The buzzing of his phone came after midnight. Sherlock was awake, was sorting things out in his head. The text was sending by his brother made him put aside the thoughts which had confused him without end.
A serious menace has been found in Eastern Europe. Must be handled immediately. Car will be there for you in ten minutes. MH
He slipped out from the bed silently, gathered his clothes from the floor and dressed quickly. There was no reason to wake her. What would he say, anyway? He made a mistake, although he didn't regret it at all. But he knew that, if there was a time for such things in his life, this definitely wasn't it. Molly would suffer more than ever, he would be miserable trying to keep her out of his mind. He was already carving for her touch, for feeling her love again. But he didn't even know if he would survive this whole mission. What could he promise her, what should he ask her to do? He knew no answer for any of his questions.
Sherlock pulled his bag out from under the bed and silently put in it everything he had at Molly's flat. Clothes, books, devices. He even packed his shampoo and toothbrush. He didn't want to leave any evidence of him staying there. If there was any possibility that this serious menace was related to his faked death, he wanted to clear the place from every sign of himself. Molly mustn't be taken into any more danger than she already was.
When he was ready, he rushed to the door but before he would have exited the flat he stopped. Shakily closed his eyes and clenched his mouth. With a deep breath he walked back to the bed leaned down so close to Molly's face, he felt the light puffs of her breath on his lips but closed his eyes resisting the urge to kiss her and probably wake her. He just stored her scent deep down in his mind palace and ran his fingers just right above her hair, her long neck and then her collar bone feeling the warmth of her skin on his fingertips. Sherlock heard the silent rumble of the car stopping in front of the house and straightened himself, hardened his face and left Molly's small but warm home for an unpredictably long time.
As Sherlock flopped down on the seat next to Mycroft without a word, the older Holmes raised one eyebrow but remained silent for a while. When he finally spoke he didn't bother with pleasantries.
'Now that your pet had strolled home, I thought it was time to leave your warm comfy nest.' Mycroft sighed watching his brother from the corner of his eye.
'She is not a pet,' Sherlock stated bluntly but his big gulp betrayed him.
Mycroft quickly turned his head towards him with narrowed eyes. 'Did you...?'
'Shut up, Mycroft,' Sherlock warned his brother in a low voice.
'Ahh...So you did.' He nodded rolling his eyes.
'Shut. Up.' Sherlock hissed through his teeth with growing anger.
'God, Sherlock. Can't keep things simple, can you? Did you have to let free this ridiculous teenage instinct from your pants right now?' Mycroft almost shouted but lowered his voice to avoid the driver's possibly curious ears.
However the last words hardly escaped from his mouth since the fingers of Sherlock's right hand were wrapped around his neck tightly while he was hissing close to his face. 'Shut. The. Fuck. Up. You call her pet again, and I'll make you regret it. Painfully.' Sherlock was breathing heavily, his nostrils widening with every intake.
The driver slightly turned his head and asked, 'Do you need help, Mr Holmes?'
Although Mycroft hadn't pushed the panic button and his driver was well aware of his rough relationship with his younger brother he currently was grateful for his ears dropping. Mycroft hesitated a bit on his answer while was looking into Sherlock's eyes, then just raised his hand and signed the driver in a negative. The younger Holmes's grip weakened and with a growl he sat back to his seat and turned back towards the window. Mycroft coughed and massaged his throat a bit, trying to gain back his formal straight posture.
Molly woke up long before her alarm would ring. She found the other side of her bed empty. Sherlock was always up before her but somehow it felt different now. She laid still for a moment, listening, hoping to hear something indicating his presence. But the silence was too mute. Molly knew Sherlock was gone. She stayed in bed, cuddling the pillow which had been his, breathing in the scent still lingering there, resting her other hand on the sheet his warm body had occupied hours before. She just stayed there, not feeling anything but that now she was really empty without him, now she knew what she would miss. She wanted to cry, wanted to choke out the clenching weight she felt would eat her whole inside. But nothing came. She just lay there, silently remembering and wanting to go back and stay in the exact moment when she had felt that the man she had been in love for insanely long time loved her back.
She stayed there for an hour, waiting. For what? She didn't know. The door opening and him entering with fresh pastries for breakfast with a wide smile? A text saying thank you? She really didn't know, but nothing happened.
The alarm made her get back to reality. Molly got up like a machine, took a shower and brushed her teeth. She merely nodded to herself with a hum noticing the absence of Sherlock's things from the bathroom. She got dressed automatically; made her always neat ponytail, grabbed her coat and purse and left for work.
Weeks and months had passed and she stopped checking her phone in every ten minutes, stopped searching for hidden notes in her flat and stopped rushing home right after her shift in the hope to find there the consulting detective needing help or her love. He didn't need them apparently. Neither of them.
Molly first met Tom on Meena's birthday party. He was one of Meena's high school classmates recently moved to London. Her friend introduced them to each other while she handed both of them a full glass of whiskey and disappeared with some ridiculous excuse, leaving them awkwardly smiling at each other.
They ended up tipsy, discussing how they were not ready to start any kind of romantic relationship. Tom was just being over a rather messy break-up after five years living together, and Molly, as she said, was too heartbroken and disappointed to even take a look at a man. They parted agreeing to continue the whimpering over their love life another time over a drink. Just amicably.
The meetings got more and more frequent and weren't about complaining anymore but great conversations about books, movies, years at university, childhood and even work. Three months after Meena's party they ended up in Tom's flat in each other's arms.
Meena was practically jumping in happiness, when she heard the news and playfully noted that after all, she had always known Molly had a thing for tall, curly haired men. Molly winced but then continued to smile brushing aside the thought of the detective she had once loved.
...
Sherlock was fighting with himself every occasion when he had to return to England over to visit Molly or not. Every time he ended up to make a compromise and hid on the opposite side of the street close to her flat and watched her fussing about through the windows till she went to sleep.
But one time, after a rather long and dangerous undercover job in Germany he decided he wanted to see her properly, to hold her and to tell her to wait for him, that he would be able to survive if he knew she was waiting for him. But all these words were remained untold because of what he saw from the shadow in the opposite alley.
He froze in his movements, the last sip of his cigarette got stuck in his lungs, his head became dizzy and something hard and heavy settled itself on his chest. As Molly was opening the front door of her building another figure, a tall man sneaked his arms around her waist and turned her towards him to kiss her. Molly lifted her arms, wrapped them around the man's neck and buried her fingers into his hair. After a cheerful giggle Molly opened the door and they disappeared behind it.
Sherlock stood there with narrowed eyes not being able to move for while. He felt his veins going ice-cold. He snorted bitterly then swallowed hard.
Bloody sentiment. Thank you for reminding me why I don't do such things, Molly Hooper.
He stubbed his cigarette on the dirty wall next to him, turned on his heels and disappeared in the darkness.
Hi dears, I hope you liked this chapter although it's not a cheerful one, still. Sorry, but you know, they have their ups and downs. ;) But never ever think that I would leave things like this. Till next time.