A/N: Thank you for reviews, story-alerts and what-not, always pleasant to have things dropping into my inbox. I hope this chapter satisfies you for the time being. I shall try to not spend an age on the next one.
I thought I saw you. Did I see you? I probably didn't see you. This will be a whopper of a text. I'm on my third strawberry daiquiri. I think my horrid journey with the red wine this week, made the wine, the vodka and the daiquiri's go down – M
I suggest water. Avoid my doppelganger. He might be available and living in London – B
That gives me even a bigger incentive to talk to him. Sure it isn't you wearing a tight-t-shirt? – M
Quite certain, I am in a white shirt listening to a colleague go on about his taxes. Send help – B
Sorry, girls before blokes. My friend Mary is terribly pissed, unable to be forced out of Heaven – M
And you're not? I still suggest water – B
I am very good in my liquid intake, thank you very much – M
She could imagine him in a white crisp shirt; dark curls dangling, as he'd bent over, his blue eyes examining some blood-samples by her microscope.
Molly put down her drink, splattering some of the red froth on the table, as Mary looked at her dubiously, "What's wrong?" she mouthed, as they'd both given up talking properly, shouting had been a thing for an hour ago, but was now replaced with general silence, as the DJ seemed to turn the volume up the longer they stayed.
"Nothing," she returned, as both women started nodding their heads to the repetitive music. Despite the amounts of alcohol, the truth or drink (which got spilt on the floor, due to the wobbly table), the setting, which was ludicrous – they were if not a tiny bit bored.
"It never turns out how you suppose, does it?" said Molly in their silence, tapping her fingers in time with the music, not entirely up for dancing, as everyone seemed to be a bit more skilled than her in that fashion.
Mary looked at her confused, "What?" she clearly mimed. Molly repeated her sentence, only to receive Mary cupping her ear in turn, trying to understand her. It was to no avail, and Molly took to drink from her daiquiri trying not to think of the certain resemblance her would-be boyfriend had to her previous infatuation. She blamed Mary for suggesting it, yet it comforted her that a random stranger wearing tight-fitting clothes was similar to both the men.
Not that Ben was the sort of man to wear that sort of thing, quite the opposite, as his work didn't really scream nipple-showing t-shirts exactly, which was the general look of everyone there. "You OK?" cried Mary who still nodded to the music, rather uncertainly now, as Molly just beamed in return.
"I'm fantastic!" she lied, as her friend returned the smile. "Just need to go to the toilet," she added standing up. Mary gave an encouraging wink, as Molly eyed the scarily dark hallway leading to the ladies.
"They could have at least lit it a bit properly," she said rather disgruntled. "The rest of the place looks like a Christmas tree, yet there it's dark."
Mary just gestured to her ear, Molly shook her head, and was soon on her way, passing crowds, getting poked by various limbs unintentionally, as several of the men cat-called, but in an over-obvious manner. She just grinned in turn, her fright evaporating, as she knew it wasn't exactly her spot for dark deeds. When she walked in there, the music more subdued, finding some in the most indelicate positions – not entirely out there of course, but almost. She blushed, turned her gaze downwards, trying to avoid staring, which was more difficult than she thought. Picking up the pace, she was very near the ladies, when she saw some familiar dark hair. Was it? He turned abruptly in her direction; blue eyes meeting hers, light hit her face as the ladies opened in the distance. She shielded her eyes a second, as cheekiness overthrew her. Not spending another second thinking it properly through she grabbed him.
If your friend is so unreasonably drunk I propose bed – B
That's quite bold coming from you – M
He had been amused for a second, and then infuriated the next when he pieced it together. It was an easy enough deduction, causing him to snort over his own "Stupid," he snapped, throwing himself into the nearest taxi with haste, irritating himself over James who wasn't answering and John who was also ignoring his texts.
He was going to be quick; he would go in and out – get the man – and leave. It seemed simple enough; of course, the stakes were raised higher however, as the body count was decidedly large in the nightclub. He was very out of his element there he was fully-clothed, the heat unbearable, so he left his recognisable coat and scarf at the wardrobe knowing well that he'd be spotted much easier with it. Without delay he wandered to the darkened halls, his knowledge of James' tastes certainly did help, though that did put them both in the line of fire.
James was never one for good enough lies on the spot, and they needed those if they were going to get out of this. He passed several indelicate situations, blinking his eyes heavily at the smoke that came from unexpected corners, annoying himself over nightclubs in general, as he barely remembered those times spent in a drugged haze – when he heard a sudden cry behind him. His eyes darted back, returning hurriedly to his front, it was Molly, and her heavy-lidded eyes gave off a sense of recognition. He blinked, almost taking to halt, when the doors to the ladies sprang open in the end of the hall, the light pouring out, as James walked out looking aghast at the sight of him. Sherlock was overwhelmed, blinking furiously, thinking on his feet.
He decided on a crucial simple lie, very beneficial for all parties, on why he of all people was indeed in Heaven's dark corners, filled with people having at it. Yet before he could utter anything he found himself pressed upon the wall by the petite female who spoke in slurred tones. He widened his eyes in shock, as the air was firmly pushed out of him, and he understood her intentions - but before he could stop the venture – she pulled him by his shirt collar down to her mouth with such unexpected fierceness he was promptly taken aback – as her soft lips caressed his, holding his face down to hers, playfully licking his mouth, which tried not to open to her.
His arms stood rigid to the side at first, but her hands forced them around her waist. He was astonished that she had yet to realise who she was kissing, the smell of alcohol evidence enough of why, and her breathing erratic to know where her mind went, as she pressed herself closer to him. He responded against his will, she moaned, and he found himself shutting his eyes, while opening his mouth to hers – tasting the vodka and strawberry. None of the combinations were any of his associations to the slender figure garbed in scarlet. He grabbed her to him now, urge driving him, as he'd forgotten the pleasantness of the act. When he was about to deepen the kiss, forgetting himself entirely - she broke away - chest heaving, eyes cast downwards, as if she was shaken by the turn of events. Her brown eyes looked up, meeting his blue, they broadened, as her now rather swollen lips uttered "Sherlock?"
Her horror was undeniable, her head turned around in all directions, as she gave to swallowing guiltily, "Fuck," she mouthed, and with that Molly ran off realising her monstrous mistake. Sherlock rubbed his face; giving a release of breath he did not know he held, glancing into the direction of the lavatory, finding no James, he brought out his mobile phone -
I'll let you at it – J
It took John ages to get in, quarrelling on the outside of the idiotic door; with the bouncer who wasn't particularly nice, and who's chins were wobbling every time he gave a booming laugh. Blatant luck got him in, that and knowing Sherlock of course, which was purely by someone recognising him from his blog.
The bouncer was so distracted by the turn of events, that John walked in rather smugly, trying to find his girlfriend in the massive room, which was filled to the brim of men dancing, with the occasional woman squashed in-between. He hoped his girlfriend was easy to spot, and luckily she was by herself drinking a colourful drink with a straw, looking less of an adult because of it.
When he reached her table she threw her arms around him, spilling her drink, and laughing madly, before giving him wet kisses on his neck enthusiastically. "I'm sorry - I know how you don't like-," she started at him, green eyes wide.
"You're not Harry," he just said, "Also, you know when to quit."
"What?" she cried out. He just laughed, as the music became loud again, pointing towards the general exit, "Molly," she mouthed baring her teeth. He gave her a nod, looking about, until Molly appeared quite flushed, with mushy red lips. He gestured to her mouth; she took to dry it with her hand, looking if not rather guilty as she grabbed her coat and handbag.
"What's wrong?" he shouted.
She just shook her head in turn, giving Mary a hurried hug, and gestured to the exit. John just nodded, as Molly sped off without another look back. It wasn't before he and Mary followed shortly after, Mary leaning on him, that they met Sherlock who was getting his coat. He gave them a very stern look, clearly disapproving of Mary's drunkenness, and slipped on his coat, before walking out with them. John eyed him warily, eyes darting to his mouth repeatedly, "I stopped a situation from developing," Sherlock said as they met with the outside.
"Right," said John, as Mary looked at Sherlock giggling. "You did, did you now?"
Sherlock's brows knitted, a look of apprehension on his face, before his hand soon slipped over his mouth, "Yes, you might want to get that off, probably, yeah." Sherlock wiped it off displeased.
"Why are – you - here Sherlock?" asked Mary a bit more seriously now, gaping at the man.
"You heard him – he was here to stop a situation from developing," said John smirking at his girlfriend, as he hailed for a taxi.
"Where is Molly, then?" asked Sherlock ignoring the declaration, and Mary's non-stop cackles.
"She's gone off-," said John as the taxi stopped.
"On her own?" Sherlock angrily asked John.
"Yes, well I couldn't really stop her, could I?" jerking his head to Mary, who shut her eyes leaning on his arm now, as he tried to move her towards the taxi.
"So you let her go gallivanting on her own in the middle of the night-," said Sherlock frustrated, observing the numerous roads she could have taken.
"Well - she's not my bloody girlfriend, exactly, is she? She seemed to be able to fend for herself too, unlike some," he said getting Mary into the taxi.
"I resent that-," murmured Mary rather taciturn, shutting her eyes firmly, as John seated himself besides her.
John leaned forward in his seat whispering furiously, "If this is entirely about your bloody crusade to get her back on her feet - just so you can study some stupid tobacco ash - then continue –since her buggering off to another country would do her good, but if there's even the slimmest chance there's more to it (he paused) – I suggest you try to sort out your feelings, soon, before she has your head on a platter," with that note John slammed the door. The taxi drove away leaving Sherlock standing alone, with his hand fondling the nokia tucked inside his pocket.
Molly sat outside her building, with tears in her eyes; her handbag's contents were on the stone steps, as she took large breaths. This wasn't her evening, more or less, and surprise snogs came with a prize apparently. If someone had told her, that Sherlock would be in Heaven of all places she'd have told them they were mental. Yet, there he was, for whatever stupid reason, she didn't know, and here she was yet again without her keys. It did not feel whatsoever tempting to text Ben either, as the shame overtook her. "What am I doing?" she moaned face in her hands.
"Clearly not improving the scenario. You have forgotten your keys again?" Sherlock said with distain, his eyes soft, yet his face haughty.
She blinked away her tears, staring at the arrogant man before her, "Not now, please."
"I don't think there is any time better than the present. I have excellent knowledge of getting in and out, without any trouble," he said, without looking at her now, "Or if you wish to sit on your steps, I'll leave you to it Molly."
She stifled her sobs, snorting a bit, "I'm not surprised," she said, slowly picking up the contents of her bag. "Go ahead."
He brought forward a paperclip, with a smug smile, soon running up the stone steps to the entrance, pretending to be fiddling with the lock, when he slipped in the keys he had in his pocket. Molly, who was very organized in every aspect of her being, couldn't by the life of her remember her own keys it seemed when inebriated.
Very helpful that he'd broken in already earlier, so he thought, as he held the door open for her. She picked up her handbag, gradually shuffling past him, avoiding all accidental contact with him, as she walked up the steps ahead of him. Sherlock kept his eyes fixed on the walls, and ceilings rather than her shape in the dress. It was the shade, he thought, it was distracting.
He cleared his throat, as they reached her door, she stood aside, and he twiddled with her lock, raising his brows at her pleasantly, as she crossed her arms avoiding his gaze. He slipped the key inside, opening it abruptly, her pace quickened as she past him to walk in – he was careful to drop the keys in her bag.
She stood in the doorway shifting awkwardly, dropping her handbag on the floor, "Why are you here?" she asked after a few seconds of shared silence.
"I knew of your previous reputation with keys, so I thought I might be of assistance," he quipped, starting to move down the steps.
"Right – and why were you at Heaven, then?" she asked him, causing him to stop.
"Do you always question when people help you?" he asked furrowing his brows at her.
She looked furiously red at this, hesitating as she opened her mouth several times, before saying very quickly, "Sherlock, I've just stuck my tongue down your throat - I'm also insanely pissed, and here you are opening doors for me – when the nicest thing you've ever done for me is buy me packets of crisps."
"I was just returning the favour," he said promptly.
"Right - favour-," she said biting her lip, looking rather nervous now, "Could you please not tell him?"
"I won't tell him," he said much more quietly than intended.
She breathed with relief, "Thank you, I – I thought you were him, you see," she said giggling a little now, eyes crinkling up.
He raised a brow in return, "That's quite a mistake. I suggest not attempting to kiss strangers in darkened hallways without fully knowing who they are, Molly. We wouldn't want you to get detained for being too hands-on," he said cheerily dashing down the steps.
"It was a very dark hallway," she bit after him, before slamming her door shut.
A/N: I've never been to Heaven, so you know, if you're like - there's no hallway. I only used it due to a drunk American fellow I once met once in London who kept saying "I went to this gay bar called Heaven."