Sherlock looked down on the woman who was
lying across his chest. She had put up a
valiant effort at staying awake but had finally succumbed to sleep. He took a few more precious moments to
memorize her. Her long hair that was
showing to be redder at the roots was fanned out around them. He took in her face and drew a finger across
the lips he once called too small. He
then had to look away as he had to get ready to face the day.
He gently moved her off his chest and heard a mumbled protest as he pulled away and replaced the blankets to cover her better so she would not freeze in her naked state. He headed to the bathroom to shower.
As he showered he thought about the night before. He had not come with the intent of joining his wife in bed, he had thought that doing so would be to take advantage of her but he could not say he regretted having done so. His regret was that they would not have more time together.
Sherlock had put on the recording of his playing of the violin solo he had composed for Molly. He had hoped that he would play it for her at their wedding ceremony as she danced with his own father or possibly one of her brothers. He told her as much and then apologized thinking she would not want to discuss such things in light of what their future held. Instead she had joined him in the game of what their wedding would have been like. At the end of the song Molly put on some other songs, one being from the musical of Spider Man that he had found very fitting for the situation. Then had been the kisses that led to something else which finally ended in sleep for his bride.
She had given him everything and he knew he did not deserve her but at least he could get rid of the threat to her safety.
When he returned from his shower he saw a Molly dressed in his purple shirt sitting at the foot of her bed, which he knew was an image he would be carrying around with him for the rest of his shortened life. He, himself, was only dressed in a towel and he moved around the room to rectify that. He moved through Molly’s drawers that also contained some of his clothes as Molly watched his every move.
Once his Belstaff was on he went to stand in front of his wife. Now not only was it in writing but it was consummated as well. Once Molly had re-woken up she would read his letter and know that they were indeed married in the eyes of the law as there was a copy of their wedding certificate included in the envelope.
He took her face between his hands and bent down to lay a gentle kiss on her lips but Molly grabbed him and soon the kiss was deeper. Sherlock took advantage of this and took one of his hands from her face. He slipped his hand into one of his Belstaff’s pockets and slid the syringe out of it. With Molly occupied with snogging the life out of Sherlock she didn’t feel the poke of the needle until it was too late and the contents of the syringe were coursing through her blood.
She pulled back from Sherlock as her hand shot to the entry point on her neck.
“What…” She started to feel dizzy almost instantaneously.
“It’s a tranquilizer. I didn’t want you to be awake and alone today. John and Mary will be by later and some of your family should be here tomorrow.”
“Not good.” Molly said with panic for different reasons than Sherlock thought.
“I know.” He kissed her head repeatedly as she drifted into sleep as he apologized over and over.
Just a few days before John was asking why Molly was not at Christmas at the Holmes’ and Sherlock had admitted that he would avoid drugging Molly unless it was absolutely necessary. He did not want her to go out of her mind unless there were enough people there to catch her so she did not shatter.
He heard her say, “Love you,” before passing out completely. Even to their last moment together she was thinking of him even in the face of his betrayal.
He rearranged her under the covers in what looked like a comfortable position. He smoothed her hair out of her face and leaned into kiss her forehead one last time as his frame shuddered and tears threatened to course down his face. He took the remaining items from his coat’s pockets and put them in their proper places. He took the envelope with his letter, certificate, sheet music, and other documents and placed it where she would see it upon waking.
He gave himself a moment too wax poetic about the unfinished sheet of music, he found it sadly fitting that it would remain incomplete. The music was cut short before a proper ending. Much like this tragic love story, there were many possibilities for the future of the piece but it stopped abruptly in the middle. He had wanted to burn it and give it a Viking funeral but could not bear the thought of Molly never seeing how much she meant to him and his composition was one of the ways he could show her.
He hoped she wouldn’t see it or the letter until the next day and was having Wiggins and Robin check on her periodically to make sure she was okay and to administer soothing drugs as needed. Maybe if she did not forgive his infraction she could move on easier from their doomed relationship. The foolish girl who never gave up and kept on believing in him. The negative thought made his heart squeeze painfully and reminded him that he had found his heart and it was about to break.
The last thing he took out of his pocket was a pair of matching wedding bands. They matched the rose gold of Molly’s engagement ring. He slid the bands on the respective fingers. He wished he could stay longer. It was only five in the morning and he would not be leaving the country until two giving him eight more hours in his homeland but Mycroft had given him all the time he could to spend with Molly.
He thought about sentiment and how he was tempted to cut off a lock of his wife’s hair and shook his head. He now understood sentiment in a way he never wanted to or thought he would. It wasn’t safe to take pictures so he had to memorize and tuck every detail away into his mind palace. Molly’s room in his mind had evolved once again and now a bed was featured in the middle of the room of books.
His last minute details were making sure her front door was secure and that the guns he had stowed at her flat were still in place should she have need of them. He saw her cherry jumper hanging on a hook by the door and gave in to his sentiment. Molly would not like having a hole in her favorite jumper but he told himself if he was anything it was selfish before taking a pocketknife to the well-loved garment. He folded up the scrap of cloth and shoved it into a pocket where he could easily touch it as a talisman of sorts.
He gave a heavy sigh and wiped at his eyes as he climbed out the bathroom window.
Sherlock looked out the window of his plane. He smiled to himself at the new memory he had just created of trying to convince John to name his child after him. John may insist that the child was a girl but Sherlock had seen the ultra sounds. Even though John was the doctor Sherlock still thought there was a chance that the child could be a boy if the child’s foot was hiding important bits as he suspected.
Four minutes in the air and he received a call. Sherlock answered his brother with all the snide feeling he could muster to hide how he was affected. There was a possibility of being reunited with the ones he loved? He was afraid to dare to hope but silently begged a God he did not believe in that it was not too good to be true.
The begging turned into cursing as moments later he discovered that there was a possible threat from an enemy thought to be dead, an enemy whom his wife had been kept in the dark and was forbidden to see the autopsy reports of. He demanded going to Molly’s flat, as she would be helpless in her comatose state that she was put in because of him.
Sherlock was shaking in anticipation of reaching the destination and his brother refrained from speaking not wishing to agitate him further. Mycroft feared he made a mistake having the Watson’s in a different car. A few blocks from Molly’s flat found them in a traffic-jam. Sherlock huffed and hit the seat in front of him before jumping out.
The Watson’s saw Sherlock escape the black car in front of them and John did not need the urging his wife gave him to follow his friend. They made it to Molly’s flat in record time but the street was full of emergency vehicles parked across the street.
Lestrade was already at the scene having been called in while he had been at a pub.
“What are you two doing here? Did you hear about the bomb threat?” Greg asked in concerned tones.
Sherlock leapt into action and strode towards Molly’s flat.
“Oi! The call was for the flat over here not-“ Greg’s sentence was stopped by an explosion.
The windows in Molly’s downstairs apartment blew out and Sherlock flew back before reaching his desired destination. The wind was knocked out of him and it took him a few moments to gather himself and stand up as he looked on in horror to the blackened shell of Molly Holmes’ flat. He couldn’t hear the voices shouting at him nor his own voice as he shouted Molly’s name. He had no control of his body as it was compelled to go forward. He lacked his usual grace as he lumbered forward but was stopped by two pairs of hands.
He attempted to fight the hands that were stopping him from reaching the place he needed to get to. He felt a weight on his back and fought the hands that went around his throat cutting off his air supply. He attempted to continue forward all the while until he succumbed to peaceful empty darkness.