Molly woke up alone in a different room than she had fallen asleep in. Maisie was no longer in bed, she could be heard babbling down the hallway.
Honestly, Molly didn't want to get up. It felt so nice being able to relax and stay in bed, not being bothered by Maisie. Plus, Sherlock's bed was pretty comfortable and Molly wouldn't get the opportunity to wake up in his bed everyday, so she wanted to savour the feeling.
She lay in bed for a few more minutes, pulling the duvet tighter around her and, though she'd never admit it to anybody except maybe Meena, smelling him in the sheets. She wasn't meaning to, she wasn't whiffing up his scent, but she definitely couldn't complain when every breath she took smelled faintly of beech trees (which she knew by heart due to the trees she grew up with) and something like almonds. The smells were lovely and comforting and him. And while she would have loved to stay there all day she heard a few words shared between her daughter and Sherlock that made her nearly skyrocket out of bed.
"What the smell?"
"That, Maisie Bronwyn, is formaldehyde."
"Foam aldie hi?"
"Formaldehyde."
"Foam owie hide!"
Molly rushed into the kitchen, relieved to see that Sherlock was taking a carton of eggs out of the fridge rather than blowtorching a tongue or microwaving two year old kidney stones.
Sherlock didn't turn to her, instead he grabbed a pan from the cupboard and set it on the cooker, opening the carton of eggs as he spoke. "Goodmorning Molly. Sleep well?"
"Quite. Whatcha doing?"
"Breakfast," he said, cracking two eggs into the pan at once. "That's what father's do, yes?"
Maisie cocked her head. "Fah-ter?"
"Father, yeah." Molly picked her up. "I told you, darling. That's your daddy."
"Daddy?"
"Mmhm." Molly kissed her on the cheek and set her down again.
"How many would you like, Molly?"
"Oh, Sherlock, you don't have to-"
"I insist. How many?"
Molly smiled, brushing her hair behind an ear. "Two should be fine, thanks."
"Anytime."
Molly walked to the cooker, leaning against the counter next to it as Sherlock added another egg into the pan. "Why are you being so...."
He raised a brow. "Hm?"
"Lovely?"
He seemed amused, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he looked over at her. "I rather thought I was always lovely."
She raised a skeptical brow. "Really?"
"Nope. I know I'm an arsehole."
"Sherlock!"
"Hm?"
"Child!" She gestured to Maisie, who was now babbling to Ginny the Rabbit. Sherlock resumed making the eggs, scrambling them and adding turkey, smirk still on his lips.
Molly took a seat at the centre table, watching him as Maisie began making Ginny climb her leg. She rest her chin on the palm of her hand, her elbow on the table, ignoring the climbing purple rabbit. After a couple minutes, Sherlock separated the eggs onto two plates.
"Not eating?"
He shook his head. "Later." He picked up the plates and headed to the sitting room, where he set them on the dining table which, somehow, wasn't a complete mess of photographs and case files. There was a strange photograph of Harry Houdini hiding under Sherlock's laptop, but Molly ignored it. Maybe Sherlock had a thing for shirtless, chained up men that she was unaware of. That was fine, of course. It's all good. Whatever ... floats his boat.
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.
Sherlock took her hands in his, something that, despite him doing it last night, seemed out of character for him. "I have a proposition, Molly."
She cocked her head. "Hm?"
"You aren't working tomorrow," he said, "let's do something together."
"Together?"
"Just you and me."
"What about Maisie."
"Perhaps Meena would be able to watch her?" he suggested, "If not, I'm sure John and Mary would love to babysit."
Molly hesitated, still trying to understand his proposal. "Hold on, are you asking me-"
"Out."
"-out?" Her breath caught when he finished her sentence with her. She could feel her eyes widen as she stared at him.
"Yes, I am," he said. "Trying to, anyways. This is me trying, Molly."
"But w-what would we do?"
"Whatever you'd like," he thought a moment. "Dinner? People do that, don't they?"
She couldn't keep the tiny smile off her face as she laughed, nodding. "Yes. Yes they do."
"Well, if that's what people do, let's do it. What do you say?"
She bit her lip to try and keep her smile from widening, giving him a little nod. His lips twitched into a smirk .And, of course, to make the moment even lovelier, Maisie threw her fork across the room where it landed on the coffee table with a clang. She let out a cry as Molly directed her attention away from Sherlock to her daughter. "Darling, what's wrong?"
"Hungry, hungry."
"You just ate."
"Hungry!"
Molly sighed. "Well, we do not throw things, even if we are hungry."
"Daddy does."
It startled him, her calling him that, but what startled him even more was the look that Molly was giving him. He looked about the room, as if the reason she was looking at him was floating in the air nearby. "What?"
"Influence, Sherlock!"
"It was just a knife."
"A knife!"
He shrugged. "I was bored, she was bored. You were asleep. I was providing entertainment."
"Well, if you could not, that would be great." Molly checked Sherlock's watch, then sighed. "I've only got three hours before work. I should probably go, get ready. Get Maisie ready for the sitter." She stood up and gave Sherlock a smile as he stood too. "Thank you, by the way. For breakfast and letting us stay and all that. Would you like some help cleaning up?"
He shook his head. "Erh, no. I've got it."
"Right then," she picked Maisie up from the chair, holding her on her hip, "See you tomorrow, then?"
"Yes, of course. I'll text you details." He gave his daughter a smile and leaned down, kissing her hair. "Goodbye Maisie Bronwyn."
• • •
Molly sat at her favourite bench, sandwich in hand as Meena (who was, as always, absolutely stunning with her light brown skin and shoulder-length, silky black hair) arrive with two styrofoam cups of coffee. She took a seat next to Molly and handed her one of the cups.
"Now then," she said, "what's so important that you decided to waste your lunch hour on lil' ol' me?"
Molly took in a deep breath, let it out. "Meena, I'm going to tell you something and you're going to be super angry that I didn't tell you before, but just ... allow me a moment to explain, okay?"
A brow raised and Meena frowned, her head cocking slightly. "What's wrong?"
She took in a deep breath, holding it in longer this time. "I've been lying to you, Meena. For awhile."
"About?"
"Maisie."
"Maisie?"
"Well..." Molly bit her lip as she thought for a few seconds. "I kind of had to lie. About her father, specifically."
Meena shook her head, more confused than angry. Her dark, delicate brows furrowed together and her head tilted to the side. "You told me it was just a stupid night with some boyfriend you'd been hiding. Tom?"
"That was ... a cover up." Molly sipped her coffee. "Maisie's father is..." she hesitated, bracing herself for her best friend's rage, "Sherlock."
"Sherlock!"
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Holmes!"
Molly gave a nod as she refused to make eye contact. She honestly couldn't tell if Meena was angry or entirely too delighted. She took another sip. "Listen, Meena, with everything that happened, it had to be a secret."
"With his suicide?"
"False suicide."
"Were you scared of how she'd be treated?" Meena asked, brushing a strand of silky hair behind her ear.
"No. Well, you've known he's been alive for a few days. You're probably wondering how he did it, survived."
She nodded. "Of course I am. Isn't everybody?"
"I ... helped him."
"Helped him?"
Molly nodded, staring down at her untouched sandwich, taking a bite before explaining everything to Meena, besides the nitty gritty details of how Sherlock faked his death. She told Meena her role in it, but the rest of it, while she did know it, wasn't her story to tell. Meena listened quietly, engaged in the story, completely sucked in; however she still seemed confused when Molly finished the story.
"Fascinating as that was," Meena said, "you've left out one thing...." Molly's brows knitted together. "You had sex? With Sherlock!"
Molly flushed, attempting to hide behind her coffee cup as she watched Meena grin at her. "Yes..."
Meena clapped her hand (and coffee cup) together, careful not to crush the cup in her excitement. "My god! Still can't believe you didn't tell me! Me!"
"I couldn't tell you that we had sex two weeks after he supposedly died!"
"Well, no, but you could have told me it was just before he died."
Molly shook her head with a scoff. "Meena, you know how long pregnancies last. You could have done the math. That is why I didn't tell you it was before. You would have figured it out."
Meena sighed. "That's true, I suppose. Still, you could have trusted me to keep your secret."
Molly gave her a small smile. "I know I could have. I've been able to trust you with everything since Uni. But I swore to secrecy."
"Understood ... now, tell me, are you two together?
"Oh, no!" Molly shook her head, another blush rising to her cheeks. "N-no, we aren't."
Meena cocked her head. "Well, why not?"
"Hm?"
"Why aren't you together? He's back now, alive and well. You have a child. Everything's sorted, innit?"
"No, not really." Molly sighed and took another bite, nearing the end of her sandwich and her lunch hour. "Meena, this isn't really his thing, relationships and romance."
Meena pouted, trying to understand. "But Molls, you've never, to my knowledge anyways, had sex unless it was romantic. I don't mean to pry, and I know you like him, but how was this time different?"
"For starters: it was possible he was about to die. You can't possibly even begin to imagine the hell he went through." She winced. The memory of him telling her he may not come back still hurt. "He explained to me that he possibly wouldn't survive and, well, I kissed him. I'm sure you can work out the rest ... it's not really necessary to, erh, paint that picture for you."
"But, it wasn't romantic?"
"More of a 'this is the last chance I'll have to do this so why not?' On his part anyways."
"You don't think he did it because he likes you?"
Molly sighed. "He's Sherlock Holmes. God knows what his silly little heart feels, especially 'cause his brain's so determined to keep it all locked up.
"Lock what up?"
"His feelings."
"Molly, you can't possibly believe that he doesn't feel anything."
"'Course I don't," Molly said. "Like I said, he locks them up. Meena, I've known him since I was doing my externship in my last years of Uni. In all of these years that I've known him, he's never had a girlfriend, nor has he seemed to want one. The only love I've seen from him were directed toward his work and John Watson, but from our little ... experience ... I believe I can assure you that he is in fact not gay."
"So, it was good then?"
"What was?"
"The sex."
"Meena!" Molly's cheeks were nearly the colour of the cherries on her cardigan and burning. "Could we just forget about the sex. Just for a moment?"
"Fine," Meena rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm just saying, you had sex with Sherlock Holmes."
"Meena."
"Okay, okay!" She held her hands, and her coffee cup, up in surrender. "Please, do change the subject."
Molly contemplated telling Meena about her plans for the next night, deciding she might as well. She had already kept enough secrets from her best friend. "We're having dinner."
"You're what?"
"Tomorrow night. Alone. Could you-"
"Yes! I'll take Maisie, you have dinner." Meena looked nearly as excited as Molly felt. "Where are you eating?"
"No idea. But, Meena, don't get so excited. This doesn't necessarily mean anything."
"No, it doesn't," she agreed. "But it's a start." She smiled and Molly couldn't help but return the smile.
Right, so I hope you lot enjoyed this chapter! Also, you lot were asking for a picture of Toby, so I have provided one! My cat, Salmonella, has officially been casted as Toby. xxx
-OH