Take a fic, it's dangerous out there

“Yeah, it is,” he said with a wry smile. 

“It’s a bit-,”

“Awful I know - your place is much better, it’s got stuff. I’ve never been good at keeping stuff at my place, if I’m honest.”

“Oh, why not?”

There was a loud gong sound, and Brian furrowed his brows. “Hm, that’s odd-,”

“Was that the doorbell?” Molly said, looking around, half-expecting to see a physical gong somewhere. 

“Hard to miss, yeah, but I’ll go check it out.”

Brian strode off, his footsteps loud until they weren’t. 

There was some walking distance to the front door after all.

Now, this was their fifth date. 

The four other dates had been nice, after all. 

They’d met at a coffee shop, and he’d not had his card on him, but she’d helped.

It was cute, but she hadn’t really expected much to come off it. 

Yet, there had. 

He was nice. 

But…

It was amidst these thoughts, where she was trying very hard not to judge Brian on his decor that she heard a cough. 

Molly blinked, looking around the otherwise empty room, and wondering whether the cough came from somewhere else. 

“Brian?” she said, and another sound followed, sounding like the shuffling of feet. 

The sound came from her right - - -  from the fireplace. 

And that’s when she saw a pair of legs. 

A pair of legs, and a pair of feet, with some fine footwear. 

She gaped. 

Was it art? 

She went to look closer, and that’s when the foot in question - -  moved. 

“It’s me,” a deep familiar voice said all of a sudden. 

“What?” she said, startled, backing away. “...Sherlock?!”

A beat past. 

“Yes?”

“What the hell are you doing in the chimney?” she hissed, bending down, looking up to see that he was wedged in there somehow. 

But she couldn’t see his face. 

She had no idea from what direction he came, whether he’d gone through the house or from the roof. She also had no idea why on earth he was there to begin with. How could she? Normal people didn’t do these things!

“No time to explain.”

“No time? What the hell-,” and that’s when she heard footsteps. Brian! He was returning. 

Molly leapt back to where she’d been sitting, trying to look less flustered than she was. Hoping she was blocking the feet from his line of sight. 

“There was nobody at the door-,” he stopped in his steps. “Are you cold?”

“Oh no,” she said quickly, trying to figure it out while he was stretching for the remote. 

“You sure, because-,” he said, remote in hand. 

“No!” she said. “No! No fire, thank you.”

“Um, alright?” he said, eyebrow raised. 

How was she going to explain this? How?! She had no explanation. Sherlock had given her none, though none would work either. There was no logical reason he’d hidden himself in Brian’s chimney, except if it was a case. Was there a case? Now she wasn’t certain. Maybe Brian’s decor should have tipped her off. White walls, bare to minimum furniture, and all of them uncomfortable, besides violent art - he could be a ruddy serial killer from the looks of it. “ - - Are you a serial killer?” 

She might not have thought that one through, and from Brian’s reaction, besides a low laugh behind her - she was probably wrong. 

“Is this a normal fifth date conversation for you?” Brian said while looking slightly put off. 

He’d clearly heard the laugh, eyes slightly narrowed. 

She was about to speak, about to hopefully say something clever and not at all accusatory. 

“It’s a valid question.”

It wasn’t her who said that - - -  nor was it Brian. 

Molly squeezed her eyes shut for a mere second, trying to regain herself, while Brian stood there clearly shaken. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, and she couldn’t really answer that. 

“Sherlock Holmes is the name.”

He answered it for her. Of course. 

Brian didn’t know where to look. 

“He’s - - in the chimney.”

He stared at her for a few seconds in disbelief, but she stepped aside as Brian stepped forward. 

“Hello - - umm  - - Mr Holmes?”

“Hi.”

“What - - are you doing in my chimney?”

“I’d rather answer that after I’ve gotten out.”

Brian stepped back, but Sherlock did not step out. 

“Except I can’t…”

--

“That could have been worse,” said Sherlock, a shock blanket enshrouding his shoulders while firemen were scattered about. 

She stood there with tightly crossed arms, her mouth in a frown, which it had been for the last couple of hours. It had taken the firemen ages to break Sherlock out of the fireplace, in that time Brian had asked a myriad of questions about their relationship. 

They didn’t have a relationship, or well, a functioning working relationship, and Brian being much more put together than she was feeling, despite his fireplace being disassembled, told her to question that relationship for a second. 

She’d avoided questioning it for months, letting that phone call slowly die out in her mind, or well, to the best of her ability. Molly, despite being one who seemed like she said I love you often, had not in fact ever been that sort of person. 

There were less than a handful of people she’d said that to, and one of those people was standing in front of her. 

It was also, hopefully, the last and first time she’d been forced to say it to someone as well. 

“It could have been better,” she returned grudgingly, eyeing Brian in the distance who was talking to one of the firemen, and who she suspected would not be asking for a sixth date. 

“You should get back-,”

She hated it when he did that, whatever it was, but she recognized it. She knew that look on his face, the sort of soft look, the sort of sad look... “He’s nice-,” he added in her silence. Sherlock was making a decision on her behalf again, and she hated when he did that. 

“Yeah, he is nice.”

“Then-,”

“Why am I still here?”

It sounded sharper than she meant, but he deserved it. 

“Why were you in the chimney?” she probed, again, he’d been avoiding the question. 

She was afraid he’d avoid it again. 

“I don’t know,” he said finally, though it was hardly an answer. 

“You don’t know?”

“I didn’t drop in.”

“No, you’re not Father Christmas.” 

He smiled, briefly, “John told me you were on a date, well, he told me you’d been on several-,”

“And?”

“I felt like being there.”

“In the chimney?” she said with a snort. 

“Obviously I didn’t intend to get stuck.”

“No, probably not, but you could have asked-,”

“Asked..?”

“Asked me out?” she said with a casual shrug, but it wasn’t at all casual. 

This was why she’d been nervous. She’d thought of turning Brian down already, of telling him they might just be friends, but nothing more. 

Sherlock looked completely caught off guard - the sort of doe-eyed look she expected from him - “Or you could just hide in my chimney next time,” she said grinning. 

“Not enough space for me-,”

“And your ego?” she questioned, still trying to keep the mood light. 

She had to. 

He still hadn’t asked. 

“Will you?”

“ - What?”

“Go out with me?”