Fic: A billion stars (and a tiny car) (Chapter 3/?)
Title: A billion stars (and a tiny car)
Rating: PG-13 (may go up as story proceeds)
Pairing/Characters: Irene Adler/Molly Hooper
Disclaimer: I own nothing (sadly)
Summary: Molly had sworn that helping Sherlock Holmes fake his death would be the last time she'd assist him with one of his crazy plans. Yet here she was, driving to Moscow in a too-small car. At least she had help this time: the beautiful (and odd) Irene Adler.
| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |
---
Molly was dimly aware that she was screaming in a highly undignified manner which would most likely embarrass her later on, but at the moment, she didn’t care. It felt like time had slowed down from the moment Irene grabbed the wheel: the world turned, the horizon tilted, Molly fell to the side and smashed against the window and the car was sliding down a hill off of the road. Irene’s knuckles were white but she didn’t scream, unlike Molly, whose heart was racing, adrenaline pumping, breath barely there.
Then suddenly it was all over. The car screeched to a halt at the bottom of the hill, spinning slightly, and Molly gasped for air. Irene left without saying a word, slamming the door behind her. Molly took a moment to pant and find some sort of stability. She felt sick.
“It’s safe,” said Irene, sliding back into her seat. “He’s gone.”
Molly cleared her throat. “What was that?”
“He was coming up behind us, about to knock us off the road.”
“So you finished the job, then?”
Irene’s glare could cut steel. “I kept him from hitting us. You’re welcome.”
“Sorry, I just-- D’you think he was one of Moriarty’s men?”
“Doubtless.” Irene disappeared.
Molly stared through the windshield, watching the yellow blazes of headlights streak across the dark of the night, adrenaline keeping her wide awake. Someone had tried to kill her. Someone had actually, intentionally, made an attempt to end her life.
It was always difficult to get used to.
She took a few moments to calm down and think rationally again. Running through the incident over and over in her head, each time she felt more and more humiliated. They’d almost died, and she’d screamed like a baby while Irene had saved them. She ought to thank her, but what if Irene didn’t even want to look at her after that? This trip was off to a fantastic start.
Eventually the indecision screaming in Molly’s head was unbearable, and she slipped out into the open air.
Irene was leaning against the back of the car, head tilted up to look at the stars. Molly stood next to her awkwardly (suddenly very aware that almost her entire life had been awkward, and gosh, that was depressing).
It took her a while to open her mouth, but when she did, the words tumbled out automatically.
“Look, I’m really sorry about all that, I panicked and I didn’t know what to do and if you hadn’t been there I--”
“Shhhhhh. It’s fine.”
Molly silenced herself immediately. She watched Irene for a bit, absorbing the quiet power held in the woman, the serenity of her stargazing.
“You remind me of him.”
Irene was startled, and broke her gaze away from the sky. “Sorry?”
“You know. You two are very similar.”
A smile twitched on Irene’s lips. “Is that a compliment?”
“Um, yeah. It is.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I did fancy him, you know. Like a school girl’s crush? Not that I fancy you, I didn’t mean-- well, not that you’re not, you know, but I’m not gay--” Irene actually looked like she might laugh but Molly forged ahead. “I just... I mean, I was smitten, I really was, but I never really had much luck with dating... First him, then Jim...” She trailed off.
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“But I want to,” Molly insisted. “No one talks about it to my face, except Sherlock, but I dated a mass-murdering psychopath! I mean, they all whisper of course, but they don’t know what it was like and... I dunno, it’s just kind of lonely.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Really?”
Irene turned to face her fully. “I worked for him.”
Molly felt her jaw drop, and quickly shut it.
“That’s how I met Sherlock. I’m not proud of it, you know, but I did it anyway. It was smart and safe and I thought it would help me. In a way, I guess it did.”
“Are you and him still.... you know...”
“Oh, god no! I worked for him, it failed, he tried to kill me. We’re not exactly friends.”
“He tried to kill me too. He wasn’t very good at it.”
Irene smirked and turned back. “I did love Sherlock, by the way. I was supposed to seduce him and I got... carried away.”
Amazed, Molly finally leaned against the car next to Irene. “You seduced Sherlock Holmes?”
“That’s more or less what John Watson said. Is it really so surprising?”
Molly thought back to innumerable times she’d asked Sherlock out to coffee. “Yes.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, it was never reciprocated.”
“Really?” It was hard to believe, they seemed perfectly matched. Equally beautiful, nearly equally brilliant... it was like some deity had created them for each other. “I’m sorry.”
Irene shrugged. “Oh, I’m quite over it. But it stung.” She smiled at Molly. “I’m used to getting what I want.”
This, at least, was easy to imagine.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this...”
“It’s okay,” Molly reassured her, “I’ve got one of those faces, people like telling me things.”
But it was incredible, it really was, that a woman so secretive and closed off would suddenly be so vulnerable, so open. It was almost like seeing Irene for the first time, Molly thought, the stars reflected in her eyes and her hair in a loose ponytail, leaning against the turquoise car seeming without a care, revealing all sorts of secrets. And in that instant she seemed so lonely: A dazzlingly beautiful woman with probably dozens of associates, and no one to tell these things to. No one who would listen, maybe no one she could trust. But here Molly could ask her anything, even why she faked her death (though Molly had already figured it out) and receive an honest answer.
“They’re so beautiful,” murmured Irene.
“The stars?”
Irene nodded. “And so many of them. Sometimes I go out at night and just watch them and feel so small.”
Molly understood perfectly. “If working in a morgue didn’t already reassure my convictions of the futility of human existence, these stars might do it.”
Irene turned and looked at her, really looked, as if she were reading Molly off the page of a book, and Molly was struck by the horrible realization that she’d just made a morgue joke, oh god oh god how awful--
And Irene burst out laughing and Molly nervously joined in and then the two of them stayed there for a while, watching the stars and the world go by and laughing with each other.
---
Next
Rating: PG-13 (may go up as story proceeds)
Pairing/Characters: Irene Adler/Molly Hooper
Disclaimer: I own nothing (sadly)
Summary: Molly had sworn that helping Sherlock Holmes fake his death would be the last time she'd assist him with one of his crazy plans. Yet here she was, driving to Moscow in a too-small car. At least she had help this time: the beautiful (and odd) Irene Adler.
| Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |
---
Molly was dimly aware that she was screaming in a highly undignified manner which would most likely embarrass her later on, but at the moment, she didn’t care. It felt like time had slowed down from the moment Irene grabbed the wheel: the world turned, the horizon tilted, Molly fell to the side and smashed against the window and the car was sliding down a hill off of the road. Irene’s knuckles were white but she didn’t scream, unlike Molly, whose heart was racing, adrenaline pumping, breath barely there.
Then suddenly it was all over. The car screeched to a halt at the bottom of the hill, spinning slightly, and Molly gasped for air. Irene left without saying a word, slamming the door behind her. Molly took a moment to pant and find some sort of stability. She felt sick.
“It’s safe,” said Irene, sliding back into her seat. “He’s gone.”
Molly cleared her throat. “What was that?”
“He was coming up behind us, about to knock us off the road.”
“So you finished the job, then?”
Irene’s glare could cut steel. “I kept him from hitting us. You’re welcome.”
“Sorry, I just-- D’you think he was one of Moriarty’s men?”
“Doubtless.” Irene disappeared.
Molly stared through the windshield, watching the yellow blazes of headlights streak across the dark of the night, adrenaline keeping her wide awake. Someone had tried to kill her. Someone had actually, intentionally, made an attempt to end her life.
It was always difficult to get used to.
She took a few moments to calm down and think rationally again. Running through the incident over and over in her head, each time she felt more and more humiliated. They’d almost died, and she’d screamed like a baby while Irene had saved them. She ought to thank her, but what if Irene didn’t even want to look at her after that? This trip was off to a fantastic start.
Eventually the indecision screaming in Molly’s head was unbearable, and she slipped out into the open air.
Irene was leaning against the back of the car, head tilted up to look at the stars. Molly stood next to her awkwardly (suddenly very aware that almost her entire life had been awkward, and gosh, that was depressing).
It took her a while to open her mouth, but when she did, the words tumbled out automatically.
“Look, I’m really sorry about all that, I panicked and I didn’t know what to do and if you hadn’t been there I--”
“Shhhhhh. It’s fine.”
Molly silenced herself immediately. She watched Irene for a bit, absorbing the quiet power held in the woman, the serenity of her stargazing.
“You remind me of him.”
Irene was startled, and broke her gaze away from the sky. “Sorry?”
“You know. You two are very similar.”
A smile twitched on Irene’s lips. “Is that a compliment?”
“Um, yeah. It is.”
“Well, thank you.”
“I did fancy him, you know. Like a school girl’s crush? Not that I fancy you, I didn’t mean-- well, not that you’re not, you know, but I’m not gay--” Irene actually looked like she might laugh but Molly forged ahead. “I just... I mean, I was smitten, I really was, but I never really had much luck with dating... First him, then Jim...” She trailed off.
“You don’t have to talk about it.”
“But I want to,” Molly insisted. “No one talks about it to my face, except Sherlock, but I dated a mass-murdering psychopath! I mean, they all whisper of course, but they don’t know what it was like and... I dunno, it’s just kind of lonely.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Really?”
Irene turned to face her fully. “I worked for him.”
Molly felt her jaw drop, and quickly shut it.
“That’s how I met Sherlock. I’m not proud of it, you know, but I did it anyway. It was smart and safe and I thought it would help me. In a way, I guess it did.”
“Are you and him still.... you know...”
“Oh, god no! I worked for him, it failed, he tried to kill me. We’re not exactly friends.”
“He tried to kill me too. He wasn’t very good at it.”
Irene smirked and turned back. “I did love Sherlock, by the way. I was supposed to seduce him and I got... carried away.”
Amazed, Molly finally leaned against the car next to Irene. “You seduced Sherlock Holmes?”
“That’s more or less what John Watson said. Is it really so surprising?”
Molly thought back to innumerable times she’d asked Sherlock out to coffee. “Yes.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter, it was never reciprocated.”
“Really?” It was hard to believe, they seemed perfectly matched. Equally beautiful, nearly equally brilliant... it was like some deity had created them for each other. “I’m sorry.”
Irene shrugged. “Oh, I’m quite over it. But it stung.” She smiled at Molly. “I’m used to getting what I want.”
This, at least, was easy to imagine.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you all this...”
“It’s okay,” Molly reassured her, “I’ve got one of those faces, people like telling me things.”
But it was incredible, it really was, that a woman so secretive and closed off would suddenly be so vulnerable, so open. It was almost like seeing Irene for the first time, Molly thought, the stars reflected in her eyes and her hair in a loose ponytail, leaning against the turquoise car seeming without a care, revealing all sorts of secrets. And in that instant she seemed so lonely: A dazzlingly beautiful woman with probably dozens of associates, and no one to tell these things to. No one who would listen, maybe no one she could trust. But here Molly could ask her anything, even why she faked her death (though Molly had already figured it out) and receive an honest answer.
“They’re so beautiful,” murmured Irene.
“The stars?”
Irene nodded. “And so many of them. Sometimes I go out at night and just watch them and feel so small.”
Molly understood perfectly. “If working in a morgue didn’t already reassure my convictions of the futility of human existence, these stars might do it.”
Irene turned and looked at her, really looked, as if she were reading Molly off the page of a book, and Molly was struck by the horrible realization that she’d just made a morgue joke, oh god oh god how awful--
And Irene burst out laughing and Molly nervously joined in and then the two of them stayed there for a while, watching the stars and the world go by and laughing with each other.
---
Next