Fic for dioscureantwins: Measurable Steps, 9/9

[holmesticemods]

Mycroft was indeed not happy with the change of plans, but once Molly explained her reasoning and then threatened to leave Baker Street again if Sherlock went alone he conceded it would be best if she went with his brother. He made arrangements to help them, and John and Greg agreed to do whatever they could to help end this whole mess before it went any further. Molly knew that they were going into the meeting with the best chances of surviving it and not being seriously harmed, but the closer it got to five the more nervous Molly became. Sooner than she would have liked she and Sherlock made their way outside of his home and began to walk there. It wasn't a very long walk, and the entire time Molly held onto his hand tightly.

When they got there they made their way to the play structure. Children were playing on it, and Jarrod was sitting on a bench, watching them with his hands in the pockets of his coat. He had dyed his hair black and there was the beginnings of a beard on his face, and Molly was struck at just how different he was from the man she had thought she knew so well. When they got into his line of sight he stood, waiting for them to join him. “It must be nice to have a typical childhood,” he said, gesturing to a child on the swings when they got close enough.

“I wouldn't know,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “I didn't have one.”

“But I'm sure Molly did,” he said, turning to her. “Was it nice?”

“I suppose it was,” she replied quietly.

“I don't want to deprive the children over there of a normal childhood,” he said, moving his coat out of the way slightly to show he had a gun in a shoulder holster. “But if you try anything I won't hesitate to shoot you both, children around or not.”

Sherlock nodded. “Of course.”

Jarrod put his hand out. “Both of you give me your mobiles. I don't want anyone interrupting our chat. And before we move to our final destination I'll pat you both down, just to be safe.”

Sherlock dug his out of his coat pocket and handed it to him. “Molly didn't bring hers,” he said.

Jarrod came over to her. “Just to be sure I'm going to check. But not here.”

She nodded. She didn't have her mobile, that was true, but Mycroft had sent over a small tracking beacon that she had hidden in her bra. Mrs. Hudson had sewn it into a pouch on the inside of the cup so unless she had to take her bra off he wouldn't find it. “That's fine,” she said.

He nodded towards the exit closest to them. “Let's take a walk.”

Sherlock and Molly walked two steps ahead of him as they all made their way to the exit. At the closest rubbish bin Jarrod tossed Sherlock's mobile into it. “Before we have this chat, answer a question for me,” Sherlock said. “Are you really Moran?”

“Yes,” he said with a nod. “Sebastian Jarrod Moran. I'm surprised you actually had to ask that question, really. You're supposed to be a genius.”

“And I suppose you're the elusive man in charge that I couldn't take down,” Sherlock said.

“Of course. Jim trusted me more than he trusted anyone else in the world. He had every reason to because I proved my loyalty time and again.”

Molly glanced back at him and saw he looked angry, as though Moriarty's suicide still upset him. “Did you know what he was going to do on that roof?” she asked.

“I had a feeling he might if Sherlock didn't do what he was told,” Moran said. “His obsession with Sherlock was something he'd had in the entire twenty years I knew him. It started when you stuck your nose into the Carl Powers murder and then it just grew from there.” They left Paddington Street Gardens and he motioned for them to go to the right. As soon as they got to an alley he gestured for them to go into it. They went far away from the street before he stopped them. He went over to Sherlock and stood in front of him. “Take off your coat.”

Sherlock took off his coat and handed it to Molly. Moran began to pat him down and Molly saw he was being thorough. She began to worry he'd ask her to remove articles of clothing to thoroughly check her. When he finished he looked at Sherlock. “I could have told you I wouldn't be foolish enough to bring a weapon,” he said as Molly handed him back his coat.

“Better safe than sorry,” Moran replied. Then he turned to Molly. “Your turn.” Molly took off her coat and handed it to Moran. He checked all the pockets and then handed it to Sherlock. Moran then moved in front of her and began patting her down just as thoroughly as he had done to Sherlock. Soon enough he was done and he stepped back again, apparently satisfied. Sherlock handed Molly her coat back and she slipped it back on. “I'm glad the two of you were smart about all of this.”

“We had no reason to be stupid,” Sherlock said. “All that would have done was get innocent people hurt or killed.”

“I'm still surprised you care about people other than yourself. Or other than John, I suppose,” Moran said. “Two years ago I had thought for sure you would defy Jim's wishes and you'd let them all die. I had assumed Jim said something quite convincing about John to get you to fall off that roof. I knew the others were threatened, but I'd thought they weren't as important to you. But this whole affair has showed me the personality changes were more pervasive. Too bad it has to end this way. I'm fairly sure the world could have greatly enjoyed a Sherlock Holmes who was a good man and not a massive twat.”

“So the end game is killing us,” Sherlock murmured.

“That was always Jim's end game for you,” he replied. “Molly's just collateral damage.”

“You could spare her, you know,” Sherlock said. “She interests you. I gather you might actually regret killing her if you follow through with that plan. Not because you actually like her, but because she fascinates you.”

Moran thought for a moment. “That is true,” he said finally. “And you knowing that she'll never be free of me again would make up for the joy I'd get killing her in front of you.”

Molly straightened up at that. “I'd rather die,” she said, glaring at him.

“That's perfectly acceptable to me,” Moran said with a nod. He gestured to the mouth of the alley. “Leave the alley and take a left. There's a van waiting.”

Sherlock and Molly walked in front of him again. They went to the left, back towards the park entrance, and she saw a black van waiting. “That's the van?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “Into the back, Sherlock in first.”

Sherlock opened the door and then got inside. Molly followed as Moran went around to get into the passenger side seat. Once he was in he looked at the two men who were sitting behind Sherlock and Molly. “I'm not particularly chatty anymore,” he said to them. A moment later the man behind her grabbed her head and she felt the needle of a syringe break her skin in the side of her neck. Moran turned around and as the van began to drive away she slowly sank into a black oblivion until she wasn't conscious anymore.

She wasn't sure how long it was before she came too again, but she had been at an odd angle and as she lifted her head up she realized it felt heavy. She tried to lift her arms up to rub the kinks out of her neck but those felt heavy too. After a few moments she managed to lift her arms up and massage her neck slightly. When she was able to move her head better she looked around and saw she was in a small windowless room and someone was sitting in a chair in the darkest part of the room. Sherlock was to her left but he still appeared to be passed out. “Sherlock,” she said, moving over to him. She stumbled slightly as she moved but eventually she made it over to him, checking for a pulse.

“I didn't have him given enough to kill him,” she heard Moran say from the chair. He stood up and moved over to them. “You're a medical doctor. You know larger people need more sedatives to knock them out.”

“He had best wake up soon,” she said, glaring at him again.

“He will. Eventually.” Moran squatted down next to her and reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. She felt as though she wanted to be sick, and she wasn't sure if it was a side effect of the drug or because he had done something so intimate. It could have easily been a bit of both. “It's a shame I'm going to end up killing you,” he said. “You really are quite fascinating.”

“Why did you do all of this?” she asked. “I mean, why pretend to be a policeman?”

“I actually didn't pretend,” he said. “I went through all of the training and certifications, passed all of the exams on my own. Jim had laid this plan out long before Sherlock even knew there was a game to play. This was part of his plan from the beginning: stay close to as many of you as I could if the worst happened. That's why my kill count has been significantly lower the last few years. I've been too busy being an upstanding member of Scotland Yard.” He reached over to cup her chin but she pulled away. He scowled at her in response and pulled his hand away. “Jim was right. You really are devoted to him. It's actually rather pathetic.”

“Well, he hasn't harassed me or threatened me or lied to me so obviously he's the better choice,” she said defiantly.

“You actually do have a backbone,” he said with a nod. “Jim was so sure you weren't a threat. I told him anyone close to Sherlock could be a threat. He should have listened to me.” He stood up again. “As soon as Sherlock wakes up I'm going to shoot you. No sense in doing it until he's awake since I want him to watch. And I'll shoot you in a way that will make your death drawn out and extremely painful. He'll get to sit here and watch you die and he won't be able to stop it, just like I couldn't stop Jim.”

“You were the sniper trained on John?” she asked, her eyes wide.

He nodded. “Jim trusted me the most. I mean, that's obvious because he left me in charge. But when it came to this he wanted me to be able to finish his game for him. If Sherlock didn't die then I was supposed to kill John and then kill him. I don't think the order would have mattered to Jim as long as they were both dead, though I think he would have preferred making Sherlock watch his best mate die while knowing it was all his fault.” He paused. “I probably should have done it anyway, to be honest.”

“You're a monster,” she said.

“No, I'm a pragmatist,” he replied. “Neutralize all the threats and then move on. If I'd done that then none of this would have been necessary. Sherlock never would have gone after the organization if you were the only one left alive. Chances are at John's death he would have sunk back into the depths of addiction. In Jim's grand scheme of things you were the one that didn't matter. You were that unimportant.” He moved back to his seat and sat down. “So now let's wait for him to wake up, shall we?”

Molly really began to panic. She had no clue if John and Lestrade were going to be able to find them, or if she'd already be seriously injured if they did. This could very well be the last few minutes she was alive, and she needed to stall as long as she could. She moved slightly, pretending to cry over Sherlock's inert body. After a moment she stopped making a loud sobbing noise. “If you're awake don't show it,” she whispered. Then she went back to pretending to sob for a few more minutes before she sat up again. “You can't get away with this.”

“I'm simply going to kill all of your friends once the two of you are gone,” he said, and even in the shadows she could see him cross his arms. “And Sherlock's brother and his assistant as well, just because they think they're untouchable. And then I'm going to disappear, go back to running the organization and killing people who are threats. I'll make it better than when Jim was in charge because then I won't have some puffed up genius trying to take it all apart.”

Molly was going to respond when she heard shouting down the hall. Moran quickly got out of the chair and went to the door. After a moment of listening he went over to Molly again and roughly pulled her up by her arm. “Let me go!” she yelled.

“I don't know how your friends got here but I'm going to use you to get out of here,” he said, trying to pull her towards the door. She retaliated by taking her heel and stomping down hard on his foot. He let go of her arm and pulled his gun out of the holster, aiming it at her. “You little bitch,” he said. “I should shoot you both now and be done with it.”

She froze completely as the door burst open and John advanced on the two of them, leveling a gun at Moran. “I'd lower that if I were you,” John said coldly.

Moran scoffed. “I'm a better shot than you and we both know it.”

“Well, right now you have your gun aimed at her and I have my gun aimed at you,” John countered. “I think I have the advantage here.”

“What's to stop me from shooting her first?” Moran asked.

“A bullet to the head, maybe?” John replied. “Do you really want to argue with me about this? You can lower your gun and live another day or you can attempt to shoot her and die in a derelict warehouse and not a single person will mourn you.” Moran risked a glance at Sherlock, then quickly changed his aim to Sherlock and fired a shot. A split second later John took his shot as Molly screamed. Moran clutched his chest and after a moment dropped to the floor. “Well, apparently my aim isn't as good as it used to be,” John murmured as he saw the blood seeping through Moran's shirt.

“And his was off too,” Sherlock said groggily from the floor. “If he was aiming for my head he missed.”

“Sherlock!” Molly said with relief as she knelt down next to him. She was pleased until she saw the hole in the arm of his coat and the blood seeping through. “He still hit you.”

“In the arm, though, which is definitely not an area that can kill me,” he said, sitting up. “As soon as I can get the bleeding to stop I'll be fine, Molly.”

She nodded and then looked over at John, who had been checking Moran for a pulse. “Give me your shirt.” John nodded as well and then took off his jumper before peeling off his shirt. He handed it to her and she grasped it in her hands, tearing off a long strip from the bottom. Once she had it she wrapped the fabric around Sherlock's arm, tying it off. Then she carefully threw her arms around his neck when he was fully upright. “He could have killed you,” she said, her voice muffled because her mouth was near the crook of his neck.

“John rattled him enough that he got sloppy,” Sherlock said as he gingerly embraced her back. “Moran took a risk without fully thinking it through and it backfired.” He pulled away from her after holding her for a few minutes. “You took a more calculated risk by telling me not to act as though I was awake. Playing dead was the best thing I could have done.”

There were footsteps outside in the hallway. “John?” Lestrade called out from farther away.

“I found them,” John called back. “Sherlock needs medical attention but they're both alive.”

“Oh thank God,” Lestrade said as he got to the doorway. He was followed inside by four armed policemen who were ready to shoot anything that moved, but once they realized the threat was taken care of they lowered their guns. Lestrade came closer and took in the sight in front of him. “I think I'm going to have to talk to the paramedics because Molly's not going to leave his side, is she?”

“No, I'm not,” she said, turning to look at him. “It would not be a very good idea to try and make me, either.”

“We were both drugged with sedatives,” Sherlock said. “She should be taken to a hospital to be checked out as well.”

Lestrade nodded. “I'll let the paramedics know,” he said. “As it stands there is a very large group of people outside with what I'm sure are a million questions to be asked. I'll see if I can stall them for the two of you until tomorrow.”

“How many casualties were there?” Sherlock asked.

“I had three, counting this one,” John said. Then he looked at Lestrade. “You?”

“Six,” he replied. “There wasn't a single survivor because none of them were smart enough to surrender. But I'm not going to lose much sleep over it, to be honest, mostly because the one behind it all is dead.” The sound of approaching sirens filled the air. “We might as well go outside, show everyone you two are alive and well.”

Molly nodded and stood up, and once she was standing she helped Sherlock stand up. She put a steadying arm around his waist before turning to Greg. “Don't you need your cane?” she asked.

“Oh, my body's going to make me regret this in the morning, but I wasn't about to not come rescue you. Had to make sure nothing happened to either of you.”

“Thank you,” Sherlock said. “Both of you.”

“Hey, we're two of your closest friends,” John said with a grin. “You'd have done the same if positions had been reversed.”

“Still,” Sherlock said. “It is greatly appreciated.” He took a step and stumbled slightly, and John came over and supported him on the other side. Molly let go as Sherlock leaned on John and soon the people in the room began to file out. Molly hadn't realized night had fallen but it was dark when they finally got outside the warehouse and the whole area was filled with flashing police lights. John led Sherlock to the back of an ambulance, and Lestrade put it in strongly worded terms that Molly and Sherlock were to share the same ambulance to the nearest hospital. After the paramedics looked at his arm he and Molly sat on the same stretcher as the driver shut the doors of the ambulance. “It's all over,” he said quietly, reaching over for her hand.

“I know,” she said, leaning into his uninjured side. He let go of her hand and put an arm around her shoulders to keep her close. “We can finally get past all of this.”

He was quiet for a few minutes as the ambulance began to leave the scene. “Do you still wish to be in a relationship with me?” he asked.

She pulled away from him. “Of course I do, Sherlock. Why wouldn't I want to be?”

“I just wanted to be sure,” he said.

She framed his face in her hands and leaned in to kiss him softly. When they pulled apart he rested his forehead against hers. “I still love you, Sherlock. That hasn't changed. Have your feelings changed since this morning?”

“No,” he said. “But I just needed to know.”

“Well, I told you I'd tell you as often as you wanted to hear it,” she said softly. “I didn't lie about that. So any time you need to hear it tell me and I'll tell you that I love you. All right?”

He gave the barest of nods. “All right.” She pulled away slightly and then shifted to put her head on his shoulder. It was all over, they were both alive, and at the end of the day they were still in this relationship and finally, finally, she could stop being scared and actually more on from this entire horrific ordeal.

---
Molly and Sherlock did not spend too long at the hospital, only a few hours. The doctors determined Sherlock had not been seriously injured by the bullet, and after stitching up the wound and checking them both to see if there were any ill effects of the sedative they were sent back home. The minute they got inside the home on Baker Street they made a beeline for Molly's room and went to sleep fully clothed, the events of the evening having worn them out. The next morning Molly woke up and she stretched as much as she was able with Sherlock's arm locked around her waist. His response to that was to pull her closer. “I take it you're awake?” she asked in an amused tone.

“Yes,” he said quietly. “I've been awake for about an hour.”

“I must have been more exhausted than I thought,” she said with a frown.

“No, it's only around seven,” he said. “I just had an unpleasant dream and wasn't able to return to sleep.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He was quiet for a moment. “I replayed the events towards the end of our encounter with Moran, but instead of aiming for me he shot you instead,” he said quietly. “We were unable to save you.”

“I'm so sorry,” she said, turning to face him once he loosened his grip. She reached over to touch his face, cupping his cheek in her palm. “Eventually I hope we stop having nightmares about all of this. But the one nice thing is we won't be waking up in a bed all by ourselves. If you have a bad dream you can wake me up and I can help try and make things better.”

“And I will do the same for you,” he said. He began running his hand up and down her waist. “Are you hungry?”

“Starved,” she said with a smile. “Do we want to eat breakfast now?”

“I think that would be a good idea,” he said. “Neither of us ate much yesterday.”

“All right. Do you want me to cook?”

“I would appreciate it,” he said, removing his hand from her waist so she could get out of bed. She rolled back over and then sat up. Sherlock moved over to the door as she stretched again and stood up. He went to open the door and then paused. “Someone is already up.”

“Are they cooking?” she asked as she joined him at the door.

He nodded. “Can't you smell the food?”

She sniffed the air and realized she smelled bacon and sausage. “I wonder what else they're making,” she said.

“There's only one way to find out,” he said as he opened the door. The two of them made their way towards the kitchen and saw John at the table and Mrs. Hudson at the stove. “I suppose it's an early day for all of us,” he said to the others.

Mrs. Hudson turned from what she was doing and gave Sherlock and Molly a smile. “Well, I thought with everything the two of you would be starving and it might be nice if you didn't have to cook.”

“I was going to do it but she shooed me out of the kitchen,” John said with a grin. “The plan was to let the two of you stay in bed and eat. Rest up a bit and just relax.”

“I'd much rather eat out here with both of you,” Molly said as she went over to Mrs. Hudson and embraced her. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Hudson.”

“You're quite welcome, dear,” she said, embracing her back. When Molly pulled away she went back to cooking the pancakes she had been making. “I suppose since this is all over you'll be returning to your home now.”

“I'm not entirely sure,” Molly said. “Sherlock and I talked while we were gone and we've decided we want to keep residing with each other. We need to discuss where we want to live, but I'm inclined to stay here if you will let me.”

“You want to give up your home to live here?” Mrs. Hudson asked, surprised.

“This place has become home too,” she replied.

“Well, if you want to stay of course you can stay,” Mrs. Hudson said with a wide grin.

“You really want to stay here?” Sherlock asked Molly.

“Yes, I do,” she said with a nod. “This is your home and you've been away from it for a long time. And I really do like it here. I know it will be different with John gone, but I think it's a good idea regardless.”

“About that,” John said slowly. “Mrs. Hudson and I spoke at length about things while we were in Leeds. I pay an arm and a leg for rent for a place I'm not too happy with. And I've realized I've missed being here. This place became home to me, too. She asked me to stay and I've considered it and I want to, if that's all right with the two of you.”

Sherlock looked over to Molly, who nodded. “It looks as though you'll be having a full house, Mrs. Hudson,” he said. “I hope that's what you really want.”

“I do,” she said. “This place was far too quiet with you and John gone, and it's been so wonderful having all of you here, even if it hasn't been for the best reason. We can talk specifics later but just know that the three of you wanting to stay has made me incredibly happy.”

Sherlock went over to her and kissed her cheek. “Then I'm glad we're all staying.”

“John, Molly, if you have furniture you want to bring over for the sitting room or cookware for the kitchen you're more than welcome to,” she said. “We can move my things down to the basement or sell them if it comes down to it.”

“My furniture in my sitting room is crap,” John said. “My bedroom set was the only worthwhile furniture I owned, and the set I have here that Mycroft got me is infinitely better. But I do have some decent cookware.”

“I would love to bring over my things,” Molly said as she pulled down a mug and began to make a cup of coffee. “I'm rather attached to all of it.”

“It is quite comfortable,” Sherlock said with a nod. “Some of it is even more comfortable than what is already here. And you have high quality cookware, which I know John will appreciate.”

“Just because we're living together again does not mean I'll be doing all the cooking,” John said, shaking his head. “I know you can cook. It's coffee you never make right.”

“My coffee is perfectly fine,” Sherlock said in a slightly defensive tone. “Molly can vouch for that.”

“It's a bit stronger than what I would normally drink, but it isn't too bad,” she said with a smile. “But when it comes to cooking I don't mind doing that when I can. I love to cook.”

“That's right. You'll be going back to your post soon,” John said.

“Actually, I'm considering trying my hand at something new,” she said, moving to the refrigerator to get what she needed to make her coffee. “I think with everything that's happened I need a change. I have quite a bit in savings and Mycroft ensured I was given more than what I actually earned while all of this was going on. And if I'm moving in here I'll be selling my home so I'll have money coming in from that eventually. I can afford to take some time to figure out what I want to do.”

“What were you considering?” Sherlock asked after she finished setting up her coffee. He began to make up his own cup once she moved out of the way.

“Well, I would love to write a novel or two,” she said. “I started to and I have about fifty-five thousand words written of it. And I've also enjoyed helping you as your assistant. It's much more interesting being that active in solving a case instead of just doing the autopsies. Other than that I'm not sure.”

“I would like it very much if you would continue to assist me,” Sherlock said as he moved to get the sugar for his coffee. “You offer an insight that John has not been able to when you view a crime scene.”

“That's because she's a pathologist and I'm not,” he pointed out. “But I'm glad you want to keep doing that. I'm not really inclined to go back into that field, and Sherlock really does work better with a partner than he does on his own.” He looked over at her as she came to the table. “If you want someone to look over your novel I'd be willing. What genre is it?”

“Murder mystery,” she said. “I've had so many interesting autopsies over the years that I've got a lot for the basis of a series of stories. And I'm sure Sherlock can continue to help me with technical details if I ask nicely enough.”

“I will help you in any way I can,” he said with a nod as he joined them at the table. “Just remember to dedicate the book to me.”

“And what am I, chopped liver?” John asked, though he had a grin on his face.

“You and Greg and Mrs. Hudson can get dedications too,” Molly said with a chuckle. “I'm allowed to thank more than one person, and you're all quite dear to me.”

“I would be absolutely pleased to get a dedication in a book,” Mrs. Hudson said. “I'll brag about it to all my friends when it gets to be a best seller.”

“You're assuming I'm good enough to become the next PD James,” Molly said before taking a sip of her coffee. “I could be completely horrible at it.”

“What I read wasn't bad at all,” Sherlock said.

Molly stared at him. “And just when did you read my novel?”

“Before you set down the ground rules when we were residing at your home. I got bored one evening,” he said. “It could use a little work but your main character is quite compelling, if quite a bit nicer than I am in real life.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I couldn't imagine being that understanding towards an incompetent policeman, to be honest. But everything else was believable.”

“And I suppose there is a character based on you, dear?” Mrs. Hudson asked Molly as she began to bring food to the table. “The love interest, perhaps?”

“Possibly,” she said with a smile. “If it doesn't seem like art imitating life. I mean, I could always base the pathologist on John and the assistant on me.” She paused then. “Which I suppose is also art imitating life, in a way.”

“As long as you make any character based on me interesting I'm sure it will be fine,” Mrs. Hudson said as she went back into the kitchen to get more food.

“Is there going to be one based on Mycroft?” John asked with a grin. “An uptight bureaucrat with an agenda of his own?”

“I was considering it,” she said, getting up to get plates and eating utensils for the four of them. “But then it might not be believable.”

“And Mycroft might be cross,” Sherlock said as the front door opened. “Or at least he might if she portrays him in a negative light.”

“Oh, it wouldn't be in a negative light if I did,” she replied. “He'd be mysterious but ultimately a good person, if I ever wrote more than one story.” After a moment footsteps were heard coming up the stairs and both Lestrade and Mycroft entered the sitting room. “Good morning, Greg. Mycroft.”

“It would have been a better morning if I hadn't been roused from my sleep,” Lestrade said, grumbling slightly. “Mycroft was most insistent I be here this morning.”

“I didn't want to have to go over all of this twice,” Mycroft said urbanely.

“Well, both of you come sit at the table,” Mrs. Hudson said, bringing over more food. “I made enough to feed a small army.”

“Thank you,” Lestrade said, sitting down at the table. Molly pulled out another plate and then looked at Mycroft, who shook his head. She got out the eating utensils and then brought it all to the table. Soon enough the people at the table began to serve themselves as Mrs. Hudson joined them. When they were done Lestrade looked over at Mycroft. “All right. We're all here, we're about to be fed, and you've probably got more important things to do with your day. What's going on that you needed to talk to all of us at once?”

Mycroft moved closer to the table and then sat down in the empty chair. “The organization is beginning to fall apart,” he said. “There were things in the works that Moran ignored since he shot Lestrade and then tried to ascertain Sherlock and Molly's whereabouts, and his underlings have started to realize that no one is there to make the big decisions. We have decided to refrain from mentioning that Moran was in charge of a criminal empire in reports of what happened.”

“We being the government,” Sherlock said as he took a bite of his food.

“Several governments, but yes,” Mycroft said with a nod. “The lurid scandal of an upstanding policeman who moonlighted as the infamous assassin known simply as Moran is more than enough to keep the true story secret.”

“So what story are we going by?” John asked.

“Sherlock was his target because someone was displeased he had faked his death. Molly was brought into it because she had helped him do so. He kidnapped them and was set to kill them when he was tracked due to diligent forethought from Lestrade and were rescued before they were seriously harmed.”

“So the truth, but not really the truth,” Lestrade said as he ate more of his food.

“It's easier than coming up with an entirely new fiction,” he said. Then he turned to Molly. “I do have bad news for you. Because you have not been at your post for some time St. Bart's has decided it was in their best interest for you to be made redundant. As this is an issue that the government was involved in and we insisted you take the leave of absence your stipend will continue until you find another means of supporting yourself to the level you were at before.”

“Well, that makes my decision much easier,” she said. Mycroft frowned at her slightly. “I thought I would try my hand at being a crime novelist.”

“I suppose that could be an interesting career choice,” Mycroft said thoughtfully. “Provided you are a talented author, of course.”

“She is,” Sherlock said without looking up from his food. “She's also agreed to continue as my assistant, which I'm sure will please you greatly.”

“It does,” Mycroft replied with a slight inclination of his head. “I'm assuming the two of you will continue to live with each other as well?”

Molly nodded. “And John is staying too.”

Mycroft's eyes widened slightly. “That is a surprise.”

“This is my home as much as it's Sherlock's,” John said with a slight shrug. “And besides, thanks to Molly he's not nearly as hard to live with as he used to be.”

“I'm glad to know that's how you really feel,” Sherlock said sourly.

“Well, I've noticed a difference since you and Molly started living together,” Lestrade said. “You are definitely easier to get along with.”

Sherlock glared slightly and was about to say something but Molly put a hand on his arm and shook her head. He closed his mouth and then went back to his food as Molly let go. Both John and Lestrade wore amused smiles at that. Molly then turned to Mycroft. “So there isn't anything else we need to worry about? No one else is going to come after us?”

“There may be new enemies, but at the moment there is no immediate threat,” Mycroft said.

“Good,” Molly said with a nod. Then she looked at Lestrade. “When will you be going back to work?”

“Not for another two weeks, at least,” he said. “Possibly longer. There's a bit of a taint because of what Jarr--” He stopped. “I mean, because of what Moran did. I have to wait and see what Scotland Yard decides to do about the cases we worked on together. There may be some backlash and legal issues because of his secret life.”

“I will ensure your job is not put in jeopardy because of his deception,” Mycroft assured him.

“Thanks,” Lestrade said with a nod before he had more of his food.

“I believe that is everything we need to discuss at the moment,” Mycroft said, standing up. “Which bedroom will you and Molly be sharing, Sherlock?”

“The one she's in, I suppose,” he said, looking over at her.

“It's the biggest one, so that would be best,” she said with a nod.

“Then I will continue to keep minimal surveillance in that room. There are some things I never wish to see.” Molly began to blush and Mycroft frowned. “My apologies, Molly. I didn't mean to embarrass you.”

“It's all right,” she said quietly.

“I'll take my leave now before I say anything else someone might regret,” he said, moving towards the sitting room. “Good day.”

Once Mycroft left Sherlock spoke. “Well, that went remarkably well, other than the very end.”

“Yes, it did,” John said. “I honestly thought there might be more bad news on the horizon. Good to know there isn't.”

“I agree,” Molly said. “It might take a while, but I think we might all be able to move past this and go back to having normal, boring lives.”

“No life with Sherlock being involved is ever boring, dear,” Mrs. Hudson said. “Most of the time it can be a good thing, though.”

“Well, we'll just have to wait and see,” Molly replied, giving Sherlock a smile. He grinned back before going back to his food, and as she went back to her own meal she realized that finally, everything was good. She could start to pick up her life again and maybe this time it could be better than before.

One Year Later

Molly woke up and there were butterflies in her stomach. She had felt the onset of anxiety the night before but it was nothing like this morning. And she honestly thought she should be an old hat at this by now. After all, today was the date that the reviews of her third book were going to be published. The fact she'd had two books released that did well enough to warrant a third should have made her feel less nervous but no, she felt just the same as she had after the first book had come out, and just the same way when the second had come out. She realized that no matter how often she did this she was always going to be a bundle of nerves, and that thought was not a particularly welcome one.

It took her a moment to realize she was in bed alone. She sat up and stretched for a moment before pulling off her covers and putting her feet on the ground. She had to get out of bed and face the reviews eventually so she might as well do it now. There was no way to put it off. With a sigh she got out of bed and went to the back of the door for her dressing gown. Once she had it on and knotted she made her way to the kitchen to get coffee. She had walked right by the table without noticing the stack of newspapers and Sherlock's open laptop on top, and after a moment she went back and looked at the laptop. In the open browser there were fifteen different open tabs, and she realized each one was a review of her newest book. She hesitated a moment, then sat down and began reading the first one, relaxing the more she read. It was favorable. In fact, this particular reviewer called it the best of the series, and he hoped to see more from her long into the future.

She went through each review, finding them on the whole to be positive. There was one that pointed out a flaw in the story but said it was a minor issue and since it was most likely based on the real life exploits of Sherlock Holmes it didn't come off as too unbelievable. Once she was done with the reviews on the laptop she moved it and picked up the first newspaper. It was only the arts section, and once again she found the reviews to be on the positive side. By the time she got to the last review she felt that the launch party tonight was going to be a smashing success.

When she had finished she set the papers back in a stack and went into the kitchen to make some coffee. The pot was almost done brewing when she heard the front door open. “Sherlock?” she called out.

“No, just me,” John answered, coming up into the sitting room. “Sherlock's out at a crime scene.” He grinned when he saw the laptop next to the newspapers. “I see you found his gift.”

“How early did he get up to set this all up?” she asked. “I mean, it's only nine thirty.”

“I think sometime around six?” John said. “He had just finished pulling out all the reviews when Greg called him. Something about someone leaving a cryptic note at a crime scene promising more murders.”

“Lovely,” she said with a sigh. “I do hope he's going to be able to come to the party tonight. Even with the positive reviews I'm going to be nervous if I'm there all by myself.”

“I specifically heard him tell Greg if they didn't make any headway by four he was going to work more on it tomorrow, so don't worry. He'll be there.”

“Good,” she said. Then she paused. “What are you doing back so early? I thought you were going to be at the clinic doing paperwork all morning.”

“Well, I attempted to, but I felt it best if there was someone here for you when you went through the reviews. Sherlock told me they were good but I know you still get nervous until all of this is over.”

“I know I need to promote the books in order to get them to sell but I still find the launch parties and the face to face interviews to be the hardest aspect,” she said as the coffee finished. She pulled down a mug and poured herself a cup. “Critics reading my books and writing reviews are one thing. Actually talking to people who have read them in person is quite another. I always get so worried I'll make an absolute fool of myself.”

“But you're always kind and gracious about it,” John said reassuringly about it. “And it's obvious you love the stories you tell. That comes out when you talk about your books.”

“I suppose.” She went to the refrigerator for her creamer and brought it back to her coffee. “You're going to be there tonight as well, right?”

“Dateless, but yeah,” he said.

“Georgina didn't work out?” she asked.

“She decided she wanted someone a bit flashier,” he said with a shrug. “I'm taking it as her loss. But it did make me think about something. At some point I'm going to need a place of my own again, I think. A nicer place this time, but I think it's time.”

“Sherlock is going to be disappointed,” she said with a frown.

“Actually, he approves,” he said. He chuckled at what must have been the surprised look on her face. “We had a talk about it last night after you went to sleep. I told him about Georgina and his response was that it probably had to do with the fact I rented a flat as opposed to having my own home. I don't think that's the entire reason, but I'll admit it certainly didn't help matters.”

“Well, if you think it's best then I'll be sad to see you go but I'll be happy for you as well,” she said with a smile as she finished preparing her coffee. She put the creamer back where it belonged and then took the coffee to the table and sat back down. “Do you want help picking a place out?”

He nodded as he came over to the table and picked up one of the reviews. “I trust your opinions, so that would be a great help. But it can wait until after you do your book tour.”

“I'm not relishing spending two weeks traveling the UK and another week in the States,” she said with a sigh. “If Sherlock has a case he can't join me like he did the last time.”

“Well, you have three days before you have to leave. For all you know he could solve the case in two and then refuse to answer any calls from Greg until you two get back,” he said with a grin. He read some of the review. “Best book of the series, huh? That's high praise.”

“Well, that just means the expectations for the fourth book are going to be much higher,” she said. “But I'll manage.” She had some of her coffee as the front door opened again. Both she and John turned to look at the sitting room door and a moment later Sherlock came bounding up the stairs. She gave him a wide smile. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” he said with a nod. He came over to the table and sat down. “This was probably one of the easiest cases I've ever had.”

John looked at his watch. “It's only been two and a half hours,” he said.

“When the killer attempts to kill someone else two blocks away there isn't really all that much I need to do,” he said with a shrug. “He had the bloody knife and another note on him. He had to be one of the most idiotic killers I've ever seen in my entire life.”

“Then that leaves your day free,” John said. “And provided there's no other cases, the rest of the month as well.”

“So you'll still come with me?” Molly asked hopefully.

Sherlock nodded. “Yes, I will still be accompanying you on your book tour.”

She got up and moved behind him, putting her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. “That will make the experience infinitely better.”

“I knew you would be pleased,” he said. She let go of him after a moment and straightened up, and then he turned to look at her. “Molly, could I speak to you in private for a moment?”

“Of course,” she said with a nod.

“And I'll take this as a cue to leave the room,” John said with a chuckle. “Let me know when it's all right to come back downstairs.”

“We will,” Molly said as he got up. She waited until John left the sitting room before sitting down at the table again. “What do you want to talk to me about?”

He was quiet for a moment. “This morning has not gone according to plan,” he said. “I had hoped to be here when you had read the reviews of your newest book because I had wanted to do something. I can do it now, of course, but I had wanted it to be done differently.”

“What is it you wanted to do this morning, Sherlock?” she asked.

“We've been in a relationship for well over a year now,” he said. “It didn't start out during the best of situations, but we weathered through that and we've weathered through other things as well. I think after this long it is fairly obvious we can get through most anything that is thrown at us. And I want to think you're happy with how things are. But I've been thinking about it and I'm sure you could be happier.”

She frowned. “Sherlock, I really am quite happy with how things are. I don't know how you think they could improve.”

“But they could,” he said. “I know they could and it's taken me time to get to the point where I actually feel comfortable with making the situation better.”

“Now I'm very confused,” she said.

He hung his head. “I am making an utter hash of this.” He looked down and reached into his coat pocket and then pulled out a small box and set it on the table. She looked at it in surprise and then he pushed it across the table towards her. “I wanted to give you this this morning. I had actually planned for it to be the first thing you saw when you realized my computer was open. But then I got the call and I had no clue when you would be awake and I wanted to actually be here when you opened it.”

She reached over for the box and opened it. Inside was a ring that looked exactly like the ring her grandmother and mother had worn when they had been proposed to, a large square cut ruby flanked by smaller square cut diamonds. She looked back up at him with wide eyes. “Is this my grandmother's ring?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No. I know that ring is too big for you and as you didn't want to risk it getting damaged while being resized I decided it was best to just have it recreated. This one should fit you perfectly.” He got up after a moment and moved over towards her, picking the ring up out of the box. “I am not someone who is prone to flowery speech. That's something you've known for far longer than we've been in a relationship. I apologize if this isn't the best proposal, but I do love you and I want to spend the rest of my life as your husband, and I hope you will accept me as such.”

“Of course I will,” she said with a wide smile, looking up at him.

“I was supposed to get down on one knee when I actually proposed, wasn't I?” he said with a slight frown.

“That part doesn't matter,” she said. “But I do think you're supposed to put the ring on my finger now that I've said yes.” He nodded, then lifted up her hand and slipped the ring onto her ring finger. It really was a perfect fit, she decided. She stood up and framed his face with her hands before leaning in and kissing him. When she pulled away she still had a wide smile on her face. “I think, for you, that was a very good proposal.”

“But it didn't go according to how I'd planned it,” he said, reaching over for her.

“It's all right,” she said. “The point is you asked and I said yes. And besides, if we ever have children I think it will still be a very heartwarming story to tell them.”

“I'm glad you said yes,” he said quietly.

“Did you honestly think I would have said no?” she asked.

“Well, I was fairly sure you wouldn't, but considering it wasn't the most elegant of proposals there was always the chance you would.”

“Considering everything we've been through you should have realized I wouldn't throw it all away over a less than perfect proposal,” she said. “I'd lose so much if I did that, more than I care to lose.”

He nodded, sliding his hands around to the small of her back. “You know what this means, right?”

“I get to plan a wedding and write another book at the same time?” she said with a smile.

“Well, yes, but that wasn't what I meant. What I meant was Mycroft is getting exactly what he wants.”

She frowned as she thought about what he said, and then her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small O for a moment. “He did say this was what he wanted, that day we came back from the safe house.”

“If I didn't actually think it was the best thing I could do for myself I'd be quite cross that I was actually doing something he wanted without argument,” he said. “Unless waiting a year counts.”

“I like to think it does,” she said with a chuckle. “And we probably don't even need to tell him. I'm sure he saw it all for himself. I like to imagine he's staring at a computer screen right now, looking on approvingly.”

“I wouldn't be surprised if he knew the moment I placed the order for the ring,” he said. “But I suppose it doesn't matter. I think marrying you is the smartest thing I could ever do.”

“I think it is too,” she said with a smile before kissing him again. He pulled her as close as he could as he kissed her back and she realized that right now, in this moment, her life was absolutely perfect, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Comments

[cherrytide.livejournal.com]

This was such a fun read - I enjoyed the alternate take on Reichenbach and it's consequences. The creepy gifts and eventual confrontation with Moran were very exiciting and the slowly developing relationship between Sherlock and Molly was very sweet. I liked how Molly came into her own over the course of the story - a career as a crime writer and detective's assistant suits her very well. Great story!

[scandalbaby.livejournal.com]

I'm glad you liked it! I was kind of disappointed in series 3 and I wanted to write something that would have been a good alternate take on that. I actually had a hard time coming up with the gifts as I was writing them so I'm glad they came off as creepy. But I'm really glad you enjoyed the lead up and conclusion of the whole thing.

[dioscureantwins.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much dear anon author for such an enjoyable read. I like your draw on Molly very much, fully independent and yet willing to give a relationship with Sherlock a try and actually succeeding because she doesn't hesitate to put her foot down when necessary.

The awful gifts were quite a shock each time one of them appeared and John's fingerprint planted on the white rosebud was one of those ingenious details I really like reading about.

John, Greg and Mrs Hudson all do marvellously well what they're supposed to do which is to keep Sherlock happy and Mycroft is playing his part as well, keeping Sherlock and Molly safe.

The developing relationship between Sherlock and Molly was very sweet to read. Molly is of course the epitome of patience and goodness and thus just the person to guide Sherlock along through these murky waters. Still, the old Molly would have got nowhere if she'd still been the same awestruck woman we first met in the series. You did a good job in showing how she's much, much more beneath that unprepossessing exterior.

Thank you very, very much for your wonderful, thoughtful gift. I most sincerely appreciate it. XD

[scandalbaby.livejournal.com]

Oh, the fact you enjoyed it makes me very happy. This was one of those stories that once I started writing it it just consumed me. I too had been disappointed by series 3 ad I wanted to do a good job at telling a story that was more interesting that you would like. So I am very glad I succeeded.

I love writing Molly that way. I think it's important that she has definite wants and needs and stands up for them. I love it when she shows she's got a backbone, and I don't think it happens enough on the show. But I think being that way is the only way a relationship with Sherlock could work.

I'm glad! I thought that was a neat idea and I was all "I hope I can pull it off and it doesn't seem out of left field" so I'm glad it worked. And I love all of them. I love the relationship they all have with each other just as much as their relationships with Sherlock. Those kind of dynamics are so much fun to write.

I am glad I got that across. I think she had to get away from being completely spellbound and in awe of Sherlock to be seen as his equal in his eyes. She started to do that in Scandal but I think it was important that when he wasn't there she grew into the person she is in this story, and I think it was good that she could still be kind and patient but also be more than that.

You are quite welcome. I made sure to gift the fic to you on AO3 so you can read it whenever you want. Hopefully it alerted you, but if it didn't I'm afteriwake over there and it's among my most recent stories.

[billiethepoet.livejournal.com]

I really like that you started this from a place where Molly is no longer pining for Sherlock and that Sherlock's been carrying a bit of a torch for her. It puts them on a much more even footing.

I thought the kissing experiment was incredibly cute and very in-character for them. Well done!

[scandalbaby.livejournal.com]

I think that has become my absolute favorite way to write them. It's much more interesting to see Sherlock have to grapple with feelings I'm sure he's not used to. And it's so much fun to write. I'm glad you enjoyed that.

Yay! I wasn't sure if that was actually in-character or not so I'm glad you thought it was. That was one of my favorite scenes to write in the entire story.