After that conversation, they finished the journey in alternating turns of friendly conversation and companionable silence. Finally, they reached their destination in Oxford. It took all of Mollie's self-control to not throw herself out of the carriage to go explore the cottage. She could already tell that she was going to fall deeply in love with the little house. It was a stone house with a thatch roof, and ivy climbing up the walls. A small chimney poked up from the roof on either side of the house, completing the charming effect that the house had on Mollie. Mollie looked back to Sherlock, seeking his consent to go explore the house. Sherlock nodded to Mollie, gesturing for her to go inside.
Mollie found the described key under a small clay pot in front of the house. She unlocked the front door and squinted as her eyes adjusted to the darkness within the house. Mollie looked next to the door and found matches with which to light the candles. She moved quickly through the front hall, lighting candles so that she could more carefully observe her new home. She went to the windows and pulled back the heavy curtains covering them. She was amazed to find glass windows framed by the stone walls of the cottage; glass windows were usually a luxury preserved for castles and the homes of noblemen. She propped the window open in order to air out the cottage and let in more light. As she moved further back into the cottage, she found the parlor, and lit the candles within that room as well. She chose to leave the exploration of the study to Sherlock, since she wouldn't be using it. Finally, Mollie got to the room that she was most eager to see- the bedroom. Mollie looked around, and gratefully acknowledged that the bed was almost as luxurious as the bed from the inn. She was also happy to find a rather large tub, and was pleased with the convenience of finding a fireplace within the bedroom- it would be much easier to heat water for baths with a fireplace in the bedroom. Mollie chose to avoid wasting candle wax by not lighting the candles in the bedroom. She left the windows in the bedroom closed as well so that the bedroom would keep all the heat inside.
Next on Mollie's list of priorities was finding something to eat for supper that evening. She went into the pantry next to the kitchen, and was delighted to find that the pantry had already been stocked with flour, cured meats, and many other things that would prove useful for preparing meals. She decided to make her mother's flatbread recipe that her father had managed to record before her mother's death, and to serve one of the cured meats in the pantry alongside it. It was a simple meal, but Mollie was too tired to cook anything elaborate that evening. When Mollie had baked bread at home, she had always put a clay pan above a pot of hot coals, and covered the bread until it baked through. She expected the oven in the kitchen would work in much the same way. She started a fire in the fireplace, and collected hot coals off the edge after a few minutes of burning. After putting the coals in the oven, she set to work on the bread.
She became so engrossed in mixing and rolling the bread that she didn't notice Sherlock come up behind her. She jumped a little when he asked, "What exactly are you making?"
Mollie shifted slightly to face him as she continued to knead the bread in the bowl. "I'm making a flatbread that my Mum used to make for my father. I'm going to put some cured meat with it for our meal. Does that suit you?"
Sherlock nodded, and sat down in a chair at the table, silently observing Mollie making the bread. Eventually, he turned to a book that he had brought into the room with him; this made Mollie much more comfortable, as she hadn't quite adjusted to the intensity of his gaze when he looked at her. She slid the bread onto a pan and placed it in the clay oven, keeping a careful eye on it to make sure it wouldn't burn. While the bread baked, she sliced the meat on a plate and set it on the table. When the bread was done, she sliced it and put it on the table. She and Sherlock ate together in a silence shared by two people who don't quite know how to feel about one another. Mollie went to the bedroom after cleaning the dishes from supper and lit candles. She changed into her nightdress and combed her hair, electing to leave it down that night.
Mollie came back out of the bedroom; she found Sherlock still reading in the kitchen. "Sherlock, are you coming to bed?"
He looked up at her, then quietly murmured, "Not now. I'll be in the bedroom later- I won't wake you. I need some time with my thoughts."
Mollie nodded, and grabbed a pan from the pantry before wandering back to the bedroom. She filled the pan with hot coals and tucked it between the bedsheets- despite going further south, she was disappointed to find that the winter weather was still bitterly cold. She slipped into bed and found herself shivering in her thin nightgown. She buried further into the quilt to try to find some warmth. She was unsuccessful in this pursuit, and found herself drifting in and out of sleep until Sherlock came into the bedroom. She could vaguely make out his form as he came in, and was shocked when he began to undress. She could feel herself breathing a little faster when he removed his shirt, and had to remind herself that she was supposed to be sleeping, not ogling Sherlock. Forcibly slowing her breathing became more difficult when he removed his breeches, leaving him naked in the muted moonlight of the bedroom. She couldn't help but admire his well-sculpted physique as he crossed the room to get a dressing gown. She closed her eyes to maintain the illusion of sleep as he moved towards the bed after dressing. She felt his weight on the other end of the mattress, and couldn't help the involuntary shiver that moved through her limbs.
"You're cold," he murmured quietly. Mollie rolled over and nodded at him timidly. He settled himself into the covers and then wrapped an arm around Mollie, pulling her close to him. She found herself becoming much warmer in his secure embrace. However, she still felt insomnia keeping a firm grip on her mind and body. Sherlock spoke again; this time, he said, "You can't sleep. Would hearing a story help?"
Mollie wasn't sure if it would help her or not; however, she was deeply curious as to what kind of story he would tell her. So she nodded, and closed her eyes, enjoying the thrumming of his chest as he spoke in his deep baritone.
"When I first received my fortune from Mycroft, I decided I wanted to travel. I wasn't sure where to travel first, but I wanted to go somewhere far away. Mycroft arranged passage for me to a place known as Asia. I was to travel on a ship, with a fairly large crew. My first few weeks on the ship, I kept to myself in the cabin. However, about a fortnight into our journey, there was a great commotion on the ship. One of the members of the crew had been found murdered on the ship. At first I wanted nothing to do with it. However, when I realized that having a murderer on the ship would not be conducive to my own safety, I decided to apply my intellect to solving the murder. This was how I started solving crimes. I went to the dead man's body and examined it. I could tell that he had been strangled, and that there had been a great tussle in his quarters before his death. It also appeared that something had been torn from his neck. This something was obviously a necklace, judging by the imprint from where it had been ripped from his neck. Upon closer inspection, it appeared that it contained the hair of the dead man's paramour- there were a few loose hairs lying on him that were a different color from his own. As I explored the crime scene further, I could tell that in fact, his paramour was on the ship with us. His sheets had evidence of certain…activities taking place upon them the night before. The evidence showed a relationship between two men. My final clue was a letter in the dead man's pocket from a young lady. It appeared this young lady was his intended; she had sent him a lock of her own hair in the letter, and this hair was different in color from the hair in the locket. Yes, this was a crime of passion. I could already tell what had happened- this man had been with his lover in a tryst, and had confessed to an engagement to a person of the female persuasion. A jealous rage ensued, and led to murder most foul. At this point, I only needed to find the killer…."
As Sherlock continued his story, Mollie drifted off to sleep. However, while Mollie had hoped to find peace in her sleep, this was not to be had. She found herself in a nightmare in which her father was dying with her far away from him. She couldn't get to him in time, and he instead died alone, wishing that he could have seen his Mollie one last time.
Mollie's eyes flew open as her dream met its heartbreaking close. She was gasping for air, and could feel hot tears streaming down her face. She felt something warm and solid beneath her, and realized that she was laying on top of Sherlock's chest. She began to cry more profusely, and couldn't bring herself to move from her current position. As she began to sob, she felt a tentative hand reaching to stroke her shoulder. She held tighter to Sherlock as he began to stroke his fingers through her hair and pull her tighter to his chest. He didn't ask questions; he just quietly comforted her through the night until she fell into a more peaceful sleep. Sherlock held her all through the night, never letting her go, and keeping her frightening dreams at bay.
AN: So Mollie is getting a lot of the hot and cold treatment from Sherlock right now. I know that the hot/cold behaviour is absolutely painful to read about, but the slow build will be worth it, I promise! :) Until next time, lovelies!