Disclaimer: I still don't own Sherlock.
A/N: Thanks for reading as ever!
Chapter VII
Molly was about to leave the morgue as she caught a glimpse of a sudden movement in the corner of her eye. She armed herself with her umbrella before she proceeded to check out the intruder.
"Never would have picked you for a violent one," came the velvet voice of none other than Sherlock Holmes just a few feet from her.
Molly dropped the umbrella in surprise.
"You gave me a right fright, haven't I specifically asked you not to drop on me like this?"
"Probably. And I most likely wasn't listening. Anyway, I apologise for any harm my sudden appearance may have caused you and hope that it will prevent you from slaughtering me with an umbrella."
"Just make sure you don't surprise me like that again. Otherwise I can't promise you anything."
"I promise then."
"You're crossing your fingers behind your back, aren't you?"
"Maybe. Still, where did the violence come from?"
"You know me; I'm always full of surprises."
"More like full of frustration," Sherlock muttered under his breath.
"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."
"Nothing."
"No more deducing me, Sherlock. You promised that."
"When did I promise that again? And why?"
Molly ignored Sherlock's comment and instead finally took in his appearance, hunched on the floor with his back against the wall. He looked more tired than she had ever seen him, there seemed something wrong with him just as during the whole Moriarty ordeal almost three years ago, except this seemed to be even worse. His clothes were ragged, hair messy and there were dark circles under his blood shot eyes as he furiously scratched at his forearm.
Oh, no, he didn't.
She slid down onto the floor next to him.
To her surprise it was Sherlock who spoke first.
"You look terrible."
A hollow laugh escaped Molly's lips.
"That's rich coming from you. When was the last time you actually looked into a mirror?"
His gaze stayed transfixed on his forearm.
"Well, I do feel like looking into one when I look at you right now."
Molly sighed.
"Well this case is hardly doing me any good."
Sherlock only answered her with an inexplicable huff as if he didn't consider Molly's explanation to be good enough. She scanned his demeanour cautiously and if she didn't know better she'd almost swear that Sherlock was of the opinion that Molly didn't quite know what she was talking about. Even though she was the one who had to perform the autopsy and post mortem examination of all the boys. She didn't press Sherlock to elaborate on his opinion of the matter. If there was something that he wanted to tell her, he would have done so. It would probably take a while and he'd do it in some of his strange ways, but he would be the one to come forward with the initiative. This was the way their unlikely friendship came to work in the past few months.
The relentless scratching wouldn't stop until Molly grabbed Sherlock's hand.
"You didn't go and do something stupid, did you?"
"No," Sherlock shook his head.
"Mind if I look?"
There seemed to be a glimmer of hurt that found its way onto Sherlock face before he nodded his approval. Molly almost felt bad, yet she knew that this wouldn't be the first time he had lied to his friends about this matter. She could almost feel her heart in her throat as she pulled up both of Sherlock's sleeves. She couldn't detect any recent track marks. Unless her friend had found a new creative way to shoot up, it seemed that his blood shot eyes were the result of one too many a sleepless night. And she wanted to believe his words, so it was unlikely that he had taken anything.
"But you wanted to...want to?" she corrected herself in the middle of the sentence.
As Sherlock gave a barely visible nod in confirmation, Molly shuddered.
"But you came to me for help."
"Is there something wrong with that?"
"No, of course not," Mary bit her lower lip in frustration.
Just great, he comes to her for help and she drives him away.
"I'm flattered that you'd come to me, really...and surprised."
"Why...isn't this what friends do?"
A warmth crept into Molly's heart. Yet there was something adorable and at the same time very sad about the unsure tone in Sherlock's voice.
"Yes, it is. It's just that I'd expect you to go to John with this first. I'd only expect you to come to me if you were looking for ways to find drugs not ways to stay away from them. Seeing as I have easier access to them than most. You're not, are you?"
"No," Sherlock shook his head: "If I wanted to steal drugs, I wouldn't bother you with that, you don't have to worry."
"Yeah, that doesn't worry me at all," Molly muttered under her breath, unsure if Sherlock was able to detect the sarcasm in her voice.
"So why me?"
"I didn't want to trouble Mary and John. They've got enough trouble on their hands as it is."
"And you'd know that, of course."
"Sorry, what?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed in confusion and Molly could feel his green blue eyes scanning her, deducing: "...oh, I see, you've visited yesterday, wanted to get your mind off the last one."
"True, but I also felt like seeing my godson."
"They named you godmother."
"Which you would have known if you bothered to visit sometimes. You know I'm sure little Will would like to get to know his godfather as well."
"He's three weeks old, he can hardly recognise his own mother, yet alone his godfather," Sherlock answered harshly.
"You know what I mean. Mary and John are worried about you, Sherlock. They miss you."
Sherlock's only answer was silence.
"Sherlock...just promise you will give them a visit soon."
"I...can't."
"Why?"
"It's complicated."
"You made a vow Sherlock."
"I know."
"So why?"
"I said it's complicated, so just leave it, Molly...please."
Molly knowing how much effort on his part it took to utter that last word decided to let the matter go. Furthermore she managed to detect some kind of hidden determination in Sherlock's words when he spoke about the vow as if he were keeping it by staying away from the Watson family.
"Well, get up then," she commanded.
"Are we going somewhere?" Sherlock looked up at her confusion.
"Yes, I know the right place you need just now."
A doubtful expression crossed Sherlock's face; he was thinking that the place she'd drag him to would hardly be the appropriate one for him. But Molly knew that the detective was in some ways far worse at deducing her than she was at knowing him.
Molly tried hiding her triumphal smile at Sherlock's somewhat surprised expression as they got out of the car in front of the Dogs and Cats Home.
"What are we doing here?" he wondered.
"You'll see," she reassured him as he precariously followed her into the building.
Jenny, the elderly lady at the front desk smiled at the duo: "Oh, hello, Molly, here with your new boyfriend? He's quite a catch this one."
"Oh...erm...I...Sherlock's just a friend," Molly finally squeezed out as both her and Jenny's face turned red, Sherlock either stayed oblivious to their embarrassment or chose to ignore it.
"Molly...I'm not sure this is a good idea."
"Don't worry, Sherlock. It will be fine."
"Here to see Archer?" Jenny asked finally, trying to get over the somewhat humiliating start of this visit.
"Oh, yes!" Molly answered eagerly.
Archer turned out to be an elderly golden retriever, which calmed Sherlock somewhat. There was a bit familiarity to him compared to Redbeard, but the dog was different enough from his boyhood friend not to reopen old wounds.
Sherlock petted Archer carefully before burrowing his head in the dog's fur.
"Do you come here often?" he wondered.
"Hmm. I wanted to adopt Archer, but it's not like I can provide him with the best care with my job and all. But he's really old, so no one else will take him. I came to an agreement with the home, I regularly donate to them to help run things and Archer can stay."
Molly couldn't stop the urge to explain herself even though this was Sherlock and he had probably deduced everything by now.
"It's just...I spend so much time with dead people...and the when I'm with people who are actually alive, they don't understand...dogs don't ask questions."
"I see."
Not sure about how this came out, feels kinda OOC.