Hello there you awesome reader!
This is my veeeery first Sherlolly fanfiction! I had this idea in my mind for quite a while and finally decided to write it down.
I just love these two together and couldn't wait to write something about them :D It focuses more on Molly's life, I love her character so much! And she's much easier to write :P
Enjoy it and let me know what you think ;D
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or Molly or John or the show. Wish I did though!
A/N: I apologize for my grammar, sadly english is not my first language!
It was windy up there and he enjoyed the natural sound of the city; not too loud, not too quiet, just frenetically normal. Sherlock was sitting on the ground, legs crossed, hands together with the tip of his fingers brushing his lips. He was thinking and he liked that place. People didn't like roofs that much in London, not anymore. He still did.
The door that led him there carefully opened and he recognized her steps.
"Sherlock?" Molly Hooper asked. She embraced herself, thinking it was too windy for her. After all, she was just in her pyjama. "Are you okay?".
"I'm fine. Just thinking" he replied, his eyes closed. He heard her sigh with relief, even if she tried to hide it.
"I'm not going to jump, Molly" he added.
"I know, it's just…" she smiled awkwardly. "…aren't you afraid people might see you up here? It's the rooftop, after all".
"People don't look at roofs" he answered. Molly lowered her head and warmed her arm up.
"I do" she said. Sherlock opened his eyes but did not move and listened carefully as she continued her speech. "Ever since…that day, I keep looking up at rooftops. Whenever I'm walking outside I look up and expect to find you up there, looking down". Molly saw no reactions from Sherlock and sighed, knowing he just listened to be polite. She knew she wasn't enough to catch his attention and so she tried something else.
"John too, you know. He told me that sometimes he looks up and sees you there, on the roof, and wishes he could stop you from jumping" she said. Sherlock straightened up his position but said nothing; he didn't know what Molly wanted to hear and he had no words of his own to say.
"I'll be downstairs, if you need anything" she quickly said and disappeared. Sherlock sighed and settled his mind back to his mind palace.
Half an hour later he decided to go downstairs as the wind became higher. He waited until he heard no sound before walking down the stairs and right into Molly's apartment. He was about to open the door when he heard Molly talking.
"Next week? Oh, okay. Yeah, that's fine. You know I'm fine" she said. She was clearly on the phone but he still waited before entering the apartment. "I know you do but I'm fine, really. Okay, bye, love you too". She hung up and Sherlock quickly entered the room.
"Oh, hi" she said taking Toby in her arms.
"Someone phoned?" Sherlock asked.
"Yeah, my sister. She's coming to London next week, she wants to drop by" she answered getting up. "Don't worry, I'll meet her somewhere in London, she's not coming here" she added as she saw Sherlock raise his eyebrow.
"I'm the one who should leave, this is your apartment" he said. Molly gave him a weak smile.
"Yeah, well, goodnight Sherlock" she said disappearing into her bedroom. Sherlock stared at the door for quite a while and snapped back to reality when it opened again. Toby bolted away and Molly closed her door again.
He sat on the couch and watched as the cat ran around the room chasing a little piece of paper. Molly had managed to get him a bed he could open whenever he wanted. Her apartment was small, she didn't have a guest room and he rarely slept, she offered him her bed but he refused. She had to work and had to have an healthy sleep and he kept telling her that he almost never slept and agreed for an extra bed to open whenever he wanted to sleep at night. It was still in the corner, he opened it a couple of times in the last year. He liked the couch better and when Molly was out, he found himself sleeping in her bed. He was aware of the fact that Molly knew that he slept in her bed but she never complained. It happened a few times that he slipped into her bed during the night, when she had the flu. She was delirious, he only stayed because she was miserable and needed help. Toby started to dance between his legs and he smiled.
"Good thing I'm not allergic to you" he said. Toby meowed and Sherlock laid on the couch, crossing his hands, thinking again.
It was almost 1 a.m. when Toby started to whine in front of Molly's door. Sherlock tried to ignore him but his laments became louder and he didn't want Molly to wake up. He needed quietness. He stood up, took the cat in his arms and carefully opened the door. Molly was fast asleep flat on her stomach, hugging her pillow. Sherlock silently walked in and put Toby next to her but the cat jumped off and hid under the bed, waking Molly up. Stupid cat, Sherlock thought.
"What…Sherlock? What are you doing here? Something happened?" Molly asked sitting up, rubbing her eyes.
"I didn't mean to wake you up. Toby was complaining that he was not allowed to come in and I thought I would let him in before he woke the entire neighbourhood up. Nothing happened" he explained. Molly let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh good. This cat is moodier than me" she said looking down, smiling at the sound of the cat playing with something that was probably her sock. She turned around and saw that Sherlock was still standing there, his hands opening every now and then.
"Are you okay?" she asked, even if she knew Sherlock didn't like that question.
"I'm fine" he quickly answered.
"Okay" she said.
"Goodnight" he said before leaving the room and shutting the door behind him. Molly laid back down and turned around, her back on the door. Her smile shook when she heard the door open again. Sherlock slipped under the covers and gently wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to his chest. Molly put her hands on his strong but gentle arms and took a deep breath. She closed her eyes and stopped her mouth from asking questions. She fell asleep in his arms, her mind full of thoughts of him.
Her alarm clock rang at the usual time and she automatically turned it off. She stirred and felt the cold air hit her back. She turned around and rested her hand on the spare space next to her, gripping the sheets. Sherlock had left early in the morning and she got up, setting her mind back to reality. Even if last night she thought, for a brief moment, that Sherlock might have felt something for her, she didn't think that now. Sherlock didn't feel. She deleted all her thoughts of last night and got ready for work. In the kitchen she found a note. He always left notes.
Following some tracks – SH
She laughed, throwing the note in the bin. She was glad he took the habit to warn her when he went away. The first two months he disappeared quite often and she always panicked until she found herself shouting at him when he came back. He promised to warn her when he was leaving and she sighed, thankful. He didn't apologize, though, but she was used to it.
She kissed Toby goodbye and locked her apartment. She was early and decided to walk instead of taking a cab. She turned the corner and bumped into someone. She almost fell but the person she bumped into grabbed her by the arm and kept her steady.
"I'm so sorry-Molly!" John said. Molly blinked and then smiled.
"Oh, John, hi" she said.
"How...how are you?" he asked.
"I'm good, thanks. How are you?" she asked. They hadn't seen each other very often the first months but then John found Molly's presence quite comforting, finding in her a good friend whom he could share his feelings with. Since then, they talked regularly and Molly often went to Baker Street to spend the afternoon with him.
"I'm...okay" he said, giving her a sad smile. "It doesn't seem right to live in that apartment but I find it rather hard to live somewhere else".
"I'm sure it'll get better" she said. John decided to stay in 221B, even if for the first month after Sherlock's death he stayed at Mike's.
"Yeah" he replied.
"What are you doing here, anyway?" she asked. Her block was no way near his and if she recalled well, he did not have friends there, apart from her.
"Actually...I was coming to see you" he replied. "I know you have to work, I just wanted to see you and ask you...something".
"What is it?" she asked. They started walking and John had his hands in his pockets.
"I was wondering if you could come with me, tomorrow" he asked. Molly nodded and sighed, remembering the date.
"Of course. I'll be there, John" she said, taking his hand. He smiled; he always appreciated the way she made him comfortable and how she comforted him.
"Thank you" he said.
"Anytime, John" she replied. He did not let go of her hand and they walked hand in hand until they reached Bart's.
"Thanks for walking me here" she said, smiling. He returned the smile and his eyes flew on the rooftop.
"I still see him" he almost whispered. She followed his eyes and sighed, wishing she could just sweep his pain away.
"Me too" she simply said. He quickly let go of her hand and looked on the ground.
"I'm sorry...I hope it didn't make you feel uncomfortable" he said, pointing to their hands.
"No of course not" she replied. "It's good to feel your friends close".
"Thank you" he said. He bid her farewell and she entered, heading towards her morgue.
That night, Sherlock did not come home and she guessed this new track was going to keep him busy for a few days. She fell asleep, her mind thinking about tomorrow.
She patiently waited for her shift to end. She asked her boss if she could have the rest of the day off and Stamford offered to do the rest of her autopsies. She thanked him and went back home, getting ready.
It was 2:45 p.m. and she was waiting for John and Mrs. Hudson in front of the main door at Baker Street. Molly felt a bit uncomfortable. It was the 14th of June, Sherlock's death anniversary. They were going to the cemetery and Molly felt out of place, knowing Sherlock was very much alive and having him as a guest in her apartment. When John and Mrs. Hudson arrived, they took the cab and went to the cemetery.
In front of his grave, Molly's guilt grew bigger. She knew she wasn't facing his tomb but she used her guilt to show a bit of sadness, pretending she missed him.
"Sometimes I hear his voice yelling at me to get something for him" Mrs. Hudson said. "And I still ignore him". John laughed.
"He hasn't changed, not even when he's dead" John said. Molly chuckled and wiped away a tear, thinking that Sherlock really had not changed. After remembering him, Mrs. Hudson patted John's back.
"We'll leave you" she said, heading away. Molly squeezed his hand but he gripped her.
"No. Stay" he asked. She was quite surprised but turned around and stood next to him. She knew he always needed some space for himself, a time to share with Sherlock.
"I still believe in him" he said, taking her hand.
"So do I" she quickly answered. "Always have and always will". John smiled.
"I'm still waiting for him to cross that door and tell me to get ready because we're going away to solve a case. I'm still waiting for him to return. I wish...I wish..." he said, tears now running down his face.
"I know, John" she said, resting her head on his shoulder.
"How are you coping with this?" he suddenly asked. Molly turned her head and faced his eyes. "You're doing pretty fine. I'm miserable. You...you cared for him, had feelings for him, how are you coping with him being gone?". Molly opened her mouth but did not answer. She had answered that question many times but this time, she didn't know what to say.
"I...I just..." she tried and bit her lip. "I remember him. I keep his memory in my head and sometimes this memory takes over and makes me feel his presence beside me. I keep him alive in my mind and in my heart".
"Keeping him inside is just tearing me apart" he answered. "But I can't let him go".
"Don't. Don't let him go. You'll learn how to keep him inside without him being a burden for your heart" she replied, squeezing his hand again. John smiled and nodded.
"It's not the first time for you, is it?" he asked. "Keeping someone inside".
"No" she replied, a sad smile on her face. "My dad's in here, too. I learned how to keep people inside when he died. It gets better". He hugged her and for a few minutes they just stared at Sherlock's grave, without saying a word. They left hand in hand, going back home. Molly spent the afternoon with them, Lestrade joining them and once again, they remembered Sherlock.
I hope Sherlock is not too OOC, he's very difficult to write!
Thank you for reading and I do hope this story is good enough for you to keep reading it :)