Author: Howlynn
Realm: Sherlock
Story Title: A Statue in the Temple of Mendacity.
Summary: Molly counts. She Promised to help him. But, the reality of saving Sherlock ends up leading to places she never expected. Sherlock needs her again, but this time she must save John.
Character/Relationships: John and Molly would never have noticed each other if he were not dead. The thing is, Molly knows he isn't and she never expected things to get this complicated.
I Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
John stands there with his mouth hanging open. He hears Mrs. Hudson stomping up the stairs. "I hope you're pleased with yourself. I'm ashamed of you. That poor little girl had stars in her eyes all day, looking forward to having a nice boy compliment her. I encouraged her, thinking it would do you both some good. I always thought you kept him in line. Such language to that poor dear. And you some kind of doctor. You have no taste in women, young man. Best stick to your blokes. She is such a lovely girl too." Mrs. Hudson frowned and continued extoling the virtues of Molly all the way down the stairs, intermingled with hip complaints.
[I tried. Can't explain. He called me names! He told me that any date with him would end in a shag. I think I hate him right now. I forgot all my clothes at Mrs. Hudson's.]
[We can't give up on him.]
[I told him about the snipers.]
[What did he say]
[That may have been when he called me a bitch.]
[He didn't.]
[Molly, you misunderstood. He wouldn't.]
[Look, I am at my full humiliation quota for the day. Any more and I may be the one you have to purchase a headstone for because I know you would not bother to trouble anyone for me. So how about we just take a break and not subject the doormat to any more mud for this evening. You will say something and I just can't brush it off right now. ]
[You're wrong about that. I would bother.]
Molly sighs as she reads his last text, but didn't bother to answer. She is exhausted when she gets home and decides a lie in would be her sole plans for the next day. Her phone is put on the charger and she then turns it off. She heads to bed and stays there most of the next day, tears randomly interspersed with sleep.
The touch on her shoulder startles her and she blinks in befuddled wonder as she looks into the eyes of Sherlock. He takes one look at her, pulls her into his arms, laughing, and whispers softly, "You wouldn't answer me. I told you I would bother. I'm sorry he hurt your feelings."
She looked up at him in wonder. "You came home, for me?"
He looked at her and laughed again. "Yes, mostly. I wouldn't miss this face for the world. You look like a clown got sick all over your cheeks."
Molly brought her hand up to her cheeks, "Oh my god. My makeover. Bloody hell." She dashed to the bathroom and more curses were heard just before the shower started.
Sherlock was sound asleep by the time she exited her emergency makeup removal session. She let him sleep and cooked. He awoke to the smells of her Shepherd's pie which her land lady, Mrs. Brewerton had taught her to make from scratch.
They talked and she gave him the full run down on all things John Watson. By the time he left, she was calmer. He had pointed out that John didn't have anyone. Maybe it was his own fault at this point, because everyone had certainly tried, but they agreed that she would have to use other methods to help John survive until Sherlock could return. The next thing she knew, a long black car pulled up and swept him away again. She offered to go with him.
"I may not look particularly dangerous, but I can remove a human heart in about forty seconds when I have a mind to," she says softly as she hugs him and he allows it indulgently, just as he once had with Mrs. Hudson.
"I need you here. Even more. Show me your little pathetic broken kitty face? That's nice. Yes that should do it. He doesn't have a chance. Now, it came to my attention that the last proper kiss you have had belonged to someone we shall not name. I love John, but I want you to always remember that I care about you almost equally." Sherlock bent his head to Molly and his lips enveloped her and his kiss stole her very breath, making her knees weak and her eyes roll up in her head with delight. Sherlock smiled at her and planted an extra kiss on her forehead like a sigil of protection. Then he turned and was swallowed by one of those long black Jaguars that announced Mycroft Holmes in rather grand elegance.
Molly called Mrs. Hudson to retrieve her forgotten items from their shopping adventure. She invited her for lunch and they ate in a pub just around the corner. Mrs. Hudson apologized for John's behavior and Molly just shrugged acting like she couldn't care less.
"In my whole life, nobody ever called me that. Not ever. I dated a psychopath and even broke up with him. Jim tried to kill them, still called me after, and it never came to that. As far as I'm concerned, John doesn't exist."
"Shame. But I do understand."
John was standing at the top of the stairs as Molly exited Mrs. Hudson's flat. He cleared his throat and asked very calmly, "Molly? May I see you, up here for a moment?"
Molly turns and looks up at him using the exact face Sherlock made her practice. "Sorry. Not interested," she says quietly and quickly exits. She is lucky to get a taxi before he gets down the stairs. She carefully pretends not to notice him calling out that he only wants to apologize.
The next day at work, flowers arrive. 'Please forgive me, John'
She sets them on her desk and sends a text. Lestrade calls her later in the day asking if she would like to meet him and some other yard birds for drinks at a local pub to celebrate the retirement of Detective Inspector Herman Clutterbuck. Molly agrees, she knows the fellow who is retiring. He's very dull and sturdy but never had been impolite to her. She brought him a gift of gardening gloves and he smiled and thanked her by name.
John Watson makes a surprise appearance. He looks a bit sheepish and out of place as many people make a huge deal of welcoming him. Molly pretends not to notice and carefully shuffles around the room dodging him in such an obvious fashion that Lestrade even picks up on the game.
"Dare I ask why?" Lestrade muses in her ear.
"Oh. Hello. Why what?"
"Why you maintain as much space as possible between you and our most woebegone lost soul? He's been trying to talk to you all night."
"Oh. That. You might not speak to him either if I told you the truth. So let's just say we are not meant to occupy the same postal zone." Molly says and smiles up at Greg.
"You look very pretty. Care for a spin?" Lestrade deflects.
"Sure. I'd like that."
The music is slow and soft. Greg Lestrade makes small talk about cases then suddenly blurts, "Says he said somefing stupid. Just wants to apologize. Maybe do me a lemon and let him?"
"I feel a set up? Did he make you invite me?"
Greg grins his amiable little-boy-caught face as he looks up at the ceiling and groans a little. "Let's call it suggest. I about fell over when he agreed to show up. Said if you were here, he'd pop in. Course I am a cop so had to stick my nose in a bit farvver and he caved and told me what a utter wanker he'd been."
"Oh, it's fine. Hoping he will bugger off doesn't seem to be working."
"Thank you."
Molly sat at one of the tables alone. It didn't take long for John to ask permission to sit. Molly kept her face cool and waved her hand in a slightly Sherlock way conveying that she couldn't be arsed to care one way or the other.
John went through a very long rambling, not completely coherent speech. Molly looked over at him and said, "You were very mean."
"And I am dreadfully sorry. Dreadfully."
"Accepted. Now you can go away and not be bothered with me again." She acted bored. Who knew being such a wanker worked? Sherlock is a genius.
"I'd like to stay here, if that is ok. I don't want it like this."
"What do you want it like, John?" Molly asked in a distracted way.
"How did you know about the snipers?"
She fingers the edge of her glass. "Mycroft. Wasn't news to you. I could tell."
John fidgets uncomfortably. Then his head drops and his eyes focus a little and his body language changes. He leans in to her and takes her hand waiting for her to turn to him. "How do you feel about you and I getting so cabbaged that we have to make up a new word for the condition?" His voice is lower and seductive.
"It's me, actually," she says.
"Sorry?"
"How do you feel about you and me?"
He blinked, still confused. "I feel like I have been rude. Oh, grammar. Wow, that brings back…never mind. Look, I just wanted to make up for the other day, have a few drinks. That's all."
Molly smiles, "Tell our secrets and wake up wondering how two people who excelled in medical school could have made such pudding of their livers?"
"Something like that. Exactly like that. Every drink, a toast, to the tosser who put us here."
Molly laughs a little at that. "Warning. You get mouthy with me again, Dr. Watson, and I promise you, I can remove a man's heart in approximately forty seconds."
"Hmmm. Sexy. I can make a woman's orgasm last for thirty minutes." He says softly kissing her hand suggestively.
"Bollox. Don't forget there is a DR in front of my name too. I won't fall for that kind of man brag."
"Believe me or not. I have references."
"Who would not ever leave you, if that were remotely… possible."
"Who had to put up with a certain Consulting Detective cock blocking. Besides, I don't bother to do that for just anyone."
"Ah. There is the heart of the matter. I'm just Molly. Not special, so I get the drunken discount sex? I will stick to the discount drinky-poos."She said and tossed back her drink. John did too and slammed his glass on the table.
"Molly? Molly." John swept her hair from her face. "Kiss me."
"I am not good enough to date. That equals not good enough to snog. Besides, someone wonderful kissed me recently after your epic fail. I'm kind of holding on to it." Her fingers brushed her lips and she sucked the bottom one in. More drinks are delivered and she sighs, waiting for him to ask her out. He seems to be having some mental battle about it.
John steps back. He looks around the bar and finishes his drink. "Well, that settles that. Umm. Here. I don't know what was in my head but I hope you and your new friend can maybe use these."
She looks down at what he slides across the table. "L'elisir d'amore, the London Opera House? Wow. I will have to go shopping again."
"Probably. Enjoy." He said in a clipped tone and without another word turned and walked away. She picked up the tickets and looked at them. She glanced back up and searched the room. He had vanished.