I see we're getting some lovely pics of both Ben and Loo coming out of Hay on Wye this year. Makes me wish I was camping there and seeing the shows. I went to Hay last year (outside of the festival0 and it's a beautiful village just cram packed with book shops. I was in heaven and would love to go back some day. Maybe I should have had them camping there rather than Hampshire...ah well...hindsight and all that.
Talking of locations I should say that the villages mentioned in my fic do exists but the pubs and museums etc do not, they are a figment of my fevered imagination.
Chapter 4
As she got to work with boiling the water for coffee she caught a glimpse, out of the corner of her eye, of him walking back. She looked up a smile already on her face only for it to freeze momentarily when she fully looked him up and down. He was wearing shorts and a t shirt with flip flops and his hair was all damp curls with his towel flung over one shoulder. She didn't think she had ever seen him look so relaxed or so gorgeous. In that moment she longed to run her hands through his hair and kiss him until she was dizzy. It hit her like a thump to her stomach and she had to gasp to catch her breath, looking away to distract herself. It had been months since she had had such a visceral reaction to him. The last time had been when she had seen his reflection in the mirror when he'd returned from the dead.
She heard as he settled himself into the chair next to hers and she wordlessly passed him his cup of coffee as she tried to compose herself, knowing he had probably seen her reaction and already deduced the cause. It just made her discomfort even worse.
Thankfully he seemed to choose to ignore it as he asked what her plans for the day were.
'Well, I was just going to go into the New Forest for a walk.'
'Pah, walking! Walking is boring. What else can we do?'
Molly frowned at his quick dismissal of her idea. 'I don't know, why don't you come up with something,' she muttered stroppily as she sipped on her coffee, cursing when she realised it was too hot.
'Fine I will.' He picked up his phone and started to tap into it. Molly tried to catch a glimpse of the screen but he caught her looking and turned it away from her. 'Uh uh no peeking. Why don't you go and shower whilst I carry on my search and cook us some breakfast.' He glanced at the open cool box. 'Sausage and eggs, right?'
'Oh...um..yes please. You know how to cook then?'
Sherlock huffed and rolled his eyes. 'Boy Scout remember. Not to mention the scavenging in the woods bit.' He glanced around the camp site. 'I can always catch and skin you a rabbit if you'd prefer that.'
Molly frowned. 'No, that's just mean.'
He just laughed at her disgruntled expression so she threw away the dregs of her coffee and found her clothes and wash bag.
True to his word by the time she returned there was a delicious smell of sausage and eggs and Molly found her mouth watering as she knelt down on the floor next to him. 'Mmm that smells lovely, is it ready yet?'
He leant forward to push the sausages with a fork and Molly found herself mere inches from his face. She had to avert her eyes so she didn't end up staring at him but she couldn't help feeling extraordinarily conscious of how close he was.
'Looks fine, do you want to pass the plates?'
She held them out whilst he stabbed the sausages and shook them onto the plates. Then he used the small spatula to scoop out the eggs. They were all cooked perfectly with the yolk of Molly's egg oozing out over her plate when she broke it. The taste took her straight back to her child hood and she couldn't help but let out a moan at the taste of the sausage and hold combined. She missed the glance that Sherlock gave her and the way he seemed to swallow uncomfortably.
'So, what have you found for us to do?'
She could have laughed at his eager expression. His whole face lit up as he tried to finish chewing his food before talking. 'A murder!'
Molly's face fell. 'What? No, surely we can leave all that behind for one weekend. I'm not doing any autopsies for you.'
He shook his head. 'Not a recent one. A cold case...from 1894. A young girl was found strangled just outside Lymington on the riverside. I found out some of the details on line but I thought we could make a day of it, visit where she lived and worked, where she died...and there's a museum with some information about the crime. We'll see more of the area than we would on a walk, plus she worked in a pub which is still around so we could have lunch there later.'
He looked at her almost pleadingly and she found she just couldn't say no to him and she had to admit it did sound much more interesting than her suggestion.
They made quick work of the washing up and then they piled into the car with Sherlock programming the address into the sat nav to take them to their first port of call; the small, local museum. As Molly drove Sherlock gave her the bare bones of the case that he'd been able to pick up from the Internet.
'Her name was Bessie Smith and she was 23 when she died. She lived on a local dairy farm with her father and siblings. Her mother died when she was still young and she'd assisted her older brothers and sister in bringing up the two younger siblings. She helped out on the farm but also had a small job cleaning and serving in the village pub. It was after one of her shifts that she went missing, in the autumn of 1894, and she was found dead about two miles away a day later. It was widely thought her ex-fiancé killed her but he had a water tight alibi and no one was ever charged. That's about all I can find.'
It took them about thirty minutes to drive to Lymington and Molly loved the journey. The New Forest was a very scenic area with winding roads through wooded areas and shrub land, the sea appearing and disappearing as they meandered their way towards the small town.
About half way there Sherlock fiddled around with the radio until he'd found a channel playing classical and jazz. Molly had to concentrate hard on the road and try not to be distracted by his long, slim fingers playing with the knobs and dials. It wasn't a channel she'd ever really listened to before but she found she quite liked it, the music was very relaxing and she saw Sherlock close his eyes and presumably go into his fabled mind palace.
By the time they reached the museum, set in an old converted church, the sun was breaking through the remaining clouds and it looked like it was going to be another sunny day. Molly was glad she'd gone with a light summer dress and flat sandals. Sherlock had swapped his flip flops for canvas boat shoes and Molly still couldn't get over how different he looked. It made him seem so much younger and less forbidding than normal.
It was just after 10.00 and the museum had only just opened and there didn't seem to be anyone else around other than the octogenarian who seemed to be manning the desk. She welcomed them in; charging them the princely sum of £3.50 each.
'Are you here on holiday then dears?'
Sherlock was already glancing through the little paper guide that he'd picked up from the desk so it was left to Molly to respond.
'Yes, we came down yesterday. We're camping just outside Milton-on-Sea.'
The old woman smiled. 'Oh I used to love camping with my husband when we were younger. It was such good fun. It's been years though since I last went and I'm far too old now. We used to take our two boys when they were little and they loved running around...the freedom of it all.'
Molly agreed, talking about her own memories as a child.
'Well, you'll be able to form your own memories if you and your husband have your own children.'
Molly blushed and was about to deny her relationship with Sherlock when he suddenly interrupted.
'There's no mention in this leaflet of the display on Bessie Smith. Do you still have one here?'
'Oh...I...er. Bessie Smith you say, bless her she was the poor girl murdered wasn't she? Not many people interested in that but yes there is a small display in the second room on your left.'
'Thanks, come on Molly,' Sherlock caught hold of Molly's hand and towed her towards the room that had been pointed out. As they entered Molly came level with Sherlock and looked down at where their hands were still linked. His hand seemed to engulf her own and seeing it sent a strange tingle down her spine.
She held his hand up still grasping hers. 'Care to explain this?'
Sherlock looked from the display case to their hands as though he hadn't noticed. 'What? Oh, she seemed to think we were together and disabusing her would have wasted time. I didn't think you'd mind?' He smirked and then let go of Molly's hand and she felt the loss of it immediately.
SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH
Sherlock was surprised by how comfortable and natural it had felt to link his hand with Molly's. He too hadn't been unaware of the physical connection and the way it had made him feel. This holiday with Molly was confusing his feelings in a way he hadn't experienced before but he couldn't bring himself to end it. He was...yes, he was enjoying himself and it felt as though it had been a long time since he'd just plain enjoyed himself.
He glanced through the documents and items on display and wished he could get his hands on them. There were snippets of old newspaper articles, complete with lurid headlines, from the time of the crime and following some of the futile investigation. There was the blue and white dress that she'd been wearing the day she was killed and even a couple of photos of her. She had dark hair and dark eyes and was smiling happily with her siblings in one and then another more formally posed with the fiancé that she'd broken up with.
The most interesting artefact was the notebook of the local police officer and Sherlock huffed in frustration, desperate to get his hands in it. He was just checking out the cabinets locking mechanism when he heard Molly coming back into the room chatting. He frowned not remembering hearing her leave.
'My husband is so interested in local crime stories. He works with Scotland Yard sometimes and if you felt you needed to you could contact them and I'm sure they'd be happy to vouch for him.'
'Well, it's very unorthodox as you know. But...well, I can't see much harm in it. It's not a popular display but please be careful.'
Sherlock spun around to see the woman from the front desk shuffling forwards whilst looking through a huge key ring. He glanced at Molly and tilted his head questioningly.
Molly smiled. 'Well, I figured you'd want to get a better look at some of the items.'
He wondered once more at her ability to read him, how she always seemed to know him so well. No one, not even John, seemed to care about him so much. He felt a warm feeling spread through him and he couldn't help but return her smile. As he stepped away from the cabinet to give the old woman some room he bent his head and pressed his lips to Molly's. It lasted no more than a couple of seconds but it was like no kiss that Sherlock had ever shared before. It was all he could do to stay in character as he pulled away. 'Thank you Molly, I couldn't ask for a better wife.'
So, a little bit of role playing to liven things up. What do you think of Sherlock's idea for their day out? It did befuddle me for a while but honestly...what else would HE come up with?
Anyway, I'll be back soon with another update.