Disclaimer: I own nothing, except these words of course. ;)
As usual, Molly reached the restaurant earlier than John did. She chose a table near the window and proceeded to look around the place absently, observing the people around her. She found herself instinctively trying to deduce random facts about the strangers. It would seem that all the time spent with Sherlock was rubbing off on her.
She turned towards the window and saw the army doctor getting off a cab. He spotted her by the window and gave her an amicable wave. He was wearing his favourite oatmeal jumper and dark trousers, and although he still looked rather skinny – having lost a lot of weight since the fall – he also looked a lot better rested. His limp had improved and his eyes no longer held the lifeless look they once had. He was starting to heal, one step at a time.
John smiled at her as he entered the restaurant, and for the first time in months, the corner of his brown eyes crinkled and he actually looked happy.
"Hey Molls!" He bent down to give her a quick peck on the cheek and she returned the gesture. "So, how are you?"
"I'm fine. You?"
"I'm alright. Feeling a lot better lately."
Molly inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad that John finally seemed to be moving on with his life. He had worried her immensely during the first few months. They soon settled into the familiar rhythm of conversing about their work lives. Ever since the funeral four months ago, both of them had made it a point to meet every week for a meal. It helped John in his healing process as he was able to openly talk about Sherlock with someone who could understand. Molly never imagined that John Watson would ever be a good friend of hers one day, but the fall had changed everything. He was now in short, like the brother she never had.
She listened attentively as he went on about one of his funny patients at the clinic (he had thankfully returned to work), waiting for the waiter to return with their meals. John hadn't even bothered to skim through the menu, preferring to go with whatever dish Molly chose. She wasn't surprised – he had lost his interest in food after Sherlock's death. As he talked to her with more enthusiasm than she ever anticipated, Molly deduced that he was keeping something from her, something that he was excited about. She was curious, but decided to be patient.
Their food arrived in a matter of minutes and they tucked in silently. She saw John playing about with the food on his plate before cutting a small part of his baked fish off. He closed his eyes when the meat made contact with his taste buds.
"Oh hell," he murmured.
"What?"
"I've not eaten anything this tasty in a long time. Great choice!"
Molly's eyes softened at his cheerful face. She was glad that he was finally starting to appreciate food again. He always had a healthy appetite, so it had been particularly worrying when he labelled everything he ate as "dull" and "unappetising" during the first three months of their meetings. Their conversation soon steered to random things, and John laughed, an actual hearty laugh, when Molly recounted the story of Toby falling into the loo last night in an attempt to escape from a bath.
They had just started to drink their coffees when John set his cup down on the saucer, staring at her seriously. "Listen, Molls…" he began, only to trail off and look uncomfortable, shifting in his seat.
"It's ok," she said. "You can just tell me."
He looked at her in surprise, wondering how she knew that something was up. He inhaled deeply and played with his fingers before opening his mouth again. "I…I received an offer from a hospital, and I'm thinking of accepting it."
Molly felt the beginnings of something heavy settling at the pit of her stomach. "Where is the hospital?"
"Australia," he said softly, not meeting her eyes. "I applied last month."
She was stunned into silence for a while. Australia. Thousands of kilometres away. Different time zones. No more meeting for meals and talking with him. She felt a lump in her throat and hastily swallowed hard. John was counting on her to support him, and she would do just that. He needed it.
"I'm happy for you, John," she smiled, struggling to keep the sadness out of her voice. "When are you leaving?"
"In two months'," he looked away from her again. "I'm sorry I'm not sticking around."
"No," she said firmly. "You have every right to go. Don't think this way. Just remember to send me some postcards."
"Postcards?" He wrinkled his nose. "Wouldn't it be better if I just emailed?"
"I like postcards. I actually collect them whenever I have the chance to travel."
John remained silent. She could tell that he still felt bad about leaving her, but he also really wanted to go.
"Maybe you can get me a kangaroo to make up for this," she said, trying to lighten the mood. She was terrible at telling jokes, but she reckoned that anything was better than silence now.
John's lips twitched ever so slightly. "Perhaps I could get you a wombat. Your flat's too small for a kangaroo I think, and poor Toby will get a heart attack."
"I would ask you to get me one if customs actually allowed it through," she fixed him with the best serious expression she could muster, drawing a soft chuckle from him. He sighed and looked out of the window.
"Molly?"
"Hmm?"
"I think I'm ready."
"Ready for what?"
"To go back to 221B."
"That's great, John," she smiled, reaching over to clasp his hand.
"Will you go back with me?"
"Of course."
The flat was slightly dusty and had a musky smell. But other than that, it seemed to be exactly how Molly remembered it to be when she came over for Christmas last year. The skull, which Sherlock had named Billy, was still sitting proudly atop the mantelpiece. His violin was carelessly lying on his armchair, and his science equipment littered the kitchen.
Mrs Hudson still could not bear to clear his things away or rent the flat out. Molly wondered if Mycroft had made an excuse and was actually paying the rent, keeping the flat vacant until Sherlock was ready to return. She wouldn't be surprised if he did – no one would question Mycroft Holmes anyway.
John stood in the centre of the living room, his eyes slowly travelling around the house, lingering on certain spots longer than others. She saw him smile sadly when he looked at some of Sherlock's old things. His eyes moved towards the wall and suddenly, he laughed.
"What?" she asked, completely bewildered.
"Did you know that Sherlock actually shot the wall once?"
"My god, really?"
"Yeah. He said he was bored," John chuckled. "What a git." He paused. "I miss him so much, Molly. If he were here, I'd let him shoot all the walls he wanted to."
He walked over to the fireplace and picked up the skull, cradling it carefully in his hands. "Going to Australia, it's like a chance at a new life, Molls. And I really need it now. But I'm going to miss you so much too," he said, turning to look at her with so much sadness in his eyes that her chest tightened. Molly went over to him and he drew her into a hug, breaking her composure. Tears started sliding down her cheeks.
"Don't be a stranger," she choked.
"Never," he pulled away and smiled at her with glassy eyes. "We should stop this. If Sherlock were here, he'd call us idiots and proceed to kick us out for being so soppy!"
Molly giggled at that thought. That was exactly what he would do. A knock sounded on the door and Mrs Hudson came in. She was also looking better now, although her eyes still strayed away from Sherlock's belongings.
"Would you like some tea, loves? I would bring the tray up here, but it's just so stuffy!" She smiled at them affectionately as Molly went over and hugged her. John agreed immediately, not wanting to remain any longer in the flat.
As the three of them descended down the stairs towards Mrs Hudson's flat, Molly realised that this was the first time she felt as if she truly had a family since her father's death.
Her heart sank when she realised that others had to lose something just for her to gain that.
A/N: I know this chapter's slow moving and there's no Sherlock (sorry, he's off in Scotland now haha), but it'll pick up soon! Hint: Christmas is coming. ;)
Anyway, I just wanted to thank all those who reviewed my last chapter. Some of you guys were really sweet!
Tell me what you think of this one! And have a happy weekend!