edit posted 2/5/2018

**tried getting this one up yesterday with pt 9 but ff wasn't cooperating with me. It got up on AO3 just fine -.-

Part Ten

You can try to save me if you're crazy

But I want to know if we go, where we're going to

People try to find reasons why things aren't perfect

Fight to deny every smile they're deserving

-x-

The Holmes' home was rather large so it wasn't too surprising for Molly when she had time outside of classes (she was done with the first year), or without any duties inside the home helping with dinners, planning the feast for the next party which wasn't for another few months (though she wasn't made aware what it is for specifically) – that she found several different hideaways on the land. She had decided since the last time she sought refuge in the garden it hadn't turned out too well that that had to be axed off her list of places that she would like to hole herself in for a moment of peace.

She needed some place more secluded for times like these. The day had come when she got the call from her mother via Michael who was the only one with a cellular who was willing to let her use one. She hadn't really thought to ask Sherlock, nor did she think her mother would be so willing to give his phone a call.

While their relationship had started to mend minimally since their honest talk when she last visited her to take her to her dad she didn't see her being all that ready to try to talk to him especially when she was grieving so when Michael came and found her reading the next year's requirement for her anatomy course where she'd be able to start looking at cadavers to possibly cut into she knew that all wasn't well.

There had been something that she had seen on his face that had given it away before she heard her mum on the phone, barely audible telling her that he was gone.

Then she was pushing the phone away and getting on her feet and stumbling out the back doors down the familiar path that took her past the garden in the weeds of the forest and further into an open space that wasn't large enough to be a clearing but had enough space for her to just sit and take in a few deep breaths. She couldn't bring herself to cry.

Molly had done plenty of that in the weeks since realizing just how badly her dad's illness had gotten. She hadn't even known what to say to her mother when she had come calling her to try to console her in her own way. There were a few things that she was grateful for, one of which was being surrounded by so many people who did care but knew enough about her to know when she needed her space. She indeed did get her space and that was wonderful and she did appreciate it, but a part of her the bit that wished that she was willing to accept comfort when she needed it wished that she did things that were deemed reckless in her own eyes. She had plenty of opportunities to be reckless, but there was always this thing keeping her back from doing so.

Not now.

Without her dad there to smooth away the edges of what she deemed to be right and wrong she knew that she was more likely to do something stupid. She was sitting alone now and as she looked around at the trees and could visibly hear the birds from above singing their songs peering down at her like in a story book from her childhood she lay back on the ground and shut her eyes.

This was as reckless as she felt like being today.

She knew what the word meant but if having people worry about her again made her seem more like it then so be it. She rather lay here then have someone cooing at her and saying things that were meant to make her feel better. Things that never worked. Especially not for someone who was supposed to be mourning the man who gave her life.

Again, she couldn't bring herself to do it at first. She ended up staying there for a good solid six hours thinking about all the warmth that enveloped her when she had spent time with her dad before and after his diagnosis. She had plenty of happy memories locked away of the time she shared with her dad. She sifted through those slowly, not once thinking about the fact that she never would be able to get another hug or smile or hear him call her his favorite pet name that he first began calling her when she was just beginning to walk.

He picked her up when her brother pushed her down, not bothering too much with him as he made sure Molly was okay. He always said he'd deal with him later with a smile on his face as she heard her brother run off. It was funny to think about how her brother must have thought that it would help her dad want to be around him more to push her around. It didn't. It only made him more insistent on making her stronger – not with actions because she had never been physically strong but with her words and within the right set of circumstances a simple touch.

Molly hadn't found many times where the power of her touch healed anyone let alone herself in the past couple months but she still hoped that one day it would surprise somebody and she'd find that purpose. She believed in her heart that her dad didn't ever tell her anything if there isn't some kind of meaning or lesson behind it. Some of her favorite moments were little sayings he would say to her when she was busy working on a paper, or reading a book. He'd just come by and say something and she would commit it to memory. The one that she thinks of now as she's in this small haven far behind the world that she loves and hates some days simply says, "Darkness is only temporary, the light comes when you least expect."

He could have read that in a book for all she knew but she found it comforting, especially lately, especially now.

When she felt ready, she opened her eyes and faced the stars in the sky and got to her feet. As she began to walk back the way she came it started to rain. She didn't run for cover, she kept going though she was sure to get sick from pneumonia if she didn't hurry. She wasn't worried for herself in that moment. She was smiling, she felt happy in the rain.

She thought about dancing through it for one millisecond only to shake her head and continuing on. It'd take at least fifteen minutes at her pace yet she kept on smiling. She looked up to the sky as she stopped a few paces and laughed. If anyone saw her they probably thought her mad, but for Molly she felt something that she didn't think she'd ever feel as long as the pain kept tugging at her chest. The pain was there but it was barely surfacing at the current moment.

She wondered if this is what her dad had wanted when he decided that this was his last day. She believed in a God but she also believed that when it was time for someone to leave the world that they made that decision if given the right circumstances. Not everything was planned but that was the beauty of life. The best plans were the unplanned ones, even if it starts with a kick in the gut or the heart. Something good has to come of it, right?

It's what she believes.

While she feels sad, she feels almost liberated by this loss. It was time for a new beginning.

It's what she feels in her heart but then her heart sometimes doesn't know what it wants which is why when she makes it back to the house she doesn't go inside. She delays her entrance, instead sitting on the steps where she shared a painful discussion with Sherlock about a month ago about how she knew this day was coming. Her dad was dying. Now he was dead.

Realization is a scary thing. She knows this.

Her palms come up to cover her mouth a she shuts her eyes another time and she wants to scream. With every little turn in her mood she hates this process even more. One second she feels nothing, the next she feels happy then she feels the pain barreling down on her again. Only it's not pain exactly, it's worse. Its anguish and anger for not being able to give a proper goodbye.

It's what hurts her more than anything. She doesn't know what she would even say to him if she would have been there but she still thinks it would be easier than this swaying of emotions.

Not everyone handles it the same way.

She should have figured that out sooner, but she didn't. It's textbook.

She swallows taking a deep breath removing her hands as the door opens and she hears the annoyed voice of Sherlock Holmes as he moves over to her.

"Where have you been? I've been looking for you. Michael wouldn't even tell me. What good is he for?"

He groans, "Ugh, why are you sitting in the rain?" He mumbled as he reached down and pulled her up to her feet.

She pauses a moment looking at him, his hair is starting to cling to his face just like his clothes. He doesn't seem to be worried about it. She decides to answer him as much as possible as she folds her arms in front of her. "I like being on my own. Michael is a good friend, that's why. Don't give him grief, Sherlock Holmes."

She paused again before looking back up at the sky. The stars were less visible now, it was just a dark sky with several clouds that could be seen only when lightning struck.

It struck twice before Sherlock pulled her attention back to him. "Hey, c'mon." He grabbed her arm and pulled her back inside. Molly trailed behind him reluctantly unsure what he was planning to do. He had completely bypassed the stairs that would take her to the Hudsons. Instead moving towards the stairs, she had enough sense to yank her arm back. "Are you an idiot? I can't go up there. It's off limits for people like me."

"People like you?" He scoffed turning to face her. "You're human, female and in need of a warm blanket and probably something warm to drink because you decided to drag your feet instead of running inside."

Molly understood that he was pissed but this was a bit more than she was expecting if she expected anything at all.

"Sherlock, you don't have to take care of me. I'm fine -."

He of course being on a roll in this version of himself that she only saw when he thought she was being destructive (like when she had been away for a few days and came back bleeding and wouldn't share with him what happened to her), interrupted her. "Your dad just died, Molly. I think it's safe to say that it's okay if you're not fine."

"I know that, Sherlock." She sighed. She supposed she should be grateful that he was at least worried about her wellbeing.

"I went to the hospital a few days ago to see your dad."

"You what?" She said quietly tilting her head up to look at him as he once again took her hand and began to pull her up the stairs. This time she let him guide her on up.

"I'll tell you when we get there."

"Get where?"

Why did he continue to confuse her? She didn't know but it also intrigued her. She didn't get him half of the time they were together. No matter how limited that was.

"Here." He said as they got to the end of the hallway and he opened the door. It wasn't to a bedroom though, it looked like an old fashioned lift that had a crank that had to be turned in order to get it to start working.

"Wait…" She started but he had already closed the gate that she hadn't even seen at first. "You know this could be seen as kidnapping if I hadn't willingly followed you into this contraption."

Sherlock smiled at her. "Relax," They came to jerky halt a few seconds after Molly started giving him a wary eye. "It's not that far underground and no one besides Michael knows about this place."

"What is it exactly?"

Sherlock made sure the brake was secure before he unlocked the gate and stepped through the gap that was between the door and the inside of the lift. He reached for her hand again and she took his as she hopped over the gap into his chest. She slipped from his grasp then, feeling that strange sensation that she often felt with him. She now had a clearer view of the space he had brought her down to.

It was familiar in a way. On the surface it was set up like an old boxing ring with chairs lining the outside of the ropes and a table that looked to have medical supplies cluttered around it. A locker hung on the wall behind the table in a corner.

Sherlock didn't say anything to Molly as he moved over to the locker and opened it up with a twist of his wrist. There was no lock on it. It opened easily enough for him.

Molly tried not to be too distracted by it as she looked at the other part of the room. There was a punching bag on the other side and another set of chairs. There was also another door and she turned to ask him about it when she was immediately rushed by his bare chest. She could have sworn she had a flash of something from a few years ago.

She coughed, he was holding out something for her. Clothes. "I'm going to get warmed up, you can use the bathroom that's right through that door you were admiring." He threw her a wink.

She ignored the flush feeling as she took the clothes from him and walked over to the opposite side of the room from where he was heading and turned the door. It didn't open right away but as Sherlock called, "You have to put your shoulder into it," she did as told and slipped right in nearly falling from the forced momentum.

She heard him chuckle but she ignored it as she shut the door and looked at the fabric that was in her hands. She placed them over the toilet before beginning to stretch. Sherlock had even given her a towel for drying off. She thanked him silently before going through the motions of drying off most of her hair and body, and changing quickly. She ended up plaiting her hair in a loose braid even though she had nothing to tie it with at the end. It'd end up unraveling but she was just happy to have it out of her face for the moment.

She then turned to look at her attire in the mirror. She could only see the top half but it was interesting to see that Sherlock either was lying about not having anyone else in his private training grounds or he had gotten her clothes some time in between his searching for her throughout the day. If it was true, it gave her the idea that maybe he had planned to show this to her long before this day.

She still didn't know why he wanted to bring her here exactly. They had a shared past of her fixing up his broken face after a bout but it had been so long since then. Why would he decide to do it now? And why was he hiding it right under his parents noses? They were bound to find out. He wasn't even supposed to be doing this anymore.

She went back out deciding she'd only get answers if she did so. She found him doing pushups near the ring. She looked at him for a few minutes before breaking his concentration. "Thought you weren't supposed to box anymore."

He hopped to his feet, running in place for a few seconds as he eyed her. "I'm not fighting but it still is good exercise. I would like to go back though. Michael isn't that much of a challenge."

Molly found it amusing that he kept bringing up Michael with this tone of irritation but there was also this sense of friendliness to it. He didn't hate Michael, he just got very annoyed with him a lot of the time. She figured it's because he didn't understand why Michael was trying to shield him so much when it came to the wrath of his folks. He cared about Sherlock, and he didn't want him to end up like him. Heart broken, and looking after a younger version of himself.

In a way that was the same reason why she was cautious around Sherlock. Knowing that she wasn't what he needed in the long run. She couldn't stay here forever. It would only cause him more problems. She hated thinking about all the frustration she had caused him already.

"Is that why you brought me down here?" She mumbled, coming back to the world and away from her thoughts.

"No, different reason. Follow me." Sherlock stepped into the ring and Molly hung back for a moment before following him in.

What was he expecting her to do?

She wasn't sure what but whatever it was he seemed sure of it. She watched him move around her for a second before he came back to stand right in front of her and leaned into her space.

"Hit me." He said.

"What?"

"Hit. Me." He said again, gritting his teeth obviously getting annoyed with her making him repeat himself again.

"Is that even safe? Shouldn't I be wearing gloves? I could…hurt you." She breathed and he just laughed.

"Would that make you comfortable?" He moved away from her and jumped over the rope but soon was coming back with a pair of gloves. He handed them to her and she slipped them on.

"What's the point of this?"

He didn't say anything at first before motioning for her to come at him. She grimaced, not seeing the point of this but she struck at him evenso. He ducked before taunting her with, "You can do better than that. If you had the strength as a kid to strike at every person who doubted you and called you names. What would it feel like?" He had talked to her dad.

Molly drew in a deep breath before going to hit him again. She barely grazed him on his chin. He only smiled shaking his head.

"What's the point of this?" She asked him again. He still wouldn't give her a clear answer, only muttering another thing that he knew would drive her to want to hit him. It was about her brother. He knew she didn't get along with him and in part that they struggled growing up with each other. It pissed her off that he was using that to just get her to hit him. She did it though because he was allowing her to do so. Then she hit him again just wanting to swing at him.

She didn't like him right now. He was trying to push her.

"That's it."

Molly stopped thinking for a full minute when he said that and she went at him full on. "You're in pain." He told her as he blocked off a full set of three hits towards his face. "You should be angry."

"I am." She told him, stepping away from him a second. She felt warm, and not in the way that she liked to be.

"Then let it out." He urged her. "It will cause havoc inside of you, Molly. Just hit me. I can be your punching bag. I can take it." He told her.

She was staring at the gloves on her hands unsure if she wanted to do it. She didn't know if she could. She couldn't possibly be that pissed about everything that she would take it out on him , here and now.

The answer was difficult to come by.

She didn't want to hit him but at the same time she was tired of keeping it all to herself. Even though she had thought she was okay today. She hadn't been okay really ever with anything. It just felt weird having someone to want her to just expel every little thing she felt onto them.

Who would let her do that?

He would. He seemed to understand. He saw what she hid from everyone else, what she had been trying to hide from him and made a decision.

"Hit. Me. Molly." He said coming over to her and taking one of her hands. She peered up at him and swung with the opposite arm and she kept on going until eventually she had started pounding on his chest instead of his face and screaming at him. Things that he knew weren't true but he let her get it out.

She didn't hate him. She was just in pain, and she was trying to hole it inside where she thought it was safe.

It wasn't.

He had to get her to realize that which was why he did this in the first place. He had drove himself up the wall today when he couldn't find her after he had went to the hospital – never mind the fact that Michael hadn't been there to stop him to tell him that a) Mr. Hooper was already gone b) Molly had run off and was nowhere to be found, until she came back and he found her there. He was exactly pissed at her but worried and he showed his worry in strange ways. Especially when it came to her.

So here they were and as she looked up at him she did something that took him a little off guard. It wasn't the tears that had made themselves apparent or the shakiness from all the rage that had been pent up inside her small body, she had just leaned into him and kissed him.

It was a second and then she had pushed away and apologized furiously. "I'm so sorry, I don't know why I did that. I shouldn't have done that. I'm not being rational right now." She turned away from him hiding her face.

There was something about the recklessness of her behavior that set him off and then Sherlock was striding over to the other side of the ring where she was standing and he had his hands around her face. Her eyes were puffy and even though she looked like she wanted to run far far away from whatever had just happened – what she had started, he kissed her.

He only muttered a few words when he felt her saying that he should not be kiss her right now. "Don't care." Then he resumed kissing her because it's what he wanted to do and she seemed to give up on whatever part of her rational mind that made it seem like this was a huge mistake. It couldn't make him change the fact that it was happening and they were relishing on it from both sides.

-x-

But we can try to end this, just give me one kiss

Let me show you how, even now, things are perfect

- It's Love; Kina Grannis