Hello, umm, it's been some time after I gave this thing a new chapter, but yesterday I was listening to my music and was inspired, so I've decided to add in another chapter :)
I'm sorry to make this brief - because oh my God I need to leave the house like now! - but just a quick thank you to SammyKatz, Rocking the Redhead, Empress of Verace and Justonestory for reviewing; and I need to leave now omg, but I hope you still enjoy reading this :DDD
Send her my love - Journey
Sherlock Holmes watched the man nod to his friend in goodbye as he entered the grocery store; the former slowly trailed Tom as the latter went about his business buying...domestic items.
As Tom made the decision to pick which brand of cereal from the two he was holding in both hands, Sherlock could not wait any longer and decided to accidentally bump into him at that time; Tom let out a gasp of surprise as he dropped the cereal box he was holding in his left hand, and was about to bend down to pick it up when Sherlock passed it to him.
Tom smiled at him and made small talk, mostly talking about Sherlock's cases that were publicised in the papers, before Sherlock slowly steered the conversation to the reason he was even here talking to this man.
Tom talked about how stressed Molly was in her new job, and that he was thinking of making a nice dinner that night for his fiancée; he did not see the downcast look Sherlock was wearing, about the way the consulting detective was recalling the last time he saw Molly - her silent tears were deep stabs to his 'non-existent' heart for Molly had never cried in the aftermath of his continuously callous and careless words, but that night she had finally let go of him.
Tom was not close to finishing what he was saying when Sherlock stopped him with a hand to his face; Sherlock nodded his head in goodbye as he left, not without mumbling to Tom, and the words having been heard by the other man, "Just...send her my love when you get home."
Perfect strangers - Deep Purple
She had been seeing him hanging around her building - the man with a cap pulled down to hide his eyes, his large brown coat covering the whole length of him - but rather than being terrified, Molly was unafraid of the man, and took comfort in the fact that he was here despite what he was going through.
Molly saw him linger in the alleyway of her building the other day, leaning against the bricked wall, when she walked past him, and as she made her way to St Bart's for her afternoon shift she felt him following her behind; she soon reached the hospital and as she turned back to see the man, she could only get a glimpse of his retreating back.
More than once had she caught herself wondering about him - was he doing okay, had everything he and his brother planned went without a hitch; when would he be ready to come back to life, so to speak.
Sherlock Holmes had always been a busy man, but he was unfortunately made even busier after his apparent suicide - one tend to be busy, after all, if one had to go undercover to take down and dismantle a criminal network from the inside out.
Before he left for his mission, he had told her to never fear a man wearing a cap paired up with a brown coat who would occasionally linger around her building for that would be him, making sure that as he did harm to the network, none of the harm would be led back to her or any of the people he was trying to protect - he had told her they would be complete strangers after he finally left for his mission, but before he did so, he gave her one gentle farewell kiss as Sherlock Holmes, whispering to her that he would be back for them all, and implored her to just wait for him.
Two steps behind - Extreme
Molly watched the brilliant man in front of her as he spewed deduction after amazing deduction about the murderer's physical and some psychological traits to DI Lestrade, all from looking at the corpse laid down on the morgue slab.
As the DI left the morgue with the evidence, Sherlock turned to her and nodded his head to her, indicating that he would now proceed to the laboratory up a floor, and turned to the exit with a swish of his gigantic coat, one she had had the pleasure of wearing in that one time they were-
Molly blushed furiously as she stared at Mr Greenfield on the slab, knowing the dead man could not read her innermost thoughts, but still.
After helping the man with his fake suicide almost three years ago, with him coming back to life in a comeback worthy of an action movie, with everything that came after that - John and Mary's marriage, the drugs episode, Jim's supposed return that Sherlock solved in a matter of days - Molly found that she was a friend of Sherlock Holmes, and this she did not say just because she thought of it; the man himself said so, one night when they were both alone in the lab.
Molly had given him a small and sweet smile when he told her that he was grateful for her constant help, no matter how much of a dick he had been to her in the past, and she shrugged it off, saying that she would always be there for him, would always be two steps behind him just in case he needed reassurance that as he moved forward in his life, he would always have someone looking after his back - because she had her head bowed down to hide her blushing face, she did not see his own lips forming a small smile at her words and the way he gazed at her with admiration.
Hit me with your best shot - Pat Benatar
Molly stood with her head held high, eyes bravely meeting those of the much taller man standing before her; whilst her stance suggested that she would gladly beat him up if he dared to speak, Sherlock was utterly languid in his own body language - he had his hands in his coat pockets as he tilted his head downwards towards the enraged petite woman, his expression one of blatant amusement.
"Do not smile, William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" Molly half-shouted when his lips twitched upwards, eager to turn into a full-blown smirk.
"You have, for countless of times, ruined my dates, for whatever reason I have no friggin' idea even now, with your never-ending deductions of their trivial flaws - but this time I will go out with Derek, and there's nothing that you say that will stop me; I have had enough with you breaking things up with my dates without you even having talked to them!"
As Molly glared up at him, she let out a huff at his seemingly uninterested expression to what she was saying, and finally gave in to the urge to issue him a challenge, "You know what, hit me with your best shot - tell me one very good, impossible-to-refute reason why I should not date Derek."
Sherlock straightened himself at her words then, his hand removing themselves from his coat pockets and him pointedly looking down to her, and the woman looked back up at him in wonder, secretly pleased that he was taking her challenge seriously; her wonder was short-lived, though, when he suddenly took a giant step towards her and leaned his head forward, enveloping her in his scent - his mouth hovered near her left ear and he took a moment to savour the involuntary shiver he had managed to elicit from her before he whispered, low and possessive, "It's because you should be dating me instead."
You raise me up - Josh Groban
Baker Street, one hour. I have something worth passing to you. - SH
The limousine stopped right in front of the building and Mycroft Holmes stepped out of the vehicle; he dutifully knocked at the front door with a hand, his trustworthy black umbrella held in the other, and Mrs Hudson answered with a smile on her face.
She ushered him up to where Sherlock lived, but instead of Dr John Watson being his flatmate this time round, it was Mrs Molly Holmes née Hooper - the woman herself, with a gentle smile when she saw him, was the one to grant him entrance to his brother's warm abode, made even more homely with Molly's personal items next to his own.
Before Mycroft could open his mouth to ask what in the world was happening, Sherlock stood up from his seat and walked over to him - he shoved a rather large gift box into the older man's free hand, and Mycroft raised a questioning eyebrow at him, who rolled his eyes in return, before leaning his umbrella against the door and unselfconsciously unwrapping the gift; his eyes widened at the item he saw before him - a pirate's hat made out of paper - and as Mycroft took out a piece of paper in the box to read it, he felt something...warm bubble in his chest.
There are many things I have deleted or removed from my Mind Palace due to the majority of them being useless and irrelevant to my life; one of the things I have neither delete nor remove, though, is our time together while playing pirates during our adolescent period - where you taught me the language they speak and you answered my questions on why no one wanted to play with me - because no matter how much time has passed inbetween, it has never been useless nor irrelevant to my life - Happy Birthday, big brother mine.