#90*

@jennette-mccurdy

“пора скинуть 🧥 from @shannondaniele !!!! “

This is for the wonderful Felicia.

Sherlock Holmes wasn’t used to being ignored, and he certainly wasn’t used to being ignored by Molly Hooper. Thirty unanswered text messages and a futile trip to Bart’s later, he was finally forced to travel to her flat, an unimpressive building at the other end of London.

She opened the door on his fifth knock, and he pushed past her roughly.

“Why didn’t you answer my messages?” he grumbled, swiftly removing his coat and scarf and placing them on the dining table. “I have a murder to solve and I require your assistance in the lab. Go get changed and – Molly?”

He noticed her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, her messy hair and the fact that she was still in her pyjamas. His eyes roved over her entire form and he found his answer in just a few short seconds.

She wasn’t wearing her engagement ring anymore.

Sherlock felt a small spark of happiness at the discovery, but immediately buried it, a feeling of disgust sweeping through him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.

“Don’t say anything. Just don’t.”

Tears were welling up in her eyes again, and he felt a stab of pain in his chest. He hated it when she was upset, especially if he was the cause of it (which was often). He wasn’t the direct reason for her current heartbreak, but he was sure that he was a part of it.

Molly rubbed her hands across her eyes irritably. “I shouldn’t have been surprised, should I? Everyone leaves in the end. And the best part is that it isn’t even Tom’s fault for leaving. It’s my own fucking problem. I shouldn’t have – when I still –” she sniffed.

He didn’t know what to say, afraid that his words would hurt her even further. He had a tendency to do that – make her unhappy even when it wasn’t his intention. Eventually, he settled on the most sincere thing he could think of.

“I’m sorry.”

And he meant it. He was sorry for making her love him, that even after two years, her feelings never wavered. He was sorry for coming back and shattering the carefully pieced together life she had built when he was gone. He wasn’t a good person – he didn’t deserve her love, and she definitely didn’t deserve the pain.

She glanced at him glumly, “It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologise.” Her shoulders slumped, and she looked so defeated that he closed the gap, placing an awkward arm around her.

The next words out of his mouth felt natural, even though he had never uttered them before. “What do you need?” Please let me do something for you. You’ve helped me many times.

Molly choked back a sob before leaning her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and let her cry, occasionally rubbing a hand down her back.

She looked embarrassed when she pulled away. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

“Don’t be.”

“I thought you had a murder to solve. You should go.”

He shrugged, “The dead can wait.”

“But –”

“For god’s sake, be selfish for once, Molly Hooper.”

She shot him a glare, “Fine. I want you here.”

“Good, because I wasn’t planning on leaving anyway.” He settled himself on her couch and patted the area beside him.

She moved forward tentatively before resting her head on his shoulder. He had never done this with anyone before, but somehow, it felt right.

She finally fell asleep with her hand in his. He used the opportunity to press his lips to her forehead, closing his eyes as he let the feeling of her skin and her scent surround him. He suddenly recalled her words earlier – “everyone leaves in the end”.

He pulled her closer, tightening his arms around her. Making sure she was still asleep, he leaned his cheek on her head, murmuring, “I’ll be here.”

I accidentally deleted a prompt (I'm so sorry!), but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with a hostage/kidnapped situation. So I wrote a fic based on that.

Molly concentrated on breathing deeply as she sat in the cab. She was still trembling from the ordeal, but she didn’t want to worry anyone further. Especially Sherlock, whose fists were clenched tightly as he stared out of the window.

He hadn’t said much to her since they had gotten her out of the building, minutes before it was supposed to blow and crumble. The bomb disposal squad managed to defuse the device while the rest of them had tried to get as far away as possible. Lestrade and John questioned her relentlessly about Moriarty while the paramedics treated her wounds (a large blow to her head and dark bruises all over), but Sherlock merely stood nearby, playing with his fingers and staring blankly at her, not really seeing.