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Molly huffed as she entered Patrick's scanning the crowd for Meena. All she wanted... really wanted was her comfy sofa, a warm mug of cocoa and her cat. What she had was a hysterical best friend, demanding that she meet her at a local watering hole, so she could drown her sorrows in several pints. Meena suspected her current boyfriend of being unfaithful. So Molly being Molly, immediately agreed to meet the sobbing woman for a drink, even though she had just worked a twelve hour shift.
As Molly scanned the bar for her best friend (she was easy to miss - being even shorter than herself), her text alert went off.
Dinesh showed up at my flat- we're talking it out.-Meena
Then another.
Sorry, hope I caught you before you got to the pub.-Meena
Of course, Molly thought, but as she turned to leave she heard a familiar voice. A snotty, nasty, abrasive voice.
"...tell me I've 'ad enough. I'm a damn police Sargeant. I know the legal limit, mate."
Her eyes traveled to the source of the belligerent rant. Molly stood there for a moment and pinched the bridge of her nose. This night just keeps getting better and better, she thought. She could just leave. She hadn't been seen. It's not like this was her responsibility, anyway. Then her utter goodness took over (oh how she hated that part of her personality sometimes), and she made her way to one of her least favorite people in London, possibly the world.
"Hi, Sally," she said taking the stool next to the inebriated woman.
An extremely drunk Sally Donovan turned toward Molly and said, "Well, if it isn't Miss Holly Mooper."
Molly snickered. "That was actually pretty close."
Sally turned to the bartender. "Get my friend a drink!"
"I'm good, nothing for me tonight," she said, glancing up at the exasperated man behind the bar.
"Awww, come on Maddy. It's bad enough that I'm shaggin' a piece of sshite, good for nothin', wanker. Don't make me drink alone too," Sally whined.
"Maybe," Molly suggested, "you've had enough. I think water might be your best friend right now."
Sally huffed.
She took the two waters and smiled as the - oh, mmm, ruggedly handsome - barkeep mouthed 'thank you' with a wink. “Here, drink this,” she said pushing the water toward the pissed police Sargeant.
Sally begrudgingly took the glass, looking off in the distance. "I mean... what'ssswrong with me? I'm pretty, right?"
Molly nodded.
"I'm good at ma job."
Molly nodded. Wouldn't be half as good without Sherlock around to help solve cases for you, she thought.
"I got nice gams." She kicked legs out and bit and nearly fell backwards. Thankfully Molly caught her and helped her back onto the stool.
"Do people still say gams, Sally?"
"My ole man did. Always talked about my mum's gams. Those two... that's love."
Molly felt bad for the woman, she really did. Sally may be rude and she didn't like the way the Sargeant spoke to Sherlock or about him, for that matter. But no one deserved Philip Anderson... no one. "I take it Anderson reconciled with his wife?"
The woman whipped her head around. "Not only that, but he didn't tell me. Just kept right on shaggin' me."
What did you expect, she thought. "I'm sorry, Sally."
"I shoulda been ready for this." She turned to Molly. "Like you and the Freak. He treats you like a doormat, but at leass you know where you stand, right?"
Molly nodded sadly.
"At leass he doesn't pretend to be human. At leass with the Freak you know he won't tell you he loves you then go shag his wife. In that you're a lucky girl Hooper, very, very lucky."
Molly tired to hide her sadness, she didn't want Sally Donovan, of all people to see the look in her eyes at that particular moment, so she turned her face towards the door.
"Ah shit! I'm ssorry, that was... Molly? I shouldn't-ah..."
"It's okay Sally," Molly said turning back around and standing up. "Let's get you in a cab, yeah?"
Molly walked up the stairs feeling completely drained. By the time she reached the door she felt like she could sleep for a week. She was shocked to see a light on in the sitting room.
"I thought you had a case?" she asked.
"And I thought you were staying at yours tonight? What happened to drinks with Meena?"
She shrugged off her coat and tossed down her bag as she kicked off her shoes. "That didn't happen. They're talking. I'm so glad you're here," she said as she curled up on Sherlock's lap.
"What happened?" he asked, tucking her head under his chin.
"Can't you figure it out?"
"You know I go out of my way not to deduce you... much," he added as an afterthought.
She giggled. He did try to let her tell him about her day rather than the other way around; it was actually adorable. Sometimes he looked like he was going to erupt. She was convinced one day he was going to vomit six months worth of deductions, all at once. Either that or he kept a diary of all of his deductions; she wasn't sure which.
"I ran into Sally Donovan, she was completely pissed. She was also about one pint away from castrating Philip Anderson."
Sherlock chuckled. "Finally found out about the wife, did she? I wondered when that was going to happen." He pulled her face up to look at him. "So what? You rushed here to make sure I didn't have another woman in 221B?" he asked lightheartedly.
She hit him on the chest. "Of course not, you big idiot." She snuggled back in close. "But she..."
"Ah," he cut her off. "She said nasty things about me and my treatment of you, and you wished you could set the record straight."
It was quiet for a moment before Molly spoke. "I thought you'd still be out on your case. I just wanted to sleep in your bed."
Sherlock kissed the top of her head. "You know, it was your idea to keep this a secret."
"I know," she whispered.
"And," he said running his hand underneath her jumper to gently stroke her back. "if you moved in here, you wouldn't have come over and sleep in my bed. You could come home and sleep in our bed."
She sighed and nodded. "I know," she repeated.
They stayed like that for several minutes; Molly felt herself drifting, nearly asleep.
"Come on. Let's get you to bed." He nudged her to stand up.
She reluctantly unfolded herself from his lap and walked into the bedroom. She gathered her night things then retreated to the bathroom. When she was finished she returned to the bedroom to find Sherlock reclined in his bed.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
He smirked. "I appear to be lying in my bed Molly, care to join me?"
"You're going to bed? It's not even," She looked at the clock on the bedside table. "10:30, Sherlock. You can't be tired."
He held up an arm in invitation, so Molly crawled into bed. He tugged her close into his side and kissed her forehead.
Molly sighed and thought that nothing in the world felt better than lying in Sherlock's arms after an utterly shit day. Could it always be like this, she wondered. She had been holding off because... well, she was afraid. She was afraid that this was some kind of experiment and would it all end one day. That he would decide she was a distraction to the Work and he'd toss her aside. Or that he wouldn't be able to give as much as she wanted, but that wasn't true... not at all. He had been wonderful and giving. Completely free with his affections and letting things progress at her pace. He'd actually been patient with her. She was the one holding back; she was the one keeping them from moving forward. She was the one who hadn't said...
"Sherlock?"
"Hmm?"
"When you said...well, you know... you really meant it, didn't you?"
"I did Molly. But if you're still having doubts..."
"No. I'm sorry." She leaned up. "You know I love you, right?"
"That I do," he replied with a warm, very un-Sherlock-like smile that absolutely melted her heart, even if she had seen it several times over the last few months.
"I think it's time, Sherlock." She had tears in her eyes.
"Are you sure? You don't seem ready."
"Happy tears." She smiled. "You'll learn to love 'em." Then she leaned down and kissed the only man she had ever really loved.