Chapter Nine - Three Months Later
A/N: This is the little epilogue that wouldn't stop growing. It has turned into two additional chapters! I really tried to wrap this up short and sweet but Molly and Sherlock had other ideas. Enjoy Chapter Nine, I'll post Chapter Ten next week!
Sherlock stood looking out the window at the busy traffic below. Everything was back to normal, or at least as normal as things ever got at 221b Baker Street. He was playing everything very low-key. No need for publicity. Only Mycroft, John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Molly knew of his return. Immediately following Morairty's capture he had moved back into Baker Street. He continued to wear his disguise of short reddish hair and beard. If anyone had noticed that John's new flat mate was similar to his old one, they probably thought it was the reason for Johns' selection. They had settled comfortably and were soon the mates they had always been. No rough edges there. Sherlock was grateful. He knew John had the right to be resentful over the way he had been treated, but except for the short clipped words on the night when they had first met again, he had shown no signs of anger. They had spent several hours quietly talking about that day on the rooftop of Bart's and the events afterward. The result being that John understood and accepted Sherlock's decisions on the matter. Oh, he had called him a worthless git and an idiot, but Sherlock knew it was his way of forgiving him.
News of Moriarty's duplicity was slowly being made public. Hopefully one day soon John would be able to write in his blog again and he could openly solve cases in the spectacular way he was accustomed to. For now, he was content to use John as a go between to help out Lestrade. Thanks to Mycroft's intervention, Lestrade had been given his old post back following an in-depth internal affairs inquiry. Surprisingly enough Donavan and Anderson seemed happy to welcome Lestrade back as their boss.
They had just wrapped up the loose ends for the last of Moriarty's lieutenants, one Sebastian Moran. It had been a particularly difficult case with considerable danger. Their scheme to capture Moran had almost backfired when Moran had decided to use the same room as he and John had chosen for a lookout. Fortunately, he had been quick-witted enough to use the mistake to his advantage resulting in Moran's capture.
Yes, everything on the whole was moving quite satisfactorily he reflected. There was still the problem of what to do about Molly. He shifted uncomfortably and shoved the thought away, plenty of time to worry about her later he decided.
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To Molly it seemed like Sherlock went from one case to next. Lestrade was out to prove that he was still the best Detective Inspector at Scotland Yard and he was constantly using Sherlock to accomplish it. Molly didn't mind, she understood how Sherlock was during a case. When he quietly slipped in the back way to use the lab, she had a smile and a cup of coffee waiting. It didn't bother her when he totally ignored her or called her John instead of Molly when he was distracted or concentrating. She was content to know he was close by and she was willing to help in any way.
Then, as time went on, she began to notice that Sherlock was behaving a little oddly, even for Sherlock. His change of behavior was most pronounced during the downtimes between cases. Molly would look up from her work and catch him staring at her. When she smiled back at him he gave no indication that he had seen her. He would just glance around the room and then go back to whatever he was doing. After the third time she had lightly said. "Do I have mustard on my nose?"
"What?" Sherlock asked distractedly.
"You were staring at my nose," Molly explained, smiling as she rubbed her nose. "Did I get it off?"
"I wasn't staring at your nose, I was thinking," he mumbled and looked down to his microscope.
"Sherlock," Molly began, "I was wondering . . ."
Sherlock looked down at his watch and interrupted, "Have to go." He gathered the slides he was looking at and left quickly without another word.
If that had been the only time Sherlock had acted so peculiarly Molly would have dismissed it as an eccentricity, especially since once he was back on a case he was his old snarky self. But between cases, he continued to display the staring at Molly thing. Each time when she asked him what was wrong he would shrug, mumble a curt excuse and leave shortly thereafter. The rude answers bothered Molly, after all she had done nothing to deserve them. And then there was the hovering behavior. Molly would look up and find Sherlock near by, so close he was invading her personal space. Molly had seen him do that to John, but she had never been on the receiving end before. It could be quite unnerving, especially when she spoke to him and he physically jumped and looked around in a puzzled way as if he didn't realize where he was. What on earth was going on?
Then his behavior changed again. He abruptly stopped coming to Barts. This was the most distressing action yet. Sherlock was clearly avoiding her for some reason. In the last three weeks she had seen him only once. He had been leaving as she came in to work. Obviously he had been there all night. He had looked at her, solemnly nodded and left without speaking. He never came to the lab when Molly was there. He sent John to pick up the things he needed or used the lab at night or on Molly's day off. Molly wasn't stupid, she knew all this erratic behavior was somehow because of her. What she didn't understand was why. As far as she knew, nothing had changed. Why was he treating her like this? As time went by and he continued to avoid her, her puzzlement changed to hurt, then anger. She went over and over conversations leading up to the beginning of his avoidance but could not find a single reason why he should be treating her like this.
"Well, if Sherlock bloody Holmes was going to treat her this way, let him," she decided, she bloody didn't care.
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Sherlock moved restlessly from the couch to the chair and back to the couch. He couldn't concentrate. He was having difficulty settling down enough to have a coherent thought let alone have the ability to read the latest issue of The Journal of Modern Chemistry. He forced his limbs into stillness, not the best way to enter his mind palace, but if he was going to get there at all, it was the only way. He slowed his breathing, visualized opening a large wooden door heavily carved in intricate designs. He walked down a marble floored hallway decorated with paintings by old Dutch Masters. He moved to the end of the hallway where a rather plain door with brass numbers and letter proclaimed 221b. The door swung open and he entered straight into the living room. He nodded to the skull as it grinned down from the mantle.
Something was different, his frown cleared as he realized what it was. John was no longer sitting at the small table typing on his laptop. Of course John was not here. John was with him in reality, he had no need for him to be here any longer. Sherlock glanced at the couch, to his relief Molly was absent also. He sighed gratefully and slumped into his chair allowing his mind to float aimlessly. It felt good to relax. He felt muscles loosen that he hadn't realized were tight. His mind drifted and he felt himself falling asleep. He had never slept in his mind palace. Did that mean he was comatose in reality? He decided he felt so relaxed and comfortable that he didn't care. Some time later he awoke feeling better than he had in weeks.
He knew she was there before he opened his eyes. He carefully opened one eye. There she was. Molly Hooper was seated in John's chair reading a book. He could even see the title she was reading: The Joy of Sex, the Ultimate Revised Edition. What in the world was she reading that book for? It had to be at least forty years old, even if it was supposedly revised. He closed his eyes. Why was she here bothering him? A small voice in the background reminded him he was currently avoiding all contact with Molly Hooper. He opened one eye again. Molly was still there reading a book. The title had changed he noticed. Now she was reading The Big Fun Sexy Sex Book. If she was going to stay here he decided grumpily, he would just go to another room. He closed his eyes again and when he opened them he was in the library. Unfortunately so was Molly. She was sitting quietly at a corner table dressed in that black shirt/dress thing she had worn to distract Moriarty's guards and was reading: Bonk, the Curious Coupling of Science and Sex." Oh for God's sake," Sherlock grumbled. If she wasn't going to stay in the living room like a nice ghost, he was going to have to do something drastic like actually talk to her in reality. He looked at her again hoping if he stared long enough she would disappear. The only thing that changed was the title of the book she was reading. Now it said: The Modern Kama Sutra.
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John stopped by the morgue to pick up some things for Sherlock. Molly had her back to him working on her computer. He glanced at the screen over her shoulder and stared. Molly had her Curriculum Vitae up on the screen.
"You're not planning on applying for a new job are you?" he asked worriedly.
"As a matter of fact, I am." Molly answered. "I received a heads up from a friend that there is a position coming available in Cardiff next month. I'm working on my CV to make it current before applying for the job."
"But what about Sherlock?"
"What about him?" Molly asked reluctantly.
"You can't just go off and leave him."
"Yes, I can. I don't see that it would make any difference to him one way or the other," Molly replied.
Slowly with John's persistent questions Molly told him what Sherlock had been like over the past two months. John was dumbfounded, he had no idea that things between Sherlock and Molly had deteriorated so badly.
"Molly, you and Sherlock need to talk." John said firmly.
"Yeah, like that's going to happen. He's avoiding me like I have the plague." Molly retorted.
"Well, you could go to him. Back him in a corner or something and make him talk."
"Look, we both know Sherlock's not going to talk unless he wants to," Molly said. "From where I stand it's pretty clear he's just not interested. He's satisfied with his solution of not being around me. I just intend on making sure it's permanent. It's time for me to move on."
John turned his back to Molly and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. He knew Molly loved Sherlock and he suspected his friend more than liked her. John thought of how Sherlock's face had looked when he thought Molly had been in the crashed helicopter. It was just that Sherlock was being totally oblivious about it now.
He turned to Molly and said, "Molly I want you to think about something. Think back when you were in your teens and just starting to notice boys. How did those boys act toward you? I'm not talking about the popular ones, think about the average guys. Does it remind you of how Sherlock has been acting toward you?"
Molly looked at him astonished "Oh, come on!" she said, "You can't possibly believe he acting like an immature boy do you?"
John smiled. "That's exactly what I am suggesting. Think about it Molly, When do you suppose he learned any dating skills? You know how rude he can be around people in general. What makes you think he would be any better initiating a relationship? I'm not saying he is necessarily inexperienced, what I am saying is I don't think any of those experiences developed into a relationship. If you care for him at all don't you think he deserves at least one more chance?"
"I don't see that it would do any good." Molly said stubbornly. "What could I do that would make a difference? Sherlock will take one look at me and say something really mean."
"Yes, he probably will," John agreed. "I'm not saying it will be easy, on the contrary I imagine it may be the hardest thing you have ever done. You will have to decide which is more important to you, your pride or taking a chance that you may be humiliated. You're leaving at any rate, So what do you have to lose?"
"l'lI think about it," Molly replied with a doubtful tone. She hesitated and then spoke. "John," she paused for a second then continued, "About you and Sherlock, I'm not interfering with how things are with you two?"
John was about to make a scathing retort, but seeing the genuine concern on Molly's face, softened his reply. "I do know that some people think that Sherlock and I are more than just friends. But that's all that we really are. Very good friends, best friends, I do love him, but like a brother. I promise you I'm really not gay."
Molly nodded slowly. John could almost hear her next question. "As for Sherlock," He continued gently, "Who knows for sure? I know he sometimes acts like he is in public just to aggravate me. He thinks it's hilarious when I get upset. But he has never given me any indication that he was physically attracted to me. As to whether he is gay or hetero, I'm not convinced he is either. He's just Sherlock. He's complicated. You know you haven't picked the easiest person to fall in love with."
"I know," Molly smiled.
John turned to leave, hesitated, then faced Molly again. "If you are serious about talking to Sherlock, I'll be out of town Tuesday and Wednesday to visit Harry. I asked Sherlock if he wanted to go with me but he is not keen on letting anyone else know he is alive right now. I know for a fact that he plans to catch up on his reading in the journals that have piled up since he left. You could go to Baker Street to talk. Just start with something he is interested in and go from there. I know you can do it." John smiled and gave her a hug before he left.
Molly was confused and distressed. The old Molly, the shy mousey Molly wanted to run to Cardiff and wrap everything up as a bad experience. It would be so easy. A new life, a new start. Something told her that if she ran, if she didn't at least try to talk to Sherlock, she would never be the person she wanted to become. She would always be something less, someone who would live the rest of her life wishing she had been brave enough to fight for what she had wanted.
The new Molly was still developing. "Do I have the courage to face Sherlock and accept the consequences?" She thought she could handle his anger and even derisive remarks; after all she had plenty of experience in that area.
What happened if he looked at her with pity in his eyes? When he kindly explained to her that while he was very flattered at her attentions he was just not interested? Could she handle humiliation? It was the thing she feared the most.
"Oh, bloody hell," Molly muttered to herself. Even if she lost everything, it was better than the limbo-hell she was in right now. If her life was going to go up in flames, so be it. She would rather go out with a roar than ever squeak like a mouse again. If she couldn't handle a little sarcasm or pity or what ever the man decided to dish out, she didn't deserve Sherlock Holmes. What she needed now was a plan.