Work Text:
It had been a week since the evening on the roof. Sherlock had more or less moved into her flat, mostly because no one was looking forward to explaining to Mrs. Hudson that not only was Molly a vampire but now Sherlock was as well. She could tell he missed his home, and trying to learn everything about his new life was starting to wear on him. She was the one who suggested they take the walk through the park near her home. It was cold, but neither of them noticed; the coats they wore now were more for show than they were needed for warmth. She stayed quiet and waited for him to speak.
“This is all very hard,” he said finally.
“Yeah, I know. Trust me. And at least you have me and Jacob here for you. I had to do it all on my own.” She reached over for his hand and threaded her fingers through his, and after a moment he squeezed her hand back. “Do you regret it, Sherlock?”
“No,” he said almost instantly. “I didn't want to die up on that roof. There were many reasons why I didn't want to die, but the plain fact is I didn't want to leave you.” He looked over at her. “I can't keep hiding out forever. Eventually I need to pick up my life again, as best I can.”
“Well, I have experience doing that, and John said he would help.” They walked in silence for a few more minutes. “Eventually we'll have to leave London. Probably sooner rather than later, only because you're so well known. It's going to look very suspicious if the rest of the world ages and we look exactly the same.”
“But we have some time?” he asked, stopping and looking at her.
She nodded. “Yeah, we have some time. At least a few years.” She stepped closer to him, letting go of his hand. She framed his face in her hands. It was strange, touching him and not feeling warmth radiating from his skin anymore, but she was getting used to it. “We have each other. That's better than what most vampires get.”
“I know,” he said, settling his hands on either side of her waist. He pulled her closer and she wrapped her arms around him in return. “Are we ever going to tell anyone else?”
“It depends on whether we think they'd accept it,” she said quietly. “A case by case basis, I guess.”
“And do you think any of the rest of our friends will accept it?”
“I don't know. I want to hope they will, but I'm not sure.” She leaned in and kissed him softly. She knew he wanted assurance that he didn't have to close himself off from the world. She wanted to give it to him, but the fact that he was famous was going to make it that much harder. It was going to be harder to pass for normal now, for both of them. But as he kissed her back she found she didn't want to think about it right now. She just wanted to have this moment and be at peace.
When they pulled apart he moved back slightly to look at her. “I am glad I'm still here,” he murmured. “I know this isn't what you wanted, but I'm glad I'm still here.”
“I'm glad you are, too,” she whispered. He pulled away from her completely and took her hand in his again before turning around. She gave him a quizzical look. “Where are we going?”
“Home.” He paused. “Your home, I mean. I doubt I'll be able to go back to my home any time soon, if I'm ever able to return at all.”
“Maybe she'll understand,” she said as she walked next to him. “I mean, I hope she can.”
He sighed. “She might. John's attempting to see how far she's willing to suspend disbelief. But it's risky. If she says something to the wrong person it could be over for both of us in a heartbeat.” He paused. “I miss that, you know.”
“Miss what?”
“Having a heartbeat. Having a pulse. When I wanted to relax I would slow my breathing and concentrate on my heartbeat. It was soothing. I miss that.”
“I did too, at first,” she said. “I ended up buying one of those bears that has a heartbeat just so I could hear it again. It's not the same as hearing my own heartbeat, but it helped.” The two of them lapsed into silence as another couple walked by. Finally they were far enough away that it was safe to talk again. “You can try and make my home your home as well, if you want. I mean, if you don't think you'll be able to go home again.”
“You wouldn't mind?” he asked, slightly surprised.
She nodded. “I mean, if you want, we could look for a new place, make it our home. It's not the same as 221B Baker Street, but it could be something.”
“I'll think about it. But it's good to know that's an option in case I'm unable to return home.” He gave her a faint smile, and she gave him one back, but when she looked at him she could see the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. It was just starting to hit him how much things needed to change now, she thought to herself. She began to walk faster, until she was a few steps ahead of him, nearly pulling him along. “Molly? Where are we going?”
“We're going home. Your home. And we're going to see if you can't go back there.”
“Slow down, Molly,” he said, stopping in his tracks. She pulled at him, but even with her enhanced strength he was immobile. She stopped and looked at him. “Is it safe? I mean, is it really safe to tell her?”
“I don't know. But I don't want you to have to give up everything because I decided to turn you. I want you to have your home.”
“You didn't decide to do it. I told you to,” he said.
“Even though you told me it was what you wanted I could have said no,” she said. “I could have held you as you died and that would have been the end of it. It's my fault you're like this and it's hard for you and I want to make it easier.” She tugged at his hand again as she could feel tears springing to the corners of her eyes. “Come on.”
“It's not your fault,” he said, letting go of her hand. He moved over to her and this time it was him framing her face. “The blame for the whole thing lies at Moriarty's feet.”
“But you wouldn't have had to be up on that roof if he didn't know I was a vampire,” she whispered as the tears spilled. “If he hadn't used me to get close to you in the first place, if I hadn't gotten attached to you and John and everyone, if I hadn't tried to have a relationship with you you'd still be alive and not like me. So it's my fault you're like this.”
He let go of her face and pulled her against him, embracing her. She had been holding this in ever since she made the decision to turn him, the feeling that the whole thing was all her fault. She'd held it in because he hadn't needed to hear it, but today had been too much. She ended up crying on his chest as he stroked her hair back. It was all her fault, she knew that, and nothing he said would ever get rid of the guilt she carried around. She didn't regret that he was here now, but she regretted it had to come about the way it did.
“He would have tried to kill me regardless,” he said after a few moments. “I knew that the night at the pool. I knew he would be the death of me. And that was before I knew the truth about you. I'm just sorry you got caught up in his diabolical game. You shouldn't feel guilty about any of this. I'm just thankful you were there, that this was even an option. I didn't want to die with regrets.”
“What would you have regretted?” she asked, pulling away slightly to look at him.
“That I didn't have more time with you,” he said. “That I didn't tell you often enough that I loved you. That I didn't try and make some sort of life with you. I would have died with all of those regrets and you would have been left alone. I didn't want that.” He moved his hands to wipe away the tears on her face. “So, even though everything right now is up in the air and it's all a big hassle, don't ever think you need to feel guilty for what happened. It gave us the best possible end result. Now you don't need to watch me grow old and leave you when I die.”
“Oh, Sherlock,” she said, moving close again to rest her cheek on his chest. She shut her eyes and hugged him a little tighter as he put his arms around her again. “I should have told you how I was feeling earlier. I've been carrying that guilt around for the last week and I probably shouldn't have. I just...I didn't want you to hate me.”
“I doubt I will ever hate you. Be annoyed or angry, possibly, but I don't think I could ever hate you. I love you too much for that.”
“I love you too, you know,” she said quietly. She lifted her head up again and looked at him. “I mean, I have for a while. At first I pretended to be infatuated with you to keep you from paying too much attention to me, but then it turned into a crush, and then when we became friends it was suddenly there. I never expected it to happen, and then last week you told me you loved me and my heart just about burst. I never thought you would say that to me.”
“I had known for at least a little while. I should have said it before that day. I should have told you every day. Then if I had died you would have known. And I'll start now. I'll tell you every day.” He gave her a small grin. “Let's go back to your home and make plans. John might have some ideas as to how well Mrs. Hudson would take the news when he arrives this afternoon after work.” He checked his watch. “I wouldn't be surprised if he's there already.”
“I hope so,” she said with a smile. “And I hope it's good news.”
He let go of her but this time instead of reaching for her hand he kept an arm around her shoulders, and she put an arm around his waist, resting her head on him slightly. They made their way back to her flat and saw John was waiting for him, and he wasn't alone. Mycroft was with him, and John looked very nervous while Mycroft was the epitome of calm. “We need to talk. All of us,” Mycroft said.
“I'll let us all in and make tea,” Molly said with a nod and a sigh. This was not the direction she had wanted the day to take. She unlocked the door to her flat and walked in, the three men filing in behind her. “Go make yourselves comfortable at the table.”
Sherlock reached over and squeezed her hand for a moment before taking the seat he usually took. John sat on his left and Mycroft sat in front of him. “Well?” Sherlock asked. “What do we need to talk about?”
“It's polite to wait until tea has been served,” Mycroft said. “Though I'm surprised you still have a taste for tea.”
“I may be a vampire, but I can still eat food,” Sherlock said with an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes. “It just doesn't give me any nourishment. It's more polite to eat when others are eating and it raises fewer questions that way.”
“I know. You are not the first vampire in the Holmes family,” he replied. “You are not even the second or third.”
Molly nearly dropped the kettle. “What?”
“There have been four before Sherlock. Apparently there's something that attracts the Holmes men to vampires.” Mycroft paused. “Well, three men and one woman. None of them lasted very long as vampires, I'm afraid. They all got themselves killed fairly early on in their afterlives.”
“Is that why you're so calm about this?” Sherlock asked quietly.
He shook his head. “No. To tell you the truth, when I watched the video of the scene on the roof and I saw you stumble I began to worry. Then I saw what Molly did and I actually worried even more.” Mycroft looked over at her. “Was there no other option?”
“None,” she said, shaking her head. “He was doing to die up on that roof.”
Mycroft sighed. “I had thought so, but I wanted to be sure. At any rate, I've been doing as much research as I can, which is why I didn’t make the fact I knew known until today. Your friend is very crafty, by the way. He's in no databases that I can find.”
“You mean the man who helped us?” John asked.
Mycroft nodded. “Is he a vampire as well?”
“Yes,” Sherlock said. “He's been one for quite a long time.”
“Good. I hope you actually listen to him, Sherlock. I don't know how long Molly has been a vampire, but someone should show you how to do things, and if you don't pay attention it will cost you greatly.” He paused. “It will cost many of us greatly,” he added quietly.
“Are you actually concerned for me?” Sherlock asked, surprised.
“I am,” Mycroft said with a nod. “I'm usually worried about you. That's why I have had you under surveillance since you were twenty. Does that surprise you?”
“A bit, yes,” Sherlock replied with a nod. “Not the surveillance part, but the worry.”
“Well, I do,” Mycroft said. “And there is more at stake now. No pun intended, of course.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Molly asked as she plugged the kettle in. “I mean, you know. Other people are going to know too.”
Mycroft shook his head. “When I view events in London I am the only one who sees them. I can have any video feed destroyed without a single soul knowing what was on it, ever. I did that with the feed from the roof. No one else has seen it, and no one will.”
“You really are the government,” John said, his eyes wide.
“Essentially.” Mycroft looked at his brother. “I'll help you as much as I can, but I have stipulations.”
“What are they?” Sherlock asked.
“No killing anyone, unless it's in self defense. And please, try and use a gun if you have to. No feeding off humans unless they are allowing themselves to be fed upon. And when it looks as though you should be aging and you aren't, leave London and don't return for a very long time. Not even if you think the reason is important.”
“You mean, like for funerals,” Molly said quietly. Mycroft nodded. “I had already planned on doing that,” she said as she turned to Sherlock.
Sherlock turned to look at her, and then he nodded slowly. “I'll do the same,” he said quietly.
“Good,” Mycroft said with a nod. “As it stands, I believe the fewer who know your secret the better. However, you can include Mrs. Hudson in those who know.”
Sherlock and Molly looked at him sharply, as did John, and all three of them looked stunned. “Wait a moment,” John said finally. “How are you so sure it's all right to tell her?”
“Because she's kept much bigger secrets,” Mycroft replied. “And secrets much in the vein of this one. She's had quite the interesting life. Perhaps one day she will tell you about it.”
“Unbelievable,” Sherlock murmured. “I just...Mrs. Hudson? Really?
“She has done many things for Queen and country that you wouldn't believe,” Mycroft said with a faint smile. “There is a reason I introduced the two of you. I knew if anything ever happened and you needed to have a secret kept she could do it. I just hadn't expected this secret.”
“What about Molly?” John asked. “It's her secret, too.”
“She'll keep Molly's secret as well,” Mycroft replied. “I believe she's rather fond of Molly, thanks to the Christmas party.”
“I didn't make that much of an impression,” Molly said quietly.
“You did,” Mycroft replied. “You might give some thought to cohabitation with my brother. It would be safer for both of you if you resided under the same roof, and it would be best for you to stay at his home. I can have measures put in place to give the two of you more privacy there.”
Sherlock turned back to her. “The decision is up to you, Molly. I will not try and influence you either way.”
“No,” Molly said, shaking her head slightly. “I want to know what you want, Sherlock.”
He was quiet for a minute. “I would like to go home, and I would like you to live there with me for as long as we're able. But the decision is yours.”
She was quiet for quite a few moments, and then she nodded. “I'll move in with you, Sherlock. I just want to be able to keep some of my things.”
“Of course,” he said, giving her a wide smile. She smiled back; it was still a rare occasion when she got a wide smile from him, and she loved how it lit up his face. He got up and moved over towards her. “Thank you,” he said quietly, “For allowing me to go home while I can.”
“I know how important it is for you to be there,” she said with a smile, touching his face gently. He leaned in and kissed her, and for a moment both of them forgot they had company until Mycroft cleared his throat. They pulled apart and Molly looked over at the table. John had an amused grin on his face, most likely at the look on Mycroft's face, which was a mixture of surprise and what might be jealousy. She gave him a smile. “Do we need to make other plans?” she asked.
Mycroft nodded. “Yes, we do. There are many things we need to figure out and it would be best if we also have some contingency plans in place for a worst case scenario. How long until the tea is ready?”
“As soon as the water is done I'll set it up,” Molly said.
“Don't be so impatient, Mycroft,” Sherlock said. “We have time.”
“I suppose we do, but still. There is a lot to discuss.” He looked at the two of them. “As soon as the tea is ready we'll start with making the plans we need to make.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes and Molly giggled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Humor him,” she said quietly. “He's your brother and he's trying to help.”
“I'll keep that in mind,” he said with a sigh as the kettle began to whistle. He turned to look at her, giving her a faint smile before heading back to the table. She began to make tea, glad now that the day had taken the turn it had. She could hope for the best again now.