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holmestice“Molly, I have to leave.”
She looked down at her hands. They had come back from their weekend away on Monday afternoon and Mycroft had whisked Sherlock away to go over everything they had learned from Moriarty's second in command. The longer it had taken the more she worried that he was going to have to leave again, leave her alone again, and here her worst fears were being confirmed. He was going to leave again and once again there was the chance he wouldn't come back. “I see,” she said.
He paused, and then he came over to the sofa, sitting next to her. “I know I have no right to ask, but there was an implied threat to your safety. Mycroft said he'd post people around your home and at St. Bart's, and he'd keep you safe. But I want you with me. I want you where I can make sure you're all right.”
She lifted her head up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes. “You want me to go with you?” she asked.
He nodded. “I trust my brother, but if you're here and I'm not I will worry. I'll be distracted, and I can't afford to be. I want you close because I need to make sure you're all right. I need to see it and...” He trailed off, looking down. “But more than that, I need you to be close. I don't know how long this will take, whether we'll be gone weeks or months, and this is a major disruption to your life, but--” She cut him off by framing his face and pressing her lips against his. He relaxed into the kiss, moving his hands to keep her close to him. It didn't matter how long it took. This time he wasn't going off alone. He wasn't leaving her behind again. They would deal with it together, face the threat head on. When he finally pulled away he rested his forehead against hers. “Pack lightly. Just use your largest suitcase. Mycroft has promised he will keep anything you leave behind safe so don't worry about that.”
“All right,” she said. She kissed him again quickly before pulling away, heading towards her bedroom and pulling out the largest piece of luggage in her matched set. She began to look through her clothing and took things for various climates. She had the feeling this was a chase that was going to take them all over the world, because it was Moriarty leading it. If he didn't want to be found he'd make sure he wasn't. He'd been doing that quite well for nearly a year now. It took some time for her to finish, and she wheeled it out to Sherlock before picking up her handbag from where she had put it. “I'm ready.”
“My bag is in the car Mycroft provided for us,” he said. “We need to go to Edinburgh and then on to Inverness. I'll find the next breadcrumb Moriarty left there.”
She nodded as they headed towards the door of her flat. “It's going to be a long series of train rides, then,” she said.
“And this probably won't be the only time,” he said, opening the door and stepping outside. She stepped into the doorway and then paused, looking around. This might very well be the last time she saw her home in this state. Just because Mycroft said he would protect it all didn't mean he actually could. “Molly?”
“Toby will be taken care of?” she asked.
Sherlock nodded. “I'm not entirely sure Mycroft will give him back if they get on well, but he'll be taking care of Toby personally. He assured me of this.”
“Good.” She gave it all one last look and then stepped out into the hallway. She pulled her keys out of her handbag and locked the door behind her before she and Sherlock made their way out to the street level. She saw a car waiting there with a driver standing next to it, and he took her suitcase from her and put it in the boot as Sherlock opened the rear door of the car. She slipped inside and sat on the far side, looking out across the street. Sherlock got in after her and they were quiet as the car took them to the train station. She let Sherlock handle everything and soon they were settled in the first class section. “How are we going to be able to afford all the travel?” she asked Sherlock.
“I have a credit card with a nearly unlimited credit limit, courtesy of the British government. Anything we need we can buy,” he said. “Mycroft has even allowed for us to not have to travel standard class, which is generally a requirement.”
“I see,” she said with a nod.
“I'm sorry to pull you away from your well-ordered life,” he said quietly.
She reached over for his hand and laced her fingers between his. “But we're together, and that's important,” she said. “That's probably the most important thing. This time you aren't doing it on your own.”
He squeezed her hand and then let go, turning his attention to the other occupants of the train. She supposed he would have to stay on alert, because if there was a threat to her she might not be safe until they were out of London. She tried to distract herself with her Kindle, looking at the story she'd been reading before they had their weekend away, but she was having trouble concentrating. Finally she gave up and settled for taking her iPod out and listening to music. It was a very long train ride, and towards the end of it Sherlock had seemed to be more tense than he had been at the beginning. He got on his mobile as they got closer to the end of the ride, and when he was done they had pulled into the train station in Scotland. He leaned over as passengers began disembarking. “Inverness will have to wait,” he said. “I contacted my brother because I think someone slipped onto the train to follow us.”
She froze. “What are we going to do?”
“Mycroft has people who will make sure he's taken care of, but he wants us to get him somewhere isolated and then lay low and take a different train later,” he said. “So you need to act natural no matter what happens.” He looked out into the aisle before standing up and stepping out into it. “Take my hand.”
She gathered her things up before she settled her handbag on her shoulder, and then reached over for his hand when she was ready. She grasped it tightly as she stood and then he led them off the train. They were close to the area where they could claim their baggage when Sherlock moved them towards what seemed to be a more secluded area. Molly could clearly see someone following them as the amount of people milling about thinned out. He seemed to be a rather nondescript tall blonde man. She and Sherlock were nearly to a dark shaded area when the man picked up the speed with which he was walking. When he got close he lunged at her from behind, but Sherlock was prepared and moved into his path, throwing a punch and knocking the man out. He stood over the man's unconscious body and sent a quick text. Then, after making sure no one else had followed them, he took Molly's hand again. “We need to abandon our luggage for the moment. Mycroft's people will pick it up and deliver it to us once I inform him of where we're staying.”
“All right,” she said with a nod. It took them some time, but soon they were at a hotel, settled into a room on the third floor, and Sherlock was standing by the window. Molly had made use of the hotel's rather nice washroom to take a long bath and try to relax. She was still on edge from the incident at the train station, though she was calmer than she had been when she'd checked in thanks to a bottle of wine Sherlock had ordered for her from room service and the two glasses she'd drank during her bath. She had a fluffy white bath robe on now and she sat on the edge of the bed, towel drying her hair and looking at Sherlock. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“If I hadn't noticed he was acting suspiciously he could have gotten hold of you,” he said quietly, not looking away from the window. “I could have lost you right from the outset.”
“But you didn't,” she said, pausing in her actions with her hair. “You kept me safe, just like you promised you would. And you'll keep doing it. I have faith in you.”
He nodded before pulling himself away from the window. He sat next to her and watched her for a few moments. “We should get some sleep soon. I expect Mycroft will want us to leave quite early, once today's problem has been taken care of.”
“All right,” she said. She finished drying her hair and took the towel back into the washroom, hanging it up to dry. She ran a comb through her hair to get the tangles out, and then braided it since it was still wet, securing it with one of the elastic bands she usually wore on her wrist. When she came back out Sherlock had taken off his suit jacket and his shirt was unbuttoned, leaving his chest bare. She watched him shrug out of it and then begin to work on his trousers. He was down to his pants when he glanced up at her. She gave him a grin. “I was just admiring the view.”
“I see,” he said. “Are you going to put your knickers back on before you go to bed?”
She shook her head. “I actually enjoyed sleeping in the buff next to you this past weekend.” She moved over to the other side of the bed from him and untied the robe before letting it fall from her shoulders. She pulled back the bedding and get into the bed as Sherlock stripped out of his pants. He joined her a few moments later and pulled her close against him, her back pressed against his chest. She felt herself begin to relax more and she shut her eyes. Despite still being on edge she managed to go to sleep fairly quickly, though it wasn't restful. The events replayed over in her head, with each end result getting worse and worse. When the man in her dreams shot Sherlock her eyes snapped open and she sat up, trying to catch her breath. After a moment she felt Sherlock sit up next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “It's just a nightmare,” she said, bracing his arms with hers.
“You're safe,” he said, resting his chin on her shoulder as he pressed his chest to her back. “I'm here. I'll keep you safe.”
“I know,” she said. She turned in his grip and to look at him and he lifted his head up. “I'm sorry I woke you up.”
“I hadn't slept yet,” he said. “I was listening to some music in an attempt to relax enough to join you in sleep.”
“Anything in particular start to help?” she asked.
“No, but there was a song that gave me hope,” he said. He pulled away and reached over towards the nightstand on his side of the bed. He handed her the headphones he used and she slipped them into her ears. He fiddled with the iPod and then stopped, and after a moment she heard an acoustic guitar and a violin playing a very familiar song. Sherlock laid back down on the bed, flat on his back, and she curled up net to him and rested her head on his chest.
I know the world has got you down
And there's just no easy way around
But please don't listen to what they say
And don't lose hope and don't lose faith
She could feel his chest vibrate slightly, and she realized he was humming along with the song. He must have listened to it multiple time to know what part it was at without actually listening to it. After a moment she lifted her head up and offered him one of the earbuds. He took it as the chorus started and she heard him singing along, his voice very quiet.
“It's gonna be all right, just don't close your eyes, the whole world is waiting,” he sang before taking a breath. “I know you can do this on your own, but it helps to know you're not alone. And it won't make sense when things go wrong, but love will help you carry on.” She slipped the other earbud out and shut her eyes, placing a hand on his chest by her head. He didn't seem to realize she wasn't listening to the actual song anymore. “It's gonna be all right, just don't close your eyes, the whole world is waiting,” he continued. “You're gonna be just fine, but don't you dare close your eyes. You might miss what's waiting outside.”
“I like listening to you sing it better,” she said quietly.
He moved his hand towards his ear and pulled out his earbud. Then he picked up the player and put it back onto the nightstand before gathering her in his arms. “I don't think I sing it that well,” he said.
“You sound perfect,” she said. “And it's quite soothing.”
“I can finish it, if you want,” he said.
She shook her head slightly before lifting it up. “I think I would much rather have a different type of distraction,” she said, leaning in towards him. She kissed him softly, and he moved a hand up to undo her braid and tangle his fingers in her hair as he kissed her back. After a moment he rolled them over so she was on her back, and she was perfectly content to lose herself in the moment, to lose herself in him, and ignore the world for just a little while.
He had thought once she got the full import of what it would mean to chase Moriarty around the globe, always seeming to be a step or two behind, she would get upset and resent the fact she had to stay by his side. If she left she would be in danger, and at times he was worried that she would get angry that her whole life had been turned into a wild goose chase and realize that it was all his fault. But so far she seemed to be handling it well enough. After Scotland they'd spent a month crisscrossing America, then two weeks in Canada and one in Mexico, and then one and a half weeks in Australia and another week in New Zealand. Now they were in Korea, waiting in Seoul, and had been there for five days. It looked like they might need to pack up and leave again soon, but he wouldn't be sure until the morning.
They hadn't ventured far away from the hotel where they were staying. It was a shame, because the city seemed fascinating. Molly had been especially taken with the music she heard, the catchy pop songs and soulful ballads that filled the radio and television, and she'd used the laptop and credit card Mycroft had given them to order quite a bit of it off of the internet once she had begun associating names of artists with specific songs. He would only half listen to the songs she would play out loud, his mind translating a random phrase here and there. She seemed to prefer the female singers to the male ones, he had noticed, and he realized a few minutes ago that she kept playing one song with more frequency. He moved away from the window to her spot on the bed. “I take it you like this song,” he said, listening for a moment.
She nodded. “It's quite pretty, even if I can understand very little of what they're saying.”
“What is it called?” he asked.
“'Paper Heart.' It's by a band called f(x). They have some very good songs, actually. I have their entire discography now.”
He looked down at her. “I'm sorry you've been more or less cooped up in this room.”
“Well, it's the best way to keep me safe, right?” she asked, looking up at him. “Then I don't mind. I've been enjoying some of the television programs and the music, and I have books on my Kindle that Mycroft has paid for.”
“Mycroft is going to look at the charges and wonder what on earth we could need Korean music for,” he said with a small smile. “I think he's going to regret letting us have that card.”
“No, he told me to keep myself as occupied as possible so I had no reason to come back home,” she said, shaking her head. “He's worried for my safety as well.”
He nodded. That was both his and his brother's primary concern, it seemed. John, Mary and Lestrade were more than capable of taking care of themselves, but Molly was another matter, and because he cared so much, because he loved her more than anything, Sherlock made keeping Molly safe his priority, even over finding Moriarty. He didn't want to think about what his life would be like if she wasn't in it. But she deserved something to make the day better. “We should go somewhere, enjoy ourselves,” he said. “My contact won't be available until the morning.”
“We don't have to. I really don't mind being here,” she said before pausing. “Though...”
“Though what?” he asked.
“I do miss having dates,” she said. “But maybe we could have one here. We could get room service and ask them to send up candles, have a romantic dinner, maybe? And maybe we could dance to some of the songs I have?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What type of dancing?”
“Well, not ballet or jazz or step-dancing,” she said. “But dancing with me, like you would to a slow song. Just being close and swaying in time with the music.”
“We can do that now, if you'd like,” he said, offering her his hand. “Start this song over first.”
She nodded, shifting her position so she could get off the bed. Once she was standing up she turned back to her laptop, going to the music player and starting the song over. She turned to face him again and he put his hands on her waist while she slipped hers around his neck. “Can you tell me what they're saying in English?” she asked. He nodded and listened as the singing started and he and Molly began to sway to it.
Barami jangnaneul chil ttaemyeon
Nareul kkok butjabajwoya hae
Tto naraga beorilla
Geureoke gugimyeon keunil na
Nan mareopgo chakhae boyeodo
Jajonsimi senikka
Sarange mak apa bon jeok
Nugul jinjihage saenggakhan jeokdo
Nan cheoeumira simgakhae
It took him a moment, but thanks to his ability to recall anything he was able to translate it pretty quickly. Ignoring the chorus he began to tell Molly what had been sung. “The first woman says 'When the wind plays tricks, hold me close, I might fly away,' and the the second woman says 'If you crumple me like that, you'll be in trouble. I may be nice but I have a huge ego,” he said.
“Oh, that's so you,” Molly said with a chuckle, looking up at him with a warm smile on her face.
“I suppose,” he said, giving her a small grin. “The second verse also resonates with how I am. A third woman sings 'I've never been hurt because of love,” and the second woman picks up with 'I've never seriously thought of anyone before.' The third woman adds the last line, 'For the first time, I'm serious.”
“And this next part?” she asked.
He had missed the first verse after the chorus, and began paying closer attention. “I'll have to listen to it again to catch the first few lines, but the lyrics I managed to catch are 'I might break so make you words gentle and soft, okay? Oh bear it deep in mind, if you don't know everything beforehand I'll tell you.” he said. “And then it goes into the chorus, which starts with 'On the outside I look strong, but my heart is like paper' and then has 'You're too good to be true, I'm a little scared' after the English bit.”
She stopped swaying to the music and looked at him. “Are you?”
“Am I scared that this is too good to be true?” he asked quietly. She nodded. “No. If it was too good to be true you would have hurt me in some way or given up on me a long time ago. You haven't hurt me and you're still here, even though your life has been upended because of this. So since that's the case, I'm not afraid that this will be something that will end before its time and leave me shattered.”
“I'm glad,” she said softly before she leaned in and kissed him softly. He kissed her back, pulling her closer and relishing the feel of her. When they pulled apart to catch their breath the song was ending. “I suppose I should pick another song.”
“I rather like that one,” he said. “Put it on repeat.”
She smiled at him and pulled away with some reluctance. She went and stopped the new song, restarting the other one and fiddling with the controls. Then she came back over to him and stepped into his arms again, this time letting resting her cheek against him. At least for the moment all was right with his world, and that was a good thing. Whether it stayed that way or not he wasn't sure, but he would take moments like this as often as he could to hold onto and cherish in case the worst happened.
It was only a few hours until it would all be finished. All the headache and heartache and misery that Moriarty had caused, it would be over tonight if things went according to plan. She hadn't even originally been part of the plan, mostly because Sherlock insisted he wanted to keep her safe and that meant keeping her away from the confrontation, but when they'd finally cracked the last few clues Sherlock had found and realized the full extent of Moriarty's plans that wasn't going to be an option. Moriarty wanted her to pay for her hand in all of it, and since she and Sherlock were romantically attached her punishment was supposed to be a painful and tortured death because that would hurt Sherlock the most. Sherlock had said it would be a cold day in Hell before that happened, and she felt the same way about it.
He'd attached himself to her hip, as much as he could, and while normally she would hate the invasion of her personal space in this case she welcomed it. He would turn the world upside down to make sure nothing happened to her, she knew this deep down. He'd already nearly had to do that, taking her on a hunt that crisscrossed the globe. But tonight it would all be over and they could go back home, back to whatever life had in store for them. Back to her job at St. Bart's and his job as a consulting detective, she supposed. Back to life shuttling between her home and his, the two places that felt like home to her. Back to normalcy. And while she ached for that she was also afraid that this had changed her too much to settle back home. But at least she wouldn't go through it alone. She knew he would be there too. Probably for the rest of her life, even if they hadn't talked about that much, about exactly what their future together would consist of. But she knew whatever it was, it would last a long time.
He was still asleep, surprisingly. Normally he was up before the sun, fingertips playing on her skin. He admitted he was trying to learn every inch of her, every divot in her skin and curve of her body. She didn't need to ask why because she did the same thing, trying to memorize the feel of his muscles and the taste of his skin. If the worst happened, if one of them lost the other, then they would have them burned deep into their memory. They would always be there in some way even if they weren't physically there. Neither of them wanted to think the worst but they prepared for it anyway. But as much as she wanted to lay in bed and keep him close she just couldn't, not today.
She slowly and carefully got out of bed, trying not to wake him up. She had been used to rising before the sun for as long as she could remember, long before it was required for university or medical rotations or her post. As a child she had always gone to her window and watched as the stars slowly disappeared from the sky when it wasn't cloudy. More often than not she was disappointed, but sometimes things would work out in her favor and she would see the early morning rays of light make the night sky lighter and lighter until her Mum called her down for breakfast. It had been her own special routine, her comforting start to the day. The one thing they had been told when they got the room at the Hotel dei Capitani was that the view of the sunrise was spectacular, and if the worst happened to her she wanted the chance to watch one last sunrise.
Her dressing gown was draped on top of her suitcase and she slipped it on, covering her bare skin. Ever since the first time they slept together after being intimate she found she preferred sleeping in the buff, or at most with just her knickers on. Tom had always insisted she put pyjamas on before they went to bed, but Sherlock actually welcomed her sleeping in as little clothing as possible, doing the same himself. Even considering the morning they had woken up to find Mycroft standing at the foot of their hotel room in Edinburgh it was their preference. She knew when they got home she would be insisting they lock the door of whichever bedroom they happened to be in for the night even though she knew Mycroft could just pick it open anyway.
She smoothed the silk down, relishing the feel of it before she tied the sash at her waist. This dressing gown had been a gift from Sherlock the first morning they were in Tokyo, after Molly realized she had forgotten to pack her old one in the rush to get out of the hotel in Seoul and back on Moriarty's trail. He'd slipped out of bed while she was still asleep and it had been one of the first things she saw when she finally woke up. It was made of a vibrant sapphire blue silk and cut almost like a kimono, and it was embroidered with a beautiful scene of a woman and a nine-tailed fox spirit in a garden. It did little to keep her warm but it was beautiful beyond compare and she treasured it. Quite honestly it was one of the most beautiful gifts she had ever been given.
After a moment she picked up the one thing Sherlock made sure was always in his carry-on, the one thing he made sure they never left behind no matter how quickly they had to pack and move along to the next place. She hadn't completely understood why he kept this particular model iPod; it had been years old already by the time she had bought it, and there wasn't any reason he couldn't upgrade like she'd had to do when he stole it from her. Plus it was a bright pink, which she thought would be a major turn-off in him wanting to keep it. But he wouldn't part with it. He said that it had been one of the few things he'd kept close after he faked his death, and so she assumed it was one of the few things he had sentimental value attached to. If it was important to him, though, then by all means it was important to her.
She turned it on and put the earbud headphones in her ears as she moved over to the balcony doors. It was still dark out, but there was some light in the distance. She could see silhouettes of the Tuscan hills but mostly she concentrated on the horizon where the beginning of the morning was peeking through. She probably would have enjoyed watching this with a cup of coffee, the good, strong coffee the Italians preferred, but then she worried she would be so wired that when this was all over it would be impossible to sleep. So she made do with opening the doors and moving onto the balcony, enjoying the brisk air against her skin, listening to song after song as the sun came up, occasionally singing along. It truly was a brilliant sunrise, she realized. She was glad she had gotten out to watch it.
She had been listening to an acoustic cover of a song that she had sung along to softly since she knew the rather simple lyrics well when she thought she heard movement in the room. If Sherlock was awake chances were he would get out of bed and join her shortly, so she simply waited and concentrated on the song that started when the cover had ended. It was one Sherlock had added on his own to the music player, she realized after a few seconds, because while she recognized the lyrics she didn't recognize the song itself. He'd been quite impressed with some of the mashups she had on her own iPod and so he must have found more. This one was actually quite nice, she realized as the song started to change into the chorus and she began to sing along. “You can feel the light start to tremble, washing what you know out to sea. You can see your life out of the window tonight,” she sang softly as the balcony doors opened behind her.
“If I lose myself tonight, it'll be by your side,” she heard from behind her, and she turned to see Sherlock there, leaning on the doorjamb. He'd put his trousers on but other than that he was not clothed. She gave him a small smile and motioned for him to join her. He did, and while she hoped he'd continue to sing he missed the next line. It was extremely rare that she got to hear him sing, even though he had an absolutely lovely voice. He tended to prefer to hear her sing than sing himself. She turned back to look at the view as he came up behind her, putting his arms around her and resting his chin on top of her head. She pulled out one of the earbuds and held it up as an offer and an unspoken suggestion he sing with her, and he took it from her after a moment as the chorus ended. She burrowed into him and he tightened his hold on her as the next verse started.
“I woke up with sun,” they both sang, their voices duetting perfectly for the verse. “Thought of all of the people, places and things I've loved. I woke up just to see. With all of the faces you were the one next to me.”
She paused to catch her breath and missed the start of the next part, and once again he didn't sing either. They simply settled into listening to the rest of the song instead, each lost in their own thoughts. When it was over Sherlock took the earbud out and handed it back to Molly, and she did the same with hers. “It isn't the best combination, admittedly, but anything that incorporates violins tends to get a few extra listens,” he said.
“I actually thought it was quite lovely,” she said.
“Then I'll share it with you later,” he said. He absently ran a hand over her abdomen, occasionally pulling the dressing gown up higher before letting it fall back on a downstroke. “I'm surprised you left the bed.”
“Nervous energy,” she said. “That and I remembered the person at the desk said we'd get a brilliant view of the sunrise over the hills. I wanted to see it. I mean, it's not as though I travel all the time. I may never be in Italy again. Today may have been the only time I got to do this.”
“Perhaps tomorrow morning I'll watch it with you,” he said quietly. She didn't reply right away. He was confident that they would both make it through the evening without serious injury or worse. This was good. But she didn't share his confidence, no matter how much she wanted to; in the back of her head was worry, a niggling doubt that Moriarty would win this epic game in the end. He must have sensed this because he kissed the top of her head. “I won't let him hurt either of us, Molly.”
“I know you'll try,” she said. “And I know you'll try very hard. But he's a sneaky bastard.”
“I know he is. And I'm prepared this time. He won't trick us again.”
She pulled away from his embrace and looked at him, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “How can you be so sure?”
“I have an ace up my sleeve, so to speak. We won't be going into this alone.”
“Oh?” she asked.
He nodded. “Two men I trust very much are here, or will be here shortly, if they didn't arrive last night. John and Lestrade are just as involved in this, because of their association with me. They wanted to be here at the end of it, and their particular sets of skills will come in handy.”
She relaxed at the news. She expected Moriarty to be shady and Sherlock had anticipated this too, and the fact that it was John and Lestrade who would be there calmed her more than she could have hoped. Even though she was still worried it was lessened now. “That's good. That makes me feel better.”
“It makes me feel better as well,” he said. He reached over for her and pulled her close again. “I think we should go back to bed while we still can. It will be a bit before anything opens so we can get something to eat for breakfast.”
She nodded, sliding her arms around him and holding him close. Maybe, just maybe, they really would make it through this all in one piece. She could hope for that now and worry less, and that was a very good thing. After a few minutes she let go of him and he took her free hand, leading her back to bed. He paused long enough for her to set the iPod on the nightstand before he sat down on the bed and pulled her close. She gave him a smile and kissed him, starting softly and then with more urgency, which he noted by undoing the sash on her dressing gown and sliding his hands along her exposed skin. For the moment they would lose themselves in each other and the world would be all right, and that was how it should be.
He was not a person to usually make grand romantic gestures. Small ones occasionally, because they made Molly smile and he would honestly do anything in the world to make her smile, but the large ones had a habit of not going exactly as planned. There had been their sixth month anniversary and the attempt to take Molly away for a weekend before the one Irene had arranged for them, and a few other occasions when they were after Moriarty as well, mostly to help her forget how much her life was in an upheaval. In fact, he was fairly sure that weekend from Irene had only gone as planned because he hadn't been the one planning it. Molly seemed to take it all in stride, though. He was quite thankful for that. But tonight he had been trying to make the grandest romantic gesture he could think of. He had pulled out all the stops because this was their one year anniversary, and he wanted to make it memorable. John had been quite amused when Sherlock began to ask him for his help, and even Mycroft had shaken his head when Sherlock asked him to use his clout to get Sherlock reservations at a restaurant with a six month long waiting list to get a table. He wanted to make damn sure it was a night Molly wouldn't forget.
Unfortunately, he hadn't factored in Molly being too ill to go out.
So instead of dinner at a fancy restaurant and a limo ride around the city to where he had a surprise planned he was sitting on her sofa, arm around her shoulders as she curled into him, a Glee rerun on the telly. He had songs from most of the first two or three seasons memorized since she'd had nearly every album on her iPod when he'd stolen it. Most of it had barely registered but he'd had to admit a few songs were catchy enough. The show itself, however, was rather boring. He'd idly wondered once or twice if Moriarty had thought the same thing when she'd made him watch it. It wasn't a thought he liked to think often, though. The whole matter was done, and he tried to avoid thinking about Moriarty as much as possible.
The ending of the whole thing had been rather anticlimactic, to be honest. Moriarty had done his usual monologue where he gloated about being better than the great Sherlock Holmes. He explained in detail how he'd managed to fake his death, using a blood pack on his back and dosing himself with a poison to slow his heart rate immeasurably. He said how he had no plans for the game to end, and then he'd leveled a gun at Molly and fired a shot. His shot had missed, but six bullets from three guns hit him square in the chest and abdomen and Moriarty had been quite surprised by that. Sherlock had honestly been surprised he hadn't thought to wear body armor of some sort, and so he stood over him and made sure that this time he really was dead. And then they had left, coming back home and trying to settle back into a familiar routine. They'd been back a month and it seemed as though both he and Molly were handling it well enough. It was easier for him this time because he hadn't gone through the experience alone, and he was able to help Molly in whatever ways she needed to readjust to their daily routine. He was glad for things going relatively well, more than anyone realized.
He forced himself to focus his attention back on the episode. The obnoxious blonde cheerleader was speaking and he scowled. She annoyed him greatly, as did almost every other character on the show, and she was prattling on about a solo as the music started. Molly caught the look on his face and grinned slightly. “She'll be quiet in a moment,” she said. “There's going to be a song soon.”
“Good,” he said with a sigh, glancing at his watch. It was now eight thirty-six. Had things gone according to plan they would have left the restaurant and been on their way to the surprise he'd planned. He hated to see his plans in tatters when she deserved so much more.
“You don't have to stay,” she said, pulling away as Rachel began to sing. Rachel was one of two characters whose name he'd bothered to learn because he appreciated that actress's voice the most. Her paramour Finn was the other since they did a lot of songs together. “I know this wasn't what you'd planned for us tonight.”
“I can stay,” he said, focusing more on the song. This song was a particular favorite. It quite encapsulated how he felt about Molly and their relationship. “It wouldn't do for me to leave you in your sickbed while you're still awake, anyway.”
“Yes, but I mean, you probably had elaborate plans. Mary hinted at it,” she said. “What were they?”
“Well, if I tell you, I can't surprise you when you feel better, though I doubt we'll get a reservation again at the restaurant for quite some time,” he said. “But it was dinner at an exclusive restaurant and a well thought out surprise, which you'll see the remnants of when you return to work in a day or so.” He paused. “I hope.”
“Then I hope I get better soon,” she said, giving him a small smile before snuggling in next to him again. He watched the episode some more and then frowned. This was not how the song was supposed to go. He leaned forward, grabbing the remote from her table and backing up the episode. Molly had been jostled by his sudden movement and now wore a frown on her face. “Sherlock?”
“That's not how the song goes,” he said. “It's incomplete.”
“Well, it's because of time constraints. They have so many songs in the episodes that not all of them show the full version,” she said.
“But it left out the important part. It left out the part of the song that actually matters,” he said, getting irritated. He had no real reason to; it was simply a song on a television program. It wasn't as though he couldn't listen to the full version any time he wanted. But it seemed as though it was just another thing that was wrong about tonight, and it grated at him.
She studied him closely for a moment. “Do you want to hear the whole song, Sherlock?” she asked gently. “I have that one on my computer.”
He nodded. “I would.”
She moved slightly and reached over to the table on the other side of the sofa. He leaned back into the sofa again as she got her laptop and opened iTunes. It took her a moment but then the song started. She kept it on her lap as Lea Michelle began to sing. “I take it this is one of the songs from Glee you actually like?” she asked, tilting her head slightly as she looked at him.
He nodded. “It's a very fitting song,” he said. “It describes our relationship from my point of view very well. The second verse especially, though. The first verse doesn't quite apply as I've never seen either my father or mother broken hearted.”
She nodded. “It's been a very long time since I've really listened to it,” she said.
“I've been listening to it more frequently,” he said quietly. “I've been thinking about our relationship quite a bit lately.”
“And what kind of thoughts have you had?” she asked as the break came between the chorus and the second verse. He didn't reply, intent on listening to the verse.
Maybe I know somewhere
Deep in my soul
That love never lasts
And we've got to find other ways
To make it alone
Keep a straight face
And I've always lived like this, keeping a comfortable distance
And up until now I had sworn to myself that I'm content
With loneliness
Because none of it was ever worth the risk
Well you are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
You are the only exception
He watched her eyes widen slightly. He'd said things like this before to her, that she was the only one he could see himself being in love with, making a relationship work with. But she needed to know all of it, the true depth of it all. He leaned over and took the laptop off of her lap, setting it next to her on the sofa. Then he shifted so that he had his back against the arm and could look at her. After a moment, though, he changed his mind. He stood up and went to her chair, where he'd draped his coat over the back of it. He went for the pocket and pulled out the small jewelry box, keeping it hidden from her view for the moment. The bridge was starting when he spoke again. “I have spent so much of my life alone. Not necessarily lonely; for a few years now I've had friends, and that has been very good. But even then, to an extent, I've kept myself closed off a bit. Even from John. I've been that way around everyone except you. I mean, even with you there are times I am not quite as open as I could be, but I don't purposefully keep parts of myself from you. You know me better than anyone. You are the exception in my life, in that you know all of me.”
He came closer, standing in front of the sofa for a moment, and then getting down on one knee in front of her. Her eyes went wider as she straightened up. “Sherlock...” she said.
“Knowing that, knowing the best and the worst of my personality, you've chosen to stay. Tonight I was going to end the evening at St. Bart's, since that is where we first met all those years ago. There are approximately twenty-four vases of roses, dozens in different colors, in your office at the moment because that was where I had planned on doing this.” A smile crossed her face and he relaxed. She didn't seem to mind the much less romantic way he was doing this. He opened the box and looked at her reaction to seeing the ring, which his mother had excitedly given to him when he told her what he was planning. It was a white gold ring, with a prominent circular diamond and braiding on either side dotted with sapphires, and her smile widened as she looked down at it. “I wanted to make sure it was as different from your last engagement ring as I could make it while still making sure it was something you would actually want to wear. This particular ring happened to belong to my grandmother.” He reached over for her hand. “I love you and I want to give this to you and ask if you will do me the honor of marrying me, and remaining in my life until we're no longer on this earth.”
“Oh, yes. Absolutely yes,” she said, nodding emphatically before spreading her fingers slightly so he could slip the ring onto her finger. He did, and then she looked up from the ring to him. “I probably shouldn't kiss you right now, no matter how much I want to.”
“I've had my flu vaccine this year so I'll risk it,” he said with a grin. He moved and sat back on the sofa and she leaned in, pressing her lips against his in a soft kiss.
When she was done she smiled up at him widely. “Oh, I do love you.”
“I know,” he said, gathering her up in his arms and pulling her close. She settled against him. “Was that a good proposal?”
“It was an excellent one,” she said approvingly. “I actually think I like it more than the grand gesture you'd planned. It's more heartfelt.”
“I'm glad,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “Do you want to go back to watching Glee?”
“I think I'd like to just sit here and talk, maybe, until I fall asleep,” she said. “Just promise me that if I fall asleep on the sofa you'll carry me to bed and then join me.”
“Of course,” he said. They both shifted a bit until they were comfortable again and then she started to talk and he got lost in the conversation. Even though things had not gone according to plan, he realized that it had gone better than he had hoped for, and he was incredibly thankful for that. She would stay with him until death took one of them away, and that was what he had hoped for.
