"Do you actually need a wife?"
The voice sounded distant, like background noise of the telly, which unfortunately with a quick glimpse was turned off. He snapped his head back towards Molly who had uttered it. Molly Hooper who looked if not a bit overwhelmed, also very red-faced, with her hands clenched at her sides, before she gave to mouth an "oh", as she looked at Sherlock then him. "No - what – oh – wife – I'm not- no," she half-shouted; before starting to giggle furiously, "We're not married! Of course not!"
He was severely confused.
This was what happened when Sherlock kept him awake to five in the morning, due to his stupid violin playing, which Sherlock had been doing for the majority of the night. It wasn't until he'd suggested chess that evening, that Sherlock let the violin rest. Of course being beaten by the man wasn't pleasant, but it was easier for him to accept than Cluedo (which had been an amusing suggestion at the time).
"Sorry? What?" John said, when Molly had just turned quiet, shifting her stance, as Sherlock just looked at her with a particular smug smile from where he sat.
She looked at John with a furrow in her brows, clearly thinking something through, before attempting to address his friend more, "I'm engaged – Sherlock – I got asked – last night, as it were."
John was about to congratulate her, except he wasn't sure he should, as she didn't exactly look spectacularly happy about the news. Neither did Sherlock either, who seemed angry for a second, as he took to stand up from his chair, stepping closer to the female, who took a tentative step back.
Sherlock looked down at her, blue eyes shifting slightly, as if taking her in, before he with a raise of his brow said, "That would be particularly difficult under the circumstances, would it not, Mrs Holmes?"
John had gone through a great deal with his friend, from being lied to, left in the dark, drugged, had his hair coloured red, having dates interrupted and other situations he'd rather nor recall. One would suppose that this would just be another day in the office, per say, and he was absolutely shocked, but his initial reaction was not absolutely gobsmacked horror.
He started to laugh.
They both stared at him, being absolutely surprised over his reaction, which was the most hysterical of laughs, that was immediately cut short, "You're not joking?" he said after a minute.
It was evident from Molly's red cheeks that it was indeed true, but he could see her mind working on what to say next.
"Of course-," Molly had started taking to laugh herself.
Sherlock however interrupted her with, "No, indeed not John. Molly and I are bound by matrimony. One would suppose she'd respect that bond by not getting married to another without consulting me," but there was a minor tug of his mouth, suggesting that he was very entertained by it all.
Molly spluttered, before taking a slow step forward to the man, "We're not – that wasn't – we were never married," she said waving the envelope in negative, but she seemed to give up the idea of trying to fool John of the fact.
"I beg to differ," said Sherlock who was clearly enjoying her being nervous.
"You said it wasn't real?" she almost whined in reply.
"It certainly wasn't intended to be - but mishaps happen," said Sherlock with a tilt of the head, as if this was an every-day inconvenience to most people.
John didn't know how to entirely grasp the situation, and didn't even know if he wished to understand it.
"Mishaps?" said John with a baffled expression, "That's a bit more than an accident – nobody just gets bloody married-," he continued, hoping to get to ask why it had happened too.
"Exactly," said Molly with wide-eyes, "And I'd very much like to take that back, so if you could please just sign the papers – if you please?"
She attempted to push the envelope towards him, but Sherlock just ignored it.
"You made a vow, Molly. Not one to be taken back lightly, especially after six years of happy matrimony," said Sherlock with a mock serious expression.
Molly felt sick, and felt a deep plunge in her belly of dread, which made her wonder if any of this, was in fact happening, since it resembled a ghastly nightmare. Happy matrimony? She had been married to him for six years. It would take her months before that would ever sink in.
"We're not married, Sherlock!" she said once more trying to remain as calm as she could, trying to mentally map out that she was just at work, and he was as usual being extra difficult to handle.
"Well, then," said Sherlock now with a wide smile, "I don't see the point of signing your supposed divorce papers."
Her own attempt of a smile vanished, her cheeks paled, and she felt like sinking on the furniture in half-faint, "I've – no – you're – Sherlock – we've not been – properly – we haven't lived together," she said, hoping that he'd realise how mad the idea of them having been married so long was, and continuing it would certainly not help. Except composing actual sentences seemed a bit more taxing on her already shaken nerves.
"I couldn't exactly throw John out on the streets, could I?" said Sherlock who eyed his friend who finally managed to shut his mouth, "You didn't seem very keen on living with me either."
She half-recalled the one moment he'd asked her if she needed a place to stay, and she informed him that she was living on her own, with no issues. And suddenly he had a roommate. If that was a suggestion for them to live together, she'd never gotten the hint of that from what he'd once said. She almost trembled with anger, "It's already been six years. What exactly do you suggest me to do then? I'm just supposed to carry on being married to you?" she said rather heatedly.
Sherlock seemed to give it a bit of thought, before he gave an answer this time, "Yes."
John felt like sitting down.
"This is not marriage – marriage is between two people who love each other – we barely even meet, or talk or do anything that is at all constituting something marital," she said a bit more hysterical now.
Sherlock gave to frown at this, "Did you not once complain over the fear of ending up unmarried, before you'd reached your forties? Wouldn't this remove all those fears and doubts?" he asked.
She gasped ever so slightly, "Sorry? Are you using that against me?" Not once did she ever assumed the man listened to her mutterings during the late hours at Bart's. It was every woman's general fear after some time, to be alone, and of course she'd thought so too. She had been in love with him, of all people.
"It is a completely legitimate thing to fear Molly, as many women do when they have turned-," he paused for a second giving her a once-over, "A certain age."
Her eyes narrowed at his suggestion, she wasn't very old – in fact he was older than her, and to be fair it was much more disturbing that he had a roommate at his age.
"I'll make some tea, shall I?" interrupted John causing them to look at him once more. He sprang to the kitchen happy for his escape, but he wished that he were somewhere else entirely. It didn't exactly help that he was still there, in the flat a few metres away, forced to listen to every syllable uttered, especially considering that it felt now rather rude to prod for questions. Molly didn't look especially keen to have a long-winded sit-down on the subject.
"Sit down," said Sherlock rather commanding, and his hand stretched towards John's chair.
She wanted to argue with him on this, wanted to kick him if remotely possible for ruining what little happiness she had hoped to gain, and what she had assumed wasn't far from her reach. She sat down anyway, keeping her eyes level with his, waiting for whatever stupid statement he was going to say that would make her get her stupid attorney to find a loop-hole in their stupid union. She was not going to spend any minute longer married to this man.
"I need proof," he said smoothly with his head tilted, dark curls falling to the side, as his hands were steepled together.
She blinked at him for a few seconds, "Sorry? Proof? What kind of proof?"
"Is he good enough?" he said after a minute of silence.
"Who?" she asked forgetting herself for a second, and feeling the undeniable flush reach her cheeks when she realised her mistake, "Oh – of course – yes – Michael – yes – of course he is."
"And you want to marry him?"
"Yes, of course I want to. That's why I'm here, to get a divorce, from a marriage I haven't known about, but you obviously had for six full years – so how come you haven't divorced me?" she said with her hands fidgeting in her lap.
She didn't know what his reply would be, and to tell the truth she was dreading having to listen to it. It didn't help that John had stilled with his administrations, though he kept trying to keep the volume up by slamming the cups a bit harder of the tray he was setting up.
"I found it beneficial," said Sherlock.
"What?"
What did that remotely mean? Sherlock who never liked women, or well, she didn't exactly know, but he'd certainly never liked her. And he found that it benefitted him to be married to her? She suspected that it was to do with one of his cases, or maybe it just helped having a spare wife on occasion.
Sherlock just gave to smile at her bewilderment, as she frowned in return over his regular smugness, "OK, so, are we done? Are you going to sign the papers now?" she asked.
"No," he said.
"What?"
"Molly, perhaps that might seem a bit difficult for you to comprehend, but I would like to meet the man that is going to artlessly replace me."
"No – absolutely not," she said without hesitation.
At this he smirked, leaning back in the chair, "Why not?"
"Because, Michael is – he's good Sherlock, and I am certainly good enough to know whose good or not."
Sherlock tutted, "I wouldn't say that, Molly. Considering your general history I would take everything Michael says to you with a pinch of salt, until I have had a discussion with him about our current situation."
"Oh, no," said Molly standing up horrified, "You're not telling him about this – he's not to know about anything – and who says I am at all agreeing to this?"
"Well, then I regret to inform you that I will not sign the papers."
"Fine," she said with a strained smile, "I'll find a way out of this, no problem, and I won't even need to have you sign anything."
"Be my guest," he said.
Molly glared at him feeling compelled to topple one of his belongings on the floor, but finding not much resolve to do so – before storming out, or well rather un-elegantly half-falling out of the door, as she'd made a bit of a misstep on the threshold. She could only imagine his amused face as she left – the bastard.
John exited the kitchen, as he said, "What the hell is going on, Sherlock?"
"He signed them, so no worries – just a big misunderstanding, as I said – so we can all calm down," she said to her mother on the phone.
"Yes, I can only imagine your father's horror if he knew," said her mum with a bit of laugh, certainly calmed down from her previous hysterics.
"I know," she said, as she could only imagine her dad being absolutely miserable not having gotten the chance to give her away, "But it's OK mum - it's fine."
The envelope was however still tucked away in her handbag taunting her at work, with its still unsigned pages. She never usually lied, but considering what she was currently going through; lying was a little pebble in an already messy pond.
The fact that her lawyer after several phone calls told her that there was no manner of way to cancel out the marriage without Sherlock's consent was taxing. No actual loophole that was legal or right, except getting his signature. She contemplated scheming; conjuring a devilish plot where she'd fool Sherlock into believing he was signing something else, but she knew that would never work.
There were other fantastical options, but most of them involved her injuring him. She wasn't regularly the one who wished to inflict another person pain, but she felt a bit on the edge considering. He had known all that ruddy time, all those years, and she'd been married to him. If it had at least been a mistake; a six year long mistake, then she'd have shook hands with him – no problem. Now, however, here he was telling her to continue being married to him. Oh, yes – this was probably a luxury to him for some odd reason. He was married, without love, without commitment, without attachment, without any of those inconveniences, as she was absolutely sure he wasn't keen on the establishment. He had related enough to her when she'd gotten into the mess in the first place.
There she was at work, her mind entirely elsewhere, as she had to lie to her mum and to Michael and to everyone. Michael had luckily not caught on her anxiety on the phone at all. He still seemed calm by the fact that she'd already said yes. It was so very typical that Sherlock ruined it for her, so absolutely typical, but she hoped that he would at the end change his mind.
Her gloved hands were deep in intestines, the moment he voiced, "Molly," in her ear. She jumped on the spot, taking to squeeze the heart she was holding in her hand harder than intended, "Sherlock!" she yelped.
He just gave to smile at her, donning his usual coat, with the collar propped up, as his blue eyes scanned the body she was attending to, before they landed on her. She just frowned in return at him, wondering how he'd managed to sneak up on her without her noticing.
"I see you visited your lawyer today, then?" he said, and she knew that he was very aware of how it had gone down. She kept her mouth shut, despite feeling like throwing a swear word or a kidney his way.
"I have come here to propose you a deal," he continued in her silence.
She stopped up, looking properly up at him waiting – her heart beating rather fretfully, "You have?" she said startled.
"Yes," he said pleasantly, "We need not tell Michael about our current situation, but I would like to meet him nonetheless – I find it odd that I have yet to meet your future spouse."
She felt her heart drop, for there were several reasons to that, listed on several notepads, with several exclamation marks, "Will you sign, then?" she said rather carefully, trying to seem aloof there she stood.
"If I approve," he said.
"If you approve?" she said in disbelief.
"Yes, I have to have a thorough evaluation, Molly. We do not need any more mistakes like Jim, do we?" he said rather cheerily.
"What does that mean?"
"I would think that a criminal master mind would be a problem."
"No – not that – I mean – what do you mean with a thorough evaluation?"
"That it might take more than one meeting."
"And how exactly am I going to explain that to him?"
"Oh, I am sure you can manage to find a creative solution to that problem – don't you think?" he said, "I'll be in the lab, do bring me a cup of coffee when you are done – black-,"
"And two sugars, I know," she said disgruntled, slipping her hands out from the corpse, as Sherlock went off clearly satisfied.
This was not going to go well.
A/N: WOW, thank you for the response, the reviews, and the follows. I am absolutely surprised by the general enthusiasm over this plot. So that's very fun, thank you very much! I do hope i don't disappoint, and that you keep on reading. This story seems to write itself really.