Missilemuse wrote me birthday fic! Because she is sweet and wonderful that way. Missilemuse, you’re certainly more than ‘just a name on the screen.’ It makes me happy, knowing that there are lovely people like you out there in the world. ^_^
SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW
Molly peered at her phone in the bright morgue lights, unable to believe what the text said.
She used to get texts from him all the time. His death, the part she played in it and his subsequent return hadn’t changed a thing in that regard. Just two days ago, she had received a text saying- KEEP THE LIVER FROM THE BELSBY VICTIM FOR ME- SH.
Two years had passed since Sherlock’s return. He had come back from the dead. The separation had weakened emotional barriers in both the Holmes and Watson camps and the ensuing fists and tears had led both men to finally admit the truth- that they had always loved each other, which was news only to them.
Molly had cried when John had told her, even though she had felt full to bursting with a quiet happiness. The tears came as a protest against the unfair, unforgiving past. Love should not have been a post-script to so much suffering.
And Molly had gone back to being same old Molly as far as Sherlock was concerned, the forensic pathologist-sometimes-friend who smuggled illegal body parts for his experiments.
She squinted at the message again and concluded that Sherlock had sent it to her by accident. After all there were only two letters separating J and M in phone contacts.
The message simply read- NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE- SH
She had almost decided to ignore the message, when the phone beeped again. MEET ME AT 4 P.M. WILL TEXT YOU THE ADDRESS LATER. AND MOLLY, PLEASE TRY AND BE DISCREET (DON’T TELL LESTRADE). – SH
Molly blushed at the last line. Trust Sherlock to make her feel like she was about nine inches tall. She didn’t tell Greg everything. Besides, spouses weren’t supposed to have secrets from each other.
Oh, what the hell! She already knew what would happen. Sherlock was up to something questionable that he couldn’t share with John (make that VERY questionable), and Molly was a sucker coz she knew she would help Sherlock, no questions asked. He would get them into trouble. And later, she would apologise and find a way to make it up to Greg (maybe agree to experiment with that weird position he had wanted to try last month).
It was with more than a few qualms that Molly found herself standing nervously in front of an obscure shop that evening. The windows had nothing on display, but cobwebs. No one was giving her, or the shop a second look. By 4.15, she decided that Sherlock had probably forgotten all about her and was about to leave, when the old wooden door snapped open with an old-fashioned tinkle and Sherlock peeked out to call at her, “What are you still doing out here, Molly? Come on in.”
About fifteen minutes later she found herself sitting on a stool in an old shop-front room, studying a tray with five very beautiful, very, very expensive, diamond engagement rings.
She also knew that the ‘shop’ wasn’t really a shop, that the ‘owner’ owed Sherlock a favour, the rings were probably on the ‘grey-market’ or were of dubious origin in any case, and Sherlock was so tense that if he had been a ball, he would have been ricocheting around the room.
And all of this came second to the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off the beauties on the tray.
“I narrowed it down to these five.” For the first time ever, Sherlock sounded more nervous than her. “I wish I had more of a selection, but I only made the decision this morning and I have to propose tomorrow, so it has to be one of these and I had to be sure. You’ve…done this and I assumed that your greater experience in this regard would be beneficial.”
Molly decided not to mention how Greg had proposed to her with a dime-store ring hidden within a strawberry dreamsickle and that her proper wedding ring was a simple silver band, part of a set that they had chosen together.
“I thought that the blue one at the end…” Sherlock trailed off uncertainly.
Molly had had her heart set on the sapphire piece since she had laid eyes on the tray. It was a simple white gold band with two minute rows of diamonds circling it at the centre. One was plain white diamond while the other was the deepest blue sapphire. It was beautiful and dignified without being ostentatious, just like John.
But just to be sure, she picked up the ornate antique affair, second in the row and held it out, “I like this one much better.”
Molly stifled her giggles at the petulant look that came over Sherlock’s face and gave in. “I’m just pulling your leg, Sherlock. It’s perfect. I’m so happy for you.”
“Oh!” Sherlock looked a bit nonplussed for a moment before he recovered. “Good…That’s settled then. Lots to do before tomorrow. I better get going. I wish I had figured this out sooner, but better late than never, right?”
Sherlock Holmes was rambling. That snapped Molly out of her ring-induced daze.
“Sherlock,” she was thrilled to find that her voice was treading a firm line between an order and a request. Marriage had cured Molly of whatever it was that used to grip her tongue, the moment she had to confront Sherlock about something.
“Are you alright? You don’t have to do this till you’re absolutely sure.”
Sherlock looked affronted at the insinuation, “Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with John. I have no doubts about that at all. I don’t even care about the institution of marriage, which I think is completely archaic and ritualistic and meant more for society’s benefit. Besides, it’s boring and pointless and Mycroft will insist on being present. Those vows we are meant to take- John and I live those vows daily. We don’t need a priest or a judge legalising us being together. But John is so predictably old-fashioned. I know that it matters to him and it’s the only way I could think of that…oh God!” He suddenly slumped down on the dusty old stool.
Molly’s eyes had gone wider as Sherlock continued talking. “For one, I suggest that you don’t lead your proposal with that speech.
She took a deep breath and hoped she was going to say the right thing. “You don’t have to do this for John, Sherlock. John wouldn’t give one whit about it, if you didn’t really want to. He doesn’t care about fancy rings, or a ceremony. He cares about you, you gigantic clot. And this would be you lying to him all over again.”
“I’m not doing it for him.”
She didn’t understand. For some reason, he wouldn’t face her now. He continued in a barely heard whisper, “I…I need John to forget tomorrow. I need him to forget it ever happened.”
Her confusion lasted till he finally raised his head to meet her eyes and she stifled a small gasp at the haunted look in them. They were an echo of the way he had looked at her in the morgue that day.
If I wasn’t everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?The one and only other time Sherlock had actually asked for her assistance. That one terrible day five years ago and Molly started as she finally remembered that it was, in fact, this very day.
And that would make tomorrow…
Sherlock was decent enough look a bit ashamed at the horrified expression on her face.
“Sherlock,” she started in a shaky voice. “You…cannot expect him to forget. He is never going to be able to simply erase that day like it never happened. The rest of us don’t work like that. This is a stupid reason to-“
“He still visits my grave, you know,” Sherlock continued conversationally, looking into the distance. “I’ve been alive for two years and he still goes. He tries to hide it from me. Last year, he told me he was going to visit Harry. But moments after he left, Harry called on Baker Street, just to check on him.” He laughed deprecatingly. “That’s when I remembered what day it was. I had forgotten completely, Molly. It was easy to forget because the fall wasn’t the worst thing that had happened to me in three years. Even a week later had been much worse, when John had visited the grave and…and talked to me. That’s when I had known that ‘dying’ had been the biggest mistake of my life.”
“When John returned, I asked him where he had been, but he lied again. It was Mycroft, who told me. Redundant, as I had already analysed the mud on his shoe-soles to conclude that he had been at the cemetary.”
“And today, he told me he would be working tomorrow, but I know he isn’t. He hasn’t worked on this day for last five years.”
Molly really didn’t know what to say. But she couldn’t bear the desolate tone of Sherlock’s voice. She still loved the git, but it was a different kind of love, tempered not blind like it had been before. She hugged Sherlock, feeling him stiffen instinctively before he relaxed and hugged her back.
“You cannot make him forget something like that, Sherlock. It’s a part of him now, part of all of us.”
He drew back, eyes suspiciously glittery. “I know. But I can give John a different reason to remember tomorrow. A reason to celebrate, rather than grieve. A…a brand new memory that will push the past aside to make room for itself. It’s the only thing I can do, Molly.”
Molly couldn’t hold back her own tears. She understood wanting to do wrong things for the right reasons.
She couldn’t think of a better reason than Sherlock had given her.
***
(A year later)
“Greg, you mind if I borrow Molly for a dance?”
Lestrade laughed and let Molly go just as the band took up a slow beat. He winked mischieviously, “How can I deny the bride anything today?”
John muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘Bloody wanker’, as he smoothly lead Molly in a waltz.
He looked very handsome in the bespoke midnight suit lined with deep blue velvet. But more conspicuous than that was the happiness that flooded every line on his face, making him look years younger. He weaved Molly confidently to the music, but his eyes continued to stray to the tall figure of his now-husband dancing with Mrs. Hudson at the edge of the dance floor.
“I never thanked you, Molly…for everything. I thought it was high time, I did.”
Molly bit her lip. John had never spoken about it to her. There had been a wordless understanding between them after Sherlock’s return and Molly had been too relieved to want more.
“No… not like that. I’m just glad that he had someone to turn to when I couldn’t be there for him. I’m incredibly grateful that you stood by him. He would have done it anyway. But with you, he had a friend to watch his back.”
She smiled as she watched Sherlock twirl Mrs. Hudson. He looked…like he had forgotten his ‘marriage’ speech from a year ago. It was a start.
“And I take it, this was your idea too.” He waggled the ring at her. She blushed.
“No, that was completely Sherlock’s choice. I just helped. He was so nervous, what with it being this day and…oh!” She bit her tongue knowing that she had put her foot in her mouth, yet again.
But John simply looked back serenely at her. “I know what he’s upto. Even if I had not caught on with the proposal last year, the marriage date was a huge clue. Now I’m going to be terrified of this day for an entirely different reason. God alone knows what grand gestures he’s going to come up with year after year.”
Molly giggled at the possibilities. “It’s working, isn’t it?”
John looked at his husband fondly, incredulously as he answered. “There was a reason why I married a genius. Can you see me remembering this day and feeling at all depressed? He made it the most wonderful day of my life.” He looked back at Molly, “I may not be able to forget that it happened. But I will definitely find it incredibly hard to remember.”
Later, Molly watched the newly-wedded couple swaying slowly on the dance floor, completely lost to the world. She saw them kiss slowly and tenderly in the moonlight- making a new memory to eclipse the old.
And for now, that was enough.
The End.
(I read about your mum. I’m really sorry. I hope this birthday brings you loads of good memories to push out the old. I guess, even your mum would have wanted that. I know I’m only an anonymous name on the screen, but here’s my little bit towards making a new memory! I hope you have a great time today.)