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.
Half the town turned out to say farewell and Molly got to flash her ring and be congratulated. Maybe it wasn't going to be real for long, but while it was she was going to take full advantage of the fun. For right now, she wasn't the mousy little odd girl from the morgue or even that pathetic creature who was wasting her time waiting for a freak to notice she existed. They could all bugger off, because Sherlock would never be a freak to her. John would never scare her away, because maybe dangerous people liked her because they recognized something familiar. Not right away, she could fool anyone for a while.
But, Molly is a little dangerous herself. When she loves, she hands it over, and does it without guard or demand that it be returned. It didn't mean getting what she wants and it meant knowing terrible wounds and living with hidden scars. Loving someone was easy, but doing the right thing with that feeling was a hard battle to wage. She loves in a dangerous way and she could not regret that.
She knew peoples regrets in the end. She could see the answers in their overworked hearts and their final blank stares of loneliness. They had followed the rules and sometimes the rules really are wrong. She was at an age where she should be raising a family, but instead she was building a temple and sometimes she felt trapped there by all the broken rules and lies. One day she would, brick by brick, and day by day be finished with her life and her Temple.
The pathologist, who would read the empty statue of Molly, might not find evidence of child birth or a crowd of people weeping, but they would not find a heart filled with bitter regret or eyes that say none of it mattered. So many people wore expressions and lines that spoke a hard truth. They only saw all the important things at the moment they had nothing left to change.
She would rather be friends to extraordinary men, than ever settle for nobody, just to have somebody. She would love to marry John, but this day would always be a symbol of more to her, whether that happened or not.
She is Molly, the one who Sherlock Holmes trusted with his life, his secrets and his heart. She is Miss. Hooper, who tells off Mycroft Holmes and lives to tell the tale. She is Miss Molly Angel, who could mourn and miss a lunatic because he opened her eyes, even if he was wrong. She is Dr. Hooper, who Captain John Watson, M.D. has slipped a promise, that he would live, just for her, on her finger. It takes a bit of true love to agree to do something that hard for someone. Staying Alive. John might not actually marry her, but the important part is that he would be alive not to.
If she put all of that in a basket, she had to admit, fairy tales of love didn't hold a candle to the real thing. If she was very lucky, they would both forgive her for loving them so overwhelmingly much. She would not stop loving either one and one day, when her two loves were happy, all she would feel is happy for them. Maybe, if he paid attention, even Mycroft would understand.
God, London smelled funny. She had always liked it before, but returning from the fresh air out beyond Land's End made London air feel like prison for her lungs. There should have been a warning label on the soot. Exhaust fumes made the world look hazy and the constant movement of people suddenly felt oppressive instead of exciting.
"Do you smell that?" She asked as they exited Paddington.
"Welcome to London," he said back but wrinkled his nose in agreement.
"I don't want to go to work tomorrow."
"Then don't go. We will go to Paris instead," he suggested with several pecks on her cheeks and brow in the cab.
They discussed all the advantages of going to Paris for an early pre-honeymoon. By the time they pulled up to her building, John was actually not joking any longer.
"John. It's a lovely idea and we can talk about it. I have some holiday time, I never seem to take it, but not right this minute. I don't want to go to work, but I need to go to work."
"mmm." He opens the door to her flat, "Well, that makes a huge difference then."
She and John have tea and say bye in their traditional form. Molly, wrapped only in her robe flops on her sofa and turns on the telly.
It is fifteen minutes later that she startles and sees the man standing in the door to her bedroom. "Oh, God. Sherlock! What are you doing here? How long…"she takes a deep sigh and looks at the floor.
"Congratulations seem to be in order." He says as if he could care less, but Molly hears the control in his voice and the pain underneath that he's trying so hard to hide.
"Congratulations won't matter as soon as you tell him you're alive. Tell him. Please. I can't keep this up much longer." Molly's voice is filled with hopeless defeat because she sees at once that he feels betrayed and won't let her in.
"You have stolen my John. And he has stolen my Molly." He looks so amused, just like Mycroft.