Hi guys, this is my first attempt at a Sherlock fic, any comments are greatly appreciated :)
Chapter Six
"Okay guys, so remember, study, study, study! You will not pass these exams without it, do not make the mistake of starting late!" Molly called as her students began filing out of the laboratory, a few of them taking the time to thank her and bid her farewell, the majority exiting as quickly as possible. It had been a long semester and she was as ready for a rest as they were, forever grateful that she no longer had to participate in yearly examinations. As the last of them left she sighed heavily and snapped off her gloves, throwing them into a bin and turning to walk towards her adjoining office. She was surprised to find Professor Gordon there, casually flicking through some of her papers and idly swilling a cup of coffee.
"Ah, Miss Margaret!" He placed everything down on the desk in front of him and smiled warmly at her, threading his fingers together and leaning forwards slightly.
"Professor? To what do I owe the pleasure?" Whipping off her lab coat she threw it over a hook and pulled her hair, free giving it a messy ruffle to ease the tension in her scalp.
"A proposition. Or perhaps…More a request…For your assistance." He gestured for her to take the other seat in the room, and she eased herself into it. She was curious about why he had come, he rarely checked in with her these days. When she had first moved, she had seen the Professor on an almost weekly basis, but his visits had become few and far between, unless he needed her expertise, or to invite her to a staff function. "I have been honoured."
"Oh, right?"
"Yes. By the Lady herself. Queen Elizabeth II." He shone proudly at this statement, beaming from ear to ear as she reciprocated. "I have been included in the Birthday Honours. Services to science."
"Congratulations Professor," She stood, a warmth flooding her chest as she beamed and held her arms out into which he rose and walked gratefully. He appeared positively beside himself with joy and Molly could only lap his enthusiasm up eagerly. "A little overdue if I do say so myself! But you are indeed a worthy recipient."
"Miss Margaret. I will be in the Gazette!" Releasing her he drifted back into his seat and stared dreamily into the distance, "Of course, you will accompany me?"
The question made her pause and her smile falter.
"Professor..?" This would mean a return to England, a return to London of all places.
"Now, now!" He raised his eyebrows in her direction, "This is a once in a lifetime opportunity! Who knows how many of your peers will be honoured in this way, though I am pinning my hopes on you yourself Miss Margaret." He gave her a knowing nod, "Nevertheless, I would be ever grateful if you could accompany this old fool. There will be parties and gatherings and banquets! All of my old colleagues are already making preparations. A young lady on my arm would not go amiss!"
Her smile returned and she rolled her eyes at him. The return would at least give her time to touch bases with her old friends and colleagues, to see John, Rosie, and Mrs Hudson in person rather than via telephone. The thought filled her with excitement and Professor Gordon must have taken this as agreeance for he stood suddenly and swept towards the door,
"Excellent – We leave Friday."
And with that he disappeared.
'Friday? Today is Wednesday!' Molly stood straight as her fuddled brain clicked itself back into place. That hardly gave her any time at all. Where would she stay? What would she pack? She would need to call Joh immediately; she didn't want to just turn up on his doorstep unannounced. 'Although…Why can't I?' She furrowed her brow in thought as a small knocking sounded in the back of her mind somewhere, a reminder of a deep buried thought, one that she had been intentionally avoiding. 'Sherlock.'
~x~x~x~
"Daddy!" Rosie called from the garden, and John popped his head out of the kitchen window to see what she wanted. "Daddy!"
"Yes Rosie?" He responded, smiling at his daughter and she sat on the grass in the back garden of their small home just on the outskirts of the city of London. She had grown so much over the last few years, was now the tallest in her class, with her mother's striking looks and infectious smile. He had tried his best to follow his late wife Mary's wished, see that she was well cared for, educated and independent. When she had been younger John had seen Mary everywhere, her essence infected his mind and his being, his own will and love for her bringing her into existence whenever he needed guidance or reassurance. She had been a headstrong woman, a warrior and formidable, with a heart so full of warmth, light and love it was difficult to associate the two personalities as one person.
And yet, the little girl who smiled back at him now, waving his mobile phone high in the air as the warm breeze whipped her wispy blond hair around her head like an angel had slowly filled the hole that Mary had left. He had stopped needing to bring her into the present as much, and was content with remembering their lives together, and honouring her legacy by raising their daughter to the best of his ability. He was by no means the perfect father; John was well aware of this. His own faults and flaws pointed out quite often by his daughter and best friend alike. And now, as she crashed through the doors and into the kitchen, he smiled contently,
"Daddy, look. Auntie Molly is on!" John stiffed considerably, the smile on his face falling, and his eyes flickering to the open door to his left, one which Sherlock had just been about to pass through before he stopped, arms folded and silently glaring at the phone Rosie had rammed into her father's hands. John drew in a deep breath and scrunched his eyes together; he had been dreading this day. He had always scheduled his calls with Molly for when Sherlock wasn't around for fear of the repercussions, so it must be for a rather extraordinary reason for her to call so suddenly. He had never divulged details of her life in Australia, as per his agreement with her, and Sherlock had never asked. In fact, once he realised, that she would not be returning to England it had more or less become the norm to only speak of her when he wasn't around.
"Molly!" He croaked out, his eyes darting between the screen and Sherlock as he moved towards the sink and propped himself against it, "How are you? What time is it there?"
"Four in the morning," She responded rather cheerily. She looked as though she were crashed out on her sofa, Toby's tail flicking in and out of the cameras view – He must have been perched on the chair arm or something where John could not see him.
"Oh right-"
"Hmmm, Cooper just had to piggyback me upstairs. He's under the delirious illusion that I am under the influence," She smiled lazily, and John looked at her properly. She was more than a little under the influence. And it was only Wednesday.
'What the hell goes on at the universities out there..?' He though, supressing a smile and he saw Sherlock sink into the door frame, listening intently. He could only assume this to be a difficult situation for him, hearing her voice for the first time in half a decade.
"More than just under mate," Came the laugh of Cooper, who slid into view behind her head, "She's legless. Proper posh bird mode. How ya goin' John?"
John gave a smirk and a snort in response, raising his eyebrows and giving Cooper a small wave.
"Hey Coop, living it up as always. How you been?"
"Hi Cooper!" Rosie called from the living room, running back in, and jumping up at John so that she could see the two of them.
"Ah, there you are, ya ankle – biter, where ya been?"
"Cooper. It's Rosie."
"Ah right, right, Rosamund. Got you." She giggled at him before flouncing off again and back out into the garden, leaving John with the two on the other end of the line, but also acutely aware of the death glare he was now receiving from Sherlock. He was stiff as a board and his nostrils flared in obvious anger.
'Time to wrap this up…' John thought dismally, shaking himself and returning his attention to the couple in Australia,
"So, so, er, what…What's up? You don't' usually just call, not this early anyway,"
"Ah, I'll leave you guys to it. Gotta go find your thongs, catch ya later!" Cooper stood and walked out of shot, the sound of a door opening and closing echoed throughout Molly's apartment and she turned her full attention back to John,
"He means my flipflops." She rolled her eyes, and he smiled back at her, "Well…I've kinda been wanting to call most of the afternoon, but you know how it is." She paused, obviously considering her next words. John furrowed his brow at her, a little concerned by the fact she had gotten herself into such a state just to call him. The news could only be bad. "Will you be around on Saturday?"
John's eyes automatically flitted to Sherlock. They were going out that night, surveillance for a case, and he was eyeing the phone suspiciously. "Er, yeah I should be free. What, what time did you plan on calling?"
"Oh no. I mean free, free. I'll be arriving in England Friday night." The door slammed shut and Sherlock disappeared, John straightened immediately. "Oh, I'm sorry John, I didn't realise you had visitors. Rosie never said."
"No, no. It was the wind, she's left the back doors open again," He said quickly, highly concerned over his friends instant departure. "Friday you say? To err, to what do we owe the pleasure?"
"There are a few things I need to attend with Professor Gordon, don't' worry, we won't be here too long. I don't want to make things difficult…" She trailed off slightly and refused to look at the camera, obviously having some kind of internal battle with herself, "I should have some spare time though, it would be good to see you again."
John nodded at her, his chest tight and brain foggy. When she had decided not to return Sherlock had essentially erased her from their lives. John had never imagined she would return, probably rather naively. The possibility that he would need to juggle them both had never even occurred to him. He could not necessarily say that they had parted on bad terms, but there were a lot of uncertain issues hanging over the two of them, neither of which seemed intent on resolving them.
However, Molly was his daughters God Mother and his closest confident, and Sherlock his best friend and Rosie's God Father. He would cross that bridge if he came to it, if he could not separate them, if they were unable to behave like adults in each other's company. So instead, he resolved himself and smiled warmly at her,
"Yes, that would be great. Just great. Maybe you could just call when you're free. And we'll see what's what."
She seemed to sink back into herself at his words, it had obviously worked her up a great deal, just preparing to tell him about her imminent arrival.
"Thank John. You're a star!" They lapsed into a momentary silence before she continued, "How is he?" she asked softy. John blinked a few times, surprised at her. It was few and far between that she enquired after Sherlock after the initial six months or so of John having nothing to report. But on the occasions she had, it appeared as though she was unable to even name him. But 'Him' was always an apparent phrase. They both knew exactly of whom she was speaking.
"Yeah. Yeah, he's good. Busy as usual."
"He is? I expect he'll be…" She trailed off, now obviously deep in thought. John felt as though he wanted to ask her to finish the sentence but was fully aware this may cause more harm than good in the satisfying of his curiosity.
Molly suddenly seemed to tire of the conversation, all the energy drained out of her, to Johns great relief. He very much needed to see where Sherlock had gone and to what he had dissolved into. "Anyway, sorry for the intrusion, I'll let you get on and all that."
"Yes. Yes of course. I will see you…Sometime this weekend then. Goodnight Molly."
"See you, John. Say goodbye to Rosie for me."
She disappeared from the screen and John released a breath he hadn't entirely been aware he was holding. Pocketing the phone, he double checked on Rosie in the garden then pushed open the door leading to his living room. Sherlock was sat cross legged on the carpet, surrounded by papers, phone in hand, typing furiously.
"You okay, mate?" John tried cautiously, only to be completely ignored. "You know, this may be a good opportunity for you two to talk things out. Been long enough don't you think?"
At this he stopped, staring directly in front of him and a clean patch of carpet and John perched on the edge of the sofa, hands clasped together and elbows on his knees, watching him intently.
"Smart attire Saturday night John – I highly doubt you're usually laughable wardrobe will suffice for camouflage purposes." He responded, returning to his texting.
"Sherlock?"
"Inform Lestrade will you."
"You can't just ignore this." John was becoming frustrated at him and with his attitude, "Molly didn't die, Sherlock. She didn't just disappear. She-"
"Don't lie John." Sherlock cut him off. Putting his phone down and returning to the papers, shuffling them indecisively.
"W…Wha-"
"She said she didn't want to drag up the past any more. Talking about it would only do so. Therefore, I will be ignoring the situation in its entirety." He dropped his papers and shut his eyes tightly, leaning his elbows onto his knees and resting his head upon his closed hands. John sat back into the sofa.
"Surely you need to fix this?"
"It was fixed. It was fine." His temper seemed to be rising the more John pressed him, and he could see clearly that he would have one more attempt, and then the matter would need to be closed for fear of hostility arising between the two of them. As John pondered his next words he was surprised as Sherlock continued quietly,
"She chose not to come back, John."
~x~x~x~
It was cold. Far too cold for Molly's liking. The atmosphere was biting, and her breath caught in her throat each time she drew air into her lungs. And yet, almost everyone around her was in shorts and t – shirts, the cool summer of England in full swing. This only affirmed to her how much she had acclimatised to Australian temperatures, and she sighed heavily, hopeful that the chill would soon subside.
"Come along Miss Margaret, the taxi is here!" Professor Gordon called, and she glanced up to find him standing just outside the doors of Heathrow Airport waving frantically at her, a black cab idling alongside him with its doors thrown wide open. Smiling back at him she pulled at her suitcase and trundled her way out towards him as he disappeared inside. Heaving her case inside she followed suit and settled in next to him, removing her gloves and shaking the loose stands of hair from her face.
"Montagu Place Hotel, please."
Molly squeezed her eyes shut tightly, a rush of cold pouring over her like a dip in an ice bath. She knew the hotel well enough; it was very close to Baker Street. A nice enough place, but perhaps a little too close in proximity to where she would have liked to be.
"This place comes highly recommended my dear." The Professor said suddenly, having apparently taken her reaction for anguish over their sleeping arrangements. She gave him a weak smile in return and shook her head,
"I'm sure that they will be more than adequate, Professor." Her stomach writhed as she spoke. The inevitability of their situation overtaking her very being. The chances of her bumping into Sherlock had skyrocketed and it left her confused and upset for reasons she couldn't really explain. She had wanted to confront him on her own terms, try to patch things up where she hadn't dared previously. Yet it seemed that more than likely that choice would end up being removed from her.
They remained in relative silence for the remainder of their journey, the hour was late after all, and all Molly could think was how she couldn't wait to fall into her bed and hide from the world for a few more hours. She would see John and Rosie tomorrow night and attend the festivities with Professor Gordon, and then escape back to her paradise in Australia where life was good, and she was satisfied with her steady life.
"Oh, tomorrow night." Professor Gordon began and Molly turned to him once more, an eyebrow raised in his direction. "Some peers are gathering at Drapers Hall, just a small get together and dinner. I said we would attend."
"Ah, you did?"
"It's formal, but not too over the top. How does that sound?"
Awful. It sounded absolutely dreadful to her. There was nothing she would like to do less after such a long flight and so little time to prepare. Her insides squirmed uncomfortably, and a heaviness rested on her shoulders. Outwardly she nodded her agreeance as his eyes filled with uncertainty,
"Yes. That would be quite wonderful. What a delightful way to start our trip," He could probably tell from her voice that she did not mean the words she spoke, but he accepted it regardless. Settling back into himself, Molly resigned herself to staring out of the window, deflated and tired.
Japan's Arc Angel x