Chapter 8

From that day on, something changed in Sherlock's attitude towards Molly. Some of his smiles were a bit forced and she could tell that he was holding back on his usual remarks, but overall he was trying to be more human.

She was puzzled about what had caused this sudden evolution. But she remembered his nice words about her silhouette. It was the first time he had ever made a positive comment about her look. So far it had always been about her lips, which were too thin, and her breasts, which were too small. Molly didn't consider herself pretty, she wasn't particularly ugly either, just average. She normally wore little make up and didn't feel comfortable in sexy dresses and high heel shoes. She had tried to dress up for Sherlock at the Christmas party, but apparently he didn't fancy her outfit. For sure she wasn't a vamp like this Irene Adler, the woman he had recognized from… not her face.

She had googled her name on the internet and had been shocked to discover that Adler was a dominatrix. What had been Sherlock's connection to her? Was he…one of her clients? She didn't even want to think about that possibility. But she was still curious about his relationship history. She had never seen him with a woman. Of course there had been a lot of rumors about the fact that he and John could be more than flatmates. But from what she knew John was a bit of a womanizer so it didn't make sense.

Could there be any chance that he returned her feelings? After al, he had come to her when he needed help. She though again about what he had said, and took a look at her wardrobe. There were a few dresses, rarely worn and kept for formal occasions, but it was mostly composed of jumpers, cardigans and baggy pants. Comfortable clothes but hardly feminine she agreed. She couldn't change her style completely but maybe she could make effort as well if this was what he liked.

She tried not to make it too obvious. But she went shopping for some new clothes and started to wear them from time to time. One day it was a pretty blouse showing a bit of her décolleté, the other one a nice ruffled skirt. He didn't say anything but she was amused to see his eyes wandering a bit too long on her legs. Maybe he wasn't such a lost cause after all?

^/^

Sherlock was now meeting every morning with his physiotherapist. The goal was to help him being the most independent possible, learning how to sit upright, get out of bed, dress himself… He also needed to develop his upper body strength in order to reduce his back pain and compensate for his other muscles.

The next step was to learn how to use a wheelchair. Mycroft had ordered one of the most advanced models on the market, imported directly from the US. But when it arrived, Sherlock first refused categorically to use it. Maybe it was one of his usual whim to piss off his brother, but more likely it was because it was a symbol. The symbol of his disability. He knew that with no improvement of his leg's sensibility in 3 months, his hopes of making a recovery, even partial, were slim. Boycotting the chair was a way to deny this new reality, even only for a few days. However when he finally made up his mind, he mastered it quicker than any patient his therapist had seen before.

It was shortly after those days that the investigation on Moriarty's agents made an important progress. Mycroft had a secret cell of men tracking night and day their possible moves. The more they dig into Moriarty's network, the more they discovered the immensity of his influence. He had gathered a fortune thanks to his consulting services and was funding a vast range of criminal activities around the world: illegal gambling, prostitution rings but also arms trade and terrorists cells. His empire had a very complex juridical structure, mostly based in offshore countries.

The most dangerous of those men was an ex-army Colonel named Sebastian Moran. He had been Moriarty's second in command for years and had now succeeded him. He also had the reputation of being one of the world's finest snipers, and no doubt Sherlock and his friends would have no peace as long as he was alive. When Mycroft was informed by a trustful source that Moran may have been spotted in South America, he decided to take the trip himself in order to investigate the lead. It was an unusual move for Mycroft, who normally despised doing any "legwork", but it proved how far he ready to go for his younger brother.

Sherlock was of course keeping a close eye on the chase. He was also delighted to have Mycroft off his back for at least three weeks.

^/^

It was now summertime and the weather was particularly warm this year. Molly had decided that Sherlock was desperately in need of sun and altered their usual afternoon schedule. They were now spending most of their time outside, discovering the hospital's park which was a good training for Sherlock's wheelchair practice, or just chatting about various topics.

One that particularly interested Molly was Sherlock's family. The brothers had mentioned their mother a couple of times, and she had even caught sight of her at the funeral, but his background was still very mysterious. She took her chance to find out more about the subject one day they were resting in the shadow after a walk. Molly was seated on a bench and Sherlock was reading a book when they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a SMS.

"Mycroft?", inquired Sherlock, his eyes not moving from his book.

Molly took a look at her phone. "Yes, your brother sends his regards from Montevideo."

"Dull."

"Hum, Sherlock?"

"Yes…"

"I was wondering… how come your mother didn't visit yet?"

"Because she doesn't know I'm alive."

"Oh", said Molly. "Why didn't you tell her?"

"You were supposed to be the only one to know. We had to inform Mycroft and some of his agents which make already way too many people, it is unnecessary to involve anyone else."

"But… she's your mother!"

He sighed and finally closed his book.

"My mother has been suffering from depression all her life. This would just… confuse her even more and she could jeopardize the secrecy of the plan."

His tone was very matter of fact, but Molly felt that she had touched a sensitive chord.

Sherlock continued: "And to anticipate your next question, no my father won't come either. He passed away when I was eighteen."

"I'm sorry. My father died when I was twelve, lung cancer. I miss him… I wish we had more time together."

"I don't particularly miss mine", replied Sherlock.

"What was he like?"

"He worked for government, foreign affairs. He was rarely at home. He was either travelling or with one of his mistresses."

Molly nodded silently. She was starting to have a clearer picture of the Holmes family, and it wasn't a happy one.

"Did… you and Mycroft ever get along?"

"Surprisingly, yes. As I said my father was absent and my mother was often unable to take care of me. So Mycroft did. Then he left to college, I grew up and… things changed."

"There seems to be a lot of old grudges between you two", noticed Molly.

"There are."

She had hoped to learn about the cause of their rivalry but Sherlock didn't seem keen to expand on the subject.

"I have a brother too", she said. "But we aren't very close either. He lives in the States now. Well… I wonder why I'm telling you this because I'm sure you already know."

Sherlock grinned. "I do indeed. For example it is quite obvious that you are not in best terms with your mother."

Molly looked down.

"But it doesn't mean I don't want to hear about it", he added.

"My mum leaves in Dorset. And you're right, we're barely talking to each other. I mean… she's my mum and I love her but… it seems that nothing I can do if ever good enough for her. Unlike my brother, he's always been her favorite. When my father was still there it was different. But after he died… I felt very lonely. That's why I'm not very close to him either. All he can do is putting me down, asking… why I'm still single, why I chose such a weird job… He's a trader, he has a beautiful wife and two children. They're my mother's pride of course."

"I personally believe you bring a much more significant contribution to society than someone who speculates on virtual products and contributes to ruining our economy", stated Sherlock.

"Thank you. Is Mycroft married? I noticed he was wearing a ring."

"He is."

"Oh really? What is his wife like?"

"She is a forty-five lawyer named William."

"Oh!", exclaimed Molly. "I'm sorry, I assumed… I'm just surprised. But it's fine, really."

"I know it's fine. My brother-in-law is probably the most tedious man on the planet, but I guess that makes them a good match. And they have two absolutely horrid dogs", said Sherlock rolling his eyes.

Molly smiled picturing herself Mycroft and his husband spending their evenings in front of a fireplace with two basset hounds.

"You don't like dogs, do you?"

"Not particularly, I was beaten by one when I was in Uni. And I won't even speak of the Baskerville case…"

"But you like bees?"

"I like bees."

"Why? I read you all those books about bees, and I agree they're fascinating creatures, but how did you get interested in them? It's funny but I don't really imagine you as a… bee person."

Sherlock put down his book on the bench and rolled away. Molly was used to his unpredictable behaviour, but she wondered if she might have said something that had irritated him.

"Come here!", he suddenly called.

She obeyed and found him in another part of the garden. It was a beautiful flower bed, with a few bees happily buzzing around.

"Sit down", commanded Sherlock.

She knew he would always insist on people sitting down because he couldn't stand the height difference. But she wondered where? as there wasn't any seat around. Then she realised that he had meant sit on my knees and she blushed.

"I already told you there was nothing wrong with your weight. And anyway you know I won't feel anything."

Feeling both intimated and excited, Molly settled carefully on his lap and passed her one of her arms around his neck.

"They're beautiful aren't they?", said Sherlock.

"Bees… or flowers?"

"Both."

His thin fingers pointed towards a particularly elegant white rose.

"See…what a lovely thing a rose is. Some people believe that flowers are a proof of the existence of God. Because they are beautiful without a purpose and it is only goodness which gives extras. In fact the real explanation is much more prosaic. Flowers are beautiful because it is their way to survive through natural selection. Everything about them, their perfume, their color is carefully calculated to attract insects such as bees in order to facilitate pollination. But they also need protection, hence the thorns. Beautiful and dangerous, I believe we have much to learn from flowers."

"I didn't know you were such a romantic", teased Molly.

"It has nothing to do with romanticism, those are simply scientific facts."

"You have a way of putting things, Mr Holmes."

She giggled and gave him a beautiful smile. Sherlock started to laugh with her and, instinctively, Molly buried her head his chest. She was sure he could hear her heart which was beating faster and faster. She expected him to break the spell with one of his mocking comments, but instead she felt his arm circling her waist.

"Sherlock…", she whispered.

"What?"

"No… it's nothing."

He gently put a finger under her chin and lifted her face.

"Tell me."

She tried to pick up her courage, but the words she had rehearsed a thousand times in her mind were failing her again.

"I just wanted to tell you that… I mean, I've been wanting to tell you for a long time that… I really like being with you. I always did but… now I that know you better… I just like it even more."

Molly bit her lip and looked away, not wanting to see his reaction. This was officially the most awkward declaration, ever.

"I like being with you too", answered Sherlock. He passed a hand though her hair and turned her face towards him again.

"Really?", she murmured.

He remained silent but there was a sweetness in his blue eyes she had never seen before. She leaned and placed a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, just like the one he had given her on Christmas. Sherlock didn't protest so Molly became bolder and this time, her lips gently brushed against his.

^/^

A thousand thanks to all of you who reviewed or subscribed to this story. It is a fantastic motivation! Also, I've learnt thanks to Nocturnias comment that "Secrets" won a SAMFA which is an award for Sherlolly fics. I had no idea ! So again, a huge thanks to the voters, I still can't believe it !

I hope you will enjoy this new chapter, as Sherlock and Molly are finally getting closer and closer. For those who wonder, the "Rose Monologue" is directly inspired from ACD's Canon ("The Naval Treaty"). My version is different, but I always thought it was one of those rare moments in which we see a complete different side of Holmes' personality.

I am looking forward to writing the next chapter, even if it will be pretty dark in some aspects…