Chapter Text
The morning fog was lifting, revealing a shimmering dew in the rising sunlight. The hem of her light gown was damp, but Molly paid it no mind as she walked across the yard. As it had been for the previous mornings of her stay, she had awoken early, wrapped herself in a shawl to ward off the chill and slipped outside. Mycroft’s estate was one of the largest in the area with roaming gardens and pathways. But Molly preferred the unkempt hillside on the western edge.
As the fog faded she could see for miles. The morning sun rose behind her and slowly the shadowed land grew in light.
Yet despite the calm surrounding her, Molly’s thoughts were in turmoil.
Her marriage was a sham. Not uncommon, as many couples were together simply for financial or strategic reasons, their marriages filled with anything but love. But Molly had always hoped that she would be one of the lucky few to marry for love.
She scoffed and wiped away a tear.
She wasn’t sure what was worse. Being contracted into marriage with a stranger.
Or falling in love with him knowing he would never give her a second glance.
She had lived in his peripheral for months. All her attempts to fit into his life only made her fade into the background, like the wallpaper in his home. Unless he actually sat down and focused on her, it was as if she ceased to exist in his mind.
And when he suddenly disappeared for weeks, her worry led her to inquire after his friend, Dr Watson. His wife, Mary, with soft sympathetic eyes, had reassured her that their husbands had left for Scotland, of all places!
It was in that moment that she realised she truly meant nothing to her husband.
Heartbroken, she had packed her few belongings and left Baker Street. It wasn’t home, it never had been and never would be. Head held high, she had made her way to the train station with every intent to return to her mother’s home in Manchester.
Waiting for her at the station was her brother-in-law and his wife. They had encouraged her to stay with them for a time as it had been a long time since she had been to visit.
She knew they hoped to convince her to stay in London and had hesitated to accept their offer. But in the end, her fondness for the couple overruled her desire to flee immediately, and they had enjoyed a lovely week together with no mention of her husband, though she had caught Mycroft watching her with a determined frown more than once. He had been kind enough to keep his thoughts to himself, a trait his brother lacked.
But now she had come to the end of her welcome. It was time for her to cut the ties that bound her to London, to a one-sided marriage, and move on.
The sound of someone walking through the tall grass behind her pulled her from her thoughts and she turned. The brightness of the sun momentarily blinded her and she narrowed her eyes at the silhouette in the distance.
Her breath left her in a rush when she realised it was her husband was coming toward her. The sun shone behind him and gave him an unearthly aura. As he got closer, she could make out the reddish hues in his unkempt curls and she found herself admiring the roguish look he exuded with his partly unbuttoned shirt and flapping coat.
She flushed in embarrassment when she remembered she hadn’t put her hair up or put on perfume. But then, he had never seemed to notice whether or not she had made an effort with her appearance, so she lifted her chin slightly and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, crossing her arms in front of her.
If he had come here to convince her to return, she would stand her ground.
And if he had come to agree to a divorce, she would barricade her heart and not let him see a single tear.
oOo
How could he have not realised it?
With the soft light of the morning sun gracing her face, golden strands shimmering in her unbound hair, she was beautiful. He glanced down at her hand and a rush of relief swept over him to see she still wore the simple wedding band he’d placed on her finger at their wedding.
She still cares. There is still hope for me to fix this.
Sherlock came to a stop just out of arm’s reach. They stood in silence for a few moments, neither sure what to say.
Knowing the burden of speech fell to him, Sherlock clasped his hands behind him and cleared his throat. ‘I understand you intend to return to Manchester.’
Molly breathed in deeply and lifted her chin higher. If she was surprised by his abrupt, to-the-point statement, she did not show it. ‘There is nothing for me here.’
Yes. Yes, there is.
‘You seek a divorce, then?’ Please, give me a sign that you care for me, that I can convince you to stay.
She clenched the fabric of her shawl and he didn’t miss the forced bravado in her voice as she replied, ‘If that is what you want.’
‘No!’ He burst out in a panic. Her eyes widened in surprise and he flushed at the vehemence of his declaration. They stared at each other in stunned silence for a moment.
‘No,’ Sherlock softened his tone and his expression. ‘I don’t want that at all.’
Molly’s face contorted with anger. ‘Then what do you want?’ She cried out, throwing her arms out in frustration.
Sherlock stepped back in surprise. He had never before seen her lose her temper and it was a sight to behold! Her eyes blazed bright and the apples of her cheeks burned red with fury. All this time, she had been treading softly around him, afraid to upset the status quo, yet trying to build a life with him. Now she had nothing left to lose.
What was that saying...? Ah, yes. 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.'
‘What do you want of me?’ She exclaimed. ‘Tell me! Because I tried my best to fit into your life, to make the transition easier for you. And you never noticed me; I know neither of us wanted this arrangement, but I tried to make it work.’
His stomach clenched and shame washed over him.
‘Then you went away to Scotland without even bothering to let me know you were alive and I realised I’m barely a housemaid to you, let alone a wife. And now you say you don’t want me to leave and you look at me as if I suddenly matter to you!’ Her eyes glistened with angry tears. ‘You are the most confounding man I have ever had the misfortune of meeting, Mr Holmes! So tell me, what is it you want of me?!’
‘You!’
Her eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise at his declaration. Sherlock’s heart broke at the hurt and sadness and anger he’d caused her. Cautiously, he stepped closer and took her hand. She flinched at his touch, but did not pull away.
‘I want you.’ In every softly-spoken word, he tried to convey every ounce of regret and hope he felt in that moment. He swiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. ‘I have been an unforgivable fool. And I can only hope and pray that you will do the impossible and forgive me.’
Disbelief and wariness were writ across her face, but he could see the vulnerable hope in her eyes.
He glanced at her lips, the longing he felt for her rushing over him in a sudden wave, and he slowly bent down, giving her time to pull away. His heart filled with joy when she didn’t move and when his lips touched hers, she let out a soft whimper and her eyes fell shut. Her hands came up and curled around his lapel as she shyly returned his kiss.
For a second, his heart stopped and an anticipatory calm stopped his racing mind.
Then suddenly all his senses were aflame. He could feel her heartbeat against his fingertips and the taste of her was a promising addiction. The soft feel of her lips sent a surprisingly delightful sensation of shivers down his spine and a warmth suffused his chest, like the comfort of a warm fire on a cold London night.
It hadn’t been like this before. Their wedding night had been impersonal, dutiful, and as cold as the act could be.
He inwardly cursed himself for his blindness in overlooking the woman in his arms. This beautiful, intelligent, warm creature was his wife and he almost lost her.
Here, with her in his embrace, was home.
Overwhelmed, Sherlock broke the kiss, but kept his face near hers and took several deep breaths to center himself. Her eyes were closed and she sighed softly before looking up at him.
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘Please stay. Give this fool another chance.’
She swallowed and searched his face. Her brow furrowed endearingly in thought and he found himself holding his breath as he waited for her to speak.
Then, to his dismay, she stepped back, her hands trailing briefly down his chest before she moved out of his reach. She swallowed thickly and looked down at her hands. Her fingers played with her wedding ring. She twisted the metal band three times and to Sherlock each turn was another twist of his heart.
‘If I stay,’ she began cautiously, ‘things have to change.’ She looked up at him, her eyes resolute. ‘I won’t be relegated to a background accessory used only when needed and ignored the remainder of the time. I will be an equal in this marriage.’
He coloured in shame and nodded. ‘I can’t promise I won’t revert back to my old ways at times; I have never before courted a woman and am woefully unpracticed in the art of romance. I may require some reminders and assistance at times, but I will try to be the husband you deserve. Now that I realise I want to be one,’ he added with a quick smile.
Hope flared in his heart when she smiled a little in response.
‘I’d like to court you, Molly Holmes. Properly. And show you that your heart will be safe with me, as I know mine will be with you.’ He moved toward her and took her hand, holding it against his chest so she could feel the pounding of his heart. ‘So what say you? Will you come home to me?’
She bit her lip and considered him, her thoughts practically screaming at him. He fought against the urge to grimace, sure that her logical conclusion would be to not even try. He was a pitiful excuse of a romantic and would surely fail to be the husband she deserved, but he would do everything in his power to try.
‘Yes.’
Time seemed to stop as her soft answer fell between them.
‘Yes?’ He breathed.
She smiled softly and nodded. ‘Yes.’
His breath left him in a rush of relief and he leaned down to rest his forehead against the crown of her head. She slipped her hand from beneath his and hesitantly wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest. Sherlock smiled. He could quite easily become accustomed to the way she fit perfectly in his embrace.
He had a long way to go earning her trust and her heart, but he’d made the first step.
They may have been broken, but they were not beyond repair.