Author's notes: This one isn't beta'd…sorry for any mistakes. Hope you like ! Thanks so much for reading!
Chapter three
Molly loved her small country cottage and she loved Midsomer Worthy. It was so peaceful and lovely. She thought under different circumstances, she could be quite happy living here. But the emptiness she felt inside from the death of her family members was making it impossible for her to feel much of anything. She did feel loss from missing her friends and St. Bart's. She loved her job and she loved London, but she just couldn't stay there, not now.
She tried hard not think about him and the pain it caused her to know he probably hadn't even noticed her disappearance, unless of course he happened to need something from the Morgue. She giggled, picturing the shock on his face as he was met by Mike instead of her. She knew Mike well enough to know he wouldn't be nearly as accommodating to Sherlock as she was. And she found herself experiencing a fiendish delight at the thought of Sherlock's pouting and fuming.
But then she remembered the coldness in his eyes. The detachment that came so easily to him and how it had nearly destroyed her when he began looking at her with those icy blue eyes after all that she had done for him. He had reentered the world of the living and Molly saw blatantly that she just did not matter to him and never had. He no longer needed her, so she was tossed aside as if she were nothing more than one of the many appendages she had given him for his experiments through the years.
Then came the brutal murder of her parents, sister, and nephew. She began to study Sherlock. He seemed to have 'unfeeling bastard' down to an art. Sherlock never felt pain or despair because he didn't allow himself to feel anything. Molly found herself craving that peace and serenity that he must have, never hurting for someone, never worrying for someone.
She began to wonder how she could obtain the sweet bliss of nothingness, so she began watching him. Mimicking him seemed easy enough except for when John, Greg, and Mike showed their concern for her. She wanted to throw herself into John's arms or even Greg's arms and melt into the comfort and warmth she would find there. But she couldn't allow that. Not if she wanted to master becoming Sherlock Holmes.
And though her heart ached for the love of the man she had desired for so long, it soon began to lessen. The more she studied him, surrounded herself with his methods and his ways, the isolation and fear began to slowly dissipate. Soon she felt cold and numb all of the time, not just in his presence or when she thought of her family. She began to feel like she just might survive after all. But she had to be ever vigilant or the old Molly, her true self would begin talking to her. Pushing her to seek help and comfort from her friends.
When she couldn't seem to shake the shadow of her old self, she decided to leave London. She thought it would be much easier to become something she was not someplace else. She could start over and start a new life. Molly Hooper could disappear into the London mist.
So Molly Hudson had been born in Midsomer Worthy. She lived in a small country cottage with her cat Toby. She worked in a Teashop with Mrs. Cumberbatch. She was already making new acquaintances with the townsfolk.
Yes, this was going to work out nicely…until he came for her. She had already decided she would leave Toby to Mrs. Cumberbatch. She knew the old woman would give Toby all of the love she had given him.
Molly began to wonder how she would die. Would it be in the same way that he had killed her parents or something worse? She wondered if she had placed anyone in Midsomer in danger by moving there. She knew John, Mike, and Greg were safe. Sherlock would keep Mrs. Hudson safe. She had no need to worry about them. She considered briefly contacting Greg and asking him to contact the local constable about checking in on Mrs. Cumberbatch from time to time, but realized that would create more questions than she was willing to answer.
Molly sighed deeply, letting the heat from the tea she was currently drinking sooth her throat and warm her muscles. Toby was purring loudly in her lap. She scratched his ears with her free hand. "Sorry boy, mummy's got to get to work."
Toby gave her his best "piss off" look when she picked him up and placed him gently on the floor. He sauntered out of the living room and into the bedroom, making himself comfortable on her bed. "Don't look at me like that, Toby. Who else is going to put food on the table?" But the cat had already flopped onto his side with his back to her, and was asleep already.
Meryl Cumberbatch was busying herself with placing the fresh scones on a plate when the bell rang letting her know a customer had entered. That had been Molly's idea since it was very easy for Meryl to become distracted and forget what she was doing. She raised herself to her full height, 4'9 and smiled warmly.
"Ah…Tom…good morning."
Detective Chief Inspector Tom Barnaby returned the smile. "Good morning Mrs. Cumberbatch. How's the new girl coming along then?"
"Oh splendid! She's an absolute dear, she is." Meryl looked behind him. "Is Gavin not with you today?"
"No, not today. He's got a bit of holiday time."
Meryl nodded putting a blueberry scone on a plate and handing it to Tom. "I'm assuming you want blueberry, Tom?"
He nodded.
"And tea or coffee, dear?"
"Um…tea I believe today."
Meryl turned and poured him a cup of tea. She paused a moment. "Tom, I was wondering. Is Gavin still seeing that ghastly girl from Badger's Drift?"
Tom blinked in surprise. "Why no, I don't think he is. Why do you ask?"
"No reason really." She said handing him his tea. "But I was just thinking…"
"I am sure you were, Mrs. Cumberbatch." Tom said smiling warmly.
"Do behave yourself Tom. Now, as I was saying. My sweet girl Molly, she's so new to Midsomer Worthy, I was thinking that perhaps a nice young man like Gavin wouldn't mind showing her around a bit? Maybe taking her to a nice dinner or perhaps the cinema…maybe introduce her to some of the young people in town. Maybe he could take her into Causton for a night on the town?"
Tom frowned slightly. He had no interest in other people's romantic entanglements. "I really don't know if that's…"
"Now don't be difficult, Tom. Molly is having a very hard time right now and I think getting out and about with people her own age would do her some good. She has isolated herself enough I should think. Either you will help me with this Tom or I shall ring Joyce and…"
"No, no Mrs. Cumberbatch. That won't be necessary. You needn't involve Mrs. Barnaby. I'll send Sgt. Troy by the shop today or tomorrow. Will that do?"
"Yes, yes, very good. It will do nicely, thank you Tom."
"What are we doing here, Sherlock?" John asked exasperated.
"We are waiting." Sherlock replied, looking bored.
"Obviously we are waiting Sherlock, but on what?" John snapped.
Sherlock regarded him sharply. "I should think that would also be obvious."
A sound that closely resembled a growl erupted from John's throat. "You know what, I don't care what we are waiting for! You can bloody well go soak your head for all I care."
John stood and began to stomp away from Sherlock, mumbling as he went. "I missed breakfast for this jackassery!"
"John, wait!" Sherlock called after him.
John stopped and looked up to the sky as if to ask God the eternal question of "Why me?" before turning back to Sherlock. A young boy approached Sherlock, no more than 14 years of age and handed him a small slip of paper. Sherlock opened the paper and grinned widely before jumping up from the park bench and dancing around ridiculously. The boy seemed to think Sherlock was a bit batty and began to shrink away.
Sherlock's hand shot out and snatched the boy closer by his jacket sleeve. "Wait a minute." Sherlock said, pulling a few quid from him pocket and handing it to the boy. The boy beamed at Sherlock. "Thanks mate!" He said before skipping off.
"Well?" John asked.
"Midsomer Worthy…I knew it! Now, let us be off to collect Ms. Molly Hudson."
"Molly Hudson?" John repeated following behind Sherlock.
"John, you know how I dislike repeating myself. Please try and keep up."
"How did you find out she had moved to Midsomer?" John asked.
"My network is so much more reliable than Mycroft's." Sherlock answered, jogging to the curb to try and hail a taxi.
"Sherlock, I wasn't joking about the magistrate. I'm not going to say Molly is daft just so you can keep her under your thumb."
"Well maybe it won't come to that." Sherlock said opening the door to the cab.
"Sherlock, we need a plan. We can't just waltz into Midsomer Worthy and demand she come with us."
Sherlock regarded him questioningly. "Why not?"
John's eyes opened wide. "Because normal people don't interact that way."
Sherlock groaned. "Normal…boring…I had hoped to break you of normal once and for all John."
He stood back admiring his handy work. He only wished he could stay and see Molly's face when she beheld it. He turned when he heard something rustling behind him. Toby sat perched on the foot of the bed, ears laid flat, teeth bared, and growling deep within his throat.
"Oh come on kitty. You and I are going to become great friends by the time this is over. I plan on spending quite a bit of time with our little Molly."
Toby's back raised, ever hair on his body standing at attention. Toby struck out when he tried to pet him.
"Bloody hell…" He hissed. "You're a mean little fucker aren't you? Or a rather protective one." He put his hand to his lips, sucking the blood Toby had drawn. "You know, I was going to go ahead and break you to pieces today and leave you on the bed as a present for little Molly. But I think I'll wait. I'd like to take you apart in front of her."
He turned away from Toby, who struck out at him again, this time catching his arm. He hissed in pain, shoving Toby onto the floor. Toby scurried under the bed, but his deep growls could still be heard. He stood back and regarded the message on the wall. He smiled a row of straight white teeth.
"Let the games begin, my love."
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