Hi guys, this is my first attempt at a Sherlock fic, any comments are greatly appreciated :)
Sorry for the delay with this chapter - Houses, holidays and exams!
Chapter Eight
Molly felt as though she were floating through a dream. Or maybe a nightmare. Or even both. Yes, she knew that Sherlock lived close by the hotel she was staying in. True enough, she had confirmed Mycroft had a hand in it. But she had barely arrived and had already been confronted by both him and John, leaving her a bag of jumbled emotions and breathless. All of the valour and courage she had accumulated over the last five years had dissipated from her being and left her empty and open to the creeping doubt and nerves that followed, frozen in place as she stared at them both, a thick knot pulling at her stomach. This had always been a possibility – Just not here. Not now. And Molly was thoroughly unprepared for it.
With a great drawing breath, she reminded herself of who she was. Molly was strong, and confident, and able to face them. She had to be, was able to be pleasant enough to squeeze her way through the tentative introductions between the small group, not giving too much away, not being too cold. She smiled and nodded, restrained herself from throwing her arms around the father of her goddaughter, from shrinking back into herself under the stare of the man who haunted her. For a short moment her fearlessness returned, and she considered throwing inhibition to the wind and kissing him. But it was fleeting, Molly knew Sherlock would be less than receptive given their last meeting and his current look of fury as he towered over her. She knew better than to be so reckless.
And, to her even greater surprise, Molly had then been taken over by an instantaneous joy. A sweeping blanket of warmth spreading over her entire being and soaking its way into her bones. His voice, she recognised instantly, though confusion stalled her, an inability to comprehend his appearance and shock when she turned to face Wills, slinking towards her, the same as ever, a huge grin plastered over his face. It had been years since they had last seen one another, and the intensity of the situation caused her heart to flutter and her stomach to clench tightly.
Dizzily she followed him into the dining hall, being led by the arm as he nodded to those around him and gave greetings at their passing. She was acutely aware of the men following them, but tried to brush it off, be confident and unnerved as Wills led her to a circular table. It was covered with a white cloth, silver cutlery and porcelain crockery placed to precision alongside crystal glassware and a candlelit centrepiece. He pulled out one of the dark oak chairs and offered her a seat, to which she gratefully obliged, allowing herself to be budged under as he took a seat beside her.
The others took their places at the table as the level of chatter in the room increased as others filtered inside to seat themselves. Professor Gordon and Mr Green fell into pleasant conversation about fishing whilst John and Sherlock were both staring at her in silence, making Molly incredibly uncomfortable and she squirmed a little in her seat.
"So, Mags, when did you get back?" Wills asked casually, throwing his napkin over his knees, and rounding on her,
"Oh, literally just. It was a last - minute thing all together in honesty," She replied, calm prickling her skin as he put her at ease, "What about you? I assumed you were still in Italy."
"Ah yes…" He looked suddenly uneasy, as though he didn't want to answer her, "Well…There was an incident, and err…Delly…" Molly narrowed her eyes at him a little, placing her own napkin down, before her memories suddenly came flooding forwards,
"Goodness!" Molly could have kicked herself, obviously the shock of seeing him had clouded her mind, "Where is Cordelia?" She asked, a smile peeling onto her lips. Though he did not reciprocate and instead seemed to swallow heavily.
"Well. Probably in France. With our boys. And the tennis coach." Wills choked out, and Molly stiffened, mortified at what he was suggesting,
"Wills…I am. So sorry. If I had known-" She rambled, absolutely horrified at her unwitting mistake, her skin flaring and flushing with embarrassment.
"No. No." He held his hands up at her and gave a weak smile, "It's absolutely fine. I've come to terms with it. I see my lads every other month when they come to England to visit my mother and hopefully, I won't ever have to see her again."
Molly laid a hand on his arm gently, full of sympathy for him, and he placed his over her own, giving her a little squeeze.
"Don't worry about it Mags, I'm in a better place for it now," He gave her a final pat and withdrew himself as the waiters brought around a fresh bowl of tomato soup and croutons for them, "But, what about you then? Always saw you as married, four or five kids, big house, the works."
Molly gulped a little, her eyes momentarily flicking to Sherlock, though it seemed he was not paying attention now in the slightest, something at the other side of the room that she could not see was drawing his gaze. Picking at her spoon she debated whether to open up about it to her oldest friend, the shame and misery of it all had been hidden for so long she was unsure as to whether it was a wound, she wanted reopening.
"Er, you know it doesn't-"
"No, it's fine. I just…I was almost there…Once." Molly chewed her bottom lip a little, surprised by how little the thought actually did hurt now that she was faced with it. "I ended an engagement, maybe about six or so years ago. It turned out that he preferred leggy blondes with bigger boobs and tinier waists."
John looked at her confused, and it seemed as though Sherlock had finally reengaged himself with the table.
"Mags…I'm sorry to hear that."
"Oh, don't be," Molly replied, surprising herself that she didn't feel sorry about the situation at all. It was as though she was finally confronting this piece of her past and coming to the realisation that she had let it go some time ago. It no longer hurt. "It was for the best. They're married now. Their eldest is seven in a few weeks and I believe baby number three is due not long after that."
There came a clatter from across the table and John dropped his glass and both he and Sherlock were staring at her wildly,
"Tom…" John choked out, "Tom…" He tried again, seemingly in shock. He appeared to have just figured out the reason for their breakup. Thinking about it, Molly couldn't really recall ever telling either of them the reason, had more than likely just assumed Sherlock would have deduced it and spread the news to anyone who would listen. She flushed a little, a prickle of humiliation running up her neck and into her cheeks.
"Tom cheated on you." Sherlock finished for John, his eyes narrowing and forehead creasing. He was looking at her fully now, his undivided attention on her and she couldn't help but stare back. Not only was she embarrassed but steadily becoming more agitated and flustered as the seconds ticked by. It had never occurred that she would actually need to tell either of them, and now it was in the open Molly needed to conduct some damage control.
"Yes…" She replied slowly, tearing her gaze away from him and returning to eating her soup in between speaking, mustering the cheeriest voice that she could, "But it's all in the past now, I'm happy where I am."
"I always assumed-" John began, then stopped, his gaze flitting between herself and Sherlock before clearing his throat and returning to his own bowl, eyes fixed on the liquid in front of him.
"And is there someone new now?" Wills asked graciously, seemingly oblivious to the shift in mood around the table,
"Oh, no. I've been having some time to myself." Molly responded, a wave of calm washing over her, grateful that she had managed to skirt the remainder of the conversation. She knew what John was about to say. He had only thought what everyone else had. She had separated from Tom because of Sherlock. "Bit of self – care never hurt anyone. And besides, I have enough relationship involvement constantly refereeing between Cooper & Kiara."
"Oh, are they back together?" John appeared to have remembered he could speak and inserted himself back into the conversation. Molly smiled at him, the tension around the table ebbing,
"For the moment." She replied, "But you know how they are." He nodded and reached for a bread roll, cleaning the rest of his bowl with it.
"And so, other than that, what do you do outside of work? Do you still play?" Wills asked playfully, a waiter arriving to remove his plate as he sat back in his seat, wiping his mouth with his napkin.
Molly felt a twinge of regret hit her and she fiddled with her spoon nervously. She hadn't touched an instrument in years.
"Oh, Miss Margaret. Please tell me that you do. It's been so long since I heard the two of you." Professor Gordon interjected suddenly, the conversation seemingly having drawn his attention to the fact others were present and dining with him.
"Actually-" Molly began,
"Well, if that's the case!" Will stood suddenly and held his hand down towards her, "Guess what I saw on the way in." Molly felt the colour drain from her face as she stared at his fingers, "Just in one of the adjacent rooms I was poking about it. Come on Mags, let's treat the Professor."
Her eyes flew to his smiling face, she terror rippling over her skin, and she gulped, her eyes flicking to Professor Gordon and Mr Green, both of whom were beaming back at her. She could feel her organs shaking inside of her,
"No. Wills-" She chocked out s he reached and took her hand regardless, attempting to pull her to her feet,
"Oh, come on, it'll be like old times!"
"No. I can't-. I don't-. I haven't-" Molly spluttered as she struggled to unhook herself from under the table,
"Maggie. Don't be boring." Wills hauled her upwards and began leading her away from the table, all the while Molly was wildly looking around her for an escape, "Entrees will be a while yet, we've got time!"
~x~x~x~
John had to admit that he found their relationship incredibly odd. As he watched Dr Scott haul Molly away he pondered who they had once been to one another. Clearly, they knew each other intimately and had done for some time, though had become strangers at some point. He appeared to want to pick up where things had been left, Molly was a changed woman struggling to reconnect to the person she had been when they last knew one another.
The revelation that she had not ended her relationship with Tom because of jealousy over Sherlock or an argument that centred around her affections for him had been shocking. He had been so certain that that had been the reason he had never once thought to question her over it. It seemed that if it had not been for his infidelity they would have married, and the whole sorry affair with Eurus and that phone call could have possibly been avoided.
Even more worrying was the fact that Sherlock hadn't known.
'I guess he always does miss something then…' John pondered absentmindedly, the waiter removing his bowl as well as Sherlocks almost untouched one.
"So, you didn't know about Molly's engagement then?" He asked quietly.
"Obviously." Came the reply, Sherlock eyeing him suspiciously as if almost daring him to say it again,
"I always thought-"
"John." Sherlock breathed, "Don't."
He paused to give his friend a thoughtful look before sitting back into his seat and then addressing the table instead,
"So, er, Professor Gordon. What er, what do they play?"
"My dear Dr Watson, I can only assume you have not heard the young Miss Margaret before?" He replied, to which John shook his head ardently, "Well, you are in for a treat! Come. I insist." And with that he rose from the table, quickly followed by Phillip and beckoned both of them to follow. As they walked towards the door the two had exited from earlier, a soft piano floated over them and the group of four followed the melody towards a smaller room, just off from the main hallway,
"Ah. Bridge Over Troubled Water. A personal favourite!" Professor Gordon sighed contentedly,
"I didn't even know Molly played the piano," John commented to no one in particular.
"That is Dr Scott," Phillip said as they approached the door, another sound joining the soft tinkling of keys, a low and rich humming adding body to the slow melody.
"She plays violin?" John was surprised by the revelation and looked directly at Sherlock to question who he, a violinist himself, had never mentioned this detail about her. His friends face seemed to be devoid of emotion as he answered before either of the other men could,
"It's a cello." Sherlock pushed the slightly ajar door open fully as they stepped inside.
Both were seated, Dr Scott staring directly at Molly as his fingers fluttered over the keys, a smile etched onto his face. She was unaware of his staring however, as her eyes were firmly shut, her chin held high as she repeatedly moved her own fingers across the strings and drew the bow back and forth, seemingly in a world of her own and lost in her music.
John felt a swelling in his chest, the same he felt when Sherlock had played at his and Mary's wedding, an overwhelming sense of joy and beauty blooming from the reverberations around the room. He felt transfixed, as though nothing could tear his eyes or ears from the performers in front of him. She as a musician and he had never even known. It left him questioning just how much about Molly he truly even knew – That there was so much more to her then he had ever cared to see before.
'Maybe it's not that I didn't see, maybe she's hidden it.' He thought dismally, a sweep of worry falling over him at the possibility that she had felt it necessary to conceal a part of who she was from them. If he was thinking and feeling all of this, John could only imagine what was going through Sherlock's mind and he chanced a look at his friend. What he found there was unexpected.
A look of pure sadness and despair.
They remained that way until the piece had finished, John utterly perplexed by Sherlock's expression and the implications of it, whilst also being completely enveloped by an all – encompassing magnificence. He looked to Molly, who he realised was now staring directly at them, a gaze of sheer horror etched on her face.
"See, it wasn't so bad, was it?" Dr Scott stood and helped Molly to place the cello back on its' frame and then turned back to her beaming, "Think you could do with a drink after that! We're both a bit rusty it seems." He commented, beaming as he swept from the room, Molly slowly nodding after him. Professor Gordan and Phillip followed after him, whittering on about how he had not lost any of his talent over the years, leaving the three of them alone.
Sherlock flicked his eyes at John, giving him the stare. The look of 'go away, I need a moment without you here' to which John cleared his throat loudly and awkwardly, not needing to be told twice.
"Yes. I think we could all do with a drink. Excuse me." He backed out of the room quickly, leaving the two of them alone, unsure of whether he had made the correct decision or not.
Japan's Arc Angel x