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Chapter Eighteen
Sherlock, honestly, had never felt more relieved than he felt at the moment. He felt greatly at peace after sharing his secret with Molly. For a man like him, it was really making him uncomfortable and hostile. Whenever someone mentioned riches, he'd wince and instead of cowering away, he'd get aggressive. Even John had noted his weird behavior.
A few months back, 221b was graced by the attendance of a high profile personality, who, obviously, was very rich. Sherlock had said that the personality, who shall remain anonymous, should be honored to be in the world's only consulting detective's presence, until John had smacked some sense into him. Sherlock had been as rude as he could be, keeping in mind how perfected his manners were. Also, when Sherlock found out that he was being invited to a certain reality show where he would have to live for months with…well with people not so much like him, he wasn't amused. John's giddy attitude wasn't helping him either. The detective took the matters in his own hands and emptied a sample of tobacco ash on the person's head. A few minutes after an exchange of angry words and glares, they saw the man and his crew leave. When John asked for his excuse in the matter, all the detective said was, "Flamboyancy, dramatics…not really my area" to which John responded, "Show-off, drama queen", by which time the detective had retired into his mind palace.
But now that someone like Molly knew he was sickly well-off, he felt so much calmer. It was their shared secret now.
However, there still was something which he hadn't been able to deduce easily. Her reaction. Molly had been very calm and her usual self, but that was hiding what Molly really thought. Did she have a different perception of Sherlock now? Did she hate him? Was she scared? Did she feel greedy enough to hide her real reaction?
No! No, Molly isn't like that. She is not one of those people who fall for money...no.
Sherlock shook his head at the thought and turned around to look at Molly, who was gawking at her new room he had led her into.
"So, do you like it?"
It was a very large room. Larger than the living room she had in her house. She could probably have gotten all the stuff in her house, cramped up in here.
The room had a maple wood, four poster bed with white, net curtains on all four sides. The curtains were tied to the posters with a delicate white string and Molly had a strange urge to pull the string loose and let the curtains flow freely.
The bed was covered with a clean white, linen bed sheet, a black comforter and contained eight black and white pillows which claimed half of the bed to Molly's excitement.
The bed had two matching bed side tables on either side, having three drawers each and a beautiful vase containing red tulips.
Opposite the bed stood two, comfortable lounge chairs with a small maple wood table in between. And then there was a whole wall covered with matching maple wood wardrobes. She hadn't realised her fingertips had ended up in her mouth when Sherlock pressed his hands on her shoulder and turned her around to face the other side of the room.
Molly's hand fell from her mouth and she gasped. How could she have missed this…this absolute beauty. Facing the wardrobe was not a concrete wall, but a glass wall…window…she wasn't sure. It started from the far right, ended on the far left, began from the floor and finished at the ceiling. But that wasn't all. It had the same white net curtains on either side of the glass wall, but the view was what made her catch her breath. It showed the beautiful River Derwent, flowing from the right towards the left of her view. She could see the lush green forest on the other side of it. The river bank had patches of colourful flowers decorating it and Molly let out an agitated whine.
"Like it?", Molly gasped and slapped his arm playfully, "I love it!"
Sherlock chuckled and pulled her towards a different corner of the room, "The bathroom", he informed, "Go ahead and freshen up. I'll be in the living room."
Sherlock was about to leave when Molly whispered timidly, "Where exactly is the living room?"
Sherlock whipped around and narrowed his eyes at her. Suddenly he roared with laughter and braced his hands on his knees. Molly scowled and flopped down onto the bed. Being so used to her hard bed, she was caught off guard when she fell back and her legs flew up in the air.
Oh, it's so soft!
Molly squealed and Sherlock laughed even louder at the sight in front of him. Molly quickly straightened up and caught her balance on the bed by placing both her arms in front of her as anchors.
When Sherlock had laughed enough he smirked and straightened, "Just message me through your phone if you need me, ok?"
Molly knew Sherlock was having a hard time trying to control his laughter, because when she nodded her comprehension and the moment he was out the room, Molly heard him break into a fit of laughter again.
-One day later-
"So…where did you get this castle from?", Molly asked as she shoved a spoonful of her porridge into her mouth.
"The market", Sherlock answered from behind his newspaper. Molly scowled and jabbed the knife into the newspaper. Sherlock slammed his newspaper down and stared at her in astonishment.
"Where did you get the money from?"
"Your credit card", Sherlock scowled, but when Molly looked like she would puke all over the table he blurted out, "Cases, Molly. For God's sake, it's not that difficult!"
Molly took a deep breath and closed her eyes, "Right…does Mycroft know?"
"Yes."
"John?"
"No."
"Why?", she opened her eyes and frowned.
"I've told you before, he doesn't need to know!", Sherlock gave her an irritated look.
"Then why do I know?"
"Because you need to know."
"Why?"
"Oh for the love of God, finish your breakfast and keep quiet!"
-One week later-
I want water – MH
I need water – MH
Now – MH
NOW! – MH
Molly had performed her daily routine of having a quick shower in a relatively normal bathroom and calling Mary. She had then changed into a turquoise printed collar shirt tucked into a white tiered skirt which fell down to her mid-calves, owing to the central heating. Molly wasn't sure how she felt about living in a large house, the floor plan of which she was unaware of. But she sure was enjoying lying in the fluffy bed, her legs stretched in front of her, ordering Sherlock around. Sherlock entered the room, disheveled and shot her a glare. He'd changed into his signature detective look, white dress shirt and black fitted trousers. And he didn't have any form of water in his hand.
"I asked you to bring me a glass of water", Molly frowned.
"Incorrect", Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, "You only informed me of your need. You didn't ask me fulfill your need."
"Get me a glass of water", Molly snapped.
"Mmm…nope", Sherlock answered, popping at p.
"Excuse me?"
"You're getting water yourself."
"I don't know the way t-"
"I'll show you. Get up", Sherlock made his way to her and tugged at her arm.
"I don't feel like walking", Molly whined.
"Hmmm…would you prefer it if I offered to carry you to the kitchen?", Sherlock's evil smile was back. Molly jumped out of the bed at lightning speed, distancing herself from him and straightened her skirt.
"I'll walk…", she whispered and quickly slipped her feet into her tan open toe T strap sandals.
"Hmmm…I wonder why you get so squeamish when I ask that?", Sherlock chuckled. Molly ignored him and stomped out of the room. She crossed her arms and went towards the window at the end of the hallway. Molly was so enthralled by the beautiful garden she saw outside, that she didn't hear Sherlock creep up behind her. Suddenly, she felt something warm wrap itself around her waist and the next moment she knew, she was flipped around, lifted off the ground and flung over something. Something being Sherlock's shoulder.
"Put me down, Sherlock! Now!", Molly shrieked and yanked his shirt tail out of his trousers, angrily.
"Nope", Sherlock chortled and held her legs securely against his chest.
"You bastard! Ugh! I'll kill you!", Molly screeched and slammed her fist against his lower back.
"Oww!", Sherlock swayed and hit his shoulder against the wall, "You know, you'll get us killed anyway if you continue doing that while I try to get us down the stairs."
"Fine", Molly grumbled and stopped resisting. Sherlock happily descended down the stairs and the moment he got his foot on the ground, Molly started wriggling again. For a tiny and elfin woman like her, she really was quite strong and stubborn. Sherlock huffed and gently put her back onto the ground. The moment Molly straightened up, she pulled her arm back and brought it down to slap him across the face, but Sherlock was quick enough to grasp her wrist firmly and pull it away.
"What?!", Sherlock glowered.
"You crossed all the limits, Sherlock!", Molly screamed.
"Limits? What limits?"
"It was inappr-"
"You think this was inappropriate?"
"Ye-"
"Ok, how was it inappropriate?"
"Let me sp-"
"Give me one good reason, and I will let you slap-no, I'll let you break my nose!", Sherlock glared at her and let go of her arm. Molly tried to think of a reason other than her aggravating crush on him, which was rapidly transforming into something very, very dangerous. She had tiresomely built strong walls around her heart after years of struggle and now he was breaking it, not through his shallow compliments, but by his sincere appreciation of her. He was stomping over the walls as if they were made of glass and ruining her years of endeavorment.
"Well?", Sherlock persisted.
"I want water…", she whispered and started walking in a random direction. Sherlock sighed and quickly grabbed her wrist.
"The kitchen's this way", he murmured and quickly let go of her wrist. They quietly walked towards the kitchen, Sherlock leading the way and Molly following a few steps behind. He led her through an arc entrance and into the kitchen. All she saw were cabinets here, and cabinets there. Bright lights made the red oak and black marble slabs shine. There was a small dining table for four in the middle and a large window facing the entrance. Molly could see the same garden she had seen from the window above.
Sherlock poured her a glass of water and pushed it across the slab towards her. Molly thanked him quietly and as she was taking a sip, she saw him walk towards the exit.
"Where are you going?"
"Out", Sherlock murmured
"Out where?"
"Out."
"Where?!", Molly frowned.
"Why do you care?!", Sherlock bit back angrily and stormed out of the kitchen. Molly didn't feel very thirsty as she stared after him and tried to figure out the reason he was so pissed off.
-Two days later-
Sherlock hadn't talked properly to Molly since the incident and Molly wasn't anywhere near finding out the reason of his anguish. He hadn't been avoiding her, but he had ignored all her playful teasing. He would disappear in his mind palace for long intervals and sometimes, Molly thought he was faking it. Molly knew she had to sort it out soon, before she lost her sanity in the large mansion.
She found Sherlock sitting outside in the lawn, watching Redbeard and Toby chase a butterfly. Molly quietly strolled up to him and sat down beside him. Sherlock shifted away from her slightly before Molly caught the cuff of his sleeve and tugged at it.
"What's wrong?", Molly whispered quietly.
"Nothing", Sherlock refused to look at her even when she had shuffled closer to him.
"I miss your teeth…", Molly tried to joke but got silence in reponse.
"Sherlock?"
"Just leave me alone!", Sherlock yelled as he yanked his arm away from her, stood up and quickly stormed into the house. Molly silently watched him walk away, blinking away her tears. She was completely broken, vulnerable and in love with Sherlock.
Sherlock kicked at the wall when he got in his room. He kicked again and again but the wall didn't budge nor get the slightest of a dent. Instead his toes hurt. He sighed as he pressed his back against the wall and slid down to the floor. He covered his face with his hands and thought over everything that had happened just a few days back. He had just been playing along, trying to make Molly feel comfortable and confident around him. But it was breaking him. Breaking him inside out. And he knew why Molly couldn't feel comfortable around him.
He stood up and walked over to his window. He could see her sitting exactly the way he had left her, but this time Toby, and Redbeard's head, were in her lap. By her slouched, shaking shoulders, he knew she was crying. He had brought her here with everything pleasant in mind, but this entire picture looked nothing but gloomy.
His chest ached. His body ached. His head ached. His eyes ached. And before he knew it, his cheeks felt wet. He brought his hand up to touch his cheek and his fingertips caught the wetness. He was crying. The consulting detective was crying. All the cold hard personality his brother had helped him build was breaking and falling apart to one particular, painful sentiment.
He pressed his hand against his window where he could see her, wishing he could touch her from there, and tell her how much he was hurting, to ask her if she felt that much agony because of him over the last few years, and that he was sorry for everything, and that…
"Molly…", an alien sob escaped from between his lips.
That he loved her.
Argh...it hurts! *clutches her chest* Sherlolly hurts alot!
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