New Beginnings || A Sherlolly Tale

VI

Molly set Maisie in the chair in front of the plate with the least amount of eggs, then sat in the other chair. Maisie attempted to tuck in, but Molly stopped her. "Careful darling. Give it a minute to cool." She smiled at Sherlock. "Thanks for breakfast. For everything."

He let out a sniff of a laugh. "You've nothing to thank me for, but I've got everything to thank you for."

"You know, lovely as this is, you don't need to keep saying thanks. I told you, it was no trouble." She took a bite. They weren't the best eggs ever, and definitely still too hot for Maisie, but she still appreciated the effort and enjoyed them.

"No need to lie Molly. I know it was difficult. And not just you helping me. After too."

She sighed. "I'm not going to lie, these last two years have been absolute hell." She looked to her daughter and began smiling, her doe eyes gleaming. "But as hard as it was, well, she's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Sherlock sat a hand on her shoulder and she looked up at him. He said nothing. He didn't know what to say. So instead he gave her a smile, one that he wasn't aware of what purpose it was supposed to have, and rubbed a circle over her furthest shoulder in what he hoped was comforting.

"Mum Mum. Eat now?"

"Yes, darling. Go on."

Maisie took the fork and began to eat like she hadn't had anything in days.

Molly laughed, shaking her head. "Well, she certainly didn't inherit my appetite, nor yours."

"Hm, I blame Mycroft."

"Has he got an appetite."

"Bigger than you'd think."

Molly took another couple of bites. It felt nice, waking up to Maisie and her father, Sherlock making breakfast. It almost felt like a ... family.

She knew she shouldn't think like that. She couldn't let herself believe that she and Sherlock were part of a real proper family. She knew that the moment she got hope would be the moment he was sent away again, whether it be by his own will or for something he couldn't help. Either way, she'd be end up alone as she always did.

"Molly?" His voice snapped her out of her thought. "What's wrong?"

She let out a shaky laugh, shaking her head. "Nothing, it's just ... nothing."

"Doesn't sound like nothing."

"Mum mum sad."

Sherlock furrowed his brows at the toddler, kneeling down next to Molly and looking up at her just in time to see a tear escape her closed eyes. It trailed down her cheek as she smiled a small, sad smile. "Molly, tell me what's wrong."

She sighed, setting her fork down as she turned and looked down at Sherlock. "It's just ... this feels ...nice."

"What does?"

"Me and Maisie and ... you. Together at last."

He cocked his head. "Well, then. How is that sad?"

"We're together at last, but are we really?"

"What do you mean?"

She shook her head and picked up her fork again, poking at her eggs. "Nevermind. Really, it's nothing. It's-" she let out a shaky laugh again, "-stupid. Silly."

He seemed to think for a moment, looking over her, deducing her. This wasn't the first time she had wondered what he saw when he looked at her. She didn't care about the big things he saw, emotions, demeanors. Dispositions were easy to read, even for people like her. She wanted to know the itty bitty details that no one else could see. Could he tell that she didn't wash her hair yesterday morning like she usually did? Could he tell that the slight tremor in her hand was from not taking her Depakote for three days? She set her fork down with a sigh.