The next morning Molly awoke alone in bed. She rubbed her eyes and slowly sat up. Some of her bruises had started to fade but her whole body still felt achy. After stumbling to the bathroom, she walked toward the sitting room in search of Sherlock and a hot drink. She found neither. Sherlock wasn't anywhere in their rooms. She glanced at the kettle and was mildly surprised to see a note propped there. "Somewhere in the House, talking to Door – SH" Sherlock had actually left her a note letting her know where he was. She hadn't even said anything. Molly smiled and went to run a hot bath. Soaking for a long time was sounding like an excellent idea. After a long relaxing time in the bath, Molly felt tired again. Sherlock still hadn't returned and the bed was looking extremely inviting. Since she was still recovering, she decided a nap was in order. She curled up under some blankets and fell asleep.
Sherlock had woken early, bathed and dressed and then left the guest suite. He was currently reviewing the collection of newspapers that the Marquis had brought. He had already carefully read the newest one. He did actually have a plan about returning home, and had for days. Belatedly, he had realized perhaps he should have shared his thoughts with Molly. First of all, he was still in bad shape. His intention had been to wait a little while and regain more arm strength before trying to go back to London Above. He was also monitoring the news to see if his innocence had been revealed. It was pointless to return if he would immediately be placed under suspicion and arrested. Better to wait and see what the fallout of Jim Moriarty's death was.
So far, things seemed to be going the way he wanted them to. Moriarty's death had caused a major unraveling of his criminal empire. It seemed that without Moriarty and Moran's leadership, the whole organization was crumbling. People who had once kept silent in fear were now beginning to turn up and share what they knew. There were already major questions being asked about the fate of Sherlock Holmes. The press already had decided that he was a tragic figure, a misunderstood genius who had been falsely accused. This was excellent news and made Sherlock optimistic that he could return soon. He looked up to see Door enter the room with a tray of sandwiches.
"Hey, are you hungry?" she asked.
"Not especially" he replied. He walked over to join her at the table. Door began eating as Sherlock sat down next to her. There were pieces of fruit on the tray and he idly ate some grapes. He turned a few over between his fingers as he thought. "Door, I need to ask you about returning to London Above. Now that we have defeated Moriarty, I wish to go back. I need to know everything you know about making the transition."
Door gulped her last bite of food and grimaced. She had been afraid of this. She had known that coming to the Underside had been Molly's idea, and that Sherlock was less than thrilled with the notion. She knew that Sherlock had always planned on them returning. She also knew that Molly had told him it was impossible to go back. She cleared her throat.
"Um, other than Richard, I don't know that anyone has ever done it. And he was able to return because he survived the ordeal at the Black Friars and had the key to all reality. So, um I was able to open a door in reality, and he went back to London. And I think his life was sort of different, better you know, which makes you wonder why he came back" she laughed a little, still not quite able to believe it. She looked back at Sherlock's eager face and sobered up quickly. "I'm sorry Sherlock, but I don't think it can be done."
Sherlock sat back stiffly, trying to control the panic he felt growing inside. Door tried one more suggestion. "Well, we could go and look in my father's study, he had more obscure information than nearly anyone else down here, we might find something there." Sherlock nodded, he didn't trust himself to speak. Door quickly finished eating and they left for Portico's study.
Molly woke up a few hours later, feeling absolutely delightful. She was well rested, smelled nice and was in love. All in all, it was a vast improvement on how she had felt earlier in the week. She padded out to the sitting room, still no sign of Sherlock. She made herself some tea and curled up in her armchair with a book. One good thing about the Underside that she hadn't expected was all the reading she had time for. She had finally read quite a few of the classics she was too busy to read when she was in school. Her devotion to the sciences had left her little time for literature classes. She still wasn't sure where the books came from. She could swear that there were no copies of a certain book on the shelves, but then, when she thought about a title, it seemed to appear on the shelves. She started to get hungry, it was getting late and she hadn't eaten in a while. She put her book down and headed to the dining room.
The top of the dining table has been cleared off. The heavy silver candelabrums are currently standing on the floor. A large piece of paper covers the top of the table. It is an extremely detailed map of London. Books and scrolls are haphazardly placed around the edges; an inkstand rests near the center of the map. Someone has been making careful notations on the map. That someone has left and a small child is currently standing on a chair, studying the map. He reaches forward to move a book and manages to upset a pile of materials that crash into the inkstand and knocks it over. The little boy gasps and yanks off his shirt, trying to mop up the spread of ink.
When Molly reached the dining room, Richard was the only one there. He stood up and greeted her warmly. "Hey Molly, how are you feeling?"
"Much better actually, I've been sleeping most of the day, I think it's just what I needed" she answered.
Door and Sherlock entered then, both looking dusty and disappointed. Door felt awful, she really wanted to help Sherlock and Molly, but feared it was hopeless. Sherlock's entire upper body ached. He had pushed himself too much, desperately scanning assorted ancient tomes in search of a solution. He and Door had pulled nearly every book of the shelves. Molly could tell he was unhappy and in pain, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Her good mood came to an abrupt halt. She had a very good idea of what they had been doing. Before she could decide what to say, Ingress came running in. She smiled brightly as she announced, "There's roast chicken in the kitchen! I can't carry it! Help!"
Richard grinned and stood to follow the little girl. "I'll help her, you guys sit down."
Door sat down with a sigh. Sherlock sat down silently next to Molly. She reached out and rubbed his hand softly under the table. He took her hand in his and squeezed it slightly. He leaned over and whispered in her ear. "Sleeping has been very beneficial I see."
Molly turned so she could look at him better. "You and Door haven't been having much luck?" she asked. He shook his head. Richard returned, carrying a massive tray with a perfectly roasted chicken and some smaller covered dishes. Ingress carried a smaller tray with more serving dishes. She grinned proudly as she helped bring the meal to the table. Everyone began to serve themselves, passing dishes back and forth.
"Where's the Marquis?" asked Molly. The flamboyant rogue was noticeably absent. No one had been insulted during the entirety of the meal.
Door shrugged. Sherlock spoke up, "He left this morning, after delivering some newspapers to me."
Everyone returned to their meal. The Marquis did have a habit of disappearing at times. He felt it was part of his mysterious image. Molly wanted to find out more about Door and Sherlock's efforts. She knew it was a dangerous topic, but was too curious to not ask. She took a sip of wine and wiped her mouth. "So, Door, what have you and Sherlock been working on?" she asked.
Door looked pained. She finished chewing and swallowed before answering. "We were looking for information in my father's study about people returning to London Above. I'm sorry but we haven't found anything. Richard is the only person that I've ever heard of who was able to go back. I'm really sorry Molly." She reached out to pat Molly's hand. Richard suddenly sat up and dropped his fork. He choked for a moment on a bite of chicken and Door had to pound on his back. He gulped down some water and took some slow breaths.
"You guys want to go back to London Above?" he asked.
Sherlock had been suppressing a lot of emotions and thus was unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes and muttering "Obviously." Molly squeezed his hand, hoping to soothe him.
Richard fiddled with his napkin and smiled. "Because, I was going through my clothes the other day, I wanted to wash the ones that I was wearing when I came back, they've just been sitting in a pile and I thought I should probably do some laundry. And I was checking my pockets, because I often forget and leave things in there and they get washed. But I hadn't actually asked about doing laundry yet, and I'm not even sure if you have washing machines here, come to think of it, so I couldn't do much, but just empty the pockets of my trousers." He paused and realized everyone was staring at him, clearly wondering what the hell the point was. In a rush he said, "So um, anyway, look what I found in my trousers." He fished in his pockets for a second and pulled out a small silver key.
Door gasped "Temple and Arch! Richard! You've had the key all this time?"
"Well, I only realized it a few days ago. And with everything else going on, I guess I forgot about it" he said sheepishly.
"You found the key to all reality and forgot to mention it!" shouted Door.
"Um, well, yeah. I guess since I came back, it sort of followed me, since I didn't want that reality anymore" answered Richard.
Sherlock's eyes sparkled as he listened. "Door, is it possible that we could use the key to return to London Above?" he asked.
"I suppose so; we should probably go and ask the Black Friars about it, they were the ones that had it all those years. But it worked once, I don't see why it would work again" she answered with a grin.
Sherlock laughed and leaned over and kissed Molly. He was already rapidly making plans for after their return. He had already reconciled with John, hugged Mrs. Hudson and moved Molly into Baker Street when, from across the table, a sudden crash was heard. Ingress had shoved her chair back from the table and knocked over her glass in the process. She ran from the room, sobbing. Door's face fell. Sherlock was her little sister's hero; of course Ingress would be devastated to see him go. Everyone watched her race out of the room. Door sighed.
"Well, how about we go and see the Black Friars tomorrow, we can get going in the morning. I'm gonna go talk to her" explained Door. Everyone nodded in agreement. Molly helped Richard clean up the dinner things. Sherlock drifted into the entry hall, deep in thought. He was thinking about what he would say to Ingress before he left. He was a little surprised that she was so upset. Most people were happy to be rid of him. As he sat and thought, the Marquis returned, throwing open the door with his usual lack of subtlety.
"I told you I could do it, next time give me a real challenge" sighed the Marquis. He carried a small case which he presented to Sherlock.
"Thank you" said Sherlock stiffly. He debated shaking the Marquis's hand, but didn't want to seem too chummy. He nodded instead and left to return to the guest suite.
Later that evening, Molly was packing her belongings. She wasn't sure how to feel about her imminent return. She was still a little afraid that Sherlock would revert to his old ways. She kept twisting her bracelet around her wrist. She had been looking over all of their things and deciding what to take and leave behind. Sherlock was darting back and forth between the rooms, evaluating various possessions. He found the long nightgown Molly wore. It had fallen behind the dressing table, discarded in a moment of passionate haste. Well, he had no intention of leaving this behind. He folded it and placed it in one of Molly's bags.
"Oh, Sherlock, this wasn't actually mine, I found it in the wardrobe" said Molly.
Sherlock tilted his head, feigning innocence. "It's not? Are you sure?"
"Yes, I don't think I packed any sleeping clothes, I was too worried about bringing sturdy shoes and matches" laughed Molly. She picked up the nightgown and started walking back to the wardrobe. Sherlock leapt in front of her and deftly took the nightgown from her hands.
"Sherlock! It's not mine! I was going to leave it here!" she protested.
Molly watched as the tips of Sherlock's ears turned slightly pink. He tried to causally strut past her and shoved the nightgown back in the bag.
"Yes, well I think you should take it" he said folding his arms across his chest. He did his best to look nonchalant. Molly raised her eyebrows and smirked at him. His ears were getting redder.
"Why?" asked Molly.
"Because … I like it" said Sherlock. He stormed out of the room as Molly started to giggle. She kept packing, there wasn't much left. She was leaving most of the unused supplies they had brought; she figured Door could use them for trade if she didn't have a use for them. Sherlock was mostly worried about his violin and a few of his clothes from his former life. When Molly was satisfied that she had packed everything, she went to find Sherlock. He was hovering over the desk, carefully packing some of his experiments. He was sliding some darts into an envelope as Molly approached. She saw the case the Marquis had brought propped up against the desk.
"What's that?" she asked.
Sherlock kept his head bent over his work. He swallowed the urge to make a snide comment. "It's a violin" he answered.
"Oh. You didn't build a shrink-ray did you?" giggled Molly.
Sherlock looked at her, completely confused. "What on earth are you talking about?"
She sighed. She would really need to introduce him to some science-fiction when they returned. Come to think of it, she needed to introduce him to a lot of popular culture. "The violin, where did you find a little violin?" she asked.
He straightened up and finally looked at the small violin case. He frowned slightly and ran a hand through his hair. "I asked your friend the Marquis to find me a child sized violin. It's for Ingress." He rocked back on his feet. Molly smiled at him. Her eyes were filled with love, and for a second Sherlock felt like he was falling. Every time she looked at him like that, he felt such a rush of happiness and fear. He had never expected that being in love was like this, exhilarating and terrifying all at once. Properly caring for others was still so new.
He had realized that Ingress would be sad to see him leave, and had actually spent time thinking about how to make her feel better. It had taken promising the Marquis a favor, but he felt that Ingress was worth it. Perhaps he could keep it up, allow himself to experience these feelings and still be himself, still have his work. There were so many emotions bubbling inside him that he felt panicked. Molly seemed to understand, she held him quietly for a moment, and then backed away. When he was ready, back in control, he joined her at the fireside. Neither of them felt sleepy, so they talked for the rest of the night, reminiscing about their adventures in the Underside and plotting for the future.
The next morning, after they dressed, Molly looked all around to be sure they hadn't forgotten anything. Sherlock tightly gripped the two violin cases. Molly knew that he was nervous about saying goodbye to Ingress. So she said nothing, just rubbed his back and nodded when he asked if she was ready to go.
Door and Arch have been waiting for hours. It feels like forever, sitting and waiting. Door knows she should set a good example and is reading quietly. Arch is completely bored. He has played with his soldiers, looked at all his books and counted all cushions in the entry hall, twice. He slides off the settee he has been sitting on and decides to see if he can stand on his head. He nearly manages it when his father finally arrives. Arch topples to the side as Portico begins to speak. In a booming voice he announces, "The baby is here! It's a girl!" He smiles as his oldest children race over to his side.
The Marquis was waiting very patiently in the entry hall. He had found a small puzzle box in a pocket of his coat. He remembered acquiring the box, some decades ago, but didn't remember putting the box in his coat. The contents of the box were also forgotten, and not knowing was driving him crazy. He had been working on the box for a while and had nearly got it figured out when Sherlock and Molly entered. The Marquis grinned to himself. They looked so solemn and nervous, yet giddy too. Almost like they were about to go on their honeymoon. The Marquis dearly hoped that if they did get married, he would be invited to the wedding. He loved weddings, all the marvelous clothes, the tears and wine made for easy fun for a man such as himself. Sherlock was holding the two violin cases very protectively. He glanced around the room, but Ingress wasn't there. The Marquis deftly twisted the last piece of the puzzle box and pried open the lid. He looked inside and found a bright blue feather. Hmm. He didn't remember putting that in there. He closed the box and returned it to a pocket.
Molly and Sherlock joined him at the table. Molly poured two cups of coffee and handed one to Sherlock. The three of them sat and drank in silence. Richard entered next, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He too poured a large cup of coffee and added several lumps of sugar. Door entered last, carrying Ingress. Ingress's eyes were red and she twisted in Door's arms so that she faced away from Sherlock. Sherlock stood and walked closer to Door.
"Door, may I speak with Ingress please? You are welcome to join us" he said.
Door nodded and she whispered to her sister. Ingress shrugged slightly in response. Sherlock gestured to the doorway, and the three of them left to go into the dining room. Molly sighed and helped herself to a scone. Richard was finishing up his first and debating taking another. He gave Molly an encouraging smile.
"So if everything goes well, you should be home before bedtime tonight" he said.
De Carabas snorted. "Since when has everything ever gone well around here? Knowing our luck, we'll have to fight a herd of wildebeests just to get to the Black Friars. And then they'll probably have a splendid new ordeal for someone to undergo."
Richard paled a bit at the mention of the Black Friar's ordeal. Molly knew that he had had to survive something unpleasant to obtain the key, but she didn't think she wanted to hear more about it. She concentrated on thoughts of home, but that was frightening too. She was a missing person in London Above. What had happened to her flat and her belongings? Would she be able to go back to work? And what was going to happen when Sherlock announced his return from the dead?
She was starting to get quite anxious when Sherlock returned. Door and Ingress followed him. Ingress was clutching the small violin case to her chest. She had clearly been crying, but was now smiling too. Before Sherlock could walk away, she tugged his hand. He bent down next to her and she gave him a kiss on his cheek. He gave her a small kiss on her cheek before standing and running his hand over her hair. Richard stood and walked over to Door. He fished the key out of his pocket and handed it to her.
The Marquis de Carabas stood, stretching himself slowly to his full height. He sauntered over to Molly and bowed to her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it. A muscle near Sherlock's mouth jerked, but he did not respond otherwise.
"Well, my dear Molly, adieu. As always it has been simply a delight, do keep in touch, won't you?" He winked at her and then crossed to Sherlock. The two men stared at each other for a moment. Sherlock was a bit afraid that the man would kiss him again. Thankfully, the Marquis did no such thing. He nodded once and shook Sherlock's hand. As he walked away, he called out over his shoulder, "Farewell Sherlock, be sure to keep up with your fencing, next time I won't let you win." The Marquis took Ingress by the hand. He looked at the violin case in the little girl's hand, and couldn't help himself. "Oh and Sherlock, don't fret, I shall be delighted to teach Ingress to play, as I am also something of a musician myself."
Molly watched, fascinated as multiple muscles near Sherlock's eyes started to twitch. He grimaced as he fought to keep his mouth shut. If she didn't know better, she would have thought he was having a seizure. She had a good idea what sort of favor Sherlock had exchanged with the Marquis to repay him for the violin. De Carabas and Ingress left then, heading toward the little girl's room. Molly picked up her bags and slung them over her shoulder. It was time to go.
It was a long walk to the Black Friar's. They were able to shorten it somewhat by taking a Tube train. One of the empty, dark cars opened at Richard's command. Sherlock no longer had any doubts that Richard was the Warrior, granted the freedom of London Below. They sat in the dark as the train swayed along the tracks. They exited at Black Friars station and followed Door into the back of a café. They walked around the counter and into the back kitchen. The chef was listening to a self-help audio book as he worked the fryer. Molly paused and tried to make out what he was muttering under his breath. She couldn't quite understand him. She did think he would be better served by trimming his nose hair. Door opened the pantry, shoved a shelf aside and knelt down next to an ancient looking trap door. Richard helped her heave the door open. One by one they dropped down into swirling mists.
The ground was marshy; it could hardly be called ground actually. It was more like mud with a thin film of water over top. Molly was glad she was wearing some of her older clothes. She felt sure that she would be covered in mud by the time this walk ended. Sherlock had chosen to wear one of his Baker Street suits. Molly was dismayed to see it becoming filthy, but Sherlock didn't seem to mind. The fog was heavy around them. They tried to stay close together, just a few feet away and a person could disappear. Molly's shoes had filled with mud. She had no idea which way they were going. Who was actually leading them? She prayed Door or Richard had some notion of where to go. Richard was remembering his first visit to the Black Friars and trying to fight off the building panic in his chest. He really wasn't sure which was worse, the ordeal or the final showdown with Islington. Off in the distance, a light could be seen. It was flickering in the fog. The light grew larger and brighter as they neared the Abbey of the Black Friars.