Where You Are

Nowadays, Sherlock gets annoyed that Molly's place is referred to as a 'bolt hole'. John and Mary call it that. And, so does Lestrade. They make it sound like a nondescript halfway house with dank walls and a dirty, stripped mattress on a wire frame. He finds that he doesn't like it one bit.

Because, Molly's is the next best thing to 221b. (Maybe it's better, he sometimes thinks.) It's too quiet there. Too hollow. Which is very sad because he's very attached to this flat with its fleur-de-lis wallpaper and well-worn chairs. While Molly's place is always slightly chaotic with her fluffy, patterned everythings and the background music she sometimes shakes her hips to for a few moments when a song gets to a part that she likes. There's all manner of books and journals everywhere along with handmade cushions and pillows and colorful throws on her plush sofa. He'll never admit it, not even upon the threat of torture, but he likes the ridiculously large LED 1080p telly that she splurged half a pay cheque on.

Her place used to be a bit of a headache to tell you the truth. He's not sure when it became something else and he's not sure what that something else is. But, it's definitely not just a 'bolt hole'.

He's not even really there that often. Just when he's bored (never because he's lonely, of course). Or, when he can't sleep. Or, when he can't figure out a case. Or…

Well, he finds that wants to be at her flat because he misses her laugh, the way she always makes him the best things to eat even in the middle of the night, how she thinks up interesting experiments to do with the parts she brings back from the morgue and the way she always says she's just resting her eyes but falls asleep next to him on the sofa without fail.

The shift is gradual and he can handle that. He's pretty sure that Molly enjoys his company as well and she only mildly protests when he lets himself in and wakes her up in the middle of the night to watch a new documentary he got on ancient Egyptian embalming techniques or something like that. Besides, that lovely sofa of hers is a pull-out bed anyway and he always sets it up before he goes to drag her over to it from her warm bed. He doesn't really even mind that she usually just falls asleep using his arm as her pillow.

When Molly covers the late shift for a month because her colleague goes on a sabbatical, Sherlock gets antsy not being able to spend time with her. He finds that he is unable to sleep without seeing her or having her nearby. It is not a welcome revelation.

It gets to the point where he becomes snappish and irritable. When Molly has had enough of his boorish attitude she tells him to just go to his bolt hole (her place) and chill the fuck out. It is then that he blurts out that he only goes there to see her. He is upset that she didn't know or deduce this fact herself. He is upset that she never asks to come to Baker Street. That she never just shows up on a whim to see him. That she might simply need to know that he was still there and okay. His mouth runs until he is spent and then he storms off without letting her get a word in edgewise.

Molly doesn't see Sherlock at all in the two remaining weeks of her night shifts. But, she does notice a few things at home… a new pair of fluffy bunny slippers, a scratching post for Toby, a man's silk robe hanging next to a new matching lady's robe, and various groceries being replenished like her favorite juice that she drinks every morning.

On the last day of her set, she returns home in the early morning ready to shower and sleep. But, there's something new on her kitchen table. It's a set of keys on a keychain with a charm of a kitten in a cherry sweater. She knows exactly who has left it for her and where the locks for these keys lie. It's the man that she can't remember ever not loving and the man that seems to have established a serious relationship with her without much input or effort on her part.

Molly knows that Sherlock is a man of few words when it comes to the inner workings of the human heart. It is a conundrum because under any other circumstances Sherlock certainly seems to like the sound of his own voice. She's not sure she'll give him a get out of jail free card in this instance.

When she trudges up to her room, she finds that there is already someone occupying her bed. The sheets are completely twisted up by the person having an obviously fitful sleep. By the time she's finished cleaning up for bed, the sun is already starting to rise, but she feels like she hasn't slept properly in weeks so she's going to just sleep until she feels like waking up.

Unfortunately, Sherlock is very good at taking up as much space as he can when he sleeps. Molly decides that he can be the little spoon today. She curls in around him as gently as she can so he won't wake. He doesn't stir when she carefully brushes the unruly, dark curls away from his face.

When she's finally slept enough, she wakes to find that Sherlock has left. The keys he's left her have been placed on her bedside table. It is obviously an invitation for her to come to Baker Street.

It is late afternoon. Sherlock watches the street from his window as he waits. His violin, abandoned due to
his lack of concentration, sits nearby. Molly has chosen to walk since summer is at its end and the leaves are getting ready to change. Both of them, individually, recognize that like the seasons something has changed in their lives. Something that needs to change and should change.

The keys jingle in her pocket as Molly reaches in to retrieve them. She feels a flutter in her belly, but she smiles happily as she lets herself in.

-x-

Will be concluded in Part 2 - coming soon :)