Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He had to thank Gregory for more than simply taking care of his brother or his opportune arrival on the scene. He had brought news with him, news that meant more to him than he had ever expected: Molly was safe. Alive at home, unaware of anything. He had gotten a call from her, briefly, saying she felt something was wrong. Something in his tone had made it seem like more than a simple game of his.

Something was wrong, but she’d had no idea what.

And he knew he needed to tell her, but it had to be done properly. She deserved as much after having the confession ripped from her, just as she had wrung it from him. The confession that, between them, there was something he had been blind to for he didn’t know how long. That there was love there.

That he loved her.

That she loved him.

His hands were shaking around Gregory’s borrowed mobile, as though he couldn’t get his body to settle. He knew there was still adrenaline coursing in his veins, and that was the cause, but perhaps it was also eagerness? Just to make sure Molly was still with them, that nothing had happened to her in the time the video had blinked out and she’d talked to the NSY detective.

So many things had happened tonight, and his mind was still in “worst case scenario” mode, he supposed.

He willed his fingers to steady as he dialed in a number he had memorized long ago. That should have been a clue among so many others. That he read all her texts, even the ones beginning with HI. That he had her listed as “Molly” on his own mobile so there was never any doubt who he would send texts to when he couldn’t sleep. How she had her own manifestation in his mind palace that wasn’t there to simply save his life. There were times he had entire conversations with her there and had to force himself to remember they had not actually happened in real life.

This conversation...he wasn’t sure she would want it, not after their forced last one, but it would at least be real.

It took her nearly four full rings to answer, but the first thing he heard was a sniff. “Is everything okay, Greg?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied. “I’m sorry. I’m borrowing Gregory’s mobile to call. Mine is...inoperable.”

There was a long pause. “You have some nerve.”

“I needed to know you were alright,” he said, the knot in his stomach loosening. “I needed...to hear your voice.”

“Well, you have.” There was a defensiveness in her voice that he knew he had caused. It pained him more than he knew he could ever vocalize that he had hurt her. Something had been forced from them that shouldn’t have been, and while it was not solely his doing, he was responsible for this hurt.

“Molly, may I see you?” he asked. “I need to know. I need you to know what happened.”

There was another sniff. “I don’t know, Sherlock. Maybe not tonight.”

“But tomorrow? Please, Molly.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I just...it’s all so confusing.”

“I understand.” And he did. He didn’t like it, but he understood. He had forced her into a position she had not wanted to be in, just as she had forced him into one. Exquisite truths had come to light, but at a cost. And he loved her. He would give her space and time and anything else she asked for. “I will speak to you again when you decide you want to speak to me.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Molly?”

“Yes?”

“You are safe, right? You feel safe?”

“I’m at Sally’s flat right now. I just...something seemed off about everything.”

“Good. Good. I’ll make sure she gets back to you quickly.” He knew then he might not get to tell her the events of the evening, but perhaps that was best. It might stretch credulity if he told her first. Sally could, in her own way, do what he could not. Parse it down and make it palatable. It was a skill the woman had that he was still working on. “Good night, Molly. I will talk to you soon.”

“Good night, Sherlock.” There was a click on her end and it was done. It was a small step, a first step, but a good one. He was hopeful the next few small steps might go equally well. It would be a change in his life, but maybe that’s what all of this had entailed. He was a changed man.

Now he had to show it.

Chapter Text

It took only a full day and night before he got a text. You can come over tonight. How Molly had gotten his new mobile number he didn’t know, but he had awkwardly returned the text with an affirmative. He had done more damage to his hands destroying the coffin than he had realized, badly bruising every joint and every inch of skin while he had attacked the wood. They were sore but he owed her the courtesy of a prompt reply.

He showed up on her doorstep with just himself. What else did he really have to offer her? Flowers seemed inappropriate, and spirits...he hadn’t touched any, though he’d been sorely tempted for something to numb the howling in his head that she would never forgive him, not even when she knew the truth. For the first time, the dull comfort of heroin didn’t appeal as he knew if he touched the drug she would be as good as gone forever, and he didn’t want that.

He wanted her, on whatever terms she would allow.

His hands were bandaged tightly, He was sure there were still splinters embedded in his skin but he didn’t care. He was alive when he very well could have died at his sister’s hands. Perhaps not on purpose, but as she had stayed silent since he held her close and it looked as that was to be her new state, he might never know what her intentions truly were. He had a hunch, and that was about all, but his hunches used to be good so he hoped he wasn’t far off.

If he wasn’t, there was still hope.

He used his foot to indicate to Molly he was outside. She may be upset he kicked at her door but once she saw the voluminous white bandages covering all of his hands she’d understand. And the look on her face when the door opened proved him right, just as the softening look when she saw his hands meant she understood. “Sherlock,” she said softly.

“May I come in?” he asked. “Am I still welcome?”

“After looking at your hands I forgive you kicking my door,” she said, the small hint of a smile on her face. Just barely a hint, not even close to the soft half-smiles she had given when she had thought he wasn’t looking. He had those ingrained in his mind and hoped he’d be lucky enough to see them again. But first, the truth.

He owed her that much.

She moved out of the way so he could come in and shut the door behind him. He knew the layout of her home so well he could navigate it in the dark, and he made his way to the chair across from her favourite chair, the yellow one that clashed with every piece of furniture she owned. He had no idea the story behind it, just that it seemed old and comfortable and lived in and she must have had it a long time. It was one of many things he realized he had no clue about, despite his skills at deduction.

She sat down in it, pulling her feet up under her. She clasped his hands together as best he could before looking down at them. “I have a sister. Eurus. She’s...not well.”

“Psychotic would be a better term,” Molly said. He looked up at her. “John came by. He was pissed when I told him you hadn’t told me anything and he ranted and raved about the horrors she put you both and your brother through.”

“I had planned to tell you.”

“I know,” she said, gentleness in your voice. “I also know if he hadn’t told me first I may not have wanted to see you for a long time. I was hurting when you called. You could see that, though, couldn’t you?”

“Yes,” he said.

“After John left I texted your brother and told him to remove the surveillance she had put in. He told me to forgive you, that you had destroyed the coffin with your bare hands because you cared.”

“I’ll have to speak to them later,” he said.

“But you do more than care, don’t you?” she asked, tilting her head. “You really meant it when you said you loved me.”

“Yes.”

“Are you in love with me?” she asked with a certain amount of trepidation in her voice.

“Yes, I think. I don’t know. I’ve closed myself off for a long time and my past relationships are...complicated.”

“The Woman.”

“Yes.” He looked back down at his hands. “I don’t want anything to happen to you, even if it’s my actions hurting you. You deserve better than all that.”

“But I want you.” He had been concentrating on his hands he hadn’t realized she had gotten up and moved in front of him. She tentatively reached over and touched his cheek gently, letting her fingers trail on his skin. “And I’m willing to work with you on a relationship, whatever kind we end up having. But Sherlock?”

“Yes?”

“It will take work. From both of us, not just me. But I love you, so I’m willing. Are you?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Good.” She leaned over and kissed him softly, and the only crystal clear thought in his head as he gently kissed her back was maybe there was a happy ending for them after all.