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The months had gone by so quickly, nobody really had had any time to stop and think about things. Between Sherlock’s exile and dealing with Moriarty’s return, it was a wonder any of them were still sane.
To Molly Hooper, Sherlock’s return was as surprising as his almost exile. She never even knew he had gone. All she remembered of that day, was Jim Moriarty standing in her office, waiting for her with that sardonic smile of his. She fought as best she could but in the end, he was too strong. Next thing she knew, she was in some warehouse tied to a chair. Jim was talking to her when she woke up, saying something about not missing anyone this time, something about Sherlock’s heart. She blacked out when the man in question came barreling through the door. She woke up in a hospital bed two days later, Sherlock hunched over asleep with his head on the bed, his hand in hers. According to John, he hadn’t left her side since they dealt with Moriarty. For good this time.
In all honesty, he hadn’t left her side since she was released either. They hadn’t talked about their relationship, if that was what it could be called. There had been no declarations of love, no flirting, just comfort provided by having someone near. They did have one night together, not long after she had been released from hospital. It had happened before either one of them could stop it. They had just been talking, talking about what happened, and what could have happened had Moriarty not shown up or if Sherlock had been too late to save her. She had been looking at her lap, but she made the mistake, though she would never call it a mistake, of looking at him. They were both lost after their eyes met. He pounced on her and kissed her as if his life depended on it. She kissed back just as fiercely, in a way her life did. That night was more than sex. It was a second chance. They were both alive, they had both survived.
He was there when she woke up. He held her and she clung to him as tightly as she dared, neither one wanting to break the trance they both seemed to be in, but the dream had to end. When she got out of the shower, the bed was made and Sherlock was gone. They hadn’t talked about it. She doubted they ever would. He still barely let her out of his sight, though. It had to have meant something to him as well.
Three months later, things had changed again. This change might be too much though. She tried to ignore the signs, but the time had come, she couldn’t ignore them anymore. She was pregnant. That one, amazing night, had changed things more than she ever thought it could or would for that matter. Neither one of them had thought about the chances of pregnancy. In truth, neither one cared at the time. She had waited this long to tell him, a couple more days couldn’t hurt.
Molly was curled up on her couch half asleep, her hair piled on her head, Toby on the back cushion above her. She hadn’t changed out of her pajamas. She had thrown up all afternoon and didn’t have to leave her flat, she didn’t see the point in actually putting on decent clothes. She was just about to finally fall asleep when she heard a rustling at her door. Groaning she covered her head with a pillow and stretched out along the couch.
“Go away, Sherlock,” she mumbled as she heard the door open.
Ignoring her completely, Sherlock walked through the door. He wiped his feet and toed off his shoes as he hung up his coat and scarf. She felt him lift her feet, sit down, and place them in his lap.
“What do you want?” she grumbled.
“It’s too quiet at Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson is at her sister’s and I need someone to talk at,” he replied, absentmindedly rubbing her feet.
She finally uncovered her head and glared at him. “What happened to your skull?”
“You actually answer me back and Mrs. Hudson has taken it again,” he sighed.
“Lovely,” she murmured, turning on her side.
Sherlock studied her for a moment, deciding on whether or not he should try to deduce what was wrong or just ask. She hated it when he deduced her, he knew that much. Asking it was.
“Molly, something is bothering you.”
“Aren’t you observant?”
“Do you wish to talk about it?” he asked, a twinge of anxiousness in his voice.
“What’s the point? Talking about it will more than likely do more harm than good.”
“I’ve been told talking about ones feelings is cathartic, not that I believe that, however it might work for you.”
She sat up, huffing out a breath as she did so. She had kept this bottled up too long and she knew it. “You want to talk Sherlock? Fine, let’s talk. What are we?”
A confused look crossed his features as he looked about the room. “We’re homo-sapiens-”
“No, Sherlock, you and me. What are we? Do you know, because I sure as hell don’t?”
“Ah,” he said, looking down at his feet. What was he supposed to say? They were friends, were they not? Well, a bit more than friends. She was his confidant, his rock, his center. Did she not know that? Not knowing what to say he just looked at her. Her face a mixture of anger, confusion, sadness, and something he couldn’t quite put a name to. Arms crossed over her chest, glasses falling off of her nose, Toby, dead to the world at her shoulder. She had no clue what she meant to him.
“Do you know why I come here? Why I use your flat as a bolt hole?” She shook her head. “Everything stops when I’m with you. My mind is set at ease, it’s calm.”
“Sherlock, What-”
He lifted her legs off of his lap and stood up. He held his hand out to her. “Come here.” She eyed his hand and lifted her eyes to his face. “Molly, just come here. Please.”
She sighed and reached out for his hand. He pulled her off of the couch and walked backwards, guiding her towards the middle of her living room. Once he was satisfied with where they were, he pulled her close. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he rested his chin on top of her head, breathing her in. For Molly’s part, she was half shocked by his actions. It was too much. Her eyes filled with tears as she grabbed the lapels of his suit jacket and buried her face in his chest in an attempt to hide them. He soon started to sway.
“This is what I’m talking about. Nothing exists to me, aside from the two of us right now. But that’s the dangerous thing, isn’t it? I can’t keep my mind on anything but you when I’m here. I never wanted romance. ‘Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side.’ I believed that. I was alright with going through life alone. Then you came along and changed everything.” He pulled back a bit to look her in the face. Once he saw her tears, he brought one hand up to cradle her face, his thumb wiping away the ones that fell. “After I jumped, you became my lifeline in more ways than one. You were always so close, but so far. Most of that was my fault I admit-”
“Sherlock, stop. Just stop,” Molly said as she pushed away from him. “Why are you saying all of this now?”
“I want to say it before it’s too late. I know how you felt about me. I knew the entire time. It was just too dangerous for you to be involved with me.”
“Don’t you think that’s a decision you should have let me make myself?”
“No, because you would have chosen wrong and Moriarty and Magnussen both would have targeted you.”
“Well, fat lot of good staying away did seeing as Jim got damn near close to killing me!” Molly yelled.
“Which is why I never wanted to get involved with you! You would have been fine, had I not came back. If I had just stayed away you would have been safe.”
Sherlock was pacing now, dragging his fingers through his hair. He turned on his heel and walked towards her. He stood inches away, but not touching her. “But tell me, would you have been happy if I had?”
“No,” she bit out. “We both know that. Why even ask?”
He took a deep breath as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were full of hope and dare she say it, love. He cupped her face and tilted her head up, to look him in the eye. ”To prove that we need this. We need each other. My life would be nothing without you, Molly Hooper. I never knew how much I needed you, until you were taken from me. By Tom, by Moriarty, even by myself.” He finally rested his forehead against hers. “Look how far we’ve come, Molly. It’d be a shame to let it all go now.”
She closed her eyes. She couldn’t stop the smile from appearing. She pulled away and grabbed both of his hands. She pulled them down and held them against her chest. He could probably feel her racing heart, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Sherlock, I need to tell you something.”
“I know about the baby.”
“What?” she gasped out.
“I’ve known for a couple of weeks.”
“How could you- I didn’t even…”
“Molly, you knew, you just didn’t want to admit it. Do you forget that I’m a detective? I observe things,” he smirked, “and I’ve observed your changing appetite and your near constant runs to the loo or nearest trash can when you’ve actually gone to work these past few weeks.”
She huffed out a laugh and slapped him on the chest. “You git! So, you just let me suffer this last week, worrying about telling you?”
“Social situations aren’t my forte, but even I know you shouldn’t tell a woman she’s pregnant, well I do now,” he said thinking back to a certain secret he let slip at John and Mary’s wedding. “Especially when she hasn’t accepted that fact for herself.” He smiled and cupped the back of her head.
“You’re alright with it then? The baby I mean?”
“I can honestly say that I didn’t expect it, but I am overjoyed at the thought of our child running around the flat, whether it be here or at Baker Street, as long as I am with you both.”
She threw her arms around his neck and finally let the tears flow freely, though they were happy tears this time. She could feel him chuckle as he wrapped his arms around her waist again and pulled her close. “I love you, Molly Hooper.”
“I love you, too,” she managed to choke out through the tears.
He kissed the side of her head and started swaying again. Were things perfect between the pair of them? No, but now they had the luxury of time to figure things out. Life wasn’t a fairytale, but Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper would have their happy ending. The birth of their son six months later was just the beginning.