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Chapter seven
Andover
"So.." John sat in his chair watching Sherlock tapping away on his lap top, still nothing from the broadcaster other than a continuing stream of emails now featuring their security details in the picture alongside them and a string of taunts about how necessary varying your schedule and routes had become these days.
Sherlock sighed, and turned from his lap top, less than pleased about the intrusion, it didn't take a genius to know where John's thoughts lay. "Just say it John," he snapped irritably.
"Well, you kissed Molly, so the whole," John's voice switched to a smug self satisfied time in imitation of Sherlock, "No John I'm not pursuing Molly." His expression was challenging, "Well, that wasn't quite true was it?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes dismissively, "It was a friendly gesture John, don't make something out of it that it's not."
"Oh, you kissed her as a friend, sorry my mistake. Right, show me then."
"Show you?" Sherlock asked uncertainly.
"Yeah, show me the kiss, plant one on me, right here," he continued tapping his lip with one fore finger.
"I'm not going to kiss you, John." Sherlock said backing away, horrified.
John crumpled his brow in exaggerated confusion, head pulled back into his neck, "We're friends aren't we?"
"Of course we're friends but that doesn't mean…" Sherlock glared at John nodding in understanding, "Yes, well done John, very clever indeed."
"So maybe not quite so innocent after all?" John was clearly having fun with this. "Just one problem mate, Mary may well kill you."
"No, no! I told you this would go wrong and at that time I would be blaming you and Mary. So no."
"Hmmm, I thought he might pull that card, but he hasn't won quite yet, I've still got a few tricks, bring me my phone, will you love?"
"Mary, we did kind of force him to go on the date." John worried, "Maybe we should leave it?"
"No John I'm not calling Sherlock, no he's made a fair point after all."
"Oh, okay, good," the relief in John's voice at the idea of letting the matter drop palpable. Moments later confusion once again took the reins, "Mary? Who are you calling?"
"I'm going to call Clare, her brother Joe is single and handsome, if Sherlock just wants to be friends he won't mind a little competition will he?" Mary winked and barked a single mirthless laugh.
"How handsome is he Mary?"
"Very." Mary said grinning.
John's eyes glinted, his top lip twitched, "Good. Get him Mary."
"I intend to love...I intend to," she nodded with a smile which would have turned Sherlock's stomach had he been there to witness to it.
Molly was spreading marmalade on a slice of over cooked toast when her phone signalled a text, she sighed and picked it up, stomach clenching in foolish hope it would be Sherlock, even as she knew it wasn't.
Engagement party Friday night, Baker Street, 7.30. Wear the DKNY jeans,with the black lace camisole and green shimmery MaxMara blouse and the sparkly sandals. DON'T ARGUE, and wipe that look off your face.
Molly groaned, Why can't he just let it go? Whatever the hell made him kiss me, - was it even a bloody kiss? – is clearly gone, and he's stopped coming over, just like I knew he would if he and Mary forced it. Okay, I'm just going to go and pretend it didn't happen, I will wear the outfit, but just for confidence, I don't want to lose him altogether.
She pushed her plate away and let her head fall to the table, banging it a few times in frustration, causing the plate to jump, why can't things just go back to how they were?
"Molly?" Molly's female security agent today, Jerry was currently online looking up holiday destinations for her and her accountant fiancée's get away coming up..
"I'm fine Jerry, sorry." Just sexually frustrated, bored, lonely, home sick for time on my own, worried about Toby.. Molly smiled wryly and gathered up her toast which she suddenly had no appetite for.
Until the broadcaster made some sort of move other than sending strings of emails with surveillance footage coupled with taunts she was trapped in this waiting room of an existence.
The party was in full swing, the happy sounds of music, talking and laughter spilling out into the street and down the stairs of 221B. It was the very definition of a successful party for - wonder of all wonders - even Mycroft appeared to be enjoying himself.
The Holmes' parents were sitting side by side, both looked as though they had eaten rainbows for lunch, their smiles wider than their faces.
Familiar faces were scattered here and there with champagne and nibbles in various hands, all with expressions of joy in it's many forms.
Sherlock stood apart with a sour look on his face observing everybody with considerably less than good will. He tried to convince himself that his attitude was anger in response to the sheer frivolity of having a celebration with the broadcaster still looming, but that was only the partial truth of it.
The bulk of his ill temper lay with the couple deep in conversation across the room. Molly stood talking to Mary's 'friend' who just happened to come along to the impromptu engagement party that Stevie had organised. She smiled up at him while tugging on her sleeves and rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, she looked delectable Sherlock thought she looked delectable, which was problematic given that clearly the idiot Mary had bought here specifically to meet her thought so too.
His eyes were dilated, his breathing quicker than his weight and fitness level could account for, not to mention the disturbing fact that he had touched her arm three times by his count in the last five minutes alone. He laughed at every other thing Molly said to him and Sherlock knew damn well humour was not Molly's strong suit, so attraction was either making him nervous or he was laughing to please her in the hopes of being pleased in return later.
Sherlock cast his eyes around the room looking for the party responsible for this travesty, spotting Mary nursing a plate of hors d'oeuvres he stalked over to tower over her glaring, "Mary, may I talk to you please?" Sherlock spat through a teeth clenched smile.
Mary looked up at him, laughter in her voice as she responded, "Why whatever's the matter Mr. Holmes? Something bothering you?"
"Mary," he hissed under his breath.
Mary made a show of getting out of her seat, forcing him to offer his hand to her, she winked at him, "Thank you Sherlock."
Sherlock strode down the hall taking all of three steps to reach his bedroom, he stood waiting for Mary impatiently. She moved rather slowly, between her shorter legs and pregnancy waddle, when she crossed the threshold of his bedroom Sherlock pushed the door shut and whirled around to face Mary firing words at her, "What sort of a game are you playing Mary?"
"Game, Sherlock? I wasn't aware of any games going on, just a night of drinkies in which sadly I cannot partake – actually neither can one half of the couple of honour now that I think about it – so maybe you're referring to a drinking game? Hmm.." Mary's face was a parody of deep thought.
"Don't be smug, Mary," he admonished her.
"Oh, sorry! I'm stealing your bit." Mary maintained an innocent and bewildered expression, difficult as it was while fighting the desire to laugh out loud.
"Who. Is. That. Man?" His face marble in the moonlight.
Mary was rather surprised he could force the words out from between such tightly clenched teeth, she wondered idly how close he was to cracking a tooth.
Refusing to feel intimidated she lifted her chin allowing the hint of a smile to grace her features, "He's a nice man Sherlock, Molly could do worse, she has done worse, as you well know." She did not so much as twitch while he stood staring into her.
"Why did you trick me into taking her out if you were going to auction her off to the highest bidder anyway?"
His gaze remained steel but Mary could see the pain underneath, He's afraid, he's afraid she'll pick Joe. Taking pity on him she admitted in a soft voice, "She didn't know I invited him Sherlock."
He ran his hands through his hair and whirled around, "Why is she talking to him then? She isn't talking to me." His voice was strained, a gossamer wisp of sound.
Sighing she told him, "She's talking to him because he talked to her Sherlock." Mary willed him to understand.
Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed, "I never wanted…I never wanted to have these feelings, I don't…know..I don't understand." He stood like a little boy, fists clenched, brow furrowed.
"Just tell her that, although leave out the never wanted to part."
"Tell her what Mary? That I can't sleep because her face flashes before me whenever I close my eyes, that when I'm next to her I have to stop myself from pulling her into my lap? I've never even had a relationship Mary, she deserves better."
"Does John deserve better than me Sherlock? One of those women who got lost in your slip stream?"
"What? No! He needs you, the way you are, he likes this world, best friend and wife, he has a type, you're perfect for him."
"Would you say that Tom," Sherlock frowned a question at her, Mary sighed and rolled her eyes, "Meat Dagger, Sherlock," he nodded in understanding, "was the type of man you mean?"
"He was an idiot Mary."
"Intelligence aside, he was the nice, normal, staid type of family man you believe Molly deserves, right?"
Sherlock looked up, eyes wide, mouth a perfect circle, "Molly is like John!" He declared, he grasped Mary by her arms and kissed her on the forehead muttering, "Genius Mary, pure genius." He swept out of the room leaving Mary in his wake smug with a look of pure satisfaction.
Sherlock scanned the room and realised with a sinking heart that Mycroft was clearly about to about to give some sort of a speech and knowing Mycroft it would be exceedingly long winded, he sought out Molly's whereabouts, she was chatting with Joe whose eyes were darting glances towards her far too often to be anything innocent. Time to lay claim to what is mine.
Sherlock caught Molly's eye and gave her a slow suggestive smirk, she coloured and he winked at her. Without taking his eyes off her he made his way across the room and sat down next to her on the opposite side than his competition.
Molly looked at him out of the corner of her eye without moving her head, eyes ricocheting away when they met his. He could feel her hand on the couch next to him fidgeting nervously.
Sherlock had still not taken his eyes from her for even a moment, he reached over and curled his fingers around her wrist, her pulse was jumping under his finger tips, she stiffened but refused to look at him.
He turned her hand over so the palm lay facing up and traced patterns on it causing her breath to hitch, Joe glanced at her and she cleared her throat. He threaded his hand through hers and held her hand with their fingers linked together, dragging his thumb back and forth, Molly's answering swallow was so loud he heard rather than saw it. Leaning in close to whisper in her ear, his breath was hot and wet causing Molly to shiver, right as his lips pressed together to form her name Mycroft called to him.
Every single guest present swivelled their eyes towards him in unison, Sherlock slid away smoothly and without reaction, almost no one wondered whether or not he had in fact been millimetres from a blushing Molly.
The exceptions to this ignorance were as to be expected; Mary, Mycroft, Stevie, and Sherlock's mother all wearing identical expressions of relief and disappointment. Relief that he'd finally been about to admit to having feelings for the only woman who was likely to put up with him and disappointment that the moment had been interrupted.
Sherlock stood and crossed the room to stand next to Mycroft, surprisingly his question was simple and to the point, "Sherlock, I would be honoured if you would stand as my best man. Sherlock nodded and for the first and possibly last time ever managed to keep any caustic comments to himself. Their parents looked on with joyous – albeit slightly disbelieving – faces.
Mycroft held his hand out to Anthea and said "I'd like to introduce my fiancée, Amy," the name Anthea could be heard muttered in the crowd, it was silenced with a bleak look from Mycroft, "Amy and I are expecting."
Violet Holmes made a strangled sound halfway between a scream and a laugh and clapped her hand over her mouth, she all but launched at Amy to embrace her and welcome her to the family. Siger was fast on her heels, spherical droplets shining along the rims of his eyes like jewels affixed to his eyelashes. Amy whispered in his ear that she would love him to walk her down the aisle and the tears began to make their descent one by one, flowing freely as he embraced her and kissed her cheek, thanking her for such a great and unforeseen honour, and saying again and again "A daughter, I have a daughter."
The room hushed into a happy silence until a teary gasp broke the delicate balance, causing the room to erupt into a cacophony, talking and laughing, hugs and congratulations filling the air.
Stevie graciously agreed to plan the wedding with Amy and Violet, promising not to over tax Amy while they looked at venues and tasted cakes and all manner of things a wedding required.
Sherlock was caught up in the madness but didn't miss Joe asking for – and getting – Molly's number. He fixed his – now fake – smile in place only dropping the pretence long enough to offer a glare to Mary.
Mary looked down, guilt pooling in her stomach, she was surprised Molly agree to a date with Joe minutes after flirting with Sherlock. As soon as Molly was away from Joe Mary went and sat next to her to whisper, "So, you and Joe huh? Bit of a turn up!"
"Really Mary? He knows no one here and there aren't any other single ladies here tonight unless of course you had Mrs Hudson in mind?" Molly grinned at Mary, who had the good grace to look embarrassed.
"Molly, maybe it's none of my business but you seemed to have some sort of moment with Sherlock right before you gave your number to Joe. "Mary looked at Molly with a worried motherly expression which took the sting out of the accusation.
"Mary, your eyes have deceived you, I didn't give him my number at all," Mary frowned and tilted her head, "I gave him Meena's number, he's exactly her type and she's single and lovely and not currently being confused by a man she's been in love with for years with no hope of reprieve." Molly attempted to be cheerful during the admission but did a poor job of covering how she really felt about the ever confusing detective.
"Molly, look at Sherlock, look at how he feels right now thinking that you gave your number to another man, he's not confused any more. Stay when everyone leaves and talk to him." Mary was worried that Molly would give up soon.
Molly worried her lip weighing her options, an internal battle raged in her mind for the next couple of hours as everybody celebrated.
Every time she snuck a glance at Sherlock she would see his eyes sliding away, his head never once turned her way but his eyes found her again and again. She wanted to stay but the terror of rejection was crippling.
After what felt like ten hours to both Molly and Sherlock, - Molly because she knew she must face him when everyone left and Sherlock because every time she talked to Joe bile rose up in his throat and he had to resist the urge to simply walk up to her and grasp her hand and lead her away to his bedroom - the celebration finally wound down.
John and Mary were the last to go, John darting anxious glances between Sherlock and Molly as they left, Mary hugged Sherlock whispering "Tell her how you feel," as she did so.
Finally it was just the two of them, Molly sat on the settee looking about as comfortable as a mouse in snake's nest. Sherlock pulled on a cheery face asking, "Molly? Aren't the agents waiting for you?"
"I asked them to give me a minute, I'm safe in here - with you." Her eyes were wide and her breathing erratic.
"I really don't need help to clean up Molly, Mrs Hudson will help me in the morning, she's gone to have her herbal soothers right now.." He made a show of picking up a few paper plates and stacking them awkwardly.
Molly wondered if he'd ever really had to clean anything, he had a knack for surrounding himself with people willing to do the mundane tasks for him.
Sherlock stood suddenly and dropped the plates he was holding, they simply slid right out his hands, when they hit the floor they split apart and a mess of food spilled out in all directions. Sherlock stood looking into the distance at nothing, eyes flicking back and forth mumbling to himself about stupidity from what Molly could hear.
"Sherlock? Are you okay?"
"I have to go! Andover!" He grabbed his Belstaff and wound his scarf on as he yanked the door open.
"What's in Andover?" Molly asked, "Should I come? Sherlock?" Her eyes and mouth bracketed with lines radiating and telegraphing her confusion and fear.
"Military base!" He boomed as he pounded down the stairs.
"Okay then," Molly whispered to herself, she gathered her coat, scarf and bag and headed down the stairs herself to meet her detail.