Well hello there and happy Saturday readers! Glad I was able to update a week later as I had hoped. I'm very grateful to SarahlovesA for helping me out with editing on this chapter. Thanks so much, you were lovely to help last minute! ;)
Here we have the latest in the story...oh boy oh boy...and I can't even say anything else because I'll end up giving something away before you even start haha! So I'll just let you get to reading, and I'll see you at the bottom of the page... ;)
The next day at Seaborne was far from rosy for Sherlock. He was in quite a different state than when he'd left Molly's home the day before.
"What do you mean I'm sick?! I can't be sick!" Sherlock complained, and then promptly sneezed.
"Why exactly can you not be sick?" John asked as he grimaced at Sherlock's sneezing fit. "You are a human being, Holmes. I assure you, you are sick. Just take the next day or two and get some rest. You'll feel much better."
"I cannot just sit here in the house, Watson! I have...things I must see to," Sherlock grumbled, thinking more of a person than of an actual to-do list.
"Not in this state." John shook his head. "Believe me, nobody, and I mean nobody, wants to see you like this. You need to stay home and rest."
"I- I need to walk-" He paused to cough a bit before trying to sound as authoritative as possible. "I need to walk Redbeard."
John frowned. "It so happens that you have an entire staff of servants at your disposal, Holmes. Perhaps this would be an excellent time to make use of them. Just do yourself a favor and get better before you do anything else."
"I can't believe this," Sherlock groaned as he slid further down the pillow and angrily pulled his dressing gown more tightly around himself.
"What exactly were you hoping to see to that was so urgent?" John asked with a smirk.
"I just...do not enjoy being ill. That is all I meant," he said, but was not convincing.
"Trust me, you'll be in a much better state to get things done if you are well and back to your normal self."
Sherlock sighed loudly, and then suddenly his head shot up from where it rested on his pillow. "John, give me my writing set from my desk please," he demanded.
"Oh, right...here you are." John placed the items on Sherlock's lap and watched as he quickly began scribbling away. "As a clarification, I said you were ill and needed to rest at home. I did not in fact say that you have become a cripple and cannot walk to your desk."
Sherlock ignored him and continued writing...
Miss Hooper,
Forgive me, but a slight illness has delayed my agreed upon visit with Redbeard. We will come as soon as we are able. Redbeard is surely more displeased with me than you are. He sends his regards.
Your friend,
S. Holmes
Sherlock waved the page around for a moment to dry the ink, folded it carefully, stuffed it quickly into an envelope, and then wrote 'Miss Molly Hooper' on the front. He shoved it into John's hands. John immediately began to open his mouth when he looked at it.
"Do not," Sherlock cut in instantly, "say a word, Watson! Just take it downstairs and have it sent."
John tried not to smile so broadly. "I'm not saying anything," he answered with a smirk.
Sherlock sank back against his bed again. "Thank you, Watson."
John left the room with the letter in hand and Sherlock was left alone to rest...and oh how he hated resting.
It took a full two more days for Sherlock to be mostly back to normal. It was a grueling two days for the whole of Seaborne. Mrs. Hudson suffered the most. Though Sherlock was unhappy to be confined due to illness, his poor health also turned him into a great big child. The constant demands on the poor housekeeper were driving her up the wall. Her's was the one with the most excited reaction when she saw him coming down the stairs, fully dressed, two days later.
"Oh thank the Lord!" Mrs. Hudson cried out as she shook her head and stomped past the recovered detective. "I am going to take a nap!"
"What was that all about?" he questioned with a furrowed brow as he walked into the dining room where the rest of the household were sitting.
"Look who's all better and properly dressed," Irene purred from her place at the table. "Though I must say it's not all an improvement. You looked especially fetching when you came downstairs in your dressing gown yesterday."
Lady Holmes let out an obvious huff of disgust from the other end of the table. Irene only continued smiling at Sherlock and looking pleased with herself.
Sherlock did little to acknowledge the comment though. He looked at Irene only briefly as he took a seat, then he spoke to his mother. "You had tea at the Hawkins' estate yesterday, did you not? What a shame I was too ill to attend," he said with an obvious tone of sarcasm.
"I did indeed, and you were sorely missed of course. They sent their regards, and also said that they hope to repeat the occasion with you in attendance. And of course Miss Hawkins was saying how much she was looking forward to attending the upcoming wedding." Lady Holmes beamed at John and Mary.
"I am so very sorry that I won't be able to see the happy day," Irene added. "I was ever so glad, though, to have gone to tea in your place yesterday, Mr. Holmes."
"You went?" Sherlock frowned.
"She certainly did," Lady Holmes answered with a look of discomfort. "It was an...interesting occasion."
"I enjoyed meeting Miss Hawkins," Irene said after she'd sipped her tea. "And I should like to believe that she's all the wiser for the time we spent chatting."
Sherlock chuckled. "I am glad you two were able to become acquainted. I had thought she would enjoy gleaning a bit of your...wisdom."
"Indeed," she smiled. "I believe you could say she is wiser now."
More eye rolling from Lady Holmes and snickering from Mary.
"Are you sure you are feeling all right now, Sherlock?" his mother questioned, happy to change the subject. "We could always call Dr. Charles."
Sherlock made a sour expression. "Why would I call Dr. Charles when my best friend, a doctor, is right here in our household?!"
"It was simply a suggestion!" Lady Holmes said defensively. "I am sure he is happy to become better acquainted with his patients anyway. It sounds as if he is doing well with settling in though. I myself am looking forward to meeting him. He sounds just lovely."
There was a moment of silence, and then Lady Holmes let out a little gasp as she put her tea down and spoke once again, seeming to have remembered something.
"And that has put me in mind of what Lady Hawkins was telling us yesterday! She and Lord Hawkins had met Dr. Charles earlier yesterday in town, and can you guess what he spoke of most?" she asked the table excitedly. "Miss Hooper!"
There was a clatter as Sherlock's utensil hit the plate. Everyone looked at him momentarily as he cleared his throat and retrieved the item. Lady Holmes happily continued.
"Apparently he seemed quite taken with her. Went on and on about how impressed he was when he met her and heard all about her father. Lady Hawkins says she expects a happy announcement in a matter of weeks at most."
John looked down the table nervously at Sherlock and found that you could almost see the steam coming out of his friend's ears.
"It is merely gossip, of course," Mary offered quickly as she also glanced at Sherlock.
"Oh yes ,yes," Lady Holmes admitted reluctantly, but then went on. "But just think! Think how marvelous that would be! The poor girl is well past twenty already, she has little to recommend her, and, until this summer, has had little exposure to society. Along comes Dr. Charles, mere weeks after her father has passed away and left her alone, and he takes a liking to her! I cannot imagine a more perfect match!"
"Can you not?" Sherlock asked through gritted teeth, though he didn't even look up.
"Of course not. Just think of it, he's a kind young man from all accounts I've heard thus far. He is a doctor, just like her father! He is settling right here, where the girl already has a happy and comfortable life. It would be as if she could remain exactly as she has always been, and gain the happiness of a marriage and family of her own. I cannot imagine that many more such offers would present themselves. Oh she is a lovely girl, of course, but the facts being what they are-"
"Yes, thank you, I believe we have a firm grasp of the facts, Mother," Sherlock cut in. "Excuse me, I've got some things I must attend to this morning. I shall return this afternoon."
Sherlock gulped some of his tea, set the cup down, and made his exit from the room.
Lady Holmes looked around at the somewhat uncomfortable looking table of people. "Well...I thought it was a nice bit of news," she said under her breath, and continued eating her breakfast.
Sherlock marched out of the dining room and outside with Redbeard following happily beside him. Sherlock wasn't quite as happy though. He was currently working on deleting the rubbish that he'd just heard come out of his mother's mouth. That's all it was...rubbish. It was annoying and frustrating, but that was all. He could soon put all such stupid gossip to rest. Those gossiping women would have a very different sort of news to spread around town if he had anything to say about it!
Sherlock decided, especially given the conversation at the breakfast table, to waste no more time in going back to visit Molly. Redbeard was just happy that his master was out and about again, so he very contentedly followed him in whatever direction he went.
As he walked, he thought about all the times he'd seen color rise in Molly's cheeks or the way she would nervously look down at her feet for a moment instead of keeping eye contact, or the way her eyes seemed to get brighter when he smiled at her. The more he thought about these things, the more confident he became. Sherlock decided that he didn't have a care in the world when it came to Tom's interest in Molly. He was sure that there really was no competition if he were to put his mind to it.
As Sherlock neared Molly's home, he felt a strange fluttering in his stomach which he wasn't used to feeling. It was uncomfortable and disturbing. It was something like the feeling of not being able to solve a case...well, not as quickly as he'd like anyway. He tried to shove the emotions aside and ignore them. Surely he would feel better once he saw her.
Sherlock walked up to the front door, but stopped before he could knock. He heard something around the back and went to investigate. Sure enough, as he walked around to the back of the house, there was Molly helping Mrs. Hart in the garden.
Sherlock never needed announce himself anymore when approaching her. Redbeard always seemed to take care of that for him.
Molly turned as she heard the approaching animal behind her, and immediately crouched down and smiling as she accepted his kisses. By the time she looked up, Sherlock had caught up with his dog and reached the garden.
"Good day, Mr. Holmes. I'm so glad to see you both," Molly said with a smile as she stood from greeting the dog.
"And you." Sherlock smiled and bowed his head.
She reached her hand down to where Redbeard was standing on hind legs against her skirt. "I do believe he's getting bigger."
"He is, yes. Still very much acting the part of a puppy though."
"I'll miss that! It'll be sad when he's not small anymore." She smiled down at Redbeard and scratched his head, then she looked back at Sherlock and stammered a bit. "Well, not that - I mean, I'm not sure how long he'll - I mean how long you'll still be here...anyway, I'd miss the puppy stage."
By this time, Molly was rather pink in the cheeks and trying to keep her eyes on the dog. Sherlock smiled at her though, amused at her slight embarrassment.
"I am glad to see you are well," Molly said, quickly changing the subject.
"I am, thank you. Not a moment too soon. Redbeard would have had my head if I'd not been fit to go outside again today."
"Perhaps I would have come after you as well." She gave Sherlock a playful smile that almost made him forget how to breathe.
"Yes, well, I had certainly meant to return sooner than this. I was looking forward to seeing what you've done with the samples I'd sent."
"Right! Well, perhaps we should go inside and I can just get them for you."
Molly walked with Sherlock through the back kitchen door and took him into the little sitting room. "I'll just go and get those sketches. I'll only be a minute."
Sherlock took a few steps around the room and then took a seat on the couch. He looked at the chair that sat empty across from him and had a sudden vivid mental image of Dr. Hooper, just as he had been on that day many weeks ago. It was the day Sherlock learned how much the man really loved his daughter. How the man's words echoed in Sherlock's mind so clearly now...
I would have let my Molly continue here forever if she wished. If this is the life she loves, I'd never have pushed her out of it...she has always had me, and she has had this profession that I chose...I just want her to be happy and well cared for.
Sherlock felt an odd discomfort creeping in again, and he wished his mouth hadn't gone dry so suddenly. He was relieved of his memories for the moment as the door to the sitting room opened again and Molly came in holding a bunch of papers.
"Here they are. I still have two left that need some work, but I've finished most of them." She took a seat on the couch and held the sketches out as she began to show him.
A smile slowly spread on Sherlock's lips as he examined the sketch of a beetle's antenna, a flower petal, and more. The detail was impeccable, and Sherlock could almost imagine he was looking into the lens of his microscope as he examined the beautiful art.
"These are...perfect," he uttered, as he continued looking at the pages.
"Really?" Molly blushed with pride and happiness. "Well, thank you. I did do my best. Oh, I'm not done with that shell you gave me. And I hope you don't mind, I added another flower petal to the bunch. I started sketching one from the bunch that Dr. Charles brought yesterday."
Sherlock's head shot up and his eyes met hers. "Sorry?"
Molly gestured to the vase on the table which housed the small bouquet of wild flowers. "Yes, he stopped by yesterday and brought them. He said he happened to be going this way." Molly would have been lying if she'd said there was no other reason for her mentioning this.
"Was he?" Sherlock questioned as he gave the poor bouquet a hard glare. "How interesting."
Interesting that this man is not wasting time, was what Sherlock was truly thinking. John was more than correct in his estimation of Tom's interest. Sherlock must have stared menacingly at the vase for too long, because Molly began to get the wrong impression.
"Um, sorry, maybe you weren't interested in any other variations of magnified flower petals," she started nervously.
Sherlock shook himself from his irritated thoughts. "No, no. Forgive me, I became distracted. Do continue with that sketch, it sounds just fine. Those flowers are...fascinating," he said, trying hard to sound genuine in his compliments about flowers that were chosen by another man.
"Oh, good then." Molly smiled again.
Sherlock's mind began to race furiously as he wondered how to proceed from here. He'd been so confident that there was nothing to worry about, and suddenly he didn't even know what to say next. He'd got the sketches...now what? He waited too long, and Molly continued speaking on the current undesirable topic.
"Dr. Charles seems to be settling in nicely, don't you think?"
"Yes I...suppose so," he answered slowly.
"I spoke to a couple of people in town yesterday, and everyone who has met him seems rather pleased. I would never have said such a thing to Dr. Watson, but I was a bit nervous about meeting the new doctor. Please don't tell him, I wouldn't want him to think I didn't trust his judgment!" she added hastily.
"I wouldn't breathe a word," Sherlock said honestly.
"I do trust him, of course. It's just, I'm sure you can understand my concern. To me, nobody measures up to my father. It's hard for me to imagine any other man caring for the health of everyone around us in the way my father did. I can't help feeling that way."
"Naturally," he said softly.
Molly put a smile back on and replaced the expression that had turned a little sad. "I feel better now though. I'm much happier now that I've met Dr. Charles. It's put some of my fears and worries to rest."
Sherlock tried to control the expression he wore as he listened to her speak. He swallowed hard. "I'm glad."
Molly nodded. She reached down and smoothed the top of Redbeard's head, which had popped up from where he was on the floor.
"He does seem...competent," Sherlock added, though he was kicking himself internally. Change the subject, for God's sake!
"He does," Molly agreed. "I am glad of that. He is young, but from our conversations, I would say he obviously has a natural aptitude for, and love of, medicine. I like that. That's exactly the sort of thing I was hoping for when I imagined who would best take my father's place. I know that's what he would have wanted."
Sherlock took a deep breath. He readied himself, and began to form words in his mouth which needed to come out. It was time to speak honestly...it was time to tell her.
Unfortunately, Molly spoke first. And she would have hated herself if she'd known the damage she was about to do.
"I think my father would have liked him very much," she said with a soft smile.
Sherlock froze, both physically and mentally. The words that had been on the tip of his tongue fell apart and dissolved quickly. Everything he'd been thinking melted away, and he was left feeling like someone had poured ice water through his veins.
Yes, he thought. Dr. Hooper would have, wouldn't he? He would have liked him very much. Oh God...
The fears he'd recently been unconsciously trying to suppress came flooding back into his mind. He was overwhelmed with memories of Dr. Hooper, and the words that he'd spoken about his beloved daughter. He was even filled with memories of his own earnestly spoken words.
Surely there is a man that could be the making of your daughter's happiness. I don't believe there is any reason for you to doubt it...I do not believe that I am built to be a husband...
True, Dr. Hooper had disagreed with him that day. The man liked and respected him, that much was certain. But Sherlock considered the simple truth of what Molly had just said, and realized that it changed everything about what he had been planning. Dr. Hooper absolutely would have liked Tom. If he could have considered his daughter's options right now on this day, wasn't it likely that his opinion would be very different? Was there anything Tom lacked that he would have wanted for his daughter?
His mother had been right when she'd spoken this morning. What she'd said had been absolutely accurate, and it left him feeling sick. If ever there was a perfect match for Molly Hooper, someone who could give her the sort of life she already loved, it was Dr. Tom Charles. What Sherlock had done, all those weeks ago, was to ensure that Molly could keep the life she loved. What exactly was he about to do if he spoke honestly? He was about to change everything that her life had been. And when he looked at it from that point of view, he believed that it was incredibly selfish. He wanted her...but had he really thought about what was best for her?
Could he confess his feelings and expect that she would grin and blush as she accepted his proposal of marriage? And would she perhaps sigh contentedly when he finally allowed himself to press his lips to hers? Yes, he believed that is exactly what would happen...and that was why he now believed he should swallow the words he'd wanted to speak.
These thoughts of his progressed at lightning speed, but his pause was still long enough for Molly to look at him with a questioning frown. "Mr. Holmes? Sorry, were you going to say something?"
Sherlock slowly let out the breath he'd been holding in. "No, Miss Hooper," he answered softly. "It was nothing."
"Oh," she smiled, examining his face and seeming unsure. "Sometimes I talk too much. I should learn to keep my words in check before they run wild." She laughed a little.
Sherlock managed a small smile, and hoped it didn't look as sad as it felt on his lips. I could listen to you talk forever, he thought. I'll surely keep hearing your voice long after we're parted.
Redbeard jumped at his legs and whined a little. He mused that his dog was intuitive enough to be disappointed in the decision he'd just come to. Redbeard had grown to love Molly, too, and he would miss her.
"Thank you for doing this," Sherlock finally said, as he touched the sketches again.
Molly shook her head. "It's been such an enjoyable project, I cannot accept any thanks. I could not have been happier to do it. And as soon as I'm through with the last couple of sketches I'll be sure to get the microscope back to you."
"There's no rush. I've got more at Seaborne."
"I'll be sure to tell you when I've finished the last one. Perhaps you could...come by again?" she asked, and scratched Redbeard's head again in an effort to avoid appearing desperate.
Sherlock gave her a half smile. "Perhaps," he answered softly.
"I hope all is coming along nicely for Dr. Watson's wedding plans. I will be sorry to miss the occasion."
"They will miss your presence," he said honestly. "It's not long now. A bit more than a fortnight. Then they are off on their travels and shall return to London some time later."
Molly nodded. "If I don't see them again, please give them my best wishes for their happiness. I think they will be so happy, and I'm glad they found each other. What a happy end to this summer." Her smile was tainted with some growing, and unspoken, disappointment of her own.
"Mm, happy indeed." Sherlock looked away for a moment and realized that the time for his visit had come to a close. He could stay no longer, for fear his resolve would weaken. He would not give in to this.
"I should continue on and walk Redbeard back to Seaborne," he said as he stood abruptly.
Molly stood as well, looking a little surprised. "Oh, of course. Well, thank you for walking him by this way. I'm glad to have seen you...both of you."
Molly stooped down to give Redbeard some cuddles and scratched behind both his ears just as he liked best.
Sherlock picked up the sketches and bowed his head as Molly stood to face him again. "Good day, Miss Hooper."
With that, he walked quickly past her and left the sitting room. She heard him exit through the front door a moment later. Molly walked over to the window and watched as he secured his hat on his head and called to Redbeard who kept hanging back. The man and his dog soon disappeared around some trees, and she could see them no longer.
Molly didn't move from the window for a few minutes though. She was beginning to come to terms with the fact that her summer was not about to have the same sort of happy end as John's and Mary's. She wondered if she could find happiness anyway. Could she be content with what she had? Or could she learn to be content with something...different than what she really wanted? It was time to begin considering what options were in front of her.
Because one option seemed to be moving further and further away.
So...do you hate me yet? Yes, I know I pulled the rug out from under you with Sherlock seeming like he was right there ready to pop the question. And he was! But I have a much more dramatic ending in mine, so I just couldn't put the poor man out of his misery quite yet. I have to say that this is kind of the beginning of the end. Only in the sense of there being a lot of activity and drama from here on out. More drama is on its way in the next chapter, and I do believe you'll enjoy it. :)
I am now off to get myself some coffee and I will eagerly await your reviews, comments, questions, insults (well hopefully not), and whatever else you'd like to throw at me. See you next week, I'm sure! ;D