Murder House
Summary: How was Molly able to afford her lovely home? It may have something to do with it being a Murder House.
Rating: G
A/N - MHAW Day Seven- Day 7 - Free For All (Anything that didn’t fit into a themed day that focuses on Molly)
I saw a post on Tumblr ages ago with a head canon about Molly’s house that I thought would be perfect for a fic someday. I really really wish I had kept a link to the original post so I could link to it. All I have is a word doc that literally says “Molly’s discounted murder house”. If it was your post, please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due.
Murder House
“Murder house.”
“It’s not a murder house.” Molly rolled her eyes at her friend and continued to walk through the mid-century bungalow. She loved the cheerful colours and the way the sun came through the large windows.
“Murder house,” Meena repeated.
“Stop saying that.”
Meena huffed and settled both of her hands on her hips. “I’ll stop saying murder house when you stop acting like you want to buy a house in which people have been murdered!”
Molly ran her hand over the kitchen counter. “God, that was more than ten years ago! And those men were horrible, they robbed banks and shot hostages. I’m not sure it counts as murder if it’s the police who shoot you during a raid.”
The kitchen wasn’t the nicest room in the house. Perhaps, in a few years, she’d be able to update the cabinets and counters. A tile backsplash would look nice. Newer appliances, obviously.
She turned to find Meena staring at her. “And a year later?” her friend prodded.
“They didn’t even live here!” Molly scoffed. “Those two were idiots looking for some ‘lost’ bank heist money the Saunders gang had supposedly hidden in the house somewhere. When they didn’t find anything, they turned on each other and the homeowners found them when they came home from vacation.” Molly said it as it were the most logical conclusion in the world. “Cut and dried. Greg told me all about it when he heard I was thinking about looking at this place.”
Meena looked even less convinced now.
“The last guy lived here for five years with no problem, and he wasn’t murdered,” Molly tried to sound reassuring.
Meena shook her head. “But he’s dead now, isn’t he? Died right there in front of the door.” She pointed in that direction and wagged her finger in for emphasis.
“He choked on an apple while he was working in his office upstairs.” Speaking of apples, Molly looked through the window over the sink and smiled at the apple tree near the far fence. Just like the realtor had mentioned.
“Where he was cooking the books for an embezzlement scam,” Meena reminded her.
“No one’s perfect?” That earned her a glare from Meena. “Yes, he was a criminal, but he wasn’t murdered! He choked on the apple, tried to give himself the Heimlich manoeuvre over his desk chair, broke his rib, punctured a lung, and when he stumbled to the stairs to try to get outside for help he fell and snapped his neck.” Molly shrugged with an ‘it could happen to anyone’ expression on her face.
She tried one more time to reassure the other woman. “Both Greg and Sherlock worked on the case, and I did the autopsy myself. Definitely not murder. And look at the garden, Meena. Mr Grant certainly had a green thumb. It’s been unattended for over a year, and it’s still so pretty.”
Meena finally looked out the window. “Embezzler and gardener, was there anything he couldn’t do?” she deadpanned. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.” Molly could tell her friend was caving. “I love this place, Meena. It’s nearly everything I’ve always wanted, and I would never be able to afford it if it weren’t for the . . . you know.”
“Murders?”
“Yes, fine.” Molly threw up her hands in surrender. “If it wasn’t a murder house, it would be out of my price range.”
Meena rubbed her temples and then nodded. “All right.”
“Really?” Molly bounced on the balls of her feet, her grin infectious enough to pull a smile answering smile from Meena. “You think I should go for it?”
“If that’s what you really want. But girls’ nights are happening at mine from now on. I’m not spending the night here.” Meena’s tone of voice cast no doubt that she meant it.
“Fair enough.”
Meena turned to the realtor who was standing in the open room next to the kitchen. “So, how much of a discount are we talking about, seeing as this place was obviously built on top of an ancient burial ground?”
In the end, Meena managed to help Molly negotiate an additional ten percent off the already low asking price, and Mr Grant’s family agreed to cover the closing costs. They even offered to sell her most of the furniture (and threw in his office desk and chair for free) for well below market value just so they wouldn’t have to make one last visit to the house. Molly ended up with enough extra in her budget to give the kitchen the remodel she was dreaming of.
And then the house was perfect.
For a murder house.
Rating: G
A/N - MHAW Day Seven- Day 7 - Free For All (Anything that didn’t fit into a themed day that focuses on Molly)
I saw a post on Tumblr ages ago with a head canon about Molly’s house that I thought would be perfect for a fic someday. I really really wish I had kept a link to the original post so I could link to it. All I have is a word doc that literally says “Molly’s discounted murder house”. If it was your post, please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due.
Murder House
“Murder house.”
“It’s not a murder house.” Molly rolled her eyes at her friend and continued to walk through the mid-century bungalow. She loved the cheerful colours and the way the sun came through the large windows.
“Murder house,” Meena repeated.
“Stop saying that.”
Meena huffed and settled both of her hands on her hips. “I’ll stop saying murder house when you stop acting like you want to buy a house in which people have been murdered!”
Molly ran her hand over the kitchen counter. “God, that was more than ten years ago! And those men were horrible, they robbed banks and shot hostages. I’m not sure it counts as murder if it’s the police who shoot you during a raid.”
The kitchen wasn’t the nicest room in the house. Perhaps, in a few years, she’d be able to update the cabinets and counters. A tile backsplash would look nice. Newer appliances, obviously.
She turned to find Meena staring at her. “And a year later?” her friend prodded.
“They didn’t even live here!” Molly scoffed. “Those two were idiots looking for some ‘lost’ bank heist money the Saunders gang had supposedly hidden in the house somewhere. When they didn’t find anything, they turned on each other and the homeowners found them when they came home from vacation.” Molly said it as it were the most logical conclusion in the world. “Cut and dried. Greg told me all about it when he heard I was thinking about looking at this place.”
Meena looked even less convinced now.
“The last guy lived here for five years with no problem, and he wasn’t murdered,” Molly tried to sound reassuring.
Meena shook her head. “But he’s dead now, isn’t he? Died right there in front of the door.” She pointed in that direction and wagged her finger in for emphasis.
“He choked on an apple while he was working in his office upstairs.” Speaking of apples, Molly looked through the window over the sink and smiled at the apple tree near the far fence. Just like the realtor had mentioned.
“Where he was cooking the books for an embezzlement scam,” Meena reminded her.
“No one’s perfect?” That earned her a glare from Meena. “Yes, he was a criminal, but he wasn’t murdered! He choked on the apple, tried to give himself the Heimlich manoeuvre over his desk chair, broke his rib, punctured a lung, and when he stumbled to the stairs to try to get outside for help he fell and snapped his neck.” Molly shrugged with an ‘it could happen to anyone’ expression on her face.
She tried one more time to reassure the other woman. “Both Greg and Sherlock worked on the case, and I did the autopsy myself. Definitely not murder. And look at the garden, Meena. Mr Grant certainly had a green thumb. It’s been unattended for over a year, and it’s still so pretty.”
Meena finally looked out the window. “Embezzler and gardener, was there anything he couldn’t do?” she deadpanned. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.” Molly could tell her friend was caving. “I love this place, Meena. It’s nearly everything I’ve always wanted, and I would never be able to afford it if it weren’t for the . . . you know.”
“Murders?”
“Yes, fine.” Molly threw up her hands in surrender. “If it wasn’t a murder house, it would be out of my price range.”
Meena rubbed her temples and then nodded. “All right.”
“Really?” Molly bounced on the balls of her feet, her grin infectious enough to pull a smile answering smile from Meena. “You think I should go for it?”
“If that’s what you really want. But girls’ nights are happening at mine from now on. I’m not spending the night here.” Meena’s tone of voice cast no doubt that she meant it.
“Fair enough.”
Meena turned to the realtor who was standing in the open room next to the kitchen. “So, how much of a discount are we talking about, seeing as this place was obviously built on top of an ancient burial ground?”
In the end, Meena managed to help Molly negotiate an additional ten percent off the already low asking price, and Mr Grant’s family agreed to cover the closing costs. They even offered to sell her most of the furniture (and threw in his office desk and chair for free) for well below market value just so they wouldn’t have to make one last visit to the house. Molly ended up with enough extra in her budget to give the kitchen the remodel she was dreaming of.
And then the house was perfect.
For a murder house.