Sorry for the long delay on this. I hope everything makes sense! Enjoy!
Ghosts
Molly felt her heart leap into her throat when she heard the knock at the door. Her phone buzzed a call and she ignored it. She shuffled her feet into her slippers and threw her robe on as she dropped her phone into her pocket. She took a deep breath and walked toward her front door. Another knock gave her a start as she covered her mouth to keep herself from screaming. Molly imagined many frightful things, especially after the phone call she received from John. She squeezed her eyes shut and her hand hovered over the door knob. She regretted not buying the door with windows or a peephole after Sherlock destroyed the last door in an experiment.
The man on her doorstep was in the middle of knocking again when Molly opened the door.
"Oh, hello," He said as he smiled. He was handsome enough,with reddish blond hair and bright green eyes. Molly would have been enamored, if she hadn't been frightened. "You are home."
"Um, yes. Who are you?" Molly asked as he pulled her robe closer to herself.
"Terribly sorry," He smiled again. He had a crooked incisor, Molly noted. It was kind of endearing. Like Jim's clumsiness, or Sherlock's kisses. She bit her lip to try to keep herself from blushing. "I'm your new neighbor, Craig. Moved in just last week."
He held his hand out and Molly took it, hesitantly.
"I don't remember seeing you moving your stuff." Molly leaned forward and peeked at the house next door. "I don't remember the neighbors moving out."
"Heh, well, we all get busy once in a while. They left this package with me on Friday and I happened to be home." Craig held out the non-descript package. "You must be Molly Hooper, I hope?"
"Erm, yes. This was delivered on Friday?" Molly asked as she took the package from him.
"Yes ma'am." He said as he shivered and rubbed his arms. The snow from the previous evening had stuck around and Molly hadn't noticed until then how her breath came out in little puff clouds. "Late Friday afternoon, I believe. I remember because I had just come in from the airport."
"Thank you," Molly should have been weary of people; with the events of the past year, her people skills had been put to the test. She enjoyed working in the Morgue. Dead people can't talk back. So, when the words came out, they surprised her, "Ah...would you like to come in for a cuppa?"
Molly wasn't sure if it was just her imagination, but Craig's face positively lit up after her suggestion.
"It's the least I could do for you keeping my package all weekend."
"I would love too," He said as he walked through her doorway after she stepped aside. "I don't know anyone in this neighborhood. Been too busy moving and with my job and everything-"
Molly's phone interrupted them. "Sorry," She could feel her cheeks getting red as she pulled her phone out of her pocket. "I should take this. Make yourself comfortable, I won't be long." She made her way into her kitchen as Craig nodded and smiled at her.
"Molly!" John's voice was loud and she held her phone away from her ear. She set the package on her kitchen table. "Thank God you are okay."
"Yes John," Molly switched the phone to her other hand as she started the tea. "I'm alright. It was just my neighbor at the door. No need to worry, but thank you."
"Yes, you are welcome." She could hear him blow out a breath.
"How are you, John? Besides the dream and all that? And how is Greg?"
"I have a headache and my body hurts from sleeping on the kitchen floor, but other than that I'm fine, thank you. Greg is still fast asleep on the couch."
"Why did you sleep on -"
"Need any help in here?" Craig's voice startled Molly as she gasped.
"You alright, Molly?" John asked.
"Oh, sorry didn't mean to give you a fright." Craig asked at the same time. He grabbed her elbow to steady her. His smile was comforting.
"Th-Thank you, both of you. John I should be going. I'll talk to you later."
They said their good-byes and Molly turned to pour the water into the cups.
"Sorry 'bout that." She set the water back on its plate and handed a cup to Craig. "A couple friends and I got kinda rowdy last night. Needed a break and we let loose. Mmm..." She put a hand to her temple.
"I see you got a little rowdy too, eh?" Craig gestured with his cup at her then took a sip of the tea.
"It didn't hit me until now." Molly set down her teacup. "Will you excuse me? I'm going to take an aspirin."
"Of course." Craig nodded at her.
Molly winced at herself when she saw her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her hair stuck out of it's ponytail at odd angles and she had the darkest circles under her eyes. She knew it was a combination of her makeup and tiredness, but mostly the latter. She grabbed an aspirin out of her cabinet then reworked her ponytail. She splashed some water on her face and smelled her breath. 'Oh God.' And brought out her toothbrush. She paused in the middle of brushing.
"What am I doing?" She whispered to her reflection. "I have no one to impress. I like Greg, don't I?"
She closed her eyes and moaned, then rinsed and wiped her mouth. Biting her lip, she walked back into the kitchen and found Craig pacing and talking in a low, angry voice on his phone. Molly caught one word, but ignored it.
Craigs demeanor changed in a heartbeat when he saw Molly. She raised her eyebrows as he gave her his most charming smile. She smiled back.
"Listen, thank you for the tea." Craig said after cutting the call. He stood in front of her and placed his hand on her elbow again, making wide circles with his fingers. "If you don't mind, I don't know many people in the neighborhood, would you like to have dinner, at my place?"
"I-I would love to," The words came out before Molly could stop them.
"Well, great then. Seven o'clock, my place. I look forward to chatting with you Miss Molly Hooper." He smiled widely and nodded at her. He then turned on his heel and let himself out before Molly could say anything.
Toby was suddenly at her feet, rubbing against her legs and meowing.
"I don't know who he was, Toby," Molly said as she bent to pick up the cat. "But he had lots of charm. Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?"
She snuggled her face into his soft fur and the package that Craig brought over caught her eye. She let the cat jump out of her arms and she reached for her tea and walked over to her kitchen table. After taking a sip, she picked up the package and examined the plain brown paper wrap. She recognized the handwriting that her address had been written in, but she couldn't place where she had seen it before. There weren't any other markings anywhere on the package.
"Well, nothing left to do but to open it." Molly said as she peeked at Toby who ignored her as he groomed himself. She hummed to herself as she grabbed scissors out of her junk drawer and sliced the tape on the package. Under all of the brown packaging was a faded yellow box, again non-descript and no words. Molly's heart started to beat faster. She shook the box near her ear. It felt and sounded wobbly. She sliced the tape on the box and opened the lid. On the inside was a coffee cup. It had a stylized capital 'M' on it with a crown on one side. On the other, in tiny stylized words, it said 'Jim Moriarty, consulting criminal.'
Molly gasped.
Jim. From IT.
There was a note attached to the handle with a red ribbon. With her shaking hands, she took the piece of card stock from inside the cup and unfolded it and read it.
"Miss Molly Mouse,
I still love your nose,
And I just wish to propose,
That we have a cup of coffee,
Just you and me.
It was not me on your table,
And I don't think you were able
To distinguish my blood
From that of Brooks.
So, now I wish to have coffee,
Meet me at our spot
A year from the date of the fall of your friend.
I know everything Miss Molly,
For without me you can't have Sherlock."
Molly's unsteady hands dropped the mug and it shattered on her kitchen floor. The tears that she had been holding back for so long finally came barreling down her cheeks. She backed herself into her refrigerator and slid down, hugging her knees to her chest.
~*XXX*~
John sipped at his third cup of tea and had already taken three aspirin's when he heard Greg's moan coming from the living room. John had planted himself at the kitchen table, rubbing his temples and reveling in the blessing of a quiet Baker Street on a Sunday afternoon. He drew in a deep breath and pushed himself slowly from the table and stood. He managed to move now without getting dizzy. John turned on the coffee pot and leaned against the counter. He looked around the kitchen. It had taken on his personality; charming, neat and missing Sherlock. He sighed and heard another moan and possibly Greg attempting to talk. John smirked to himself and poured a cup and grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator. When he walked into the living room, John had a hard time suppressing a giggle. Greg had one arm flung over his face and one leg up on the couch and the other haphazardly dangling off the edge of the couch. He set the beverages on the coffee table and knelt next to the couch.
"Greg," John said just loud enough for the D.I. To hear, but soft enough not to hurt. He only snorted and shifted.
"Greg, you need to wake up. It's two in the afternoon."
"Mmmm...no," Was all he said as he turned away from John.
"Greg, I have coffee and water for you."
"Say you have a Bloody Mary and I might consider turning over."
"I have a Bloody Mary." John chuckled.
"Nope."
"C'mon Greg. You just need to drink some coffee and and have a shower. It's amazing..."
"John, oh dear, John!" Mrs. Hudson's voice echoed up the stairs to them.
"Oh lord, that woman is loud." Greg mumbled.
"John, have you read today's paper, dear?" Mrs. Hudson stood at John's door holding the opinion page in her hands. John cocked his head as the picture first caught his eye. It was a black silhouette of Sherlock with a yellow spray painted line through where his eyes would be. They were pictures of the flyers that Raz had been planting around the city. There were two more that were similar; one was Sherlock's full body profile in black with a blue line through his head and a silhouette of what looked like Moriarty's head and a red line though where his eyes would be. Then John read the headline.
'Believe in Sherlock. Moriarty was real. Richard Brook was a Fake.'
Then right below:
'Have John Watson's words sparked a movement?'
"What the bloody hell?" John said as he stood and took the paper as Mrs. Hudson handed it to him.
"What? What happened?" Greg turned over and instantly regretted it. John and his landlady watched as his face turned slightly green. He stood and ran to the bathroom.
"Oh my, is he going to be alright?"
"Yes, he will be in a few minutes." John smiled and went back to reading the article.
"You boys had a wild night last night. Oh, where did you find Sherlock's skull?" Mrs. Hudson stood in front of the mantle, gesturing to the skull and straightening the books next to it.
John furrowed his brow and walked over to the mantle.
"I...we didn't find it." John stared at the silly item, it's hollow eyes staring back, mocking him.
"Well, I think it's lovely that it's back, even if it's a bit...creepy." Mrs. Hudson shivered. "Would you boys like some tea?"
"Huh? Yeah sure." John was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he didn't notice that Greg had come out of the bathroom, running a hand through his hair.
"Mrs. Hudson, do you have any aspirin or painkillers, or a sledgehammer to knock me out?" Greg whispered.
"Oh, dear," Mrs. Hudson put a kind hand on Greg's upper arm. "I have a concoction that I used to make for my late husband that would cure him of his ails. I'll be right back."
"Mmnnn...thanks," Greg attempted a smile and put his hand to his temple and sat back on the couch.
John, in the meantime, studied the mantle. Somehow it had changed overnight. There was the obvious skull and Christmas lights lit up the small space. On the right hand side of the mantle was the knife used to hold whatever random thing Sherlock wanted to stay in place, not holding anything now. He ran his fingers along the cold metal. He felt as if this was a representation of him right now; a knife through the heart and still standing. John sighed loudly. The past couple days were a blur, and he started to wonder if any of it was real.
"Oh, John," Mrs. Hudson's voice broke into his reverie. He looked at the mantle one more time, knowing that something was missing, not able to put a finger on it. "Do you like the lights I put up? I did it while you boys were out and about last night. I hope you don't mind."
"No, it's perfect Mrs. Hudson." John gave her his best smile as she put the tray down on to the coffee table. He walked over to see what she had brought.
"Most of this is for this poor bloke," she pointed her thumb at Greg. "But I think you could use it as well."
"It looks like plain ol' tea and biscuits,"
"The secret is in the biscuits. They are my special batch. I would make them whenever Mr. Hudson got into the bottle. Those and that tea and a nap and he would be right as rain."
John raised his eyebrows. He rarely heard Mrs. Hudson talk about her husband.
"Greg," She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as he started awake. "Oh I didn't mean to startle you."
"Hmm...Yeah...oh it hurts to talk..." Greg rubbed his eyes.
"Well, munch on these and drink some of that tea and you'll be feeling better in no time, sweetie! I've got to finish decorating my flat. I'll be up later if you dears want yours decorated."
"Mmm...thank you Mrs. Hudson. That would be fine." John said as he read the article and waved at Mrs. Hudson as she left the flat.
John spent the rest of the day researching the reporter behind the article that Mrs. Hudson had pointed out earlier and taking care of Greg. Mrs. Hudson popped in from time to time to decorate and found Greg sleeping most of the day.
The door buzzer gave John a start that evening and Greg stirred on the couch. John listened and heard Mrs. Hudson answer the door and went back to the article that he had found.
"John, Greg," Mrs. Hudson called as she came up the stairs. "Look who came over!"
"Hello Molly," John said as he stood and took Molly's jacket. "Must be snowing pretty hard now. Your jacket is damp."
"Oh, yes, it's very pretty out there." Molly said as she fluffed her hair.
"Would you like some tea dear?"
"Oh no don't bother Mrs.-"
"Oh it's no bother," The elder woman waved the younger woman off and left the room before Molly could protest more.
"Has he been sleeping all day?" Molly asked as she pointed at Greg.
"Yup. I don't think he'll be drinking again for quite a while." John said as he crossed his arms and regarded Molly. "What did you do to your hand?"
Molly bit her lip and shook her head as she held her bandaged right hand in her left hand. "I don't want to talk about it."
"At least let me look at it?"
Molly opened her mouth to protest, but gave in and sighed. "Alright."
"Molly, this is pretty deep," John said a few minutes later after he removed her bandage. They had moved into the kitchen. "You need stitches."
"John, don't exaggerate." Molly said as she tried to pull her hand from him. John only tightened his grip. She gasped at the serious look on his face.
"I'm not exaggerating. Let me get my kit and I will fix it up for you." They stood staring at each other as Molly tried unsuccessfully to pull her hand out of John's grip.
"Fine," she looked away from his intense gaze.
"You're not going to tell me what happened are you?" John said ten minutes later as he was stitching her hand.
"I...nngghh..." Molly Clenched her teeth and closed her eyes. The shot of whiskey had worked to dull the pain, but not kill it completely.
"Sorry, just two more...there done!" Molly watched John's hands as he tied and cut the ends of the thread off with quick and steady hands.
"Okay bite down on this." He handed her what looked like a Popsicle stick. "I'm going to dab some alcohol on here and it's going to hurt like a son of a bitch."
Molly nodded as she put the stick between her teeth and bit down, hard. She howled through her clenched teeth as he gently dabbed her stitches.
"Sorry, do you want a painkiller or another shot?" John said as he wrapped her hand with clean bandages.
"Can I have both?"
John chuckled. "As a doctor, I don't recommend it. But i've suffered no ill side-effects from it, so yes."
"Thank you, John." She gave him a weak smile.
"You're still not going to tell me what happened are you?"
"I...This morning, my neighbor delivered a package to me, saying that the delivery people left it with him because I wasn't home. When I opened the package," She pulled Jim's note out of her pocket and handed it to John. "This along with a coffee mug were inside."
John collapsed against the kitchen counter as he read the note. "My God, Molly. That sick twisted bastard."
"I cut my hand cleaning the pieces of the mug after I had dropped it." Molly paused and sniffed. "It really creeped me out because of the dream you said you had and the handkerchief."
John's head was swimming. He pulled the handkerchief out of his own pocket then set them down on the counter. He grabbed the whiskey and took a slug then handed it to Molly who took one herself.
"We should keep quiet about this for now. I'll go and get those meds." john slipped the handkerchief back in his pocket and walked to his room.
Molly took a deep breath and replaced the lid on the whiskey and shivered. She grabbed Jim's note and walked into the living room. She gently laid a hand on Greg's shoulder and he stirred. She knelt and whispered his name. He turned his head and opened one eye, then the other, and a smile lit up his face.
"Molly, it's good to see you." He said as he stretched. "Oh, I think death had it's hand on me for a moment. I feel like shite." He put a hand to his head.
Molly returned his smile as she sat on the edge of the couch. Greg sighed and made room for her and then surprised her when he wrapped his arms around her and snuggled his face into her back. Molly threw John a look of helplessness as he entered the room with eyebrows raised. He handed Molly a couple of pills.
"Here's some tea dears." Mrs. Hudson said in her sing-song voice as she walked into the room with a tray in her hands.
"Mrs. Hudson, do you have any water on that tray?" Greg's voice was muffled.
"Yes I do dear," She handed the bottle of water to Molly who took a drink to wash down the pills, then handed it to Greg who slowly lifted his head.
"What ever that was you made for me earlier Mrs. Hudson, is working wonders." Greg said and took another drink of the water, then continued. "But I don't think I'm gonna be drinkin' that much anytime soon. I think I drank so much I saw ghosts."
Greg rubbed his head and eyes and took another drink. He felt Molly stiffen beside him. He found everyone staring at him, like he had grown a third head.
"What? What did I say?"
"You said you thought you saw ghosts." John said as he shifted his weight. His leg was starting to bother him again.
"I only meant that I had a dream of Sherlock," Greg paused. "Crazy thing to dream about. But I dreamed that he had gotten out of a taxi, your taxi John, and he nodded at me and walked away. Then I dreamed I saw him here last night, tip-toeing like a thief. I remember I started to talk to him, but he shushed me, then left. Crazy bastard."
John opened his mouth to say something and suddenly remembered what had gone missing. He looked over at the mantle and stared hard at the glowing lights.
"The scarf," He blurted out. "The damned scarf is missing."
"What's that, John?" Mrs. Hudson said.
"Oh, yeah, that crazy bastard had his scarf in his hands, too." Greg said and took a sip of the tea that Mrs. Hudson had brought Molly.
"Well, those are some wild dreams, Greg." Mrs. Hudson said. She shivered and pulled her sweater closer to herself. "But I vaguely remember having to move a scarf when I put those lights up there. And if I remember right, the bloody thing looked exactly like Sherlock's."
"What did you do with it, Mrs. Hudson?" John stood in front of the woman, grabbing her by her forearms.
"Oh dear, John, I... well I don't quite remember...but I believe that I had draped it over She-...his chair." Mrs. Hudson pointed at Sherlock's black chair. Everyone looked, nothing there. Molly bit her lip and looked back at John. His face was white and his eyes were hollow and sad.
"I need some air." John said suddenly as he walked out of the flat.
"John you need your coat." Mrs. Hudson called, but John ignored her.
"Oh dear." She said as she wrung her hands. "You kids have a good evening. I should be getting to bed."
Greg and Molly watched as she followed the same path as John did out of the flat. They also listened to make sure she didn't follow. They both let out a breath when they realized she hadn't followed.
Molly heard Greg let out a moan and she turned to look at him as she rested her hand on his thigh. He was leaning back and his arm was thrown over his face.
"Greg?"
"I'm sorry Molly," Greg said as he slowly lifted his arm and faced Molly. His coffee brown eyes were full of worry and sadness and the bags underneath were a representation of the baggage he carried around. "I'm really not much for conversation tonight."
Molly saw him smile, but it didn't touch his eyes. She gave him a half smile and patted his thigh. "It's okay, I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay over here. I should-"
She stood but Greg wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled her back down to the couch.
"Greg, I shou-"
"Molly, what's bothering you?" He gently brushed her hair behind her ear and his hand lingered on her cheek.
She sucked in air sharply and bit her lip to keep her emotions in check. "I'm fine, really...just everything these past couple days, it's been so overwhelming."
"We are here for you Molly," Greg somehow closed the gap between them. "And I hope that one day, we can all tell each other the truth. Until then, we will have to trust each other."
Molly found it hard to breath all of a sudden as she felt Greg's hand snake to the back of her neck and pull her to him. His lips were soft on hers as it took a minute for her to even comprehend the kiss. She felt him start to pull away and knowing that he felt her hesitation, she closed whatever space there was between them.
John had walked to the end of the block, listening to the crunch of snow under his boots and the muffled sounds of the city.
"Concentrate..."
It was like the city was speaking to him. But it was a distinct voice, clear as day and it had stopped him in his tracks. He looked around. The only real movement was the cross street another block away. John peeked around the corner and thought he saw movement at the end of the next block. He was too far away to check it out but as he turned around, a set of footprints caught his eye. He followed them around the corner and realized that they led to the next block. John also saw that they doubled back on themselves. He pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. He stood like that for a minute, listening to the pulse of the night, feeling the cold, fluffy flakes land on his face. He then blew out a puff of air.
"One more time, Sherlock. I would give anything to hear you talk, see your face, watch you move around the apartment..."
Silence was his answer.
He knew better. Everything he had experienced yesterday had been a dream; or a drunken run-in with a total stranger, a stranger with Sherlock's scarf.