Chapter Text
This is the last part of story. Fluff, fluff, and fluff! I hope you enjoy it as I do. Please feel free to leave a comment wether you like it or not.
Part III Under the Moon
He runs in the darkness, shouting and howling but cannot make a sound. He is drifting in the void, upon the nothingness, until nihility fails him. And then he falls.
'AH!' The sharp hiss rips apart the warm stillness of the room. Sherlock Holmes rouses from the cozy bed before the window. Sitting up, he pants ferociously, eyes scanning across the room. Uneasy wetness sticks at his palms. Raising his hands in front of his eyes, he expects the red horror, the sticky metallic liquid, only to find a glittering golden ring.
A wedding ring.
My wedding ring. His mind says before he begins to think.
'Sherlock?' A soft voice next to him calls. Another person rises from the bed. Delicate small hands rest upon his shoulder.
Tearing his eyes from his sweaty hands, Sherlock turns to the petite silhouette. His gaze is greeted by the glistening sparkle from his wife's yellow nightgown.
'Molly.' He purrs, swallows back the lump in his throat.
'Another bad dream?' She calmly coos, lips laying on his bare shoulder, leaving a gentle kiss.
'Hum.' The man moans, taking a deep breath, pulling his wife into his arms.
Lying back to their pillows, the couple cuddle quietly, eyes fixed at each other for a good while, until Molly speaks.
'What was your dream about?' She asks, looking into him, expecting him to pour out his terror, regrets, doubt, and uncertainty. But her husband simply blinks.
'I…' Sherlock drinks in the sight of the generous, saintly woman who remains loving him even after all the anguish he'd put her through. He opens his mouth, wishing to tell her the unreasonable fright he'd experienced in the nightmare. But his mind simply goes blank.
So instead he stares, gapes at her, holding her slim figure tightly.
'It's ok now.' Molly voice muffles. She snuggles against his chest, burying her face in his skin.
'Um.' Resting his chin into her hair, Sherlock mumbles as the heavenly scent of her rosy shampoo envelopes him. He glances across the moonlit, deep blue bedroom with a relaxing sigh. The simple content is all he asks for.
'I love you.' He blurts out, shutting his eye, kissing her auburn hair beneath his chin, one hand strokes through the glossy, slightly damp locks.
Then he feels something. A smooth spot at the top of Molly's head, invisibly hidden under the long, thick hair.
A laceration scar. He gasps as he mind recognizes it. Jumping slight from the mattress, Sherlock can't help but running his fingers through his wife's head.
'Sherlock?' Molly mutters against his skin, worried.
'What is this?' Sherlock asks anxiously, hands pushing her hair aside, desperately trying to take a closer look of the mark on her scalp. Moonlight rays upon their bed, subtly lights up his vision as the deep blue color of the night filling the space with tranquility. That is when he remembers, about the moon, the old man, the magical red cord and the sunny day in the park.
'Uh, my mum said I was pulled and hit the metal edge of a slide…'
'…by a boy on the playground.' Sherlock blurts out before Molly can finish answering.
'Well, I guess it's not very unusual, isn't it? Children messing about.' She looks up, smiling, unable to make out Sherlock's astonishment.
'I'm sorry.' Blundering out his remorse, the husband cups his wife's face between his hands, guilt building up within his chest.
'For what?' Molly blinks, her smile slowing turning into concern.
'It must have hurt.' He says.
'It guess so. Mum said she had to take me to the ER and had it stitch up….Sherlock?' Molly fails to talk any longer, for she is pulling into her husband's embrace once again. Touched by his annoyance over the age old trifle, she nestles into his arms, enjoying his cherishing with a beam of joy.
Lifting his face from Molly's nape, Sherlock glimpse at the bedroom window. Midnight breeze shakes the lattice. Beyond the window glasses, the world turns into ocean blue under the moon.