I just have one quick note. (I'm rushing because about to leave my house. You're welcome lol!) So just fyi, in these days women didn't attend funerals due to their being so "fragile" or some junk. Just figured I should tell you that so this makes sense near the end. Ok, enjoy! ;)
Molly slowly opened her eyes, and noticed some slivers of sunshine peeking through the heavy drapes that covered the windows. She took a minute to register exactly where she was...and why.
When it all came flooding back, it felt a bit like waking up to a nightmare, as opposed to waking up from one. She felt a lump forming in her throat almost as soon as she was fully conscious, but that was when she felt something move next to her and nudge her head. She was grateful for the distraction.
Molly rolled over and smiled, despite her sadness. "Good morning to you too," she whispered. "I'm afraid I'm not very good company right now, but thank you for staying with me. I bet you miss your master though."
Redbeard snuggled up against her head and licked her face, making her smile again. She scratched his silky head and kissed him before pushing herself up to sit against the headboard. Her whole body felt heavy, and the thought of getting out of this bed was more than she could imagine at the moment. She wished the circumstances were different, because it really was a lovely bed, and a lovely room. If only she could enjoy being here.
By the time they had arrived at Seaborne, the bright orange beginnings of sunrise could already be seen peeking out on the horizon. Molly remembered how she was jolted awake by the carriage coming to a stop, and she was a little embarrassed to realize that she'd been sleeping on Sherlock's shoulder for who knows how long...
"Miss Hooper, why don't we get you inside?" Sherlock said gently, as she had raised her head and began rubbing her eyes.
The driver opened the door, and as Sherlock climbed out, he gave some instructions to the butler who had run out, finally seeing the carriage arrive.
"Hurry back inside please, and have one of the lady's maids wake Miss Morstan. She needs to come downstairs immediately. Tell her that Miss Hooper's father has just passed away, and she is here in need of rest."
The butler nodded and ran back inside to do exactly as he was instructed as Molly began slowly climbing out of the carriage. Sherlock took her hand and helped her down the steps. She gratefully accepted the arm he offered, and they made their way to the front door of the estate.
They went inside, and Molly leaned on a nearby wall for support after losing the arm she'd had a moment before. Sherlock gave his coat to the butler who had just returned.
"Miss Morstan should be downstairs in just a moment, sir," the butler assured Sherlock.
As the man walked away, they heard the soft pounding of tiny paws, and Redbeard came flying down the hallway toward them. Mrs. Hudson was following him and looking rather fatigued.
"He drove me absolutely mad, Mr. Holmes! You'll have to start taking him with you wherever you go, or he will surely begin climbing the very walls!" she sighed.
Sherlock crouched down to greet Redbeard, but also gave Mrs. Hudson a meaningful look and glanced in Molly's direction. The older woman got the message instantly and clasped a hand over her mouth.
"Oh...oh my poor dear!" Mrs. Hudson said softly. She went straight over to Molly and wrapped her arms around the small shoulders that carried so much weight. "Can I do anything? Do you need anything, anything at all?"
Molly simply shook her head as Mrs. Hudson stepped back from the warm embrace, but she also smiled gratefully at her. Just then, Mary came rushing down the stairs. She ran straight to Molly as well and encircled her in a hug. The second hug in a row from a sympathetic person made Molly start to tear up again.
"Oh, darling, I'm so sorry," Mary whispered softly, her own voice breaking. "Come with me, I'll get you settled, and then you can get some sleep." Mary put an arm around Molly's waist and began leading her away.
Redbeard broke away from Sherlock and ran over to Molly before she could get far. He hopped around and gave little barks at her ankles. Molly stopped and took the time to bend down and pet him for a moment and kiss his head.
"You should stay with your master, Redbeard," she whispered in a still unsteady voice. "Go on."
Molly stood again and began to walk away, but Redbeard still trotted along next to her, so she stopped again. "Mr. Holmes, I think you had better call him. He seems quite determined."
"You can keep him with you, if you'd like. I don't mind," Sherlock answered softly, wishing that there weren't onlookers at the moment.
Molly realized how surprisingly comforting that sounded at the moment. She stared back at Sherlock and one corner of her mouth slowly curled up a bit. "Really? Thank you."
Sherlock nodded in answer, and slowly Molly turned again to start walking with Mary. Redbeard followed briskly along with them, and soon they disappeared around the curve of the staircase.
Mrs. Hudson came over to him and gave his arm a small pat. "You should get some sleep as well, young man. I imagine you've not slept all night. You'll soon be no use to anybody if you don't get some rest," she said gently.
Sherlock shook himself from thought and registered the kind words. "Yes, yes of course," he said with a blank stare. He realized that he was genuinely tired. The thought of collapsing in his bed, was an appealing one at the moment.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," he gave the woman's hand a small squeeze, and then slowly walked away, trudging up the stairs.
Molly looked at the clock on the wall and saw that it was already mid-day. She sighed heavily, knowing that she needed to get up. She needed to put one foot in front of the other, and she needed to walk around and go on with life. She just didn't want to. She heard a soft knock at the door and called for the person to enter.
Mary poked her head in, and seeing Molly sitting up and awake, she entered the room and closed the door behind her. She took a seat on the edge of the bed, accepting Redbeard's greetings, and then grasping Molly's hand which rested on the covers.
"Are you feeling a bit better? You look better. I think you needed some hours of uninterrupted sleep. That can make a world of difference."
Molly raised her eyes to Mary. "I don't think there's much that can make a difference right now," she said sadly.
"Oh, I know...I know," Mary whispered back and touched Molly's cheek. "My dear, I don't want to rush you. But I wanted to ask, do you have anything suitable to wear?"
Molly frowned slightly, realizing that this was a valid question. And of course the answer was, no, he did not have any mourning attire. She hadn't even thought of such a thing, and even if she had, she could never have brought herself to "plan ahead" for the need. She supposed she could use a simple black ribbon or armband, like some do.
"I'll get you something of mine," Mary said, before Molly could open her mouth. She could see the need clearly enough.
"Miss Morstan, you don't have to. Your family has been far too kind. There's really no need, when you've all done so much already."
"But I've done nothing yet," Mary smiled. "Please allow me to do this. I feel that I'd like to have some part in coming to your aid. It is no hardship, and it would make me very happy to do something to support you."
Molly smiled and squeezed Mary's hand tighter, feeling her eyes begin to fill.
"No, no," Mary said quickly. "No more tears allowed. At least not till you have some tea!" Mary sniffed a bit, trying not to cry herself.
Molly nodded, blinking away the moisture from her eyes.
"I'll just go and get you a gown. I will also fetch one of the lady's maids. She'll fix your hair for you. You don't have to come downstairs, but you'll be welcome to."
"I- I think I'd rather not, for now. Would it be possible to have some tea brought up? Oh, and could you take Redbeard downstairs? I'm sure he could do with a walk outside. I don't want to make him stay cooped up with me forever, the poor little dear."
"Of course," Mary smiled. "I'll speak to someone right away about the tea. And I'll make sure Redbeard gets to Sherlock. I'll be back in just a few minutes."
Molly mustered up a smile in return and gave Redbeard one more snuggle before Mary left the room with him. She let her head fall back against the headboard again, and she wondered when it would stop hurting like this. Would it ever stop hurting again?
Sherlock had only been able to sleep for a few hours. He got up, dressed, visited his bees, played his violin, and then stayed in the library. Eventually, in the late morning, Mrs. Hudson came to collect him, saying that his mother was looking for him. He joined the others in the drawing room for tea.
Everyone seemed to be watching him carefully and looking at him almost suspiciously. They were acting like he was the one who had suffered a loss. But he didn't care. He certainly didn't feel like speaking to any of them anyway. John had come home even later, so had still been asleep at that point, and Molly was sleeping as well.
It was a couple of hours later while he was puttering around in his lab that he heard a knock on the door.
"Enter," he called out.
"Hello," Mary said with a smile. As she came in and Redbeard bounced passed her to greet him.
"Good afternoon," Sherlock said in a voice that was reserved only for the puppy. He looked back up at Mary. "Where is she?"
"Miss Hooper will not likely leave her room today. Perhaps later, but she certainly does not want to venture out right now. I just had tea sent up to her."
Sherlock nodded. "I plan to go into town today and ensure that a burial can take place no later than tomorrow. It is summer, after all." The grim realities of life had to be admitted. Science was science whether it was a clump of dirt one was studying, or the body of a loved one that was decaying. It was a constant, and could not be argued with.
"Naturally," Mary agreed sadly. "I will be lending her a gown for mourning. She had none."
Sherlock nodded again, but said nothing.
Mary was quiet for a moment, then stepped a bit closer to her cousin. "Are you...well?"
"I'm perfectly fine," Sherlock answered quickly.
"I'm glad. I just thought perhaps this had been difficult on you as well. Dr. Hooper was your friend, I believe. And you are a friend to Miss Hooper of course. It wasn't an easy night, but I'm sure she was grateful to have you there."
"Perhaps," Sherlock answered quietly as he crouched down to pay Redbeard some attention.
"I'm sure he could use a walk outside. Miss Hooper had me bring him back to you so that he could get out a bit."
"I'll be sure to take him out. Thank you, Mary." He gave his cousin a small smile.
"You're welcome. I'll just go back upstairs. I need to get her that gown."
Sherlock's expression fell a bit after Mary left the room. He tried to focus on the puppy who was excitedly seeking his attention, but it was difficult. There was just something about the idea of Molly Hooper wearing black...that seemed so wrong.
Mary came back into the guest room a while later, and the lady's maid was just finishing up the simple style she'd done on Molly's hair. It was neatly pulled back and pinned at her nape. There were very few curls and no extra frills. Nothing like that was needed, or would be needed for a while.
Molly turned when Mary entered the room, and she gave her a smile before thanking the maid.
"I feel a bit better. At least I'm not such a mess anymore."
"You look just fine. And I am pleased to see this dress fits you reasonably well. Thankfully this was one I had from years ago, and I was a bit smaller. My parents both passed away when I was younger."
"I'm so sorry. I suppose that you understand what this is like," Molly said, touching Mary's hand as she rose from the chair.
"A bit, I suppose, though I was not as close to either of my parents as you were to your father. I think that's a beautiful thing, and it is a deeper loss. All of us in this house can see that, and that's why we all want to be here for you."
"I've never felt more grateful. You've all been so wonderful already. The way Mr. Holmes comforted me so kindly early this morning, it was-" Molly's cheeks suddenly colored a bit and she broke eye contact from Mary.
Somehow, she hadn't recognized the intimacy of the time they'd spend in the darkened carriage till she'd begun to speak of it aloud. She'd been thinking of her father, she'd been grieving, and hadn't been able to analyze much else in the moment. But in the light of day, as she replayed the scene in her mind, she felt like her head was spinning when remembering all he said, and all he did...
Mary took a step closer and placed a hand over Molly's again. "He cares for you," she whispered with a soft smile. "They are not always very good at showing it, the Holmes men, but he does. I am not sure that I've ever witnessed him being quite as compassionate as he has been with you."
Molly nodded, still looking down. She looked at Mary cautiously, and softly said, "he is a good friend."
"He can be, yes," Mary agreed, and then decided to put this topic to rest. Molly's father was barely cold. This was not the time to discuss romance with the poor girl. But Mary believed it was there, lurking between her and Sherlock, and she wondered how long her cousin would insist on biding his time...the stubborn fool.
"I shall make all the excuses for you that you desire, my dear. You're welcome to stay and collect yourself for as long as you'd like."
"Thank you, but...I don't plan to stay much longer. I will be leaving quite soon actually."
"There's no need to rush!" Mary gently assured her. "Stay another night, please, it's no trouble."
"No, really, I should be getting back. I am not ungrateful, but I don't want to leave the house alone for too long. I'm sure our few servants understood last night, when I left, but I don't want to abandon them. They are grieving too, of course."
"Of course," Mary agreed. "I do understand. But please send word if you need anything else. And I believe Sherlock is doing what he can to secure the burial arrangements. You'll have nothing to worry about, I'm sure. Sherlock has his ways of getting what he wants."
"Well I'm grateful, again. Of course it's nothing I'd like to be doing at the moment. And anything to speed things along would be appreciated...I just want him at peace."
Mary's brow creased at Molly's sad words. "He is, my dear. He's at peace because he had you with him at the end. And he also knew that you would have a lovely life ahead of you. I'm sure that did wonders to ease his mind."
Molly smiled, but couldn't help the bit of doubt that conjured in her mind. What would her life be like now? How lonely would she be without the person who she'd been closest to for all these years? At this very moment, she didn't see a "lovely life" stretching ahead of her. In fact, as she took another glance at herself in the mirror, she saw very little beyond the moment she was in.
Sherlock walked into the front door of Seaborne with Redbeard trailing along behind him. He caught sight of John in the sitting room and came in to say hello.
"I imagine you haven't been awake for very long."
John shook his head. "Not long, though I feel as though I should still be asleep. I believe I'm already looking forward to bed time tonight." He put down his tea and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"The coffin will be delivered later tonight to the Hooper's. I...expedited the production significantly."
"What did you do? Threaten them?" John laughed.
Sherlock shrugged. "I simply made them aware of a few things about their business practice...things that they wouldn't want other people to know."
John shook his head. "I can't find it in myself to disapprove in this instance. I'm in favor of whatever happens to make things easier and quicker for everyone involved."
"Mm, precisely," Sherlock answered, a bit absentmindedly as he grabbed a biscuit from the tea tray. "Miss Hooper remains upstairs then?"
"I believe so. I only just came down an hour ago myself, so I don't know for sure. You probably shouldn't expect to see her, though."
"Yes, perhaps not," Sherlock answered quietly.
John watched his friend, and carefully picked apart the things he wasn't saying. He'd seen what had transpired the previous night, and he wondered what else he hadn't seen...
"Holmes?"
"Mm?"
"I know this isn't the exact right time of course, and out of respect you could give things a bit of time, but...you should tell her," John said as he kept an eye on the doorway.
Sherlock's gaze snapped over to him for a moment before returning to the tray of tea and pouring himself a cup as he answered. "I assume you are referring to Miss Hooper. Tell her what, Watson?"
John stared back at him for a moment as he took a sip of his tea. He shifted his eyes for a moment, wondering if he could be hearing Sherlock correctly.
"So, forgive me but, you're still...do you mean to say that you still claim not to care for Miss Hooper?" John said in a low voice while frowning at Sherlock.
Sherlock looked at John again as he took a seat. "I never claimed that I do not care for her," he said immediately.
John sighed. "Holmes, you know what I mean. Are you honestly trying to tell me that you don't love that woman, to some degree? Why would you not wish to marry her? I've never seen a woman more perfectly suited for you. Are you concerned about your family's opinion of the match? I know she's not as wealthy as your family, but she's still perfectly respectable. Her father was a well-loved and successful doctor after all!"
Sherlock cleared his throat. "I wonder if we know each other at all sometimes, Watson. Do you honestly think my family's opinion would alter the decisions I make about my life?"
"No, no I do not," John said, shaking his head. "But I'm asking because I cannot imagine what else would be holding you back. So what is holding you back?"
Sherlock opened his mouth, closed it, looked uncomfortable, then finally said, "I do not wish to marry. I've told you that before, and I am not sure what other sort of explanation you would need."
"Yes, yes you have told me that before. However, recent events have suggested to me that your feelings on the matter could very well be changing. So am I to understand that you do not deny that you have feelings for her?"
"I...did not say that I have any feeling," he answered with a shifty gaze.
"You don't have to say it, Holmes," John said with a groan. "It is disturbingly obvious to anyone who knows you! Your behavior towards her is so decidedly different from any other lady you've been acquainted with that it is not something that needs saying aloud."
Sherlock and John stared at each other for a moment. John raised his eyebrows in expectation of some sort of answer.
"I...I would not be," he began hesitantly. "That is to say...it surely would not be a happy marriage...for her."
John nodded slowly as he considered Sherlock's words. Not surprising, he supposed. When all was said and done, this was not a case of a man who couldn't fall in love. Sherlock simply did not consider himself to be a candidate for marriage. John took a deep breath and readied himself to begin breaking down his friend's faulty logic...but that was when they both heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and so the conversation naturally came to an end.
Sherlock jumped up and left the room when he saw Miss Hooper walk by the doorway. When he walked out into the hall, she turned and gave him a small smile.
"Oh, hello, I thought perhaps you were still out," she said.
Sherlock took in Molly Hooper's unfamiliar appearance. The simple black frock made her appear paler and smaller than usual. Her hair was very simply done, and didn't frame her face with any decorative curls. The slight sadness her expression wore was her only adornment. Based on all of this, it was a strange time for Sherlock to discover the surprising fact that he found this woman to be...incredibly beautiful.
"I um, just came back a few moments ago," he said as he tried to collect his thoughts.
Molly nodded. "I'm glad you're here. I suppose it gives me the chance to thank you. I'm not sure I did yet. Your family has been so kind, kinder than I could have hoped. I'm very grateful. And thank you especially, Mr. Holmes, for everything you said and did last night." Her voice dropped a bit as she spoke the last words.
"You're welcome," he answered, and quickly added, "It was nothing."
"It was not nothing," she said much more firmly, and looked him right in the eyes. "In the moment, it meant everything...to me."
Sherlock didn't bother to argue. On some level he already knew that was true. "You're leaving then?"
"I am. I can't hide away in a Seaborne guest room forever," she smiled. "And will you be there? For the..."
"Yes of course, I'll be there for the funeral."
Molly nodded and pressed her lips together for a moment. "I'm glad. I'm glad you'll be there, and I think my father would have been as well. I wish I could be there...it will be tomorrow then?"
"Yes, I believe so. Send for me if the coffin doesn't arrive by tonight."
Molly nodded again, and then turned to go. "I sent for the carriage, I'm sure it's waiting by now. Thank you again, Mr. Holmes, and good day."
"Good day, Miss Hooper," he said softly as she disappeared out the door.
She left and Sherlock went to the window, watching her climb into the waiting carriage. He realized it was unlikely that they would meet again terribly soon, at least not in social situations. This was probably for the best, in his estimation. He had almost been out of his depth the previous night, with all that raw emotion. What more could he do for her anyway? He believed this was all he could do.
"How long will you be gone?" Anthea asked, lounging on a chair in Mycroft's room as he readied himself for Dr. Hooper's funeral.
"At least a couple of hours, I'm sure. We should be back for supper."
"Perhaps when you return, after supper, we could...talk. I wanted to discuss your plans for leaving and...decide what I should do." Anthea got up and approached Mycroft where he stood in front of the mirror, tying his cravat.
Mycroft watched her out of the corner of his eye as she came closer. "I am not sure how much there is to discuss," he answered flatly.
Anthea stepped over beside him and laid her head on his arm. "I'd like to discuss how much I'm likely to miss you if we are separated," she whispered, looking back at him through the mirror's reflection.
He froze for a moment as he looked back at her. "Anthea," he began slowly. "I do wish you would stop waiting for a fairy tale that isn't coming. That is not what this is."
Anthea raised her head from his arm and turned to face her husband, instead of just looking at his reflection. "I'm not asking for a fairy tale, Mycroft. I just want you. I need you, more than ever. Why is that difficult for you to understand?"
"Because this is not what I thought marriage would-" he pressed his eyes closed for a moment and stopped himself mid-sentence. He opened his eyes again and looked at her, showing visible emotional restraint. "I need to be going. I think we should save this for a later time."
Anthea forced a small smile after a moment. "Whatever you say, darling. You may come find me in my room when you return." She tore her eyes away from her husband, who had already looked away, and she left the room.
Mycroft looked at the door after it had closed, leaving him alone. He felt like he was slowly imploding inside. It was the most uncomfortable feeling he'd ever experienced. Why couldn't he sit just down at a desk and sign some documents, or sit around a table and argue the latest changes in government, or dictate letters to foreign dignitaries? He could do that, he knew how to do that, and it was what he was good at. But this?
He pressed his eyes closed again for a moment, thinking sadly, I don't know how to do this.
It seemed to make an unusually loud thump, which Sherlock felt in the pit of his stomach, when the first shovel full of dirt fell into the hole on top of the coffin that held Nicholas Hooper.
He, John, Mycroft, and a number of other men from the town stood silently as the dirt slowly accumulated. After a few minutes passed, the other men began to trickle away, eventually leaving the members of the Seaborne household by themselves. Sherlock was the one who broke the silence.
"She should be here," he said quietly, as he stared into the ground.
"Who? Miss Hooper?" Mycroft questioned with a frown. He raised a slightly judgmental eyebrow. "Women never attend funerals."
Sherlock's eyes didn't deviate from the where the dead man rested. "She's not just a woman. To him...she was everything."
Mycroft looked at his brother with an expression of interest, and then he straightened up, clearing his throat. "Well, we can't exactly stay here all day. After all...all lives end." But he did follow his brother's line of vision for a moment and added, "May he rest in peace."
The elder Holmes walked away, heading back toward their waiting carriage. John echoed the same words softly, "May he rest in peace," before giving Sherlock a pat on the arm as he followed after Mycroft.
Sherlock was left alone for a moment, and he was glad. He felt like he had things that needed saying, without an audience. Though, once the chance was there, he felt his mouth go dry and couldn't find the words to say much at all. He didn't know how to say goodbye to this unusual man who he knew for so short a time, but who seemed to see him better than many others. The truth was though, Sherlock realized that he needn't say very much of his own goodbyes at all, because he had one very important thing...person...in common with the man who lay six feet below him. What could be more fitting, than for the last words he spoke to Nicholas Hooper to be about her?And Sherlock firmly believed that if he could somehow miraculously be heard, there could be nothing more meaningful to the man than this.
"I swear to you," he murmured. "She will be happy."
There was really nothing more to add. It was the one thing he wanted to say most in that moment. Sherlock bowed his head toward the rapidly filling grave, and as he turned and walked away, he realized that in all his life...
He'd never spoken four little words with more sincerity.
Got my work cut out for me with a now mourning Molly! No more dinners and parties for this girl...but I'll try to find ways to work around it. Ok, thanks for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts! ;) And also, thanks to MizJoely for editing at the last minute for me! :)