The stars were shinning in the dark night sky. Millions of them, some of which were long gone, forming constellations. The music from a band was playing, filling the air with sweet summer sounds. It was a quiet and warm evening. And around the lamps that hanged from the roof of the tent were moths that flew against the hot glass.
Sherlock observed John, dancing cheek to cheek with Mary, the woman he had just wed. They have had a tough time, the two of them. Mary got pregnant and they were radiating with happiness, but she lost the baby and that had been quite an upsetting matter for both. Still, together, they had moved on, they had rebuilt all that was torn apart. John had asked Mary to marry him right after and had informed Sherlock that he would move out of 221B Baker Street. Sherlock could do nothing more but accept it. He had also said yes to John's request of becoming his best man and here he was today, sitting among the crowd that occupied the round, beautifully decorated tables, watching the newlywed couple dancing in slow circles, in love and certain that what they wanted for their future was each other.
Sherlock did not understand this idea, this sureness, but John was the only friend he had and he wanted nothing else but for him and Mary to be happy.
Mrs. Hudson was sitting next to him, tears of happiness falling down her face. Sherlock gave a little squeeze to her hand and she smiled at him. He smirked back, got up and left the table. It was time for a walk in the lovely garden that surrounded the open space John and Mary had chosen to celebrate the happiest day of their lives.
Small lights lit the place, set here and there, providing a dim light that made the shadows dance. Sherlock walked, unconsciously following the lights for a while, but he noticed then a shadow sitting on the grass. It was a woman. And she seemed to be crying. He was not sure if he wanted to be involved in that matter but with a closer look he realised the woman was actually Molly.
"Molly?" He called.
She looked up and cleaned her face with blunt movements. Some make up was spreading on her cheeks. Since she did not get up, Sherlock found himself kneeling down close to her.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
"Yeah, I am fine." She said, composing herself. "I just like seeing them all so happy. It's… they make a very nice couple." She tried to swallow a sob that had risen from her throat. Sherlock gave her a tissue and she started cleaning her cheeks. He then sat next to her, keeping a certain distance.
"They do, don't they?" Sherlock asked. "It's such a strange thing, to see them all so happy for such a mundane thing. A signed paper among many witnesses. Quite ridiculous, I think."
Molly looked at him, her mouth still twisted in an unhappy arch. It seemed like she was going to cry again but she tried to keep a brave face.
"People need certain things to be happy, to reassure them. I am very happy for them."
"You are crying." Sherlock pointed out.
"Just because I am happy for them it doesn't mean I can't be miserable for myself."
The words blurted out before she could stop them. Sherlock looked at her. It was pity she saw in his eyes and he tried to hide it. Ordinary people. He could not understand what they saw in these kind of things. Especially when there was no certainty that the bliss would last forever, with or without a signed paper. But he decided to keep that for himself this time. Molly was quite sensitive and he had said too many things he shouldn't have to her already.
Molly looked at him, sitting by her side and pondered if she should say anything else. She reconsidered and kept her silence. Sherlock was unpredictable and she was not in the mood to hear nasty things from him.
"So, what is troubling you?"
He had asked, in a low voice, looking at the sky instead of at her. It was not very normal of him to actually care. And maybe he didn't, maybe he had just learnt to be polite by living with John.
"I…" she was about to answer that seeing all that, John and Mary and all the happiness, made her think how empty and miserable her life was. But she knew Sherlock well enough to understand he would not know what to make of it, or he would end up saying something unpleasant. Instead she decided to go for a safe matter. "I have to find a new flat to live. My landlord needs mine. I have three months to move. I really liked to live there, cheap rent and a nice place, and I just don't feel like I have the energy to search for something else."
"Well, I am looking for a flat mate."
Sherlock said those words before considering what they might mean to Molly. He was not inviting her in, he was just making a statement. Of course he realised too late that his words had an effect on her that was not the one he desired.
"Are you asking me to be your flat mate?"
Well, now was too late to take the words back. And truth be told, he did need a flatmate and Molly was always helpful to him when he needed. It might come in handy to have a pathologist who got him body parts in the house. Mrs. Hudson would be delighted.
"Why not?" Sherlock asked. "We both need a flat mate and I don't see anyone who would like to share a flat with me. It's just an idea. So, think about it."
He then got up and Molly watched him going away and being swallowed by the darkness until even his shadow, spread by the many lights of the garden, faded away. She looked at the stars in the sky and cleaning the remaining of the tears from her cheek she smiled. She was not sure if moving in with Sherlock was a good idea, but she surely was not in the mood to let that make her sad again.