Sherlock waited while Door left with the Marquis. He examined the quiet courtyard. He wondered how she had created such a sophisticated illusion of nighttime, but was forced to admit that it was too good to be an illusion. Begrudgingly, he was accepting that in whatever this place was, once the impossible had been eliminated, what remained was quite improbable and also the truth. He hated being right sometimes. He stepped deeper into the garden, following a stone path. Molly was exploring more of the courtyard. She had wandered away from the bench and found a small stone fountain. Goldfish were swimming in the round pool. She sat on the stones that circled the water and trailed her fingers in the water. When she looked up, Sherlock was standing next to her.
"Go away" she sighed.
"Molly, please, I must speak with you" he asked.
She stared at him, unflinching. She wiped her hands and stood up, never breaking eye contact. "You and I have nothing to discuss" she said quietly. She started to walk past him, but he was too quick, and blocked her path. She reached up to slap him once more, but this time he was prepared, and grabbed her hand before she could make contact.
Molly burst into tears once more. Never before had she cried so much as the past two days. It was getting very annoying; she swore she would stop crying over Sherlock. She pulled herself together and began shouting. "Why won't you leave me alone? Stop tormenting me! I'm tired of being used, just leave me be" she yelled.
"Wait, Molly, I'm sorry. I have behaved cruelly and I apologize for the things I said. I told you that you do count, and I meant it. You saved my life, even when I begged you not to. You've always helped me no matter how awful I was" he said. Sherlock paused and swallowed. He looked at her, and then reached out and held her hands. Molly gasped and closed her eyes.
"I don't understand much of what has happened since I left your lab to go to the roof of St. Bart's. I hate feeling this uncertainty, it frightens me and I have no idea how to deal with fear or any other emotion. I taught myself not to respond to emotions and that I was better off without friends of any kind. Now I am forced to reevaluate these beliefs, and I need your help. Please Molly, you've always seen something in me that I didn't believe to be there. I'm sorry Molly, for everything. Please don't leave me now" he whispered.
Tears dripped and slid across Molly's face. Sherlock reached out his hand, unsure. He brushed the tears away and laid his palm against her cheek. She reached up her hand and held his hand. She sighed, and then opened her eyes to look at him. He took a small step nearer to her, and then cautiously wrapped his other arm around her. She allowed him to pull her closer. They stood together in an awkward embrace for a moment, before she pulled away, sniffling and wiping her eyes on her sleeves. She hugged herself and shivered. "Okay, Sherlock, it's alright" she murmured.
Sherlock breathed out and then smiled. "Thank you Molly" he said. Unsure what to do next; he fiddled with the buttons on his shirt cuff. Molly was still half turned away from him, thinking. The fountain burbled softly behind them.
Molly turned, stood up taller, and looked deep into his eyes. She tried to make her face look as stern as possible. "But things are going to change. I mean it. I will help you as best I can, but we have to work together, be partners. No more fake flattery or vicious deductions. I understand you prefer to be left alone, just ask me to go somewhere else instead of shouting mean things at me. I may not be a genius, but I'm not an idiot and I don't want to be called one" she said resolutely.
Sherlock nodded. "I will do my best, Molly. It will be difficult for me to overcome a lifetime of bad habits. Be patient with me," he paused. "Please" he finished. Once more, honest vulnerability shone from his features. Molly knew it was hopeless.
She smiled "I've always been patient with you, or haven't you noticed? Let's go back inside, I'm getting cold."
They walked back toward the French doors side by side. Molly opened the doors and led the way back into the dining room. The Marquis was seated at the table, feet propped up once again on the table top. Door was kneeling on top of the table, brandishing a knife. A massive chocolate cake had been served and Door was just cutting a large slice. Sherlock had rather hoped she was about to skewer the Marquis, even though he knew it was unlikely. As they walked in, the Marquis glanced up at the returning pair and was deeply annoyed by what he saw. Molly and Sherlock were walking side by side, clearly they had reconciled. The Marquis nearly groaned out loud. If pressed, he would have to admit he had no actual reason for disliking Sherlock so much. There was just something deeply irritating about the man. The Marquis stood and stomped out of the room rather than have to suffer through further indignities. Door waved Molly and Sherlock over and began to cut more slices of cake.
"Ignore him, he's being a pain. Here, try some of this cake, it's delicious, it's my sister's favorite" said Door.
Molly enthusiastically dug into the slice of cake she was offered. Sherlock waved a piece away. Door shrugged, and then began to devour her slice. While she was inhaling the cake, Sherlock leaned forward. "If you wouldn't mind, Door, I'd like to hear more about your family," he said.
Molly frowned at him, but Door spoke up. "Um okay, but why do you ask?" she said.
"I am a detective, I solve crimes. You said your family was killed. Perhaps I can offer some assistance in solving what happened and why. Especially since you believe your sister to still be alive." Sherlock explained
Door stared at him, mouth open, cake forgotten. Molly sighed and reached out to pat her host's hand. "He does this all the time, actually, usually it's much, much worse. I was starting to worry, Sherlock. You must be feeling more comfortable if you're sharing your deductions again." Molly said.
"Indeed Molly, if this London Below is to be our new home, better that I resume plying my trade sooner rather than later. Besides, I would like to repay Door's generosity by helping her" said Sherlock.
Door looked at her hands, silent for a moment. "I came home and found my parents and my brother, Arch, they were all slaughtered. I couldn't find my sister, Ingress, she's only six. The killers, they were still around, I ran. I sort of assumed they killed her too, but then, at the end of it all, Islington, he was the one behind it all, he said she was still alive. I had just opened a door to some other dimension or something, and he was being sucked inside, so it might have been just a ploy to get me to, you know, stop ending his existence"
"Then what happened?" asked Sherlock.
"I didn't really feel like considering his request. I probably couldn't have stopped it at that point if I wanted to anyway. He got sucked away, along with the evil pair that killed de Carabas. I was in bad shape for a while, but as soon as I got better, I tried to figure out what happened to my sister, but I haven't really had much luck," finished Door. As soon as she stopped speaking, fat teardrops began to roll down her face.
"I'm sorry," she said, "It's just, um, I really miss them and I haven't really gotten a lot of chances to just be sad about it." Door hugged her legs, oblivious to the fact that she was smearing chocolate across the layers of her unusual ensemble.
Molly yawned, unable to stop herself. "Oh god, I'm sorry Door, I'm just really worn out. I'm sorry to hear about your family. But, the good news is if anyone can find out what happened to Ingress, Sherlock can, he's really brilliant" she said. She suddenly realized she was gushing, and stopped, embarrassed.
Sherlock looked pleased by Molly's vote of confidence. With a case to investigate, he felt a bit more self-assured. Besides, if London Below was as full of weirdness and evil as everyone seemed to insist, there would surely be many more cases. This thought made Sherlock actually smile. He was busy thinking about the sorts of hideous crimes that would be generated in this bizarre underworld when he noticed Molly and Door were staring at him.
"Hm? What?"
"We were just saying that we think it's time to get some sleep and get back to crime solving after we're all refreshed," explained Molly.
"I don't intend to sleep, it's a waste of time," complained Sherlock.
"That's your problem, I'm exhausted. C'mon Molly, Sherlock you might as well come too, unless you plan to sit here with the cake all night" said Door. With that, she jumped down from the table and grabbed their hands firmly. She swiftly took them all back to the guest suite and bade her two newest houseguests good-night.
Now that she was standing in the guest suite, alone with Sherlock, Molly was suddenly overcome by her typical shyness. Before she could get too flustered, she marched away from him, toward the bedroom. She tried to close the door, but was stopped by Sherlock who had followed right behind her. Molly had been about to pull the dress over her head and shrieked when she realized how close Sherlock was behind her.
"Sherlock! What are you doing! I'm trying to get changed and go to bed!" squealed Molly.
But Sherlock didn't respond, just kept walking across the room, examining its every feature. He continued on into the bathroom and was closely studying it when Molly tried again.
"Sherlock! I want to go to sleep!"
"Hmm? Boring. Please, don't allow me to stop you" he said with a wave of his hand.
"Well, will you please go away so I can change?" begged Molly
"Oh. Fine. Is this room the same size as the other bedroom?"
"What? I guess so, I didn't exactly measure them."
"Very well. Good night Molly Hooper."
"Good night."
Sherlock finally left, and Molly locked the door after him. It wouldn't stop him, but if he tried to come back in, at least she would have some warning. She quickly took off the red dress and changed into a nightgown she had found in the wardrobe earlier. She buried herself under the thick blankets and was nearly asleep when she heard the doorknob shaking. For a brief moment, she was confused and afraid, but then,
"Molly? Why did you lock this door Molly? I need you Molly," whined a familiar voice.
Molly groaned and slid out of her warm nest of blankets. She walked over to the door, where she could hear Sherlock trying to pick the lock. She threw the door open, exposing a shirtless Sherlock, armed with several random metal objects.
"Why are you trying to break into my room?" she mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was too groggy to properly enjoy the sight of a shirtless Sherlock.
"Why did you lock the door?"
Molly yawned. "Because, based on your morgue visiting habits, I suspected you wouldn't leave me to sleep in peace."
"Sleeping is dull, Molly. Besides, I need your help" begged Sherlock. He was bouncing on his toes, filled with extra energy.
"What?"
Sherlock pushed his way past Molly and began rifling through the bags Molly had packed. Then he dumped them out entirely, and sifted the items apart with his toes.
"You've only brought your clothes. Where are my clothes? You've failed to bring my violin or phone, Molly." Sherlock continued sorting through the pile, pausing to contemplate a pair of Molly's knickers. Molly tried to grab them, but he tossed them aside to study something else.
"Sherlock, you can't be serious. Remember I only packed things from my flat, I wasn't exactly able to pop over to Baker Street and grab your things, let alone your violin" sighed Molly.
"Well that was rather neglectful. But my phone Molly, where is it?" complained Sherlock.
She had been dreading this part. Molly had learned years ago, as part of a lesson from the Marquis, that electronic devices didn't work in London Below. Regardless of the fact that he had no one to call or text, she knew Sherlock would want his phone. She had never seen him without it. Actually, she didn't even know what had happened to it. She knew Sherlock took it when he left for the rooftop, but hadn't seen it, or even thought about it since then.
"Um, I don't know, what did you do with it?" she tried.
"Honestly, Molly if I knew that, why would I be asking you?" Sherlock sniped.
"I don't know. Listen, I know this will be a bit of a shock, but I'm pretty sure electronic devices don't work down here."
Silence. Sherlock was stunned. He recovered quickly though.
"Hmph. Still no excuse for the violin though," he sulked.
"Sherlock, is there something you actually needed? Because I was nearly asleep" she pleaded.
"Yes! Clothing, my phone and my violin! Also, there is nothing on the other side of the windows in these rooms. Just blackness. Do you think Door would mind terribly if I broke a window to investigate what is on the other side?"
Molly groaned. No wonder John Watson always looked exhausted.
"No, absolutely do not break any windows, it's usually a bad idea to break things when visiting, people tend to dislike that. Just wait till morning and ask Door what's on the other side of the windows then, okay?"
"Hmm, fine. I'll have you know Molly that I am really trying, because in the past I would have just broken the windows without asking. Lest you forget, I am still bereft of clothing, my violin and my phone though" continued Sherlock.
Molly took him by the hand and dragged him into the other bedroom. She pointed at the wardrobe and said, "Check in there, Door said there are extra clothes inside. We'll figure out something about the violin tomorrow, and I'm sorry but I think your texting days may be over."
Sherlock had already thrown open the wardrobe doors and had begun to throw clothes out. He turned and frowned at Molly. "I refuse to accept that. I may be a fraud and dead to the world above, hunted by a magical madman and forced to live in some underground fairyland, but I will not stop texting."
Molly groaned again, "Goodnight, I am going to sleep, go build yourself a phone out of coconuts or something and let me sleep."
"Coconuts? What coconuts? Don't be absurd."
"It's from Gilligan's island, Sherlock, remember, it was a TV show, you know, they were trapped on that island and always building TV sets and such out of coconuts."
"Oh. Is that the sort of thing you people do? Watch TV shows about idiots and coconuts?" Sherlock asked.
"Ugh, yes, idiots like myself and my father watch crap like that, good night, I mean it, don't bother me unless it's breakfast time." With that, Molly stomped back to the other bedroom and locked the door, again. On her way to the bed, she tripped over a flashlight Sherlock had left in the middle of the floor, stubbing her toe. Swearing, she buried herself under the covers once more. Clearly she had been going about things all wrong for years. If she wanted to get over her crush on Sherlock, she should have tried living with him.