THIS IS MY LONGEST YET I AM SO SORRY I DIDNT WANT TO MAKE IT TWO PARTS IN THE FIRST PLACE, MUCH LESS THREE SO YEAH I AM SORRY ABOUT THAT BUT I REALLY DIDNT WANT TO SCRAP THIS IDEA.
PLEASE READ IT ALL THIS IS ACTUALLY PRETTY DANG AWESOME. THANKS!
~
Molly Hooper tried to hide the tears that slithered down her cheeks as she felt her horse's muscles move beneath her. She kept her eyes glued to the road ahead, clutching onto the reins tightly as memories ran through her mind.
"You... you did it?"
"Yes."
"You've healed my father?"
"I have."
She'd been so elated. So happy. Her father had been resting when she'd received the news but they had embraced each other tightly when they saw each other after. However, it was not elation they were overcome with when they'd been reunited.
"I don't know how I can thank you. This- this is all the money I have. I hope it is enough."
"I don't want your money."
"You- you don't? Was this for free?"
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
"You."
They'd warned her, oh how they'd warned her. But Molly had been desperate to help her father, who'd fallen drastically ill. None of the other doctors knew what to do, she'd just given up all hope that her father would be well once more. That is... until she'd heard about a miracle worker.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am."
"As am I. Are you sure there's nothing you can do, Doctor?"
"There's nothing I can do... however... no. It's a stupid idea."
"What? What is it?"
"Don't mind me, the humidity must be getting to my head."
"Doctor. Please. I'm willing to do anything. Please just help me save my father."
...
"Alright."
"Thank you!"
"They say there's a man, a miracle worker. He doesn't live near here, it's a bit of a travel. But his work is worth it."
"Thank you, thank you so much!"
"You're welcome..."
"Is something wrong?"
"This man... there are rumors. They say he's not like us. And his work comes with a heavy price."
"I'm willing to pay anything."
"Good luck, Miss Hooper."
And willing she had been. This miracle worker had been hasty to bring Molly's father into treatment. Once she'd thoroughly agreed to pay whatever the cost was, her father and this mysterious medical man were behind the curtain in an instant.
She'd never expected that the price would be anything like what it was. And yet, there Molly was, fighting back hot tears as her horse led her up a grassy hill, tugging her minimal luggage behind it.
However heartbroken she was at this harsh price, Molly knew she didn't regret it. Her father was healed and safe and that was all that mattered. Quickly rubbing away a tear that streaked down her cheek, Molly looked up, seeing the outline of the castle-like home grow in the distance.
It sat alone atop of a large hill, majestic looking in the pale sunlight that filtered onto it. Molly's eyes narrowed and she wondered how it could be that such a horrid man occupied it. Taking a deep breath, Molly quickly shook the thought from her head. She shouldn't think these things about her new... master, was it?
However, just the word made Molly's stomach twist in knots.
It wasn't long before the house was suddenly right in front of her, as if Molly had gotten too lost in her thoughts to notice this dreaded reality appear right in front of her nose. Molly took a deep breath before sliding off her horse and holding her single case tightly in her hand. She walked up the steps, tugged at her loose braid, and, eyes closed, knocked on the door.
Molly looked at the ground as she waited, her heart thumping wildly. However, no one answered the door. Looking up, Molly knocked again. Once more, the door was never answered. Pushing down the smile that rose to lips, Molly began to turn around. Perhaps the medical man had changed his mind or had a change of heart.
She was about to practically dance down the steps when suddenly, the door swung open. Molly froze, embarrassed, and turned around. She was shocked to see that no one was there. Hesitating for only a moment longer Molly took a deep breath and headed inside. A single chandelier shone brightly in the main entrance and Molly was taken aback by the glory of this building. She'd never seen a home as majestic as this in the city, not even the Town Hall was nearly as stupendous as this.
Molly spun around, taking in every inch of the grand place with wide eyes.
"Hello?" She called into the house, her voice ringing through the building, "is anybody there?" There was no answer, though Molly could swear she could hear footsteps dancing through the building.
Whirling around, Molly watched the building through narrowed eyes. What was going on? Taking a deep gulp of air Molly set down her case and ascended up the polished staircase that greeted her, leading up to an entire floor lined with what seemed like hundreds of doors.
She walked up the staircase slowly, running her fingers along the polished railing. Everything about this place seemed so perfect, what would possibly be Molly's role at the house? She walked along the floor, her eyes raking over all the doors.
She didn't bother opening them, that is, until one particular door caught her eye. It was at the very end of the hall, hidden in darkness where the light of the chandelier didn't reach. Molly walked over, almost mesmerized by the intricate gold trimming of the door, carved into horses that rose from a golden sea, eyes wild and teeth bared.
She was about to turn the golden knob when a voice suddenly stopped her.
"Stop!" Molly whirled around, only to see the medical man at the top of the stairs, a bag in one hand. It was then when Molly noticed his sharp cheekbones and wild, dark hair, as if she had been too hasty their last meeting to notice his strikingly handsome features. It was the icy, piercing eyes that got her attention, however. Not to mention the fact that they blazed with an intense fury.
Molly blinked, eyes wide as this handsome man dropped that bag and rushed over to her, slamming one hand on the door right next to Molly's head to keep it shut and leaning down towards her, practically fuming.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The medical man seethed, his frosty eyes scouring Molly's face. It took her a moment to register the question seeing as they were so close, their lips would meet at the slightest moment. This, however, seemed to be the last of the man's problems.
"I- I'm so sorry I didn't- I was just-"
"Nobody goes in this room, do you hear me? Nobody!" The man hissed right at Molly, her back against the door completely. For some reason, all Molly could think to gather in her thoughts was that the man's breath smelled of tobacco and peppermint.
"Loud and clear," Molly whispered quietly, her voice strained. Staring at her a moment longer the man fell back from the wall, his eyes wide as if he was just now realizing what he had done.
"I am so sorry, Miss Hooper," he said in a hushed voice, "I did not mean to lose my temper like that. It's just that- uh, we stay out of that room."
"No, no please," Molly said quickly, straightening her dress, "I apologize for snooping, it's just," she cast a glance back at the door, "it's very pretty."
The man stared at her for a moment and it was then when Molly realized the stupid words that had just flailed their way out of her mouth. She was about to speak, most likely to say some more dumb things, when the man cracked a grin, nodding.
"Yes I suppose it is," he said. Molly let a small smile make it's way on her lips as well, looking down at the ground. "Sherlock Holmes," the man said, bowing gracefully, "and you are Molly Hooper."
Molly wasn't sure if she should curtsy so instead she nodded awkwardly, "that would be me." Sherlock turned around, walking back towards the staircase.
"Follow me," he called to her, "let me show you to your room."
"So... what exactly is my role here," Molly asked as Sherlock led the way to her room.
"Cleaning I suppose," was the response. Molly let her gaze drag across her surroundings. As she had observed earlier, everything was spotless.
"There isn't much to be cleaned," she thought out loud. Sherlock turned around and Molly was a bit taken aback to see the smile had gone, replaced by an icy, almost bored look. Molly wondered what she had said until he rapped on the door they had stopped in front of.
"That," Sherlock said, rapping on the door some more, "is thanks to this young lady. Mrs. Hudson!" As if on cue, the door opened to reveal an elderly woman with greying red hair, rubbing her eyes and yawning tiredly.
"Good grief, Sherlock, can't a woman take a- well hello dear. Who might you be?" Molly blinked as Sherlock rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"Good lord, woman. Are you deaf already? This is Molly Hooper, the one I was telling you about." Molly dipped her chin as the woman's gaze turned towards her.
"Yes, I do recall the young master telling me about you. Who let you in?" Molly opened her mouth but closed it, thinking. Who had let her in?
"I- uh. I'm not quite sure," Molly said softly, "the door opened on its own. The wind I suppose." However the more Molly thought about it, the more she realized how void of wind the grassy moors had been that day.
"Yes," Mrs. Hudson murmured, "the wind." The caretaker and Sherlock exchanged a dark glance before the elderly woman turned to Molly, a smile painted on her face.
"Yes well, I am the caretaker but my age has been catching up with me. We need a young girl like you to help keep this place in tact," Molly blinked at Mrs. Hudson's suddenly chipper mood but nodded, finding herself letting her gaze stray to Sherlock. He still kept his icy composure and his gaze was still elsewhere, as if he was trying to catch the eye of someone who wasn't there.
Sherlock suddenly met her gaze and Molly's eyes flicked back to Mrs. Hudson as she asked, "shall we be off then?" Nodding, Molly forced a small smile. Inside, however, she couldn't help but get the feeling that something was terribly wrong at the Holmes Manor.
The next week seemed to fly by. Mrs. Hudson coached Molly in the ways of the maid, from learning to cook to cleaning to simple little rules that seemed to make no sense whatsoever. Stay out of the basement. Stay away from the door at the end of the West Wing. Use candles during lightning storms, never use electricity. However confused she was, Molly kept her mouth shut and listened. Besides, she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to hear the stories behind the rules anyway.
Molly found her favorite times to be when Mrs. Hudson was napping and when Sherlock was away, when she could use her free time to explore or read or tend to the horses. Molly hardly saw much of Sherlock anymore. He was always on business trips or out getting groceries. Molly still wasn't yet allowed outside. When she did see him, however, the mysterious Sherlock Holmes grew curiouser and curiouser.
Sometimes she'd stumble upon him sitting cross legged on the couch, doing nothing but closing his eyes and steepling his hands under his chin, like he was praying. Though Sherlock Holmes hardly seemed to be a religious man, in Molly's eyes. Other times she'd be dusting near to the forbidden door on the West Wing and she'd hear voices. At first Molly would think ghosts or intruders but then Sherlock would quietly slip out, lock the door, and give Molly a small nod as he passed. Not only was not the slightest trace of the smile he'd worn upon Molly's first time really meeting him was evident, the young girl now was concerned that Sherlock was crazy.
Either way, she never questioned the medicine man's ways and carried about her work. However, Molly couldn't keep her mouth closed on the day that marked the beginning of her second week at work.
She'd been doing dishes in the kitchen when she heard the giggles. Molly had frozen, listened, and, when she heard nothing, returned to scrubbing. Then she'd heard the footsteps, small and light, like the ones she'd heard when she'd first entered the manor. Molly set down the plate and set off to investigate in case it was a mouse or an unwanted critter.
The more she looked, the louder the sounds got, and Molly suddenly realized she was nearing the door at the end of the West Wing. Shaken and extremely freaked out, Molly had taken off in the other direction and feverishly began pounding on Mrs. Hudson's door.
She opened it, looking like she'd just gotten out of bed, though the tires look wore off as Molly explained the situation. After staring at Molly for a few moments with a dark look, Mrs. Hudson finally said:
"Th- the cat. The cat must be chasing. Some mice."
Molly had blinked, staring at the elderly caretaker incredulously, "we have a cat?"
"Yes dear, we have a cat."
Miraculously, a cat had shown up the next day. Molly had made eye contact with it for a moment before it disappeared down a hall, her straining her neck to listen to the footsteps as it left. She supposed they were similar, however a gut feeling told Molly that still, something really wasn't right.
It was when the second week ended that it happened.
Molly began to carefully carry a hot dinner up to Sherlock's bedroom, a routine that had started the day Molly began to work at the manor. She was about to head to the staircase when a voice called her back.
"Yoo hoo, Molly dear," Mrs. Hudson waved to the young girl, "Mister Holmes will be having dinner at the table tonight." Molly blinked, taken aback by this news, but nodded and quickly rushed to the dining room. Surely enough, Sherlock Holmes sat at the head of the table, his eyes skimming a newspaper.
"Anything interesting, sir?" Molly asked as she set down his food. Sherlock laid the papers on the table and Molly caught a glance at the headline.
Teenage Boy Murdered - Are You Next?
Sherlock caught her staring, Molly's face suddenly drained of all color, and waved his hand dismissively. "Most likely some rambunctious boy doing something stupid, papers these days are always exaggerating." Molly nodded as she poured water in Sherlock's glasses. She swore she caught a glimmer of interest shine in his frosty as eyes he spoke once more, "the burial is tomorrow, though I doubt many people will show. The boy has yet to be claimed by a family."
"How sad," Molly said softly, her gaze drifting back to the papers. The boy on the front most certainly looked like a street boy, and Molly supposed it was very easy he had just been poisoned by factory chemicals or had done something stupid to get himself killed.
"Sad indeed," Sherlock murmured, his gaze lingering on Molly as collected the centerpiece flowers that were beginning to wilt. He opened his mouth to speak once more when suddenly there was a rough bang coming from under the table. Both Molly and Sherlock froze and she put her hands on her hips in annoyance.
"That damned cat at it again," Molly said with a sigh, shaking her head as she leaned down.
"I'm sure," Sherlock interrupted quickly, standing and bringing Molly back to an upright position, "that the cat will leave soon." Molly eyed him suspiciously, noticing that Sherlock's icy composure had suddenly turned... panicked.
"It's alright," Molly said, "I just need a broom and the cat will be on its way."
Sherlock stepped in front of Molly as she turned to retrieve the broom, "there's no need, I assure you." Molly's eyes narrowed and she stepped to the side, Sherlock mirroring the action. She stepped the other side and the handsome man copied again.
"Mister Holmes," Molly said, unable to keep the annoyance from her voice, "are you going to let me through or not?"
Sherlock opened his mouth to speak when suddenly a small creature darted from under the table and behind Sherlock, who had stepped back considerably so that the creature was hidden by darkness.
"Cat?" Molly asked weakly, her eyes wide. Sherlock stared at her, at a loss for words. Suddenly Mrs. Hudson appeared by Molly's side, closing her eyes and taking a shuddering breath as she observed the scene.
"Not a cat," Sherlock said slowly, his voice catching in his throat. The creature behind Sherlock shifted and Molly could make out a pair of legs and a head, "my son."
Molly let out a sharp breath as Sherlock looked behind him, "you can come out now, Kieran."
Molly blurted the first question that came to her mind, "w-where's his mother?"
"He has no mother," Sherlock said as the figure stepped into the light. It was a young boy, roughly four years old and with the same wild, curly hair. That was when Molly saw them. The stitches. And then the bolts. Sherlock looked terrified as Kieran slowly lifted his gaze to Molly.
"I made him."