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Sherlock was enjoying being close to Molly again. It hadn't been quite five months but it had been close enough. He had missed her very much, and he knew she had missed him just as much. They had fallen back on his plan of retreating to their bedroom and not leaving unless absolutely necessary, and even then he had pushed for them to linger in bed as long as he could. It was now the next morning, and Molly was sleeping next to him with a contented smile on her face. He was awake, however, because he'd barely slept most nights the time he had been gone. He was used to going to bed late at night and waking up very early. He knew if he left the bed, though, she would wake up, and he wanted to let her sleep as long as possible.
He was looking at her when he saw the kitten approach. He watched the little ball of fluff make it's way up to the bed and climb up it, and then pad towards Molly. He wasn't sure if he and the kitten were going to get along. The kitten had hissed at him yesterday, surprising both him and Molly. Perhaps the kitten was smart enough to know that now that he was home Molly would not be giving it her undivided attention anymore. The kitten made her way up to Molly and looked at her expectantly. He had the feeling the nose batting was going to start any second now. He thought about it for a moment, then reached over and moved the kitten away from Molly. This time it didn't hiss, but if cats could glare he thought it would be doing that. “Let her sleep,” he murmured, rolling onto his back and placing the kitten on his chest. The kitten retaliated by flexing its claws and digging them into his bare chest. This time it was Sherlock glaring. “Stop that.”
“Are you talking to the kitten?” Molly asked sleepily from her side of the bed.
“Yes. It's digging its claws into my chest,” he said sourly.
“You two are going to have to learn to get along,” she said with a smile before she opened her eyes. She reached over and scratched the kitten behind its ears, and soon she released her grip on his chest. A moment later a soft purring was heard. “See? She can be loveable.”
“I just think she doesn't want to share you,” he said. “She knows what my return means.”
“She'll get used to you,” Molly said, picking the kitten up. She put her between them. “You can start off by petting her. She likes that.”
“Do I have to?” he asked after a moment.
“Yes, Sherlock, you have to,” she said with an amused smile. Hesitantly he moved back onto his side and ran his hand down the kitten's back a few times as Molly watched. “See? She's not running away and she's still purring.”
“I suppose,” he said. “Have you given any more thought to a name for her yet?”
“Not really. I just can't think of anything. This doesn't bode well for picking out a name for our child, I think.”
“Well, if we're having a boy we already decided he'll be named after me,” he said. “It's just a matter of coming up with a name for a girl that you like.”
“Did you have any ideas for that?” she asked. “I mean, you should have some say in it, too.”
He was quiet for a few minutes. “If you like it, I would like to name her Lydia Evangeline,” he said quietly.
“That is a nice name,” she said with a nod. “Any particular reason you want it if we have a daughter?”
He looked over at the kitten, continuing to pet it. “While I was away, there was an American woman who helped me. Before you say anything, she was older and married with a teenage son at home so there was never anything like a flirtation. We talked a lot, when it got to where we couldn't sleep. She told me all about her son, and she was there the day I found out you and I were expecting a child. She gave me advice I think I'm going to hold close to heart for a very long time.”
“What happened?” she asked quietly.
“She died three months into the mission,” he said quietly. “She died in her sleep after saving my life.”
Molly reached over for his hand, pulling it away from the kitten and holding it tightly. “I didn't realize.”
“It had been a very long, very dangerous day. The worst we had had since we started. After it was all over and we were at our hotel she told me she had a headache and she wasn't sure she would wake up the next morning. And she didn't.”
“What do you mean?” Molly asked, looking confused.
“She had an inoperable brain tumor. She would talk about how she was living on borrowed time. For all she knew, she could have a brain aneurism at any moment and die suddenly. She hadn't told her supervisors because she knew they wouldn't have let her do the mission and if they hadn't it would never have succeeded. She only told me three weeks into the mission because she trusted that I wouldn't rat her out at that point. This mission was to be her last hurrah.” He looked over at Molly. “The day's events had been too much for her, and her body couldn't cope. I found her the next morning in her bed.”
“I'm so sorry,” she said quietly.
“Before we went to sleep that evening she told me I had to make sure I got home and was there for you and our child and lived a long life. And I promised her I would. She had gotten to be a good friend while we worked together, and I owe her my life. I would like to honor her in some small way.”
Molly nodded, letting go of his hand and reaching over to move the kitten to her other side. Then she moved closer to Sherlock, and he held her close to him when she was close enough. “I think if we have a daughter she would be very proud to have that name,” she said. “And I would be very proud to give it to her.”
“Good,” he said.
“Was that the worst day you had? I mean, other than the one where you got shot?”
“Yes, it was,” he said. “It was a very chaotic day.”
She was quiet for a minute or so. “What was she like?” she asked finally.
“Warm and friendly with a steely set of nerves. When she needed to do her job she did it with a single determination that I have seen in myself countless times. I think that was why I liked her so much, because she balanced both aspects so easily.” He paused. “I think you would have liked her. She reminded me a lot of you.”
“I probably would have,” she said softly. “You know, you balance those aspects well too. Or at least now you do. You didn't do it that well before you had to leave the first time, mostly because you were still very aloof and cold. But since you've come back you've been much better.”
“You really think so?” he asked.
“I do. You are a much nicer person to be around when you're not hard at work on a case, and I feel very sorry for any criminal who thinks he can get away with a crime if you're consulting on the case.” She pulled away and looked up at him. “I like to think I had something to do with that.”
He gave her a small grin. “You had quite a bit to do with that, and you know it.”
“Well, I didn't want to brag,” she said with a chuckle. She moved her hand up to caress his face. “I know you haven't wanted to talk about it yet, but when you want to tell me more, I'll listen. If you ever do want to tell me more. If you never want to think about it again I completely understand.”
“Would you listen if I tell you while we have breakfast?” he asked.
She nodded. “Of course. I want to hear as much as you're willing to tell me, even the parts you don't think I'll understand.”
“I'll tell you all of it,” he said. “From the day I left to the day I got shot and it was all finished.”
“All right,” she said. She moved closer and kissed him softly, and after a moment he moved his arm around her and pulled her as close as he could, deepening the kiss. He would tell her, he knew that much, but for now it could wait. For this particular moment in time he wanted to lose himself in her and push the thoughts away for just a little while longer. And he knew she would let him, and he appreciated that so much more than he thought she might ever know. He would just have to make sure he showed her as best he could.