edit posted 2/2/2018

Part Six

Molly was quick to get to her feet and wipe her face although it was still a bit red. She backed tracked a little bit and hid behind an oak tree that was near. She knew it was silly to hide when Sherlock already knew she was there. How he knew? She hadn't the slightest clue but she stood there trying to relax herself even in the slightest. Her heart had sped up when she heard him call her name. She felt silly really, but at the same time she didn't think the events of the past hours was juvenile in the slightest.

There was so much going on and it wasn't wrong for her to feel a little bit overwhelmed by it all. Especially when Sherlock Holmes seemed to be at the center of it. She was still trying to gather what it was about him and this place that seemed to trigger such hostility with others around it. Molly, if she really thought about it knew there were a lot of things that were hidden in this manor behind locked doors and up in places she wasn't allowed because of her position. There were secrets and ideas that she doubt she would ever understand but it didn't mean that she wouldn't try to get it in order to find her place here. She knew who she was, and that wasn't going to change because of someone else's ideals of where she fit. She knew where she belonged.

It did make her feel a bit conflicted as to what she was supposed to do. She couldn't just pretend that everything was perfectly okay. It wasn't. These people didn't function like normal people did, not that she exactly knew what normal people did. Her own family wasn't exactly a prime example of this. If anything they might be a bit more structurally put together than her own. She didn't think it matter entirely, however.

Sherlock called for her once again and she took the time to take in a few deep breaths before slipping back into view. He didn't look any different than he was when she left him in the dining room with his family. He didn't have his suit's jacket on anymore and he had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Apart from that he still looked very much like himself and she thought that was good.

He was staring at her in that way that she noticed he did, very soft and careful. She still couldn't figure out what that meant exactly but she decided against not saying anything.

"Are you okay?" She said quietly as she clasped her hands in front of her. Sherlock eyes blinked quickly as if he realized as to where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. "I thought I heard crying."

Molly shook her in reply despite the fact that she had been doing just that. She didn't want him to worry about her. She imagined he had bigger fish to catch. "It's a lovely garden." She told him as she averted her gaze to the flowers and fruit that surrounding them. He was still a bit further away in distance but she was sure he could see what he wanted.

"Yes, my grandmother started it when my father was born and he's been sure to keep it up with gardeners when he himself is unable to come out and dally in it. It'd probably be more vibrant in the daylight." He trailed off as he took a few small steps as he came to her side. Molly stood there silently as he looked her over. He must have found something peculiar for he leaned down, picking up one of her hands in his causing her to train her irises back on him and what she could see of him. He was a rather lean silhouette in the darkness but she could feel his palm as it folded around hers. His breath was a light fan against her brow as he faced her.

"Your voice wavers when you're trying to hide emotion and the leaves from the oak tree to our right crunches whenever anyone walks anywhere around it which leads me to believe you were trying to hide from me because you're upset. You're not upset about the dinner or the fact that I am irritated over the whole idea of your new position in the house but about everything as a whole. Today has been less than fine and you, Molly Hooper care entirely too much."

"Would you prefer if I stopped caring?" She sighed, not knowing where he was going with any of this or why he decided that in the dark he wanted to talk about any of this. What was this? She didn't think anything. She felt like he was just rambling on to someone who as he said did care about what went on and didn't feel like they had a stake in anything. It was his reply that rattled her.

"No, I do not prefer if you stopped caring. That would mean you would stop being you and you are here because I enjoy your compassion for me."

Molly stayed silent for a moment. She didn't know how to take his words. Was he trying to accomplish something here or was he being genuine about his thoughts about her?

Instead of down right asking him about it she found herself distracted by what she could see of him. On one side of him he was stiff and straight while the other was relaxed and showing off signs of discomfort. How those two pieces could mix was beyond her but it did concern her to the point that she had to make an inquiry.

"What's wrong with your shoulder?"

Sherlock took a step back, letting go of her hand as he rolled his shoulder a bit, she heard him make a little yelp. He was in pain.

"That was the thing I came out here to discuss with you. I need you to take a look at it. I may have harmed myself during a little adventure today."

"What kind of adventure?" She asked as she placed a hand along his back beginning to turn him back towards the house and out of the garden. She didn't seem to care much about anything else. Certainly not what he had told her, she had turned back into the professional that she tried to be when it came to his injuries. It being the first one since her coming to the manor. Sherlock couldn't help but smirk at her as she tried to find out everything that she could before they made it back to her room where all of her medical things were left.

He had tried to goad her into going into the actual house – his room in fact but she had just insisted that this was faster and she didn't want any kind of infection to have started to spread.

When they got in her room, she was quick to instruct him to sit and undress himself. He tried not to chuckle at the irony that this situation held. The last time he was before her and shirtless she had blushed and told him to put a shirt on. That had been weeks ago when she was about to leave his life for good.

Look where they were now. He hadn't decided if that meant little to anything currently. As he wasn't sure if he could actually keep her here; permanently. If she left him and this place where he knew she found a little piece with the Hudsons, he wasn't sure how he would react to it. It was something that had begun to trickle in the back of his mind. Especially with all of the going ons of his family and what they wanted from him.

He would try to start a balance of both of them if at all possible.

Molly had placed her bag of medical gear up in her closet. It was at a particularly high spot but she could manage to get it. There was a stool sitting next to it the door, which she grabbed before moving to step onto it and move the box she had thrown up there with miscellaneous things that she didn't need around the room. As she was reaching for the bag she had shifted on the stool and nearly fallen off of it if it hadn't been for the shirtless man in the room.

He had been settled in the chair that sat at the desk but had got bored after a few minutes and went back to focusing on Molly who seemed to be struggling a bit. It was a good thing he had already walked over to that side of the small room or she could have fallen and hit her head or worse.

His arm was wound around her waist supporting her as she had reached out for his shoulder – the bad one it seemed as he tried awfully hard not wince or make her see that he was actually in a world of pain.

Molly noticed of course, she always did when it came to pain and the like. That was why he needed her around. She knew how to fix it, quickly.

"You couldn't have grabbed me with the other arm?" He found himself chuckling as he placed her back on the ground. At least she didn't comment on the fact that he was flustering her again with his lack thereof clothing. That was something different that he hadn't seen before. Perhaps these courses at King's was helping her more than he thought. Despite it keeping her away for hours when he too was immersed in his studies, he did wonder how she coped with this new area of her life.

She never talked about it.

He decided to bring it up as he straddled the chair as per her instructions. He waited while she peeled away the tape and gauze he had placed over the wounded area on his shoulder.

He heard her sigh as she looked over it. It must not have looked too good as she quickly went to work at pouring something rather cool but stingy on it and then he could hear her digging into her bag for something. "What were you doing when you got hurt?"

"Fencing." He sighed. He tightened his hold of the chair as he felt something rather sharp prodding at the torn flesh of his shoulder.

"What are you doing?" He grumbled, his eyes shut as he tried not to groan out in pain.

"You have something wedged in your shoulder. You were already on your way to it getting infected, I don't think me getting it out would be such a bad idea. Is there any other kind of fencing that I don't know about that requires there to be shards of glass or broken up crystal to get imbedding in your arm? Aren't you supposed to be wearing protective garbs or something?"

"Molly…" He called her name trying to get her to relax. For a brief moment he would've liked it if she didn't ask questions about the things he did. It could make it seem like she didn't care for him in the slightest, despite the contrary of all of that. Molly Hooper probably cared more for his wellbeing than say his brother did at this point.

"Yes?" She asked as she continued to dig for whatever it was that was lodged in his shoulder. It was nice distraction over the fact that she had a rather adequate justification for her inspecting his broad shoulders and all the ligaments in between, around and along them. He was a rather glorious specimen, she knew that.

"Focus on the task." Molly was quiet for a moment, trying not to necessarily hurt him anymore than he already was while also trying to get the blasted thing out. How couldn't she see it? It was large enough that it was visible from the open flesh. She had almost had it when Sherlock reached out for her wrist and took the forceps out of her hand.

"I almost had it, Sherlock."

"You were taking too long, Molly." He huffed. "Directed me in the right direction and I'll finish the job."

Molly frowned but grabbed the mirror that sat on her dresser and placed it an angle so that as his head was turned enough that he could see where he needed to start that she could also give him a better view of it. It was a sound plan for the moment.

They were together for a few moments, him growing more frustrated by the second before nearly yanking the piece out in one quick movement. He dropped it on the floor and slumped against the chair in agony. That hurt more than he thought it would. It wasn't even a large piece of glass either. It was rather miniscule in size.

Molly felt really bad about it, but quickly cleaned it with antiseptic and a bit of peroxide and grabbed her suture kit that was tucked in the right sleeve on the outside of the bag and got to work with a few stitches to close up the wound finally.

While doing so she distracted Sherlock who seemed to stiffen up a bit when she started the first bit of it by telling her about the dissection that she had done earlier on. She was still quite proud of doing two in one day. None of her others peers had tried to and thought her a bit odd for that but she left that bit out. She mumbled a "sorry, that was probably a bit weird while I was stitching you up".

Sherlock smiled at her as he turned around. She had put a bandage over his shoulder before signaling that they were done here. "No, it was interesting. I've never done one actually. It's good hearing that you do know what you are doing. Not like I didn't already know that. You've done this before with me."

Molly just nodded, smiling as she turned to start cleaning up. Sherlock reached down to grab the forceps with the shard of glass not too far away from it. His shoulder did hurt but he felt better knowing it would hurt less in a few days because he actually had someone to look over it. He moved to stand up and get his shirt which he had tossed on her bed but backtracked a bit and leaned over Molly's shoulder catching her a bit off guard. His hesitant and quiet "thank you" rumbled from underneath his chest.

The words sounded almost loopy coming out of his mouth but that wasn't what had Molly trying not to drop any of the mess she had in her hands. He had pecked her on the cheek briefly before he had moved away from her. When she had tossed all of the bloody pieces of cotton and towels in a bag for disposal and put all of her utensils on a tray to clean later on, she turned around to ask him why he felt like he had to add that onto the thank you. She was just doing her job.

But he wasn't there.

Later though, when she had gone to bed after cleaning her things away and disposing of the bloody bits. Sherlock had come back down and was standing against the door with Max who had followed him despite his own sleepy appearance. "You should go to bed, Max." Sherlock had told him quietly.

"You should too, Sherlock." The young boy yawned, but didn't move from his spot. Sherlock smirked at the younger boy who had assumed the guard of protection for his friend.

He sighed, closing the door and gesturing for the boy to move forward. "We'll both go now. C'mon." He replied. He did look back at the door for a moment when he got Max down the hall into his room.

The thing was Sherlock didn't know why he had decided to go down there. His feet sort of did the thinking for him at that moment. He hadn't been tired in the slightest.