Five: Take the Long Way Home (Supertramp)

You never see what you want to see

Forever playing the gallery

You take the long way home,

Take the long way home.

Molly Hooper slammed the door of her office shut, taking a moment to lean her head against the cool paneling. It had been such a very long day and she was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. She knocked her head gently against the door before pushing herself off and making her way out of the hospital. She hadn't taken more than four steps out the door when the rain began.

Molly stood there for a few minutes and just frowned up at the leaking sky. The drops were heavy and beginning to fall faster. Fantastic. She'd walked to work today and hadn't brought her umbrella. Grumbling, she turned up the collar of her coat and began to trudge through the puddles that were already forming. There was going to be an extra-large glass of wine involved in making this day go away.

She'd walked for about a block when she heard a familiar voice calling her name. She turned around and saw John Watson hurrying toward her, a black umbrella clutched in his hand. She waved and gave him a small smile. He ran over and raised the umbrella so she could slide under it.

"Molly!" John exclaimed with a bright grin on his face. The grin slipped into a frown as he looked at her. "You're all wet."

Molly barked a terse laugh at him. "Did Sherlock teach you to deduce like that?" The words were more forceful than she had intended. Her face crumpled as she watched his eyebrows attempt to crawl off his face in surprise. "I'm sorry, John. I didn't mean to be so cruel."

"It's fine, Molly. Are you, ummm… are you okay?" John placed a comforting hand on her arm.

Molly really didn't want to burden John with her problems, but the look on the doctor's face was so kindly that she couldn't stop the flow of emotional pain she'd felt today brimming over. She hiccupped as she looked John in the eye and said, "Not really, John."

John wrapped an arm around her shoulders and said, "Aww Molly… why don't you come back to Baker Street with me and have some tea. You can tell me all about it."

"Oh John…I really couldn't… I don't want to intrude," Molly stammered.

John shook his head. "Nonsense, Molly. You are never an intrusion." And with that, John signaled for a cab and they headed off for Baker Street.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Molly was wrapped in one of Mrs. Hudson's warmest dressing gowns and her clothes were hanging on a rack by the fireplace so they could dry properly. She was seated on the end of the couch, her hands wrapped around a warm mug of tea. She felt so much more relaxed and comfortable than she had been. She threw John a warm smile as he came into the living room with his own cup of tea and took a seat in the armchair directly across from her.

"So," he said. "What seems to be troubling you, Molly?"

She chuckled darkly. "You sound like my therapist, John."

He laughed. "Don't forget, I have one too, Molly." He smiled at her. "But really, what happened to the bright, cheerful Molly that we all know?"

Molly swallowed past the lump in her throat and looked at him. "It's been a very long day, John." He looked at her expectantly, not saying anything, so she coughed and continued. "You know how…people take you for granted sometimes? I mean…not you personally, but like…just people in general?"

John smiled. "I live with Sherlock Holmes, Molly."

Molly nodded knowingly. "Of course. Well, I just… I overheard some colleagues talking about…well, not just me personally, but… women in general in…in my line of work. You know…we're too soft to handle the real doctor stuff and all that…" She paused and took a sip of her tea. She noted that John's eyes had hardened into blue sapphires and there was a little wrinkle in the skin between his eyebrows. "I just… I've worked really hard to get where I am, you know? I put a lot of effort and thought into what I do, but people always stare at me like I've got three heads when I tell them that I work in the morgue and I love it. And maybe it is a little weird, but I've always found that working in the morgue was what I am supposed to be doing. I like it there and I like the service I provide and I wouldn't want to do anything else. And then people that I work with tell me that… I'm not suited for the work I'm doing? I'm too soft for it?" Her voice choked a little and she cleared her throat, taking another swig of her tea. She looked at John and said, "I'm just tired of hearing people say that I don't count."

"You've always counted." Both Molly and John jumped at the sound of Sherlock's deep baritone echoing from the doorway. He'd come up the stairs silently and had paused on the landing when he'd heard Molly's voice. Now he swept into the flat and hung up his coat and scarf, shaking the leftover rain out of his ebony curls. He came over to John's chair and placed a chaste kiss to the top of the man's head. Then, he walked over to the couch and sat down across from Molly, staring at her intently. John watched with a small smile on his face.

"You've always counted, Molly," Sherlock repeated. "You are a competent doctor and scientist. Your methodology is practical, if a little mundane, but it gets the job done. You're good at what you do." Molly gaped at him. Sherlock had never outright insulted her, but he surely had never complimented her either…not since the night he had asked her for her help all those years ago.

"And let's not forget," John said, "that you helped save Sherlock's life during the whole…Moriarty fiasco." John's face sunk into the unconscious frown that it always did when he discussed the criminal. "Point being, you're important, Molly. And don't you forget it."

Molly tried to swallow past the lump in her throat as she looked back and forth between John and Sherlock. They really were very sweet, and the fact that she had just thought the words 'Sherlock Holmes' and 'sweet' within the same breath almost made her giggle. "Thank you…both of you. I…I really don't know what to say."

Sherlock flashed her a genuine grin that he never really shared with anyone outside of John. "You don't have to say anything." He looked at John as if for confirmation and he received a tender smile from John. Good, he'd done that right. "So… Molly do you like Chinese food?"

"What?" she queried, raising her eyebrow at him.

"I've brought home Chinese. Stay for dinner?" Sherlock gave her another small grin as he stood and gestured to the kitchen. Molly laughed and grinned back.

"I'd love to, Sherlock, thank you."

"Wonderful," John said as he went off to the kitchen to prepare the meal. Molly stood and moved to go help him, but she stopped as she felt Sherlock grip her wrist with his thin fingers.

"Molly," he murmured. "I am sorry if I have ever caused you to doubt yourself. I've always trusted you." He swallowed nervously and a faint blush rose to his cheeks. God, he hated apologizing.

Molly smiled and stood on her toes to kiss his cheek. No words were needed. She threaded her arm through Sherlock's and together they made their way out to the kitchen. The food was delicious, the conversation was pleasant, and Molly found herself thankful that she had decided to take the long way home that night.

A/N: Hopefully Sherlock isn't too out of character in this one. I like to remember that ACD's Sherlock was pretty compassionate, especially towards women and their issues. Also, not trying to cause havoc with the doctor/nurse thing…it's just a story and I needed a conflict. I have a whole family full of medical professionals.