Molly slept through the entire encounter, including the lengthy squabble between Sherlock and de Carabas on the way back to the House without Doors. Sherlock carried Molly back to her bed, where Door helped to tend to her. Door was surprised that they were able to get her back. The only time she had ventured into those caves had been when she was under the protection of Hunter. The sedative in the dart was powerful, Molly slept for a full day. When she finally did wake up, she was disoriented and confused for another full day. Which was why she missed the all the excitement when Richard returned.
Sherlock was still watching over her when everything started happening. It was late at night and Door should have been asleep. Instead she was arguing with the Marquis. She couldn't believe that he had taken Sherlock and Molly through the caves. The Marquis, of course, maintained that he had done nothing wrong, that it was all Sherlock's fault for being so argumentative. De Carabas was about to storm out in a huff, when they both heard it. Someone was calling for Door, someone very familiar.
"It's Richard! He's coming back! We have to go get him!" cried Door.
"Hold it, you can't go dashing off, you'll upset your sister. I'll do it" said the Marquis.
Door stared at him. "Are you serious? Because if you are just screwing around, I will kill you."
"Hmph. You wound me. Just open something up for me to get close to where he is. And let's hurry, before he sobers up and leaves" snorted de Carabas.
Door looked uncertain for a moment, then nodded. They went to the nearest exit. She touched the door and smiled. "Hah! He's made it easy for us, he already made me a door!" She concentrated and opened the door. "Hurry up!" she yelled. De Carabas stepped through and disappeared.
Door sat waiting anxiously. It felt like it was taking far too long. She nibbled her fingernails. She forced herself to stop that bad habit and began picking at a loose thread on her shirt instead. She looked at the clock and then realized that she didn't leave a way for them to come back. They'd have to walk the whole way. She swore to herself and tried to make herself comfortable. She drifted off to sleep for a while. She woke up to the Marquis throwing open the door in a suitably dramatic fashion for such an occasion.
"Well, here we are, safe and sound, Lady Door may I announce the return of the Warrior of London, his meekness, Richard Mayhew!" The Marquis clapped his hands slowly as Richard shuffled in from behind him. Door nearly launched herself at him, but just stopped just as she reached him. She was grinning as she reached out and awkwardly patted his arm.
"Richard" she breathed. "You're here, you came back, I mean, I thought you were going to leave forever."
Richard smiled back at her and gave her a shy hug. "I tried, I really did, um and things were actually better, but uh, I just couldn't, and I didn't know it would work, but, you know, I just tried it" he explained.
The Marquis rolled his eyes. "Lovely, the gang's all here and no one can speak coherently. And now that Door is running some sort of refuge for recent arrivals from London Above, everything is just splendid. I'm going to bed" he snorted.
Richard watched him as he left. He looked back to Door. She smiled at him once more and took him by the arm. "You're not the only guest. Let's go get something to eat and I'll explain everything" she said.
The next morning, Molly felt nearly back to normal. Sherlock had been hovering around her while she recovered. He accompanied her to breakfast where they were surprised to see a new face. Sherlock and Molly had both heard about Richard and his role in helping Door defeat the angel Islington. Sherlock knew who the man was before anyone said anything.
"Congratulations Door, I see your friend Richard has returned" announced Sherlock as soon as they entered the room.
Richard jumped a bit, he recognized Sherlock from all the publicity following the jump from St. Bart's. Door had told him the whole story, but it was still hard to believe. "Hey! He's supposed to be dead. It was in all the papers!" he exclaimed.
The Marquis, who was sitting opposite Richard, smirked. "Yes, well, people not staying properly dead seems to be a real problem lately. Door you really must do something about it. It's getting embarrassing" he drawled.
Molly smiled and introduced herself to Richard. She liked him immediately; he was the sort of nice young man that she should have been attracted to. They all chatted aimlessly. Sherlock was slightly curious about Richard, but overall felt annoyed. He was concerned about Molly and carefully observing her for any signs of ill-effects from the sedative. The entire cave incident had deeply affected Sherlock. He had always worried about Molly's safety, now he was terrified. At breakfast Molly was absorbed in talking to Richard and learning about him. Later on, she noticed that Sherlock was acting differently. He was more distant. She didn't like it at all, but wasn't sure how to bring it up. She suspected it had something to do with her abduction. Actually, she hadn't been that bothered by the incident. Being unconscious for the whole episode had helped, but she was also confident that no matter how dangerous things got, between Sherlock and the Marquis she would always come out on top.
Two days later, another Market was scheduled, this time at Big Ben, which was a much easier place to reach. Door and Richard were busy reconnecting; Molly suspected that they each felt more for the other than they were admitting. Sherlock had tried to convince Molly to stay back with Ingress, but was unsuccessful. They made it to the Market without any difficulty and were walking around observing the varied wares available. Sherlock was still sulking slightly. He didn't want to admit to Molly that he was worried about her. He still had difficulty managing the sentiment and emotions he felt for her. And a part of him did loathe that he felt anything at all.
A dark voice in his mind palace sneered at these idiotic feelings. After all, feelings and sentiment were what had dropped him so low, were they not? He never should have allowed himself to feel fear when he confronted Moriarty. It was because he had allowed too many people to become close to him; they had infected him with their concern and left him vulnerable to emotions. He was growing rather agitated as these thoughts swirled in his mind. Molly noticed something was amiss and tried to hold his hand. He yanked his arm away from her and tried to walk faster. She caught up with him and grabbed his arm.
"Hey. What is going on?" she asked frowning.
Sherlock was too irritated to stop himself. "Again, do try to be more precise in your speech, Molly. I have no idea what 'going on' is supposed to mean."
She refused to rise to the bait and clutched his arm harder. She forced him to turn and face her. "Why are you upset?" she asked forcefully.
"I am not upset. Please let go of my arm," he responded coldly.
Molly tried to reach up and caress his face. Her eyes were full of love and concern and for a moment, Sherlock felt sick looking at them. He pulled away from her firmly and hissed "Stop that." The love that had been plain on Molly' face vanished instantly. Now she looked wounded, and angry.
"Alright. I understand. You don't want me to touch you when others might see, only when it's convenient for you. You promised that we would be partners but you're ashamed of me and my feelings. Fine. I'll leave." She ran from him before the tears started in earnest. Sherlock swore at himself and roughly ran his hands through his hair. Once again, he had made an awful mess of things. How many more times could he do so and honestly expect to be forgiven? The whole affair with Molly was all a horrible mistake. He should have known that he could never properly care for another person. He watched her run through the crowd, then turned and resumed walking away.
Molly was heartbroken. It was painfully obvious now how silly and stupid she had been. She knew Sherlock Holmes would never be proper "boyfriend" material, and yet, she believed that their relationship was a good one. She hadn't minded that he was not affectionate in public, but his rejection of her touch had hurt her deeply. Sherlock had even tried to warn her, and she was too foolish to listen. She was crying as she ran, nose dripping, face red, all in all a complete mess. As she neared the edge of the Market, she ran headlong into Old Bailey. He had been trying to get her attention, but she was too distraught to notice. He saw how upset she was and gave her a crushing hug.
"Here now, what's the matter? Take this, it's clean, I think." He offered her a tiny embroidered handkerchief. She took it and tried to dab at her eyes with it.
"I'm okay, I just realized what an idiot I've been" she said hiccupping.
"Oh now, you ain't any sort of idiot, don't be saying such nonsense" offered Old Bailey encouragingly.
Molly shook her head. "I've got to go, thanks for your handkerchief, um, do you want it back?" she asked.
"Naw, you keep it, and no more crying, you're a lovely girl and it'll all be better soon" replied Old Bailey. He smiled at her and patted her on the arm. The he remembered something else. "Hey, you and that tall fellow are getting even more famous! Coupla people been asking after you, more business for you both! See! Ain't all bad" he said. She managed a small smile and thanked him for the good news. She had no intention of doing any business ever again. She fled the Floating Market and raced toward the House without Doors.
In another section of the Floating Market, the Marquis de Carabas had just arrived. He wasn't really looking for anything, just interested in learning the new gossip. It was always best to keep abreast of whatever strange and wondrous things were happening in the Underside. As he sauntered through the crowded stalls, he caught a glimpse of Sherlock, looking angry and striding away alone. Interesting. A little further on, he saw something that made him forget about the detective. At the end of the row of booths, a man was standing talking to the woman running a stall filled with books. What had caught the Marquis's eye was that the man had hidden his true self under a glamour. De Carabas couldn't quite see what the man really looked like, but it was clear to him that the man had the gift of making such glamours, and strong ones too. The Marquis did not know of anyone currently living in London Below with such a talent, so the man must be a new arrival, possibly a traveler from some other city. The Marquis trailed after him for a while, to see what else there was to learn. The man stopped at several booths and asked the occasional question before disappearing into the crowds. Well, this was very interesting indeed.
Sherlock stayed away from the House without Doors for most of the night. When he finally made it back to the guest suite, he discovered that Molly had taken most of her things. She had obviously moved somewhere else in the house. A few things were still scattered in her room, a pair of shoes, and a sweater and over on the dressing table, the bracelet Sherlock had given her. He stared at it for a moment, turning it in his hands. He tried to reassure himself that it was better this way. He knew he was lying. He returned back to his room to take a bath and try to sleep. Perhaps the two would clear his mind.
Door was sitting on the edge of Ingress's bed listening sympathetically as Molly sobbed out her story. When she came back from the Market, there was no one around. Molly threw as many of her belongings as she could fit in the two bags she had brought with her and left the guest suite. She was afraid that Sherlock would return at any moment and resume destroying her. Molly was able to go to Ingress's room without any help. She knew that Ingress wasn't sleeping there, so she decided to hide out there for the time being. Now Door had found her and wanted to know why she was sleeping in her sister's tiny bed. Molly tried to tell her tale without tears, but failed almost immediately. Door listened and made comforting noises while she rubbed Molly's hair. Ingress had followed her sister and was sitting on the floor also listening. Molly finished with a few hiccups and wiped her eyes. Ingress walked over and gave her a hug.
"Well, I guess I will get up, no good lying around and blubbering, right? What needs doing around here? I should probably keep busy" stammered Molly.
She began the day helping Richard dust his new bedroom. He was staying in a little used guest room. The furniture had long ago been covered with sheets. A thick layer of dust covered everything in the room. Door and Ingress had also come along to help. Molly enjoyed talking with Richard. He was calm and easy-going. It was hard to imagine that this man had killed the Great Beast of London. Later on, they all moved over to the study. Door wanted to show some stuff to Richard, and Molly had nothing better to do. They looked over maps and scrolls and odd artifacts of London Below. Door told them stories of her family's history. Eventually they all grew hungry and trooped to the dining room. It was one place that Molly wasn't worried about running into Sherlock. She doubted he would bother to join them for the evening meal. The Marquis was there, building a massive house of cards. When he saw the crowd arrive, he snapped his fingers, which made all the cards fly up in the air, and then neatly stack themselves in a pile in his outstretched hand.
De Carabas looked them all over carefully. Door looked tired, but was still lit up by the excitement of the return of Richard. De Carabas wondered how long it would take for those two to get their act together. The shy look of happiness on Richard's face told him everything he needed to know about the Warrior's feelings. Ingress looked slightly confused and annoyed. Likely she was trying to determine her own feelings toward Richard. She knew that Richard was important to her sister, but didn't want to have to share. But Molly, well, Molly's face was an open book. Now the Marquis knew exactly why he had seen Sherlock angry and alone. The Marquis was a little disappointed, if those two crazy kids couldn't work it out, well then who the hell could?
While it was tempting to query the others about the latest goings-on, the Marquis wanted to share his own news. It was always better to be the center of attention anyway. "Well, fascinating as your adventures fighting dust must have been, I have something interesting to share. I was at the Floating Market just last night and saw something very interesting."
Molly interrupted him, "Oh God, you saw it, didn't you, please don't, please" she babbled.
"Oh hush. Not everything is about you, you know. I have no idea what it is you are referring to, so stop your fussing and listen to my story. Where was I? Oh yes, the Market. Well, I happened to see a gentleman there who was in disguise. And not just any sort of disguise, he was in fact producing a glamour." Now that he had finished his tale, the Marquis leaned back and smiled.
Door and Molly were frowning. Richard just looked confused. "A what? A Glamour? Isn't that a women's magazine?" he asked.
Molly burst out laughing. De Carabas took it upon himself to educate the newest arrival. "It's a wonder you managed to survive down here at all. A glamour, Richard, is a sort of magic. A person who can make a glamour can make others see, feel or hear whatever it is he wants. It's a handy way to disguise one's self, become invisible, make others see things that aren't really there."
"Did you see what the man really looked like? It wasn't Jim was it?" Molly was trembling a bit now.
"I couldn't actually see what the man looked like, I just could tell that he was making a glamour," answered the Marquis.
Dinner was mostly finished in silence. Everyone was too caught up now in their own worries. Richard was having a serious argument with himself. One dinner with the Marquis was enough to make him doubt himself all over again. He was wondering why the hell he thought he was better suited for this life. Maybe he wasn't suited to live anywhere. Molly left early and went to sit in the courtyard. Even though life in London Below had grown on her, she still missed the sky sometimes. She heard a noise behind her. For a split second she feared and hoped it was Sherlock. It wasn't. Ingress stood there looking at her. Molly smiled and waved the little girl over. They sat together on the stone bench next to the fountain. It was nice to sit together in silence.
Later on, Molly found herself talking about her feelings for Sherlock to Ingress. The little girl just sat and listened. It was somehow comforting for Molly to say the things she was thinking out loud. Molly saw her small companion's head start to droop. It was getting late; she picked Ingress up and carried her in to Door. The two sisters left for Door's bedroom and Molly returned to her makeshift bed in the little girl's room. She stared at the shelves filled with toys till she finally slept.
The next morning, there was still no sign of Sherlock. Door knew that he had returned to the guest suite sometime early yesterday morning. She had asked Molly if she wanted her to go and speak to him, but Molly had begged her not to. Molly had no idea what she should say to him. She was in no rush to have to see him again. More likely than not, she would burst into tears at the sight of him. Better to put that off as long as possible. The Marquis was wildly curious about what exactly had transpired between the two, but was being surprisingly discreet. He strongly suspected asking what had happened would make Molly a blubbering mess and he hated the thought of snot stains on his coat.
Molly was drinking her second cup of coffee when the message arrived. A letter fluttered through the air. This was a common way for messages to arrive in Door's house. Messages could be sent without the sender knowing the location of the House without Doors. The letter was addressed to Mary the healer. Molly grabbed the letter and read it. It was a hastily scribbled plea for help. Bloodstains dotted the letter. Someone needed medical attention badly and was begging for the healer Mary to come.
Molly stood up as she finished the letter. She had received similar letters since she began her career as a healer. Of course she would go and offer help; she had always gone in the past. Before she could go far, the Marquis snatched the letter away from her and quickly read it.
"Hold it" he said. "You're not actually going to go are you? What if it's some sort of trap?" he asked.
"I doubt it. Who would want me?" she asked ruefully.
He sighed, why must women be so exasperating? "Oh please, enough pity. I'm serious."
"Well I am too. And I can't ignore a plea for help, what if someone is dying? I have to go and check" she retorted.
"Then I'm coming along as well."
"You don't have to, just stay here" she sighed.
"Yes well, if you intend to go then I will accompany you, like it or not. Your Sherlock would kill me if I let you leave alone."
"Don't talk about him, ever again, please." She felt tears prickling again. "Alright, I just need to get my bag, and then we can go."
The Marquis nodded and followed her while she gathered her things. She had left her healer's bag close to the doorway in the entry hall. She checked to make sure she had enough supplies. She pulled a jacket on to ward off the chill and damp. Once everything was ready, she and the Marquis left in search of the person who needed help.