Molly Hooper, Bullshit Detector

I’m sure I’ll be back soon.

“Are you sure you have to go?….Wait, don’t answer that. I know you do and I don’t want you to feel guilty.”

There was a case in France and they’d asked for him and of course he was going. And because she was going to miss him wasn’t a good enough reason to ask him not to be Sherlock Holmes. Not really, anyway. Not just because he was going to be gone for ‘at least a week, maybe more’ depending on how quickly this whole serial killer business could get wrapped up. And no, she could not go with him even though she was a good assistant. He’s targeting women, Molly. And last I checked, you fall into that category.

I doubt people tag for that often.

Kiss Meme | Accepting

not Mrs. Hudson). John and Greg and the rest of the NSY were out trying to track him down, and while Molly had great faith in the lot of them, the truth was they weren’t Sherlock Holmes. Even Mycroft looked worried when he came to the morgue to see when the last time she’d seen his brother.

It was going on day three and Molly was working the overnight shift at Bart’s when she got a call from Greg. Sherlock had been located and he was en route to Bart’s in an ambulance. He assure her that Sherlock was fine, but she still thought the worst as she rushed up to A&E. When the ambulance pulled in, the lights were off (good sign) and when the back doors opened, instead of the technicians wheeling out a gurney with Sherlock on top, he was instead pushing them aside and telling them that he could walk perfectly fine, thank you.

He looked a bit beat up and dirty, but clearly he was doing fine. There was such a relief in seeing him not only alive, but being his usual, bastard self, that she rushed towards him. When asked later, she would say that the intent had been to give him a hug.

“Sherlock,” she said as she looked up at him, relief in her voice.

And before she knew what she was doing she leaned up and pressed her mouth to his.

It only took a millisecond to realize what she was doing was not what she should be doing and she immediately stepped away from him, eyes wide in shock at herself.

All those horrible things he had said to her – the guilt was poured into the kiss, begging silently for her forgiveness even though he knew she had already given it. His hands were firmly yet gently cupping either side of her head, slender fingers running through her hair ever so delicately. He had been so completely unprepared for this feeling. You would think that after all the hours he’d spent with Molly - watching her talk, laugh and frown - that he would know all there was to know about her lips. But he could never have imagined how warm they would feel pressed up against his own. 

God, he’d heard her laugh so many times. Awkward laughs, sad laughs, giggly laughs – this, by far, was his favorite. For once in his life, there wasn’t a case. There wasn’t a high. There wasn’t a world full of people who wanted to hurt each other. Allowing her to deepen the kiss a little, Sherlock’s hands moved – one to the small of her back and the other to her waist. After a moment or two, he pulled back – breathing with a bit of difficulty.

“ Not how you planned today going, is it? ”

The kiss deepened and Molly could hear his silent atonement in the way he was kissing her back. She tried to tell him through her own kiss that it was okay. That it was all okay if it led them right to this moment. 

Her hands slipped behind his neck, fingers itching to slide into the unruly locks she had always admired, but they settled for just playing with the very ends. She was dizzy with his hands on her body and the lack of oxygen from the kiss so when they part, her breathing was heavy. But, she noticed, so was his.

“You’re assuming I don’t wake up every morning planning for the day to go just like this.”

     Joe thought the offer over briefly. He wondered what kind of condition the vagrant would be in, and ultimately the fear of not being able to identify him from a distance and prolonging the experience led him to elect against the viewing window option. He checked his watch. He’d have to be at work soon. 

     “Err… no, that’s alright.” In a strange way, he felt like he’d be dishonoring the dead by taking the coward’s way out. Poor guy hardly knew anybody. The least anyone could do was look him in the eye one last time, face to face. “Thanks, uhm, for the offer, though.”

@amongdeadthings​.

Molly nodded and moved to the top of the sheet covering the body. She had certainly seen bodies in much worse condition, but the man had been beat up pretty well, so his face had contusions and bruising. And, really, no matter what the condition, a dead body was still a dead body and for those who didn’t see them every day, they were off-putting.

  Somewhere in the back of his head, Sherlock appreciated her attempts to reassure   him; but this definitely didn’t show. “ You know, four to six school-age children die each    year on school transportation vehicles. ” Statistics were going to be the death of him   someday. “ I should’ve just driven to get her. ”

“While any deaths are terrible, you realize that those statistics actually prove a good case for school transport considering the amount of pupils shuttled and the general occurrence of traffic incidents in London daily,” Molly pointed out, always amused when she was the one using better deductive reasoning out of the two of them. 

               You are not someone who needs constant discussion to consider time to be spent well with others. In fact, most of your interactions with others would have gone over better if instead the two of you ( mostly you ) had remained silent —- yet, Molly is one of the select few you have never minded the company of that much. She isn’t immune to your moods; there are still always points when solitude is what you require. Yet she seems to understand your changing weather.

              But Molly confirms what you realised; it won’t just be you & Molly anymore soon. In a matter of weeks, there will be a third person that came from the both of you ( but you steadfastly agree that mostly Molly ). What will you do when your senses are overloaded, but you cannot lock yourself away? How will it go over when as your child grows up, to have someone as unpredictable as you? Therapy had made a difference, but it doesn't solve everything. As soon as you heard the news, you had even begun taking some of the recommended medication. It wasn’t unhelpful — just not something you were fond of. 

                 FOCUS. The time for negativity isn’t now. Be present. “ why waste time on three names, when i already told you the one perfect name. ” So you had to force the smile a bit when you spoke; that doesn’t make it ungenuine. Playing into the distraction helps, you’ve found. At least as a temporary fix. 

“I can hear you worrying yourself still,” Molly says quietly, instead of taking the lighter bait of once again telling him they’re not raising a Sherlock Jr. The hand not curved protectively around her bump, reaches out to cover his.

Truthfully, his worrying is loud even if it’s only in his head. She can tell when he’s off, when he’s running his mind in endless loops, turning over every possibility and impossibility too. She can also tell he’s trying to push it aside, but can’t seem to manage it. A trip out of the flat and some light banter about something like baby names is sometimes enough to get him out of his own head. Tonight does not seem like one of those times.

Hope you feel better! :(