Molly Hooper was awakened to the sound of her mobile phone ringing. Quickly, she cleared her throat and picked up her phone, hoping she didn't sound too groggy.
"Good morning, love. How've you been?" Mrs. Hudson greeted on the other line.
"Oh, good morning, Mrs. Hudson. My morning has been fine, thank you." Molly replied, even though she had spent the few hours of the morning sleeping in. "How is it at Baker Street?"
"Sherlock is causing a ruckus complaining. He just solved a case and he's got nothing to do. John's taken the gun from him so he won't shoot my walls again, thank goodness," she scowls. "Would you like to come over for tea or a quick snack? Maybe you can keep him quiet for a bit."
It was Sunday and she had no work today, and it was far too late to go to the little church service she liked to attend on the Sundays she was free, so why not go over to see John and Sherlock? They had not been at the morgue in a couple weeks, which go by quite slow, so it would be nice to see them again.
"Oh thank you, Mrs. Hudson, that would be lovely. What time would you like me to come over?"
"Anytime is fine," she replied. Molly could hear John yell at Sherlock to stop texting Lestrade if there were any cases needing to be solved.
"Okay, I'll be over in a few. See you later, Mrs. Hudson." Molly said before ending the call.
Mrs. Hudson made her way up the stairs until she got to the top, where she found John nicely dressed and sitting on a chair, in comparison to Sherlock, who was still in his pajamas and lying down on the couch. He stopped texting Lestrade, but only because John had taken his phone from him, as well as his gun, and probably a few other things as well.
"I've invited Molly over for tea," she starts to say, then glances over at Sherlock, "Oh for goodness sakes, Sherlock, get dressed!"
Sherlock groans and lazily gets up to go get dressed.
"I've got to leave for a date in twenty minutes," John says, glancing at his watch, "so I may not be here long while she stays."
Molly quickly got up and brushed her teeth and hair. In the mirror she noticed streaks down her face from tears. She had been crying the night before. She covered them up as best as she could with makeup. Once she got her face ready, Molly decided on something to wear. Something nice but comfortable.
After searching her closet, Molly decided on a nice white blouse with no sleeves, a dark red shrug, dark red pants to match, and some black flats for shoes. She never wears anything that nice to work, with the risk of ruining a nice shirt. Then she chose her small black purse with a long shoulder strap as her bag. Packing her lipstick, wallet, and a few other things in her bag, she walked out of her flat to catch a cab.
"Molly's here," Mrs. Hudson called up the stairs before she answered the door of 221b Baker Street.
"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," Molly greets with a smile on her face.
"Hello, Molly, dear, how're you? Come in, come in." Mrs. Hudson replies as she gestures Molly to come inside.
When they got up the stairs, Sherlock was again on the couch but now dressed. John looks up from his laptop. "Hello, Molly," he smiles as he closes the laptop.
Sherlock glances up from his phone, which John had given back. "Hello Molly," he said before he looked back down.
"Good morning," she greeted back with a faint smile.
Mrs. Hudson gestured towards a chair, "Sit down, love, I'll get you some tea."
Molly nodded and thanked Mrs. Hudson as she sat down. John looked at the time again and noted, "I've got to leave for a date in about five minutes, so after that it will just be you and Sherlock."
Though Molly smiled at the fact that she would be alone with Sherlock, she also wanted John to stay, in fear of things getting awkward. "Alright, that's fine." Was all she said.
Molly was silently sipping her tea as John tried to make conversation.
"How's your cat, Molly?" he asked. Sherlock groaned at the boring question.
"Toby's good. He's that type of cat that will snuggle up with you when you're sleeping or watching telly on the couch." She replied, chuckling.
After an awkward silence, John looked at the time. "I've got to go to my date now," he said, though it was two minutes early.
"Alright," she replied, "Have a nice date."
"Thank you. Have a nice day, Molly." He said before walking down the stairs and out the door.
As soon as the door shut, Sherlock shouts, "I'm BORED," free of the complaints of John.
Molly tried to think of things to do. "Are there any games you want to play?"
"No. Games are boring. Too simple and predictable,"
After another small silence, Molly noticed Sherlock's violin sitting on the table by the window. "I've always wanted to play an instrument," she says, mostly to herself, thinking aloud.
Sherlock looks at Molly, then at what she was staring at- his violin.
Out of nowhere Sherlock seemed to realize that though he was bored, he had not deducted Molly, and he tends to deduct more when he's bored and needs to get his mind running. He never deducted her, and that would've been the first thing he did. Why was it he had not automatically deducted Molly? Suddenly, the words ran through his mind again,
I don't count…
You've always counted and I've always trusted you…
What do you need?
Quickly, Sherlock shook away the thoughts. He looked at Molly, and to her surprise, he had a small smile on his face. "Would you like me to show you a few notes?" he asked her.
Molly smiled back at him, "Oh that's alright, Sherlock, you don't have-"
Sherlock cut her off, "No, I insist." He stood up and grabbed his violin, motioning with his bow for her to stand up as well. He seemed suddenly in a good mood, when before he was remembering the thoughts that had proved to himself that he did indeed have a heart - That he did indeed have a place in his heart for Molly…
Sherlock put the violin in Molly's hands. He stood behind her and put his arms in front of her to adjust the violin correctly in her hand and against her chin. He took her other hand and properly placed her hand on the end of the bow.
When his head was close to hers, he told her quietly, "I still need you,"
Molly recognized the words. His low baritone voice rang into her ear. It took her a second to figure out what he meant. She turned her head slightly to look at Sherlock, who was inches away from her face.
She smiled faintly, remembering their conversation the day of the fall. "But what could you need from me?" she carefully set down his violin on the table and turned to face him.
They were close to each other, but it almost seemed like they were too far apart to the two of them. Molly almost couldn't believe it was happening. She thought it was a dream. He was so close to her; she could almost see how much his arms wanted to wrap around her. His blue-green eyes started into her simple brown eyes, which she thought were boring and plain ordinary. Sherlock, on the other hand, loved her brown eyes. He thought they stood out more than any other brown eyes he's seen.
"You were crying last night," he says silently. Molly could feel his arms wrap around her body, pulling her closer. "Why?"
"I… um… how did you know?" was all she could manage to say. The whole scene was overwhelming. The love of her life, holding her close.
"There are very faint tear streaks down your face that you can only see up close. You tried to cover it up with makeup. Why were you crying, Molly?"
"I… I don't know." Molly couldn't remember why she was crying. Yesterday seemed so long ago. "You never answered my question," she remembered.
"What could you need from me?"
Sherlock smiled, just a little bit. "Just one little thing," he pulled her close.
"And what's that?" Molly replied. She put her arms around Sherlock in return.
Sherlock didn't answer, but looked right into her eyes until he closed his own. Before Molly could think about what was happening, she felt his lips against hers.
What seemed like too soon, they pulled apart gasping for breath.
"Nothing," he replied with a smirk.
Molly smiled. "Are you sure? We can go out to dinner tomorrow if you need anything." She was surprised she didn't stumble over her words.
"I'll consider the offer," he replied with a small smirk. Sherlock brought her into a hug. Molly felt her cheeks turn a brilliant shade of pink before he let go.