Thanks, once again, for all the reviews and support.
Warnings: We're going to start hearing about Sherlock's past drug use. I'm not focusing on it, but it is mentioned. There's also talk of an overdose (including death by OD, obviously not Sherlock's.) It's briefly mentioned, no details whatsoever.
Miz and Mrs are my queens! I own nothing. Enjoy!
Sherlock turned to the Watsons. "Well, thank you both for upsetting Molly. As if she hasn't been through enough the last two days." He turned to follow her but Mary stopped him.
"Listen, no one was trying to upset her. I realise I spoke out of turn. But John felt bad and I just..."
"You just wanted to assuage your husband's guilt. I fully understand your reasons, Mary. But in the process, you made Molly realise that one of her friends thought she had faked a near sexual assault in order to garner my sympathy." He looked back and forth between the couple. "A bit not good, don't you think?" He turned to John. "I'll deal with this. How have our roles suddenly reversed?"
John smiled, though his face still showed clear signs of guilt. "Special case, I suppose."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and headed downstairs.
He found her at Mrs. Hudson's kitchen table, as the older woman made tea and kept a close eye on her. Standing in the doorway for a moment he took in her appearance: slumped shoulders, flushed, tear-stained cheeks. Damnit, he thought. He had just started to feel a bit more like himself, having dealt several well deserved punches (as many as his brother would allow) to the agent who had assaulted her. But now she was upset and he was experiencing... feelings again.
"Molly!" he announced as he walked into the room, causing both women to look up at him. "The Watsons just left, taking their bad moods with them. Hopefully when that child expels itself from Mary, she'll be less prone to emotional outbursts. Let's return to the flat so I can fill you in on what transpired today."
When she looked up, he could see fresh tears in her eyes. He hadn't seen her this upset yet during the whole ordeal. "Um, I'd rather just have some tea with Mrs. Hudson, if you don't mind," she said in a small, almost unrecognizable voice.
He ran his hands through his hair as he sat down next to her. Suddenly two cups of tea appeared in front of the two of them. "I'm going to go catch up on The Inbetweeners. If you need anything, let me know." Mrs. Hudson said then she left them alone.
Comforting women was miles away from Sherlock's area of expertise. No, that would be John Watson's job. But since John was, against all odds, the cause of Molly's emotional discomfort, it looked like Sherlock was going to have to do... something. Yesterday had been, well, it had been odd, to say the least, but Molly had taken the lead and that felt normal, somehow. Now he needed to do something to lift her spirits.
He reached over and took her hand. This much I've done, he thought. "Molly," he said. "Look, John was wrong. For a split second he bought into my brother's theory. Don't blame him. Mycroft manipulates for a living. He once convinced a cousin of ours that he was adopted just because the poor boy was slightly cross eyed."
Molly giggled.
"He wasn't adopted, by the way."
"He wasn't?" she asked, a small smile on her lips.
"No, his parents were first cousins."
Then she laughed.
Sherlock watched as Molly's cheeks lit up and her demeanor changed. She was shaking with laughter. He wasn't sure if it was really that funny or if she was just releasing some pent up tension.
"Okay, you've got a point. And thank you, by the way," she said, then took a drink of tea.
He stood up. "Can we go back upstairs now? Please?" He held out his hand.
Molly nodded, took his hand and stood.
"We're leaving Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock bellowed.
Molly squeezed his hand.
"And thank you for the tea!" he added.
Once upstairs Sherlock sat Molly down and went about telling her about the interrogation. Yes, Cummings admitted to attacking her after Sherlock showed him his bank accounts and gave him a too short beating, in Sherlock's opinion. Unfortunately, the former agent never had direct contact with the man who had hired him. It was all done through mysterious phone calls and wire transfers. Mycroft's team was handling it now. That frankly made him nervous.
Suddenly Molly was looking at him like she sometimes did when she had an idea, but was debating on whether or not to share it.
"What is it, Molly? You've got something, do share," he said impatiently.
"Um, could this have anything to do with the broadcast?" she asked.
Sherlock couldn't help but smile. "Very good Molly. Of course it does." He got up and walked over to the mantle. "What happened to the gun?"
"Mary slipped it into her bag while she was here."
He sighed and rolled his eyes. "As if she's any better." He clapped his hands together. "So, a nationwide broadcast of a dead man's face. A face I watched eat a gun, no less. Nothing for two weeks" He gestured to Molly. "Then you get attacked by a trained government agent, paid by a mystery man to do so." He paced across the room several times. "It seems we'll have to wait for my brother's people to come up with some information. Until then..." He turned back to Molly. "Dinner?"
After dinner Sherlock tried to calm himself with an experiment. He was testing the refraction properties of various glass samples. Molly was curled up in the corner of the sofa reading a book. She was so quiet he almost forgot she was even there until she finally got up and announced she was heading to bed.
"Are you sleeping in there again tonight?" She was standing behind him. He was still focused on the piece of glass in front of him, though he didn't miss the hesitation in her voice. Putting down the penlight he was holding he turned to face her.
"Would you prefer that I didn't?" he asked as his reply.
She shook her head. "No, it's fine. Like I said before, nothing we haven't done a couple dozen times." She turned and exited the kitchen.
He picked up the penlight once again then realised he didn't much care about his experiment anymore. Hmm, Molly's going to bed. Suddenly it sounded like a good idea. Haven't slept in a couple of nights... just tired I suppose.
After he put away all the glass samples (simply because he had a guest) he made his way down the hall and knocked on the bedroom door before entering. Molly was wearing sleep shorts and a singlet. He had seen her in as much before... but never in his bedroom. He took in her appearance as he walked into the room.
"You coming to bed?" she asked as she walked past him out into the hallway.
"Yes?" he answered, though it came out as a question.
"Well, I'll be finished in the bathroom in just a few if you still need to use it." Then she was gone.
Oh... damn, he thought as he gathered his night clothes and waited for Molly to finish. Then he sat down on his bed and tried to collect his thoughts. He had deliberately avoided thinking about the fact that he had almost kissed her that morning. A moment of weakness, he told himself. Emotions were high, he had admittedly been feeling a bit possessive and of course there was all the touching. Well, that explains it, it was because of the 'holding' last night. Right, no more holding. Problem solved.
Molly walked back in. Oh no...
"I somehow forgot you wore glasses," Sherlock said as he got up to walk out of the room.
"Yeah, I hate them. But I slept in my contacts last night and my eyes are killing me."
"Hmm." Sherlock hummed and rolled his eyes. I have a thing for glasses? What the hell? He managed to clean his teeth and change his clothes, though his thoughts kept wandering. He took a deep breath before returning to his bedroom. Molly was sitting up and reading the same book she had been earlier. He removed his dressing gown and moved to the other side of the bed.
"Tired?" she asked.
He nodded and she reached over to turn off the light. That's when he noticed something. "Molly, are you wearing a bra?"
She stopped and turned back to him, her face turning an alluring shade of pink. "Y-yes."
"Are they entirely comfortable to sleep in?" he asked.
She huffed. "No. But..." She bit at her lip. "Well... my wrist hurts and I couldn't... so I just thought I'd sleep in it, like I did last night."
Sherlock studied Molly face as she averted her gaze and removed her glasses then picked at the duvet. Why is she lying? he asked himself and not for the first time he wondered how she'd been able to carry out her part of the deception after his fake death. He dismissed her falsehood as something he'd most likely not understand, even if she explained it. And even he knew better than to call her out on it after the events of the night. "Well, turn around, I'll get it for you," he offered.
Molly made a sort of squeaking sound, but Sherlock motioned for her to turn around. Finally she did and that's when Sherlock saw the flaw in his perfectly innocent offer. As she reached up and pulled her hair out of the way he realised how... intimate the situation really was. He took a deep breath and pushed her shirt up until he found the clasps of her bra. Molly's back was smooth and flawless and... Bugger... He shook his head and focused on his task. But as he unfastened her bra his knuckles brushed against her incredibly soft skin... Bugger..!
Molly immediately got up from the bed, making her way to her suitcase. She removed the garment, weaving it through her top. Then she did something that caused Sherlock's heart to skip a beat and his mouth to go dry. She bent over to put it away. Once again perfectly innocent, but the action caused her shorts to cling closely to her frankly fantastic arse. Has she always had that arse? he thought. He was suddenly acutely aware of his hardening cock... No, no-no, no! Wait, when was the last time I... he wondered. Oh, good God. He closed his eyes and swallowed.
The bed moved and he realised Molly was next to him once again.
"You okay?" Molly asked as she settled in. "You look a little flushed."
He just shook his head.
"Well, thank you. I will sleep more comfortably without the bra." She smiled and reached over to turn off the light. "Goodnight Sherlock." She rolled onto her side facing away from him.
He cleared his throat. "Sleep well, Molly."
Mind palace, just need to go into my mind palace and get rid of these ridiculous notions, he thought as he lay perfectly still. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
Sherlock was suddenly sitting at a bar, a campus bar to be precise. The room was empty until the door to the establishment opened and a tall man of about 20 walked in, a young blond woman on his arm. He kissed her soundly then dismissed her, patting her bottom as she went back out the door. Sherlock knew immediately who the man was. Why? he thought.
The man approached. "Ya know Will, I can hear your thoughts since I am your thoughts. Asking yourself why, is like asking me why." Then he walked behind the bar and poured himself a pint. "Want one?" he asked.
"I don't drink in my mind palace. Why then, are you here, Vic?" Sherlock asked.
The man took a long drink then set his beer down on the bar. "Victor Trevor." He spread his arms out wide. "Your conscience's go-to for all thing related to the fairer sex." He smiled and grabbed his beer once again.
"I don't need an introduction, Victor. I'm well aware of who you are. Why are you suddenly in my mind palace?"
"Oh, because you don't know what to do with that lovely little thing lying next to you right now," Victor replied with a smirk.
"I haven't thought about you in years," Sherlock bit out.
Victor pulled a face. "Yeah, that hurts by the way."
"Hmm, let's see shall we? My last memory of you is watching you overdose on my bathroom floor. Perhaps I'd want to push that away, you think?"
"We had some good times too, didn't we, Will?"
"You introduced me to cocaine and slept with half the campus," Sherlock got up and paced around the room.
"Got you laid a time or two," Victor said, then ate a handful of bar nuts.
"This isn't helpful."
The young man came out from behind the counter. "Think Will, why did your mind conjure me... now?"
Sherlock planted his hands on his hips and said, "Because I wasn't being tormented enough by lying next to Molly with an erection?"
Vic rolled his eyes and laughed. "Because I represent something to you. What is it?"
"If you think I need you to guide me through having intercourse, your sadly mistaken. It's been a while, but I have had sex since uni. I can pull without you as my wingman."
Victor raised an eyebrow.
"There was this dominatrix..." Sherlock started.
"One time with Irene Adler, which only proved that you didn't actually have feelings for each other. Good sex... meaningless sex. Just as meaningless as all the uni sex you had. I'm here about something else. What is it Will?"
Sherlock was getting frustrated. He didn't understand what his dead friend was trying to make him see. "What Vic? What is it? I don't..."
Victor took him by his shoulders. "Before you watched me, your first real friend, die on your bathroom floor, you weren't afraid of sentiment, Will. You felt things, too much sometimes. You laughed, you loved, you were an obsessive arsehole but you weren't completely closed off and oblivious to the people around you."
"I'm not oblivious to her. I'm taking care of her."
"I know Will. But what if you could... have her? All of her? She's beautiful, isn't she? She's smart, she's patient, she's kind. She's a fucking scientist, for God's sake. She cuts up dead bodies... for fun. She's perfect for you. And you want her. What on earth are you waiting for? You're 38 years old for fuck's sake. This 'married to my work shit' has got to be getting old." He paused. "She's always been there for you, but you have to know she's not going to wait forever." He paused again. "She still loves you though."
Sherlock jerked his head up at his friend. "You can't know that."
"I don't... but you do," the younger man said. "One more thing before I go."
"What?" Sherlock answered a bit breathless.
"It wasn't your fault."
Sherlock blinked.
"I died because I was stupid and cocky and I thought I was invincible. You couldn't save me." He walked up to Sherlock and put his hand on his shoulder. "It's okay." He turned to leave.
"Vic?" Sherlock called out to him.
"Yeah Will?" He turned around.
"What do I do?"
Victor smiled. "Just kiss her!" Then he was gone.
Hmmm, wonder what's up next? Thoughts? ~Lil~