There's Something About Molly

Chapter 33

Sherlock indeed took a case outside the flat; in fact the case was outside of the city. After browbeating his partner into accompanying him the duo made their way to Manchester. Molly wasn’t thrilled that his first case was so far out of the way but held her tongue. John promised to keep an eye out for him.

Sherlock made sure to kiss Molly goodbye as he had returned to doing after the whole kissing debacle. Molly hadn’t kissed him yet and he hadn’t gotten the nerve up to improve his aim. However, they were on their way to developing a communication style little by little as a result of the fiasco.

Sherlock was grateful with his girlfriend’s capacity to forgive. He had told her that he was bound to continue making mistakes. She had admitted her fear of him pushing her away and in return he confessed that he was afraid that one day she wouldn’t forgive.

Molly couldn’t imagine never being able to forgive him and said as much. She added that it would not mean that she would not get angry with him and that sometimes she may need time. She also warned him not to take advantage of her forgiveness.

Sherlock had given her her first kiss on the cheek in days and commented that she was a saint.

She then told him to be careful, “You have me on a pedestal and you need to bring me down or I will fall and it could break both of us.”

Currently the detective and his partner were sitting in the hotel they booked for the night waiting out the rain.

“Did you call Molly to let her know you’re all right then?”

“Not necessary. Did you call your wife?”

“Don’t change the subject. Molly is a saint for putting up with you.”

Sherlock cringed at that phrase remembering Molly’s earlier statement about such a designation. He would not be reduced to calling her for such an insubstantial reason that he is away but it would not kill him to text. He shot off a quick text that only said, ‘I’m fine.’

John smiled as he watched his friend take his advice at least in part. He watched as Sherlock received a text.

MH: Tell John thank you for making you text. :)

SH: Why don’t you think it was of my own volition?

MH: Because I love you and I know you. <3

John watched as an agitated consulting detective jumped up and started pacing the floor with his phone glued to his ear. He ran his free hand through his curls and somehow managed to get his Belstaff to bellow around him in the enclosed space.

“Sherlock?” Molly asked him confused as to why he would be calling in the middle of their texting.

“Molly Hooper that is not good! Not good at all!”

“What?” She asked thoroughly confused to what Sherlock was referring.

“You don’t tell someone that you love them for the first time over text!”

John’s eyes grew wide over the display he was witnessing. He took his own phone from his pocket hoping that Sherlock would not notice. Neither Molly nor Sherlock had noticed when he got a picture of Sherlock kneeling in front of her. He had made himself scarce after obtaining the picture if Sherlock knew about it he hadn’t let on. He was hoping for another such miracle but to no avail. Sherlock grabbed the phone and chucked it out the window. John exclaimed and was torn on whether to rescue his phone or to stay and witness the scene that was taking place. The look on Sherlock’s face made the decision easy and he tore out of the room.

“Molly,” Sherlock growled at her in his lower voice when she didn’t respond to his accusation.

“I didn’t think about it. Sorry.”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes,” she managed to squeak out.

Sherlock could picture her blushing.

“I want you to say it to my face when I get home.” Sherlock didn’t wait for an objection and hung up the phone.

A soaked John Watson made his way back into the room.

“You know it was perfectly unnecessary to throw my phone out there.”

“Send me the picture and then delete it or your phone will meet a worse fate.” Sherlock smiled his evil smile of insincerity that conveyed to strangers that he would destroy them if they chose to mess with him.

John had already backed up the photo to his computer so he complied. Sherlock noticed his compliance and shoved John’s phone in his pocket as collateral until the photo was deleted.

“Now I can’t call my wife.”

“Please, you weren’t going to call her.” Sherlock answered as he shoved things into his suitcase.

“Why are you packing?”

“We are headed back.”


“Molly texted that she loved me. So I need to go now and hear her say it. And then I can finally snog her.”

“You haven’t snogged her yet?” John asked in amazement. “Hold up, what about the case?”

“Solved it.”

“You haven’t seen anything or anyone yet.”

“Solved it before we left.”

“Then why are we out here?”

“I needed to prove to Molly that I can go out on cases and not be bored with her when I return.”

“Then why am I here?”

“She wouldn’t have believed the validity of the case without you. Besides the fact she wouldn’t have let me go in the first place without you.”

“What are you going to say when you arrive home early?”

“Wake up and tell me what you told me in that text.”

“Let me know how that works out for you.”

“You are just jealous. When are you going to patch things up with Mary? You’re first child is due soon.”

“I don’t get why you are so nonchalant about this! She shot you and she lied. Not tiny lies either. Dangerous lies.”

“Mycroft would never have let anyone dangerous near you.”

“Wait, are you saying Mycroft knew?!” John’s voice increased in volume.

Sherlock grabbed his suitcase and headed for the door. As he opened it the door slammed shut as an incensed army doctor held his hand to the door. John’s eyes bored into Sherlock.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Of course he did.”

“And you didn’t tell me!”

“I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t figure it out?”

“I missed Tom too.”

“Wait I thought Tom was Molly’s bo…dy…”

Sherlock saw the light come on as John figured it out.

“Well that’s just great. That’s bloody fantastic.” John continued as his expletives increased in violence and creativity. He felt the need to punch something.

Sherlock nursed his jaw with some ice from the ice machine as John nursed his hand. Sherlock pulled the ice away from his face and asked sarcastically if John was feeling better.

“Mary was my bodyguard. I didn’t need a bodyguard. What I needed was to know my best friend was alive.”

“She agreed that you didn’t need a bodyguard. That’s why she quit. And for some reason she fell in love with you. Honestly not sure what she saw.”

John made a slight movement forward, which caused Sherlock to back up towards the bathroom in fear of being hit again.

“But why didn’t you figure it out Sherlock?”

“Preoccupied with getting my best friend to talk to me again. Then there was the wedding planning.”

“You should have figured it out during the planning. You spent enough time with us.”

“I like Mary. She was the only one of your girlfriends who was remotely interesting.”

“Well if you like her so much you should have married her. You’re perfect for each other.”

“Mmm…” Sherlock pretended to think about it, “no, I like Mary but I much prefer my Molly.”

“When did you get so romantic then?” John asked with eyebrow raised.

Sherlock made a look of disgust and eyed John up and down. “I blame you. You must have rubbed off on me.”

His comment broke the tension and the men broke out in laughter.

“Any more secrets I ought to know?”

Sherlock thought of Molly. “There not mine to tell.”

“Be honest, you just want me back with Mary so that you can bring Molly to Baker Street to live.”

“Yes of course I want my wife to live with me.”

“Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself?”

“Technically we are already married.”

John blinked rapidly a few times, “Come again.”

“I had Mycroft fill out the paperwork, by the way your signature is on the form as a witness.”

John cursed, “You can’t just do things like that Sherlock. Have you learned nothing?”

“It’s just a precaution in case something happens. I want to know that she will be taken care of and that she will inherit my fortune upon my demise.”

“Fortune? What fortune? I pay for your cabs and we live on beans and toast.”

“As usual you see but don’t observe. You see the way I dress. I happen to enjoy beans and toast. If you go back to your wife you won’t have to eat them anymore.”

“After hearing what you did Mary is not looking so bad. Sherlock, this could really blow up in your face.”

“Molly doesn’t need to know unless something happens to me.”

John ended up convincing Sherlock to stay the night. He manipulated him into believing that Molly would better appreciate it if it seemed that Sherlock carried on as if it was business as usual. Molly needed the sense of normalcy. Both Sherlock and Molly were creatures of habit that were thrown off when outside forces meddled with the structures they had built for their lives.

Sherlock went straight to Bart’s and left John to handle his overnight suitcase. Molly was working on a body when he slammed open the door. She looked up with a squeak but didn’t remove her hands from inside the corpse she was handling. She inwardly cursed at her self for continually blushing and bit at her lip as she attempted to return her attention to the work in front of her.

Sherlock made his way over to her and towered above her as he demanded, “Tell me.”

“Sherlock, I’m in the middle of an autopsy.”

“You are often in the middle of an autopsy as it is your job. Tell me.”

“I would rather if my first time telling you wasn’t when my hands were inside a chest cavity.”

“No you would rather it be over text. Besides you are about to pull your hands out with his heart. That would be pretty apropos.”

Molly rolled her eyes, “We can have dinner after work and we can talk then.”

Sherlock perked up at the thought of “dinner.” “You are proposing having dinner when you won’t even initiate a kiss on the cheek. Not that I’m complaining but I am a bit surprised.”

“We have dinner all the time,” Molly glanced up at Sherlock with a confused look.

Sherlock started to blush and told Molly in an imperious manner, “I am just teasing Molly.”

Sherlock remembered Mary’s warnings of always being honest and not hiding anything from Molly. So while he was thinking about the woman he decided to say something so that it would not proverbially come back to bite him in the butt.

“Irene Adler is actually alive.” Sherlock stated.

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