Two Can Play That Game

by Michelle

＊＊＊＊＊

Sherlock and John were sitting in Marcy’s Café browsing through the menu when they caught the sight of Molly rushing toward them after she entered the shop. Her cheeks were slightly red, a big bag hanging from her shoulder, and little Rosie Watson was in a sling, protectively cradled by her arms. The pathologist was breathless and looked a bit insecure though she smiled when greeting them and sat down to join them. 

“I’m so sorry, the tube was a nightmare again, delays, as usual. It took me a bit longer before I could pick up Rosie from the nursery.”
“It’s okay, Molly, we’ve just got here. Thank you for picking up Rosie for me,” John said with a smile
He passed her the menu, and taking his daughter from Molly, he put Rosie in the high chair the waitress had set next to his own chair.

Molly took the menu absently and dared to look at Sherlock a bit shyly. She wasn’t aware of the fact, that his eyes never left her face since she had arrived.
“Welcome home, Sherlock... It must feel good for you to be back,” she said quietly.
He was smiling at her warmly.
“It is, thank you, Molly…” He broke the gaze and sighed into the menu in pretended disappointment. “Though I miss my nurse, she’s a big fan of my blog.”
“My blog, you mean,” John corrected him.

Sherlock grinned and made a funny face at Rosie, who observed him with great interest and giggled when he made a face.
“Rosamund Mary Watson.“ Sherlock frowned at the baby. “If you have at least a bit of your mother in you, tell your father, envy is a despicable human trait.”
“If she has at least a bit of her mother in her, she will tell you to shut up,” John barked.

Molly froze, afraid that the tension between them was still unresolved when suddenly both, John and Sherlock looked at each other and broke into laughter. She sighed and chuckled, before speaking with a smile when they calmed down, seeing they were obviously on good terms again.

“I’m glad you two have made up…”
John looked at her, turning serious again; his look was warm.
“You were right, Molly… I should have done this earlier, it didn’t have to come to---” he said quietly, unable to finish the thought. 
--- to me beating Sherlock up like a gym mat...
He was staring at a spot on the table ahead of him, ashamed of how he had hurt his best friend.

“It’s okay, John,” Sherlock’s soft baritone resonated in their ears. “I deserved it.”
Molly looked sharply at him in disagreement, but he silenced her with a smile and a shake of his head.
“No, you didn’t, I told you you didn’t kill Mary…” John swallowed and took a deep breath before continuing. “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me because God knows I won’t probably be able to forgive myself.”
Molly’s heart almost broke at John’s words, but she kept quiet, for she knew it was Sherlock whose words were the most important now.

“There is nothing to forgive, John.” Sherlock put his hand on his best friend’s shoulder and smiled. “Stop blaming yourself, you only did what you had to do at that moment. Your anger needed an outlet, and I was there. That’s all.” His smile faded. “We’ve all been hurting and sometimes it’s not easy to be... human…” 
He looked at Molly briefly to see a bittersweet smile play on her tired but lovely face.

John shook his head in disbelief, but Sherlock already continued more cheerfully.
“Besides, it would take a lot more to take me out of this world.” He smirked cheekily, but the smirk quickly turned into a warm smile.
Finally, John smiled back at him.
“Happy birthday, my best friend,” he said with genuine warmth in his voice and eyes.
“Cake?” Sherlock asked.
“Cake.” John replied, turning his attention back to the menu and then, to playing with Rosie for a bit.

Sherlock looked at Molly again who was wiping away a tear and smiling. He saw the same exhaustion in her face he had seen before the Culverton Smith madness began, and though he saw sadness, he also saw relief in her eyes when she looked at him. Suddenly, he covered her hand with his for a moment, in support, then pulled it back again as if remembering this is not something Sherlock Holmes does. He seemed to be doing this kind of thing with Molly Hooper quite often lately, he realised. Molly smiled at him and the look in her chocolate-brown eyes warmed him right down to the core of his heart.

“What can I get you, guys?”
None of them noticed the waitress, who suddenly just appeared at their table. They ordered their choice of cake each and a large pot of tea to share between them.
When the waitress brought their cakes, Molly conjured up a little birthday candle out of her bag, pushed it into Sherlock’s chocolate cake slice and lit it with a cheeky grin on her face.

“Come one, don’t be a git, make a wish!” John said, amused, watching his best friend’s face reflecting a mixture of utter surprise, shock, annoyance and pleasure. Sherlock looked at Molly and seeing her tight-lipped smile, he couldn’t help it, and the corners of his mouth turned upwards slightly.

“Watson, I might need your help to blow this out,” he said, glancing at Rosie, who seemed transfixed by the sight of the flickering candlelight more than by the slice of the cake itself.
Her godfather then took a deep breath (for he had the reputation of a drama queen to maintain) and blew out the candle. John, Molly and even little Rosie clapped in excitement, and Sherlock chuckled at this seemingly silly display of human emotions. For some reason though, he didn’t find it repulsive anymore; he actually enjoyed it.

“Come on, what did you wish for?” John asked, intrigued.
“John, isn’t it a common perception that you are not supposed to tell your wishes to others because they will not come true?” the detective replied stoically.
“Yes, but you’re Sherlock Holmes, you never care about common perceptions.”
“Maybe I would like to make a few exceptions this time,” he said, and an enigmatic smile settled on his face as he glanced at Molly.
She caught his look and for a moment, she forgot to breathe.

After that, the atmosphere at the table got even better, and all three of them spent almost an hour chatting, reminiscing about their previous cases, laughing, making Rosie laugh, bonding all over. After their world had been almost shattered to pieces, there was a hope rising from the ashes - a hope that brighter days would eventually come and that whatever happened, it just made them stronger and better friends.

When John got up, picking up his daughter, and was ready to leave, as it was approaching her bedtime, Sherlock and Molly got up too, to say bye to them. Molly pressed a soft kiss on Rosie’s cheek with a loving look and a “Good night, sweetheart”.

Sherlock watched her with a smile and tenderness in his steel-blue eyes, and he suddenly felt something new creeping into his heart, causing a fuzzy, longing, warm feeling. Then he did an unexpected thing when he gave John a hug, but John returned it and smiled in surprise. It was the second time that day that Sherlock Holmes hugged him and he had to admit, both times he needed it.

“Thank you, John, for everything,” Sherlock said quietly when they pulled apart.
His friend swallowed hard and smiled at him with genuine warmth as he replied. “No mate, I thank you.”

When John and Rosie left, Molly turned to the detective.
“Would you like anything else, Sherlock?”
He replied with a gentle look settled on his face, his eyes reflecting something which he had been trying to hide from the world for a long time.
“I would like to spend some quality time with my pathologist." 

Molly’s breath caught at the expression in his eyes and his words, but then she calmed down and smiled.
“Scrabble or Operation?” she asked with narrowed eyes and a grin.
“Definitely Scrabble, you’re the better one with the body parts so that wouldn’t be fair,” Sherlock replied with a wink and led her out of the cake shop.

＊＊＊＊＊

Three hours later, back at 221B Baker Street, after having enjoyed a takeaway from Angelo´s, they were sitting opposite each other by the fireplace, a small side table with the Scrabble board between them.

“I can’t play with you anymore, Sherlock.” Molly pretended annoyance.
“Why?” he asked innocently.
“Because you always create such impossible words that I didn’t even think existed in the dictionary!” She couldn’t prevent herself from laughing.

Sherlock’s deep baritone joined her laughter as the detective watched Molly leaning back in John’s chair. When they stopped laughing, Sherlock’s face turned suddenly serious, deep in thought.
“This feels good,” he said quietly, almost shy.
Molly’s eyes found his, and she smiled. “Yes, it does.”
“I’ve never realised, how much I… needed this…” His soft voice trailed off.
“I thought you used to play with John, he even mentioned once you play with Mycroft sometimes…”
“Yes, but it’s always more like a competition, a way of showing off, killing time. Most times, we just end up annoying each other. It’s never like… this…”

His voice trailed off again and he smiled.
“Sometimes we don’t realise what we are missing until we almost or completely lose it,” she replied, her unguarded eyes focused on his.
Sherlock pierced her with a knowing look.

After a moment, Molly shook her head and stood up.
“I definitely need more tea after my square defeat.” She chuckled. “Would you like some too, Sherlock?”
“Yes, thank you,” he replied with gratitude, watching her turn and walk into the kitchen.

Sherlock couldn’t help but smile warmly while watching her pottering about with the kettle and mugs. She seemed much more relaxed and not as depressed as just over an hour ago. The sadness was still written over her face, but he sensed that despite of being with him ‘on duty’ to keep him away from the ‘sweeties’, she was actually having a good time. And he had to admit to himself, so was he.

Gone were the days when he would snap at her for the most ridiculous reasons, be annoyed by the presence of someone else babysitting him and deterring him from blissful solitude or a new case. Their lives had been connected in different ways for a long time, and they had been through some very rough times.

His view of Molly changed dramatically over the years. She was always promising, impeccable at her profession (that’s why he refused to work with anyone else in Bart’s) and loyal to him. But with time, he had watched her grow into a quite extraordinary, strong and inspirational woman, though she may not have been aware of it herself. Within the years, he found himself more and more surprised and in a way attracted to her, though he still wasn’t sure why exactly she kept on reappearing in his Mind Palace over and over again, even having her own room in it.

Sherlock was happy that the air was clear again between him and John, and he was suddenly happy sitting here with Molly Hooper and doing such mundane and domestic-bliss-nearing activities, such as drinking tea and playing Scrabble. He hadn’t felt so good in almost two months. He was afraid of Molly’s reaction when seeing him for the first time after the ambulance incident and his whole drug overdrive.

He knew she came to see him in the hospital a few times, but to his dismay, he was always sleeping, so he never had the chance to talk to her and explain things properly.

Although there was a moment of awkwardness for the first minute or so in the café, it quickly disappeared and all he could see was just her relief of him being better. And her understanding that his crazy and stupid act, which almost cost him his life, fulfilled its purpose and saved John Watson from the abyss of his own grief.

Molly came back with a refilled teapot and a small package of an unidentified shape. It was wrapped in plain brown paper, but tied over with a thin red ribbon. Nothing fancy like the Christmas present she gave him years before. She put the teapot on the tray at the small table next to Sherlock’s armchair and passed him the package making him look a bit puzzled.

“It’s nothing big, but with all that has been going on lately, I didn’t have much time to pick something more appropriate for your intellectual level,” she said, sitting down to watch him open it. “Please, don’t deduce it, just… open it.”

Sherlock unwrapped the package to reveal a pack of the finest ginger nuts, the smell of which hit him straight in the nose, making him smile widely.
“Happy birthday, Sherlock,” Molly said with a soft smile, happy about his reaction.
“That’s the first birthday present I got in 10 years,” he said looking at the ginger nuts in his hands, still smiling.
Molly almost choked on her tea. “What? How come?” she inquired.

“I told my parents I didn’t want any. Mycroft and I never do that anyway. It always seemed to me that people cling too much to material things. They waste so much time, energy and stress out about picking the best present instead of focusing on what really matters.”
“What matters to you, Sherlock?” Molly asked with genuine interest.
He observed her for a moment before replying. “Before, I used to think it was excelling in what I’m best at.”
“And now?”
The look in his darkened eyes suddenly got more intense.
“Now I find that my focus has been shifting dramatically. I find that people are more important than anything else…”

Molly didn’t dare to pry more; she found it hard enough to maintain control from the effect of his gaze on her.
“Anyway, no one else knew when my birthday is, so…” Sherlock waved his hand in the air, breaking the spell.
Molly smirked looking in her tea. “I knew when your birthday is.
Sherlock looked at her in surprise. “How?”
Molly chuckled and put down the teacup, her hands suddenly a bit shaky.
“Mycroft… When you faked your…” She sighed. “… your death… I needed your details for the official report….”

Her throat suddenly felt constricted, and she was fidgeting with her hands in her lap. She hated her body betraying her own feelings again when she thought she had learned to control them.
Sherlock’s lips stretched into a wide smile.

“It was you…” he said in realisation. “You put the ginger nuts in my pocket last year on my birthday after I had returned…”
“I can’t believe you hadn’t deduced that earlier, though I really made an effort not to leave any traces for you.” She laughed a bit nervously before adding. “So technically, this is the second birthday present you got in 10 years. Sorry to have broken your rule. Although you can hardly call it a present, it’s just a silly thing, nothing really worthy…”

Sherlock stopped the flow of her words by leaning over and putting his hands over hers, making her look up at him.
“It is priceless to me….Thank you.” His deep voice betrayed how moved he was, and his sparkling blue eyes were smiling at her.
“You’re welcome,” she said with a quiet though less nervous voice and returned his smile.
Her hands suddenly felt hot under his touch.

When Sherlock pulled back again, Molly looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.
“I think we have just enough time for one more round and finishing our tea, and then it’s bedtime for Sherlock Holmes,” she said with a strong voice again.
Sherlock grinned and took a sip of his tea. “What happened to ‘I can’t play with you anymore’?”
Molly raised her eyebrows in amusement. “I am not a quitter, Sherlock, I will get you one day.”

The moment she said it, she wished she hadn’t, when the realisation hit her at the possible double meaning of her words. She held her breath.
Sherlock put down his cup. “Oh, I never thought you were.” He smiled at her with an expression that told her, he had caught the double meaning too but wasn’t taken aback by it.
“Try me, Molly Hooper,” he said with a challenging look firmly on her before reaching for the bag with letters.

＊＊＊

Exactly twenty-two minutes and one more cup of tea later, Sherlock was putting away the game, when Molly walked into the kitchen with the tray and started washing the dishes. She only managed to wash one cup, when Sherlock reached her and pushed her gently out of the way to continue himself. Molly looked at him in amused surprise.

“Don’t be so shocked, Molly, I know how to wash dishes.” He smirked. “Besides, you lost the game again, so that’s the least I can do to soften the blow of your defeat.”
“I only lost because you managed to pull out anemophilous at the very end and beat me by 6 points, which is by far the closest ever,” she grinned as if she had won. “The age is getting to you; you’re getting rusty.”

Sherlock looked at her with a pretended hurt pride and wanted to reply with something smart and funny but suddenly found himself unable to at the sight of her. In the soft glow of the light over the kitchen counter, her face looked almost angelic and the loose strand of hair falling down along her face made it appear even softer.
He blinked and managed a quiet laugh before turning back to the dishes.

Molly noticed the slight change in his reaction but didn’t dwell on it and returned to the practical side of matters. She was staying overnight, as agreed with John, Greg and Mrs Hudson before, in case, Sherlock needed someone and she was a doctor and didn’t have a baby to look after.

“Right, I’ll use the bathroom, before you go to bed, and get the extra pillow and blanket for the sofa where I’ll be sleeping,” she said.
Sherlock turned to her frowning. “Why sofa? You can sleep in John’s old room upstairs.”
She looked at him with worry. “I know but I wouldn’t hear you when… if you needed me…”

Her voice faded but her look told him all there was to explain. The memories of his withdrawal phases in the past were still strong in both of them, and he knew he was not out of the woods yet, no matter how better he was feeling.
“Of course.” He sighed and looked at his feet. “I’m sorry…”
“It’s okay.” Molly smiled at him again.
“No, I mean…” He took a deep breath and looked at her, suddenly appearing vulnerable with his shoulders hanging and his head dropping down again as in defeat. “I’m sorry you have to go through this with me. I know I promised I would never do it again, but I had no choice…”

The expression she could read on his face at that moment was one of guilt and shame as they both remembered the way she slapped him after she tested him positive for drugs after John and Mary’s wedding. True, he did it for a case and didn’t take too many drugs back then to cause big damage to his body, but still.

She put her hand on his arm to comfort him.
“I know, Sherlock, I understand, especially since you warned me before. I’m not saying it made it easier and I’m still truly pissed off with you for pushing it so far that it almost killed you…” She winced and closed her eyes for a moment. “But, it’s over and you need to focus on recovering fully now. John needs you, Rosie too, and Greg. And Mrs Hudson needs you to shout at her again.”

Her warm smile and the light in her dark eyes made him feel strangely calm, and the features of his face relaxed again.
“And you, Molly Hooper, do you need me?” Sherlock asked with unexpected tenderness in his baritone voice.
She swallowed and looked down with a shy smile. “Always…” she whispered, almost as if only for herself.

Sherlock’s smile widened and caught in the moment, he reached towards her face and gently put the loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“Thank you for remembering my words…” he said and after another beat of them just looking at each other, he turned back to the dishes and Molly walked away towards his bedroom to retrieve a blanket and pillow.

＊＊＊

 

Sherlock was watching Molly as she was preparing the sofa as her temporary bed for the night and frowned again.
“It’s not right, Molly, you shouldn’t be sleeping like this when I’m the one who messed things up. I can sleep here and you can sleep in my bed.”

She straightened up at light speed and looked at him shocked, but then got hold of herself.
“The sofa is too short for you; you need to be comfortable. I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she said.
“If you think so…” Sherlock replied still not entirely happy.
“But… thank you for the offer.”

At the sight of her grateful smile, his frown disappeared and he smiled, too.
“Good night, Molly Hooper,” Sherlock said, and his eyes had that soft expression again, which she couldn’t quite understand.
“Good night, Sherlock; if you need me, just call me.”

He nodded and to his surprise quite reluctantly turned around to walk out towards his bedroom. He wished he could have stayed with her longer, for the moment he left her presence, a cold started creeping into the place where his heart was.

＊＊＊＊＊
 

Molly woke in the middle of the night to the sound of someone crying. At first, she thought it was someone in her dream, but once she had opened her eyes, she heard someone calling her name in such a desperate tone, that it made her shudder. She recognised the voice straight away, threw away the blanket and ran towards his bedroom.

The door was slightly ajar, so she pushed it wide open and found Sherlock tossing restlessly in his bed, his face mirroring some deep anguish and fear, his breaths sharp and short. Molly realised he was still sleeping but surely, having some kind of a nightmare. In the soft yellow glow of his bedside table lamp, which was still on, she saw his face was covered with sweat, and deep pain was written all over it.

“It’s all right, Sherlock, I’m here, you need to wake up…” she spoke soothingly, taking quickly one of his hands into hers, and gently stroking his forehead. His breathing slowed down a bit, but sorrow was still reflected in his face, and Molly’s heart clamped at the sight of him.

Suddenly, he sat up while shouting “No!” His eyes flew open.
Molly grabbed his shoulders and tried to steady him.
“It’s all right! It was just a dream! It’s all right, Sherlock, I’m here…" 
Her eyes focused on his as her hands moved to his face to cup it and make him meet her look.
“It was just a dream…” she whispered, desperate to calm him down.

His haunting and darkened eyes were darting from side to side first before focusing on hers, getting a full grasp of the reality. Sherlock sighed in relief and bowed his head grasping it in his hands.
“Thank God!” he breathed and Molly could hear the pain through the relief in his broken voice.
“What happened in that dream?” she asked softly, while her fingers were gently stroking his back to comfort him.
“I… I was in the Aquarium again and….. Mary wasn’t there, but… you were…”
That was all he could say before silent tears wetted his cheeks.

Molly understood immediately and her breath caught, but without hesitation, she pulled him into an embrace, caressing his unruly hair.
“I’m here…” she whispered.

Sherlock surrendered to his so long suppressed emotions, and his arms wrapped around her waist tightly, desperately, imagining with horror what it would be like if that nightmare was indeed reality. To lose his friend was horrible, but to lose Molly…
He shuddered and pulled her even closer, realising his body was shaking now from a belated shock.

”I can’t lose you…” He let his thought quietly escape his mouth.
The woman in his arms was moved tremendously by those few words and closed her eyes.
“You won’t, Sherlock, never…” she whispered and pulled back slightly to frame his head with her small hands.
She put a light kiss on his forehead, then pulled him close again.

＊＊＊＊＊

The golden rays of the early morning sun penetrated through the net curtains on his bedroom window. He blinked a little and noticed a slight headache. His limbs felt heavy and weak. However, there was a warm feeling spreading around his body. Within a moment he understood why - the slender and small body of Molly Hooper was laying at his side, her head resting on his chest with her hand over his heart, and his arms were around her.

Sherlock had to smile and was surprised, that he didn’t find this position confusing or terrifying, as he surely would even a year ago. This time, for some reason it felt absolutely right to him. He remembered how she comforted him last night and how he asked her if she could stay after his nightmare because just the thought of her gone was a nightmare itself for Sherlock (of course, he didn’t tell her that particular part). Molly agreed without hesitation, seeing his distress.

Her kindness, care and yes, quiet, undemanding love were what he needed and he got it. Sherlock remembered how she pushed him back to the pillows and he opened his arms inviting her into his space to rest with her together. He remembered how she accepted his invitation with the tiniest hesitation. but then lowered herself down. At first, she wiped his forehead and cheeks with a tissue to rid him of the sweat, and then stretched alongside him and allowed him to embrace her, carefully and gently. He remembered how they didn’t speak, just listened to each other’s breathing, bringing down the heightened emotions on both sides before falling asleep.

True, he did share a bed with Molly Hooper before, right after Mary died, but then they were both in grief and Molly was laying with her back to him and his arm was wrapped over her waist. To lay like this with her though, felt much more intimate, more personal, more everything, and he found himself liking it…

Molly stirred a little in his arms, and he knew she was waking up. Contrary to his initial thoughts, he didn’t pull his arms back but tightened his hold slightly.
“Good morning,” he spoke softly into her hair.

The pathologist raised her head to face him, and to say she was surprised would be an understatement. To find herself in the morning in the arms of Sherlock Holmes seemed quite unbelievable. Yet, it was real, and he was smiling at her with warmth, and his observant bright eyes were showing no sign of panic or fear. They were the perfect image of calm, focus and care.

“Good morning,” Molly replied slowly, trying hard to decide whether to hastily get off the detective or relish in this sweet bliss for longer.
“You don’t have to feel awkward, Molly,” Sherlock said, amused, correctly assessing her state of mind. “I think we’re way past that stage after all those years, don’t you?”
She studied his eyes for a moment and then a smile crept to her lips. “I do.”

His smile widened and the look in his clear blue eyes softened. “Thank you for last night, it was very kind of you.”
Molly remembered the pain on his face during his nightmare and frowned. “I’ve never seen you so… afraid…” she spoke more to herself than to him.
“I don’t think I have ever been so afraid…” he replied, quietly focusing on her warm brown eyes.

She looked up at him again and for a moment, not knowing what to say. Her mind was full of confused emotions, his, hers, like puzzle pieces which needed to be put together so that she could get a full and clear picture.

She blinked and tried to sound as natural as possible.
“Well, you look better than you did last night, how do you feel?”
Sherlock sighed. “My muscles feel a bit achy, but my head feels clear, and surprisingly, I don’t feel the slightest need for any sweeties apart from Mrs Hudson’s mince pies, so overall I would say… I feel much better.”
“I’m glad,” Molly smiled happily, and although she felt like in Heaven in Sherlock’s arms (he still hadn’t loosened his hold on her), she started lifting herself up.
“Where are you going?” Sherlock’s face suddenly fell.

She was surprised at the sudden sadness in his face.
“I’m a doctor foremost and am here to check up on you regularly, so it’s time to check your vitals again and give you your medicine.” Molly managed to sit up on the bed before adding, with a cheeky smile. “Besides, I’m starving.”
Sherlock’s eyes lit up at her smile.
“Molly Hooper, I never thought the day would come when you’d trade me for food,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling.

The pathologist grinned at him before getting up and leaving the bedroom.
“Needs must."