"So how exactly did you end up here?" Mary asked, turning to face Molly from her position on the couch.
"When Sherlock came in after his-" Molly saw Sherlock flinch out of the corner of her eye "After his…injuries, Mycroft hired me to take care of Sherlock."
"Where is Mycroft?" John asked "Did he already go back to London?"
"Of course." Sherlock scowled, who was taking up half of the couch besides Mary.
"Where is he staying? Has he checked on Baker Street?"
"He told me that he's walked past it from time to time. Apparently, it's doing quite well." Sherlock replied.
There was a brief silence before Mary interjected "So how antsy are you without a case?"
Sherlock turned and glared. "I'm doing quite well."
"Oh, come on. You must be going mad." Mary poked Sherlock's shoulder, a large grin on her face.
"I'm fine." Sherlock grumbled back.
"Sherlock, I'm not John. You can't lie to me about these things. So, are you going to take any cases here?"
"I don't know."
"Oh, come on, it'd be fun." Mary shook his arm slightly, trying to tease him. When Sherlock flinched, Mary backed off slightly.
"Oh, God, I'm so sorry."
"Are you ok?" Molly was about to spring from her chair, when John beat her to it.
"What happened? Do you have stiches there?" His hand were hovering over Sherlock's shoulder.
"I'm fine."
"Are you sure? I can go get some bandages-" Molly said, standing.
"I'm fine!" Sherlock replied, his voice higher than before.
"I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I didn't-" Mary started.
"Sherlock, if there's something wrong you have to let us help. You have to let her help!" John pointed to Molly.
"I'm telling you, I'm fine!" Sherlock yelled.
"Are you?" Molly asked, quietly. Sherlock's head snapped in her direction and he let out a frustrated growl.
"My shoulder is fine." Sherlock snarled.
"I wasn't asking about your shoulder." Molly whispered, hoping no one heard her. Her hopes were crushed, however when she suddenly felt everyone's eyes on her.
Sherlock stood up slowly, and took a deep breath. "You were an orphan at the age of nine. You still remember you parents, but don't like to talk about them; a side effect of sentiment. You were engaged at a young age, apparent by the slight whitening of the knuckle of your left hand. He broke it off and in the process, broke your heart. There's that pesky sentiment again. I can't say I'm surprised. Your obviously incredibly awkward and would make a terrible housewife. You're certainty not attractive enough to be a wife of any upper class man. Your lips are too small and your breasts are practically nonexistent. Add that with your annoying nagging and you are a man's worst nightmare. You are being paid to watch over my health, which may I say you are not doing are very good job at. So far you've been paid to change a few bandages and go shopping with my mother."
Throughout his whole speech, Sherlock had slowly made his way over to Molly until he was towering over her. He felt a pang of guilt when he saw her eyes beginning to glisten, but he shot it down. This was no time for weakness.
"If you would excuse me…" Molly's voice broke and she had to take a moment before she could continue "I think I am in need of some fresh air."
Molly slowly made her way to the doorway, cognizant of the fact that everyone was watching her.
"Molly, dear." Mrs. Holmes called out for her, pity on her every word.
"I need…I need some fresh air." And with that, Molly walked out of the room, slowly shutting to door behind her.
"I hope you're proud of yourself." Mrs. Holmes scolded, turning to Sherlock.
"What?" Sherlock questioned, weakly.
"That was…you are such an ass." John said, his hands balled into fists. "She was a nice girl and she was just trying to help. Why did you have to go and scare her away?"
"Sherlock she didn't mean anything by it." Mary said gently "She was just being helpful. You didn't have to go and deduce the shit out of her."
"Are you all going to attack me too?!" Sherlock roared, looking from pitying face to face. When he couldn't take their stares anymore, Sherlock stomped out of the door.
"I'm going to my bedroom. Don't bother me." He snapped, and slammed the door behind him.
After a moment Mrs. Holmes gave a sigh. "Just let him go for right now. He'll be back around eventually. You know how he is."
"He hasn't been eating has he?" Mary asked.
"No. He hasn't been sleeping either. Molly's has noticed it too. She tries to help-"
"Don't worry; he'll go after her." Mary said calmly.
"What do you mean?" John inquired.
Mary just shrugged. "He'll go after her."
After spending the rest of the day hiding in his bedroom, Sherlock decided it was high time for him to reappear. He wasn't sure how much time had passes, but the colors of the sunset out his window gave him a good idea. He had been trying to categorize all the emotions that he seemed to be feeling into his mind palace. However, all he ended up doing was repressing them. He snuck quietly out and made his way down the back stairs that the servants used. He was thankful to find that there was no one lurking there.
'They must all be helping for dinner.' He thought as he quietly slunk down the stairs. When he came to the kitchen, he was slightly put out to find that the door was wide open. He tried to make his way passed as quickly as possible, but heard a noise behind him.
"She still hasn't come back." Mrs. Hudson said, not turning from chopping up some vegetables.
"Hmm?" Sherlock turned around, straitening up and trying not to seem as suspicious.
"Molly; she hasn't come back yet."
Sherlock gave a small sigh. "I'm going for a walk."
Mrs. Hudson nodded, and watched as he walked out the back door. "Careful dear. If you stay out too long you might get rained on."
Sherlock gave an absentminded nod and picked up a piece of bread before heading out.
He searched the gardens and everywhere else, trying to find her. He wasn't sure why he was on a search. He just found himself looking for her. He had even thought about searching the library when something caught his eye. From the end of the garden, he could see the vast forest behind the house. He could swear that he could make something out in the distance and as he got closer he saw that it was a person. He stopped right in the middle of the lawn when he realized that it was Molly. She was sitting gracefully on one of the lower branches of a tree, her legs hanging over. She was staring wistfully at the sky, the wind blowing her hair. Sherlock took note of the way she looked in the light of the setting sun. He didn't want to admit it, but she looked beautiful. He began to walk towards her, trying to seem as invisible as humanly possible.
"Do you usually climb trees in your spare time?" Sherlock asked, coming to the base of the tree. He noticed that Molly's eyes were still a little red and puffy.
"Sometimes." Molly replied, still looking away from Sherlock. Sherlock felt awkward when the conversation went into silence. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say, or even how to apologize to her. She wasn't like John; he couldn't just give a quick sorry and food. He had really hurt her.
"I'm-I'm sorry" Sherlock cleared his throat "I'm sorry for what I said before. I didn't mean it."
"I said something out of line." Molly replied "I shouldn't have made the comment; this was my fault."
"You didn't deserve to have me tear you apart, though." Sherlock took another step towards Molly. "I really am very sorry. I like to think that I am very capable of taking care of myself and I don't like to be proven wrong. But you…you Molly Hooper have proven me wrong. I'd be incredibly grateful if you would continue taking care of me."
Molly gave a small smile and turned to Sherlock "You really think I'm going to leave because of one thing?"
"I mean…I wasn't sure-"
"I'm a lot tougher than you've anticipated Sherlock Holmes." Molly's smile grew and Sherlock felt his mouth form a matching one. "Would you mind moving back a little so I can get down?"
Sherlock nodded and took a couple of steps back. Molly swung her other leg over the branch and carefully pushed herself out of the tree, landing gracefully on her feet. She brushed off her clothes and when she was done, and they both began to make their way back towards the house.
"Out of curiosity, why a tree?" Sherlock inquired.
"Well, whenever I would get angry or upset, Mattie from the orphanage would try to calm me down. One day, she told me to climb a tree to get a differ perspective on the world and I found it really calming. I've been doing it ever since."
"So they would search the house for you and you'd just be in a tree?"
Molly gave a nod. "Sometimes I would read up there or just stare at the clouds. It was a nice place if I ever wanted to be alone. No one ever bothered me."
Sherlock understood exactly what she was taking about. The feeling of just being alone for once in a very busy house had been some of the nicest moments of his childhood. He remember sneaking food up to his bedroom so he wouldn't have to come out.
"Well, I think Mrs. Hudson may have been wrong. The rain seems to be holding off." Sherlock stared at the darkening sky and just when he finished his sentence, an onslaught of raindrops began to pelt his face. He closed his eyes feeling his annoyance rise as he became completely soaked. He only opened his eyes when he heard chuckling. He turned to see Molly laughing, practically doubled over.
"You have the worst timing, don't you?" She chuckled. Her hair, which had been loose, was now sticking to her face and her shirt. She was utterly drenched.
"Apparently so." Sherlock said, unamused.
"Come on" Molly took his hand and began walking towards the house "Or your mother and Mrs. Hudson will think we've died of phenomena."
"Oh, look at you two! Practically wet to the bones" Mrs. Hudson fretted as she ushered both Molly and Sherlock into the kitchen. "I'll have the maids draw baths for both of you. I told you to be careful."
"I am sorry, Mrs. Hudson but it seems I can't escape my comedic timing." Sherlock replied. Molly gave a snort of laughter as Mrs. Hudson stared.
"What are we going to do with you two?" Mrs. Hudson shook her head, but she had a smile on her face. "I'll go tell Mrs. Holmes that you two are back. Try not to make any more puddles while I'm gone."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Sherlock said to Mrs. Hudson's retreating figure.