Just Because - Part 14/14
Sort of fill for
sherlockbbc_fic prompt Molly/Sherlock, One More Night
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13
___
I’m not in love
Even with Moriarty’s sense of dramatics, their meeting place seemed a bit over the top. But the view was stunningly beautiful.
“Why did Claire have to die, Jim?” he asked the man who was casually sitting on a large rock. He looked rather ridiculous wearing a suit.
Moriarty smirked, “She wouldn’t play with me, the little bitch.”
“I’m afraid I really don’t understand this one,” Sherlock said. He’d made the connection between Molly’s grandparents owning a place in Meiringen, the village where her Swiss grandmother had grown up and Moriarty’s father’s - a Professor John Ryan - brief tenure in the Mathematics department at the University of Berne in Switzerland. Professor Ryan had been dismissed from his position for unspecified reasons.
The connection seemed tenuous at first but here he was with Moriarty and the game they were playing was coming to an end. Only a few moves left and then it would be over.
“He beat me, you know, that night,” said Moriarty, “Did yours beat you too?”
“Only once,” answered Sherlock. No matter how he tried, he’d never been able to delete the memory.
“Lucky you,” Moriarty sneered.
“So?” Sherlock prompted.
“They were having a picnic, right over there,” he pointed to a little grassy spot, “She was being loud, running around, shouting. Annoying little creature. So I walked over and asked her if she wanted to play a game with me.”
“What sort of game?”
“Eh, something that involved gagging her.”
“And she said no?”
“Can you believe it?” Moriarty looked over at the spot again, looking wistful, “She was there too.”
“Molly.”
Moriarty grinned, “Yes, good old Mols, always so obedient, so nice, so quiet. But she’s really not that quiet, is she, Sherlock?” and he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Sherlock wanted to shoot him.
Moriarty sprang up from the rock he was sitting on, “Do you believe in fate, Sherlock?”
“Not really.”
“Hm. And yet, here we are.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you befriended Molly because you wanted to kill her cousin?”
Moriarty laughed, “Molly and I were definitely more than friends. And no, that one was about you, darling. But imagine my surprise when she comes out with the family albums and I recognize her cousin.”
“You really do keep a grudge, don’t you? Michael O’Dowd - beat you at a football game, Martha Smith - laughed at you in chemistry class.”
“Prerogative of a psychopath!” exclaimed Moriarty.
“Now that I think about it, maybe there is merit in thinking that all these are more than coincidences.”
“I know, right? Carl, Michael, Martha, Claire...there’s more to heaven and earth, Sherlock.”
“So why John, then, at the pool?”
“Because you weren’t ready. And I was kinda hoping that I was wrong about the mostly straight vibe coming off of you.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You should be. I don’t give my heart away that easily.”
“I was rather under the impression that you didn’t have one.”
“Zing! Good one, Sherlock.”
“Unfortunately, you miscalculated when you thought you could use Molly against me.”
Moriarty cackled, “Oh Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. Naive little Sherlock. Really? You think it would be that easy.”
Unease settled in the pit of Sherlock’s stomach.
“How about I bring out a little guest?” asked Moriarty. “Oh Molly, dear, won’t you come out from behind those trees?”
The one thing Sherlock had not yet been able to get over was how life still managed to surprise him. He could work out all the clever little details of a plan and there was still always something to catch him off-guard.
Molly walking out from behind those trees. He stopped breathing for a moment.
Molly didn’t look at him as she walked over. It was John at the pool all over again. The semtex must be heavy on such a delicate frame as hers.
She didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were fixed on Moriarty.
Sherlock had to stop himself from running over to her.
“Oh and just to let you know, if you’re thinking of trying anything funny, our old friends the snipers are here too,” purred Moriarty.
Molly was visibly shaking and it took all of Sherlock’s willpower not to rush to her.
“You had me, Jim, you did not need her anymore,” said Sherlock.
Moriarty nodded, “True but I thought about this and I couldn’t let her live too.”
“Why not? What could she possibly do to you?”
“It’s not what she could do, it’s what she did...when we were together,” Moriarty moved closer to Molly, gently caressing her cheek. She flinched.
Sherlock fought hard not to clench his fist.
“Even when I was paying her attention and I was her boyfriend, she still thought that you were the most brilliant man in the world...Sherlock did this and Sherlock did that and Sherlock’s such a genius!” he said in a falsetto.
“But who’s the genius now, Molly? Huh?” he shouted in her face.
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re insane?” Sherlock asked, seeing the panic in Molly’s eyes.
Moriarty’s attention was back on him, “Do you want a list?”
“Why are we here, Jim?”
“Isn’t it obvious?
“You could’ve just killed us in London.”
“That would’ve been boring”.
“But more efficient.”
“True but come on, put a little drama in your life.”
“What does this place mean to you, Jim? It’s not just about Claire. It can’t be. Tell me.”
“What’s the magic word, Sherlock?”
“Please?”
“Da hit me because I shoved Claire for being the spoiled brat that she was! He came into my room that night...he told me to take my clothes off so he could look at the bruises. What do you think happened next?”
“The accident your father died from, it wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“Tripping on his dressing gown, falling down the stairs? I admit, not very imaginative but it served its purpose.”
“It wasn’t very satisfying, was it? Not after all he’s done to you.”
“Are you implying that I’m doing all this because I have daddy issues?”
“So you brought me here...because this is where you began?”
“Now who’s being the drama queen!” Moriarty scoffed.
“You started this.”
“And I’m going to end this, too.”
“You won’t get away with this.”
“If it weren’t for that pesky consulting detective and...” Moriarty laughed, “But you’ll be dead in a few minutes and then I can go on with my business...and ooh, what does this button do?”
Everything seemed to happen simultaneously.
Moriarty wordlessly fell to the ground as Sherlock rushed over to Molly, ripping the bomb off her body, throwing it over the cliff as he tackled her to the ground.
There was an explosion and suddenly the small clearing was filled with the elite task force that had been silently eliminating Moriarty’s henchmen while they had their confrontation.
Molly was violently shaking underneath him and he held her close to his thundering heart.
“I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into her hair as she clung to him.
§
They asked if she wanted to be present at the autopsy but she declined.
“I don’t want to give him any more attention,” she said, then have him a lopsided grin, “You can go if you want.”
He didn’t. There would be nothing interesting to find. It was just a body.
They had to stay at a safe house - “It’s bigger than the last one,” Molly commented” - while Interpol arrested the rest of the important people in Moriarty’s organization.
There was a debriefing and then they were allowed back home.
Molly went off on a holiday by herself, asking Sherlock not to contact her while she was away. He volunteered to take care of Toby until her return.
He knew where she went and she sent him a short text when she arrived and everything was well. But apart from that she didn’t call, or text or email while she was away.
It’d been nearly a month, and they hadn’t communicated at all.
§
“I’m going home now,” Fred said to him, “Doctor Gregson will be taking over. If you need anything, speak to her.”
Sherlock looked up from the microscope. That was it. Reaching for his phone, he made the call he’d been too stubborn to make.
“If you leave within the next hour and a half, you can still make to the last flight home,” he said.
“Sherlock...”
“No Molly, I’ve had enough! Doctor Gregson hates me, Molly! She hates me...”
“Sherlock...”
“You have to come home at some point, why not today? I’ll take care of the ticket...”
“Sherlock...”
“You can’t do this to me, Molly. And Toby misses you...”
“Sherlock...”
He heard the door opening and soft, familiar footsteps walking in.
“Sherlock.”
“Molly.”
She had a light tan, which suited her. She wasn’t wearing her lab coat but she was holding what looked like lab results in one hand and a mug in the other.
“I believe these are for you,” she said, handing both items over to him. He didn’t move to accept them, so she placed them on the table.
“When?” he asked, feeling rather befuddled.
“This morning.”
“You could’ve told me.”
“I wanted to surprise you. I called John, he said you were on a case.”
“I am.”
“Anything good?”
“What do you know about brazil nuts?”
“High levels of selenium. There was a case study on allergies being sexual transmitted.”
He was impressed, “You read that?”
“I like brazil nuts. And sex.”
“You don’t have a nut allergy.”
She giggled, “Thank god.”
“So what do the results say?”
“He’s not the daddy.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“It’s not the boyfriend.”
“Damn.”
“But it wasn’t her boyfriend she had last sex with.”
“Oh?”
She handed him the results and looking through them briefly, the missing piece fell into place.
“You are amazing,” he said to her, kissing her soundly. She blushed, a sight he never thought he’d miss. But he had. He had missed her.
“I didn’t do anything,” she said, quietly.
He watched her as he waited for his call to Lestrade to go through.
“Sherlock,” said the familiar voice. He could hear Sally’s voice in the background.
“It’s the brother,” he said to Lestrade. Giving the inspector the briefest of explanation possible, he then hung up and walked over to Molly.
She was by the computer and typing something.
“You doing a full shift, then?”
“Uh-huh,” she replied, clearly absorbed by what she was doing.
“Need any company?”
She looked away from the computer screen and gave him one of those looks that he could never quite decipher.
“When was the last time you slept?” she asked.
“I don’t remember,” he answered, which was a lie. He could tell that she could tell it was a lie and it made him smile.
“Go home, get some rest, Sherlock,” she said.
“I can’t. I’m on a case.”
“You just solved the case.”
“No...well, yes...but there are details...”
“I’m sure Lestrade will be able to handle them.”
“Isn’t there anything I could maybe help you with?”
She smiled, that smile he knew meant trouble for him. “Lara might be able to...”
That was it. “I am not helping Doctor Gregson.”
Her smiled widened. He made his mind up.
“I’ll go home, get Toby, bring him home to your flat. I’ll take a nap there.” There was almost something defiant in his last sentence.
“Okay. I’ll see you later,” she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
Feeling confused, he left without another word. Surely, this wasn't how this was supposed to go?
§
He jerked awake when he heard the front door close. He’d dozed off on the couch. Toby was enthusiastically meowing and he could hear Molly’s excited little chatter back.
“Look at you, my beautiful little boy. How are you? Have you been good? Sherlock and John have spoiled you, haven’t they? Look at that little belly of yours.”
“Is that Chinese?” he greeted her and she held up the plastic bags nodding. He took them away from her and made his way to the kitchen.
“Have you unpacked my things?” he heard her shout from the bedroom.
He had, earlier. Hadn’t found anything interesting.
She walked into the kitchen, and leaned against the counter. “Were you looking for clues?”
He ignored the question and busied himself with arranging the food on plates.
She crossed her arms. “You know, it’s very hard...dating...someone who’s always ten steps ahead of you.”
“Not always. I didn’t know you were back already, if you remember,” he replied. This was it, he realized. This was going to be the talk. He suddenly didn’t feel like having it. Not with the food smelling so nice and him not having had any in a while.
“I love you,” she said and he nearly dropped the plate he was holding.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Good, that settles it then.”
“Does it?”
He considered this. “It’s more complicated than that, is it?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.”
“I like complicated.”
She laughed and he smiled at her, handing her a plate.
He’ll figure this one out eventually.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who read this and especially to those who have taken their time to comment.