For Day. Because it was her birthday, and she is super lovely and supportive and one hell of a laugh on twitter.
Also she writes awesome stuff. (That's daisherz365 on here and sincerelydayyy on Tumblr)
She asked for some Sherlolly with a bit of The Doctor, but it turned into The Doctor with some Sherlolly. And some feels, there's a bunch of those.
Enjoy.
"And you trust this man?" Sherlock's voice was lowered in the unlit morgue.
"Yes. With everything. With my life. He has saved me more times than you can imagine. He can save you, from this game. I promise you."
"And I, Molly Hooper, trust you." Sherlock Holmes was afraid, which was painful to admit, even to himself. He slowly lifted his hand to Molly's face, and caressed her cheek swiping away her unshed tears with the calloused skin of his thumb. "More than you can imagine."
He placed a soft kiss on her lips, Molly's bittersweet dream, and Sherlock's unknown want realised. A plan in place, Sherlock Holmes strode out of the basement floor, heading to the roof, heading to a fate he was unsure of, his life in the hands of a man he was yet to meet.
The phone was ringing, why was the phone ringing? The Doctor and Donna had been playing a Galifreyan version of snap for the past hour, Donna had always known the set of cards she'd hidden in one of her hat boxes would come in handy, and Donna was wining. The shrill noise of the phone's ring reached them within one of the TARDIS' indefinable rooms, all the way from the console room, and within seconds The Doctor's converse clad toes wriggled with excitement and carried him down the grated metal steps to the main room. Clutching the off white receiver, he smiled.
"Hello?" he said cheerily.
"Doctor? I need your help. Please." The faint voice from the other end was filled with the remnants of tears and hope.
Molly Hooper felt silly, actually, she felt down right stupid. The TARDIS must have a phone; surely, I mean it is a Phone Box. As she clutched the black receiver of her office phone in her shaking hands, there was a small amount of logic and a whole tonne of blind faith behind what she was about to do. Sherlock needed her help, and therefore Molly needed her Doctor.
She put the well-worn hospital phone to her ear and whispered into the receiver, chanting, praying. "Doctor. I need you." "Doctor. I need you."
The dull tone, the constant buzz, of a phone off the hook filled her mind. But she had to try, that silly man in his blue box may not have left a direct number to the unused phone that was nestled in the complicated console, but the TARDIS key she wore round her neck everyday, close to her heart and was now grasped in the sweaty palm of her free hand, had to mean something.
"Hello?" The voice that broke the unnerving silence was his. Cheery in disposition, slightly out of breath, and tinged with worry, just how she remembered.
"Doctor? I need your help. Please."
"How did you get this number? I didn't even know it had a number!" Confusion was dead set in his tone.
"Doctor. My handsome man. It's me, it's Molly. It's 2012, January 14th, 6:30pm to be precise. And I have no idea how I got hold of you, but God am I glad to hear your voice." Her breath was even now, relief flooding through her veins.
"Hoppa! My Hooper." The Doctor was so shocked to here the voice of a lost friend, he had missed Molly dearly, ever since the day she had left in favour of Sherlock Holmes, he couldn't help the excited an energetic tone his voice held.
That was, of course, until he realised Molly was far less jubilant, Molly Hooper sounded lost, scared and in need of help. She had never sounded scared, not when she had faced the Daleks, not when she had faced demons split between time rifts, and not even when the innocent pathologist was faced with the 'Hello' of Captain Jack Harkness.
"My Doctor…" her voice was faint, but it held the memory of a smile.
"What do you need?" He was serious now, phone held to his ear by his shoulder as he rushed around the various thingy-ma-bobs and huga-ma-flips to control his flight path, setting a time, a date, he had to be precise, it had to be NOW! Molly couldn't help the bubbling giggle that was released from her lips, her and The Doctor were so in sync, no matter how far they were apart. "You."
The woosh and weeze that came along with an ageing Police Public Call Box and a brilliant two-hearted man filled the empty silence of St Bart's morgue, just as her final word was uttered. The heavy blue door swung open and the tussled hair and childish grin popped out. "Did someone say they needed a Doctor?"
"Oh you and your terrible clichés." Molly tutted as she rushed into the lanky man's embrace.
"Are we in a morgue? Doctor, what the…!?" An unfamiliar voice broke the two apart.
"Why yes we are. St Bart's in fact, and this Donna Noble is my good friend -"
"Molly Hooper?" The red head intervened.
"Yes, um… Hello. Timelines and all that, have we met?"
"No, not yet, but you know how he talks. Can't shut him up. And Molly Hooper is the stuff of legend." Molly was dragged into another warm embrace, this time for the rather strong woman opposite her, red hair obscured her vision, but she accepted the squeeze.
She needed this, a hug from a stranger, from a soon to be friend; any friend of The Doctor's was a friend of Molly's, she could talk openly about the new world's and old times. She was released from the warmth as the tears began to well in her eyes, she really hadn't felt comfort like this since the days she had been with The Doctor, now she needed him so badly and he was here and it was like a miracle.
She had made a promise to the man, one that she would see him again, that their adventure wasn't over, just on pause. But there was a small part of her, as her everyday life dragged on, as the sense of life and adventure was lost with each precision cut with a medically clean scalpel, every lost line on a consulting detective, that thought it may never happen.
The Doctor saw the pools of unshed tears collecting in her eyes and grabbed her hand, looping his fingers in a strong grip, squeezing.
"I need you to save him Doctor, he's going to die, and without you I can't save him."
"Oh, Molly. You could have saved him without me."
"No. Not from a 70ft fall. Not from that stupid game he's playing. Not from himself. Not from Jim Moriarty."
"Molly Hooper. Yes, you could, although it would be a little more difficult without the TARDIS. Anyway, any excuse to see you, Hooper." He wiped the fallen tears from her eyes, kissing her forehead affectionately, "I will always be here if you need me."
"Can we have an actual plan this time though. For my sanity's sake."
"Well…" The Doctor let out a chuckle.
There was a plan in place, a real plan. Molly's mind was at ease, well somewhat, Sherlock Holmes still had to face the physical human embodiment of the devil and surely that was worry worthy.
"Okay, Sherlock. I will explain everything, about him, about The Doctor and answer any questions you have. But not now, not yet. Just uh… trust me. Umm… and don't be scared, please don't shout at him, I can't be there when you first meet him."
Molly was pacing, she had somewhat found that confidence that The Doctor's presence instilled in her, and Sherlock could see that in Molly, something of a shine in her eye and the strength in her voice.
"All you have to do is hit your spot, there's a distinctive mark on the ledge facing the street, you fall from that point and you'll live. The angle of your descent can't be too out, you have to fall not jump. And you promise me, Sherlock Holmes, don't you dare get yourself killed before you fall. I. Will. Never. Forgive. You." Molly punctuated her words with a forceful poke to the looming man's chest. The shocked look on his face was, was picture perfect, affronted, and if it weren't in that exact moment, Molly would have been incredibly pleased with herself for eliciting such a reaction, she would have probably would have snapped it on her phone.
"Molly Hooper. I promise."
"Good."
"And you trust this man?" Sherlock's voice was lowered in the unlit morgue.
"Yes. With everything. With my life. He has saved me more times than you can imagine. He can save you, from this game. I promise you."
"And I, Molly Hooper, trust you." Sherlock Holmes was afraid, which was painful to admit, even to himself. He slowly lifted his hand to Molly's face, and caressed her cheek swiping away her unshed tears with the calloused skin of his thumb. "More than you can imagine."
He placed a soft kiss on her lips, Molly's bittersweet dream, and Sherlock's unknown want realised. A plan in place, Sherlock Holmes strode out of the basement floor, heading to the roof, heading to a fate he was unsure of, his life in the hands of a man he was yet to meet.
"Oh you stupid man. I love you." Her words went unheard.
"It's a vessel, with a bigger interior, another dimension. You made the exterior invisible when I fell into it. No. Wait, you used a perception filter, to divert attention, if not they would have questioned why I disappeared mid-air, so you drew their eye away. Clever. Very clever. I suppose Molly planted the decoy body, and John he's alive. Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, they're alive." Sherlock let out a long breath, shaky and vulnerable, and God, why wasn't Molly there yet?
"She warned me about you. Oh, you are clever. Brilliant and sharp. Do you mind?" Before Sherlock had a choice The Doctor's hands were on his temples, it felt like his mind was being invaded, and quickly he closed the doors to each room in his mind palace, impenetrable to the confusing man. And it works both ways. Space, and stars and constellations and so much loss, so many people he had known and all gone. It was incredible that sentiment had not ruined his mind, but it was muddled.
"If you let me teach you, you could unclutter that mind of yours." Temples still pressed together, when did that happen? The Doctor smirked. Sherlock Holmes didn't trust easily, he had known this for many years, Molly had told him, so proud that even if she were insignificant to the man he still held an amount of that trust with her. But the feed, the shared information, and The Doctor had gained enough trust that the doors in Sherlock's mind began to creek open, the information was not vital, and it was not the sentiment locked far at the back, it was also not the people, even though he noticed Molly's door was a little more embellished than the rest, it shone unexplainably, was Sherlock even aware of that?
The connection was broken by a knock on the door. "Oi, lover boys, one of you gonna get that." Donna trundled through from her room at the back, separating the two men, as she made her way to the door. She was beaten by The Doctor, as he swung the door open with great emphasis, bundling the petite woman into the box, as she dumped a heavy duffle bag at the entrance. "Hooper! I thought you had a key."
"Yes, I do. Right here. I just thought a bit of warning might come in handy. Your face was always quite the picture when I just strode in." Molly's smile was weak, she was uneasy on her feet as she slumped down into the only chair in the room, her face in her hands and elongated breaths. The Doctor would have comforted her, he always had done, when a world collapsed around them, when the innocent died, he would hug her, let her cry. But Sherlock beat him to the woman's side as Donna led him away, "They need time Doctor, this is their world, it's crumbling. Just give them a little time."
"Yes ummm. Of course. Yes."
Sherlock Holmes sat next to Molly Hooper, on a worn out leather chair, in a room filled with wonder and unable to appreciate it. The silence had lasted for precisely twenty-four minutes and thirty-seven seconds, and they were barely touching. Molly's face was still covered with her hands, as Sherlock uncharacteristically twiddled his fingers in his lap, they both drew from the warmth beside them. Sherlock couldn't help it, the woman beside him, the woman that hours ago he had shared a chaste kiss with (something that he would re-examine later), the woman he felt he was on the verge of breaking, so fragile and that was his fault; he drew her into his arms, it was awkward, the angle was all wrong, but it was all Molly needed to find her voice.
"His face, Sherlock. It's like you could see the cracks, like you could see his world breaking before him. And I did that to him Sherlock. You're alive and I just had to stand there and pretend to grieve, sign the forms and lie."
"Molly. I am sorry."
"It's okay Sherlock, you're alive, you're here and your heart's still beating." She rested her hand on his chest, just above his heart and was calmed by the steady beating. Their breathing matched, slow in pace, deep and reassuring.
The electric whirr was again all that filled the silence along with the small clicks that went unnoticeable with the usual frantic pace of life with The Doctor. It lasted another twenty minutes, far more comfortable than the ones that had passed before, still with Molly in Sherlock's arms.
"Thank you." It was an almost whisper, deep and Molly could feel his voice through the hand that still rested on his chest.
She giggled softly. "It was the least I could do."
"It's more than I should ever have asked for, you saved my life, you introduced me to this world, a world that was yours. And you lied for me. You didn't hurt those people, I did. This is the least you could have done and so much more." He somehow managed a smile.
"Well. I've got a friend with and infinitely large space and time machine, it comes in handy. Thank you for not dying by the way, I really appreciate that."
The pair burst out laughing, a deep chuckle complimented by a light laughter.
"What do we do now?" Sherlock was out of his depth, he was unsure and had asked so many questions already, and it was awful.
"Any time, any place, just ask. The Doctor could take us to the end of days or the planet of Barbados. Whatever you need to do, if sexy here agrees," she patted the TARDIS console, "it can be done."
"I need to take down his network Molly, it's not over, and it'll be messy and tiresome. I have to do this alone."
"Oh no you don't. Don't. You. Dare. All of time and space, we can remove each element of that criminal network piece by piece. With The Doctor, with the TARDIS, I can't promise it'll be less messy, but it will certainly be an adventure." Her smile was persuasive, even though he was loathed to admit it, he just couldn't leave her.
"Okay." He nodded.
The Doctor and Donna re-entered the room, Donna had just won thirty-three consecutive games of Galifreyan snap, and was prideful as she walked in.
"Where to first then?" Donna asked, twiddling with little bits of the TARDIS and earning a metallic purr.
"Well, I did a bit of background research on that Moriarty fellow after Molly left, nasty chap, friends in dark places. That web of his, I'll assume we have to get rid of that, you'll need my help a little there Sherlock. Some of those monstrous people are actual monsters, even a few real aliens spiders. Brilliant really."
"Well, I got everything I could," Molly walked over to the duffle bag, pulling open the zip with great care for the item on top, she pulled out a large coat, Sherlock's Belstaff. "I managed to save this. Work know I'm going on indeterminate bereavement leave, and Mum's got Toby."
The Doctor visibly shuddered. "Your mother…"
Molly was back standing next to Sherlock in seconds, handing him a link to himself, sentimental value pouring from each thread. "Sorry, I couldn't get anything else without raising suspicion. I know you would have wanted your violin, but there's one on-board somewhere, it's just a matter of finding the right room."
He smiled in response, he wouldn't say anything, but he was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed.
The middle of the console started to make noise, moving in synch with the whirring, and the lanky man, The Doctor, ran around the circular base pushing and pulling buttons and levers, hitting this, spinning that, and smiling like a child lost in a world of sweets the whole time.
"Time to stop the bad guys. No second chances."