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darnedchild) wrote2020-03-14 03:19 pm
darnedchild) wrote2020-03-14 03:19 pm
I'm Sorry Redux
Summary: “You don’t get to do this. It’s been thirteen months. You do not get to have this conversation now, just because you feel guilty and you want my forgiveness.” (SAW 2020 - Day 7)
Rating: G
A/N - Day 7 – Your favorite head canon (canon compliant/divergent, AU, ect)
#sherlollyweek2020
Because dmollyc asked for a happy ending even though I was thinking about going full on angst.
We’re going to treat Day 6 and Day 7 as a bit of a Choose Your Own Adventure experiment. Same set-up, similar story, two different endings. One ends in a smile… one does not.
Let’s see which one Day 7 will be?
Welcome to a light at the end of the tunnel, my friends
I'm Sorry Redux
“Molly.” Sherlock’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
He turned his head to see that Molly was still tightly wrapped in her coat in the passenger’s seat, the tip of her nose barely peeking out from between her collar and the stocking cap she’d pulled down as low as it could go to cover her ears. She lifted her face just enough that he could see her breath when she responded with a tired “Hmm?”
“I’m sorry.”
Molly sighed as she sat up fully. Now he could see how red her cheeks were, and he wished there was something he could do to warm her up. “I told you, it’s not your fault. There was no way you could have known the car was going to break down.” She reached out with a mitten covered hand and grasped his wrist in an effort to offer comfort. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“No. I’m sorry about before. Last year.” He flipped his hand over and managed to catch her hand before she could pull it away. Rather stubbornly, he refused to let go even when she gently tugged.
It had taken ages to get back to normal after that phone call.
Well, whatever you could call ‘normal’ for their complicated relationship.
He had tried to talk to her about it, once. About how he’d thought his life would surely end with hers that day. How he dreaded the video feed going to black because it would mean she was gone. How relieved he’d been to see the timer stop and to know that no matter what happened after that point, Molly Hooper was still alive. How it had ripped him apart to know that he’d hurt her.
But in the end, he’d taken the coward’s way out and simply said he knew how she felt and he loved her too… but that’s all they could ever have. Just the words.
She had refused to speak to him for over a month, and he’d respected her need for space. It was the least he could do, considering.
Then, one day, she’d shown up at Baker Street with a diseased liver and they had begun to cautiously rebuild their friendship.
A few months ago, she’d even begun to join him on an odd case or two when John was otherwise occupied.
Which was how they currently found themselves sitting in a useless vehicle, in the middle of nowhere, waiting to be rescued by his brother’s henchmen.
“I need to apologize for-“ Sherlock started again.
“No.” She tried to pull her hand free and he let her this time.
“What?”
“No.” Molly shook her head. “You don’t get to do this. It’s been thirteen months. You do not get to have this conversation now, just because you feel guilty and you want my forgiveness.”
“That’s not why…” Sherlock paled. “Maybe a bit, but there’s more to it than that.”
“I said no.” She turned to stare out the window at her side. “I want to be your friend. I like being your friend. I like not having to hide how I feel anymore. It’s such a relief to not over-analyse every little thing you do, trying to identify some small sign of how you feel about me. It’s all out in the open, and I finally know where I stand.” Molly took a deep breath and faced him once more. Her eyes pleaded with him. “Don’t ruin that for me by being selfish, please, Sherlock.”
He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her he’d lied when he’d said they couldn’t have anything more. Instead, he ground his teeth together and gripped the steering wheel so hard the cheap faux leather creaked.
She continued to watch him, wearily waiting for the next shoe to drop.
“I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the absolute last thing I want.”
Molly sighed and her expression softened. “I know.”
Another cold gust of wind hit the car, rocking it slightly, and she shivered.
Sherlock flicked his eyes toward the back of the car for a moment, then made up his mind. Close physical contact wasn’t something they did, but there was no way he could continue to let her suffer when he could do something about it.
Molly gasped when he pushed his door open. “What are you doing?”
“It could be another few hours before someone gets to us. We need to stay warm in the meantime.” He ducked his head to make eye contact with her. “Get into the backseat.”
Sherlock thought she was going to argue with him, then another puff of breath appeared in front of her and Molly reached for the door handle. He waited until she’d awkwardly crawled into the back of the car to slip out of his Belstaff and join her.
He silently held out his arms, and was relieved when she slid across the seat without protest. Moments later he had them both covered in his coat and she was cuddled into his side with her head tucked under his chin.
“We’ll be okay, Sherlock,” Molly reassured him. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about being rescued or about their relationship. “We always are.”
“I know,” he unconsciously echoed her earlier words.
Eventually, Molly began to grow drowsy.
“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll watch over you,” he promised.
Ten minutes later, she was asleep and he had pressed his cheek against her ridiculously bright coloured stocking cap.
“I love you,” Sherlock whispered. “I always have. I was just too stubborn to admit it before.”
She stirred, and for a long moment he thought she hadn’t woken up. And then she replied, just as quietly.
“I love you, too, Sherlock Holmes.”
Rating: G
A/N - Day 7 – Your favorite head canon (canon compliant/divergent, AU, ect)
#sherlollyweek2020
Because dmollyc asked for a happy ending even though I was thinking about going full on angst.
We’re going to treat Day 6 and Day 7 as a bit of a Choose Your Own Adventure experiment. Same set-up, similar story, two different endings. One ends in a smile… one does not.
Let’s see which one Day 7 will be?
Welcome to a light at the end of the tunnel, my friends
I'm Sorry Redux
“Molly.” Sherlock’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly.
He turned his head to see that Molly was still tightly wrapped in her coat in the passenger’s seat, the tip of her nose barely peeking out from between her collar and the stocking cap she’d pulled down as low as it could go to cover her ears. She lifted her face just enough that he could see her breath when she responded with a tired “Hmm?”
“I’m sorry.”
Molly sighed as she sat up fully. Now he could see how red her cheeks were, and he wished there was something he could do to warm her up. “I told you, it’s not your fault. There was no way you could have known the car was going to break down.” She reached out with a mitten covered hand and grasped his wrist in an effort to offer comfort. “Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“No. I’m sorry about before. Last year.” He flipped his hand over and managed to catch her hand before she could pull it away. Rather stubbornly, he refused to let go even when she gently tugged.
It had taken ages to get back to normal after that phone call.
Well, whatever you could call ‘normal’ for their complicated relationship.
He had tried to talk to her about it, once. About how he’d thought his life would surely end with hers that day. How he dreaded the video feed going to black because it would mean she was gone. How relieved he’d been to see the timer stop and to know that no matter what happened after that point, Molly Hooper was still alive. How it had ripped him apart to know that he’d hurt her.
But in the end, he’d taken the coward’s way out and simply said he knew how she felt and he loved her too… but that’s all they could ever have. Just the words.
She had refused to speak to him for over a month, and he’d respected her need for space. It was the least he could do, considering.
Then, one day, she’d shown up at Baker Street with a diseased liver and they had begun to cautiously rebuild their friendship.
A few months ago, she’d even begun to join him on an odd case or two when John was otherwise occupied.
Which was how they currently found themselves sitting in a useless vehicle, in the middle of nowhere, waiting to be rescued by his brother’s henchmen.
“I need to apologize for-“ Sherlock started again.
“No.” She tried to pull her hand free and he let her this time.
“What?”
“No.” Molly shook her head. “You don’t get to do this. It’s been thirteen months. You do not get to have this conversation now, just because you feel guilty and you want my forgiveness.”
“That’s not why…” Sherlock paled. “Maybe a bit, but there’s more to it than that.”
“I said no.” She turned to stare out the window at her side. “I want to be your friend. I like being your friend. I like not having to hide how I feel anymore. It’s such a relief to not over-analyse every little thing you do, trying to identify some small sign of how you feel about me. It’s all out in the open, and I finally know where I stand.” Molly took a deep breath and faced him once more. Her eyes pleaded with him. “Don’t ruin that for me by being selfish, please, Sherlock.”
He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to tell her he’d lied when he’d said they couldn’t have anything more. Instead, he ground his teeth together and gripped the steering wheel so hard the cheap faux leather creaked.
She continued to watch him, wearily waiting for the next shoe to drop.
“I don’t want to hurt you. That’s the absolute last thing I want.”
Molly sighed and her expression softened. “I know.”
Another cold gust of wind hit the car, rocking it slightly, and she shivered.
Sherlock flicked his eyes toward the back of the car for a moment, then made up his mind. Close physical contact wasn’t something they did, but there was no way he could continue to let her suffer when he could do something about it.
Molly gasped when he pushed his door open. “What are you doing?”
“It could be another few hours before someone gets to us. We need to stay warm in the meantime.” He ducked his head to make eye contact with her. “Get into the backseat.”
Sherlock thought she was going to argue with him, then another puff of breath appeared in front of her and Molly reached for the door handle. He waited until she’d awkwardly crawled into the back of the car to slip out of his Belstaff and join her.
He silently held out his arms, and was relieved when she slid across the seat without protest. Moments later he had them both covered in his coat and she was cuddled into his side with her head tucked under his chin.
“We’ll be okay, Sherlock,” Molly reassured him. He wasn’t sure if she was talking about being rescued or about their relationship. “We always are.”
“I know,” he unconsciously echoed her earlier words.
Eventually, Molly began to grow drowsy.
“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll watch over you,” he promised.
Ten minutes later, she was asleep and he had pressed his cheek against her ridiculously bright coloured stocking cap.
“I love you,” Sherlock whispered. “I always have. I was just too stubborn to admit it before.”
She stirred, and for a long moment he thought she hadn’t woken up. And then she replied, just as quietly.
“I love you, too, Sherlock Holmes.”