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darnedchildSummary: Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Part Deux - Day 7 - Free For All (Anything that didn’t fit into a themed day that focuses on Molly)
Rating: PG
A/N - Ok, no more angsty fic for awhile after this one. I need a break.
The Box
Molly stared down at the box that had been entrusted into her care.
She had hoped that she would never have to open it.
When Mary had brought the unassuming box to her so many weeks ago, Molly had assumed the other woman was being paranoid. (Even more than usual for an ex-spy who was married to a known adrenaline junkie and good friends with the world’s only consulting detective/danger magnet.)
Mary had set the box on Molly’s kitchen counter and jumped right to the point. “I’ve got to leave for a while, I don’t know when I’ll be back. I need you to hold on to this until I do, or until I can’t; in which case, open it and you’ll know what to do from there.”
Molly had shaken her head, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Something from my past is coming back for me and I can’t risk leading it to John and Rosie.” Her eyes begged Molly to understand.
Strangely enough, she had. (You didn’t spend years in Sherlock’s inner circle without learning to just assume everyone had something to hide, and at least a twenty percent chance of having a secret backstory worthy of an Ian Fleming novel.) So, she’d taken the box and its mysterious contents and hidden them away.
Now it was time to open the damn thing.
Molly procrastinated a few minutes longer by opening a bottle of red wine and pouring herself a small glass. She didn’t want to get tipsy, Rosie was asleep in a cot in Molly’s room and it didn’t look as if John was going to be in any fit state to take care of his daughter any time soon. She just wanted a little something to take the edge off if whatever was in the box was too . . . much.
Eventually there was nothing else to do but sit on the sofa and pull the thing into her lap. The lid came off easily enough. Inside were half a dozen discs with notes taped to the sleeves and a letter.
She took a fortifying drink, then began to read.
Molly,
Assuming you aren’t just taking a peek for a lark, then something has happened and my luck has run out.
I need you to do some things for me.
I know it’s a lot to ask, especially when I know full well that you’ve probably already stepped in to take on a lot of the responsibility for Rosamund’s care while John grieves. He’s a good man, Molly; but I remember how he was when I met him, still trying to deal with his grief over Sherlock’s death. He will let his sorrow and pain swallow him up if someone doesn’t step in.
The first disc is meant for Sherlock. You won’t be able to just hand it to him. He needs a bit of mystery to ensure we’ve got his attention.
Molly frowned down at the letter. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Read. Why does everything have to be a bloody puzzle with you lot.”
There are instructions on the disc on how to get it to him.
I’m going to ask him to do something difficult, and probably very dangerous, to save John. I need you to not interfere.
“Fuck that,” Molly snorted.
He’s going to need to push himself to the breaking point. At the very least, please don’t get in Sherlock’s way unless you feel you have absolutely no other choice. This is important, and Sherlock knows his limits.
“The hell he does.” Mary and Sherlock may have been the best of friends since he returned from the dead; but Molly had known the man far longer than that.
The second disc is for John. Hold on to it until he’s stable. There are instructions for delivery on that disc as well.
The other four discs are for Rosie. I want her to hear me say “I love you, Rosie”. I want her to know what her Mummy’s voice sounds like.
You’ll know when it’s time to give them to John.
Finally, Molly, I want to say thank you. I only had a chance to know you for a little while, but you have been a great friend to me. I am forever grateful for the day John introduced us.
I still laugh when I think of my hen night and the stripper. I have no idea where Maurine found one willing to dress up as ‘The Boffin Detective’, but the look on his face when you told him he should have brought a magnifier lens because the real thing was much bigger . . . How much had you had to drink by that point?
“Too much.” Molly remembered that night, and the way she’d tried to stammer her way through an explanation involving a certain detective who had a habit of wandering around his flat in only a sheet. She’d pointed out that John had probably received an eyeful more than once, but that didn’t seem to help her cause any. If anything, it only made things worse.
You were there for me through the roughest parts of my pregnancy, and I will always be thankful for your support when I felt so alone. I don’t know what I would have done without you, Molly.
You’ve been the best Auntie that Rosie could ever hope for. I’m devastated that I won’t be there to see her grow up, but it helps to know that you’ll have you to turn to when she needs a woman’s touch.
Take care of her for me, Molly. Take care of our boys. All three of them are going to need you more than ever.
Love,
Mary
She swallowed the last of her wine. Even though she knew with absolute certainty that she was going to regret it, Molly reached for the first disc and read the instructions Mary had given her.
Rating: PG
A/N - Ok, no more angsty fic for awhile after this one. I need a break.
The Box
Molly stared down at the box that had been entrusted into her care.
She had hoped that she would never have to open it.
When Mary had brought the unassuming box to her so many weeks ago, Molly had assumed the other woman was being paranoid. (Even more than usual for an ex-spy who was married to a known adrenaline junkie and good friends with the world’s only consulting detective/danger magnet.)
Mary had set the box on Molly’s kitchen counter and jumped right to the point. “I’ve got to leave for a while, I don’t know when I’ll be back. I need you to hold on to this until I do, or until I can’t; in which case, open it and you’ll know what to do from there.”
Molly had shaken her head, clearly confused. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Something from my past is coming back for me and I can’t risk leading it to John and Rosie.” Her eyes begged Molly to understand.
Strangely enough, she had. (You didn’t spend years in Sherlock’s inner circle without learning to just assume everyone had something to hide, and at least a twenty percent chance of having a secret backstory worthy of an Ian Fleming novel.) So, she’d taken the box and its mysterious contents and hidden them away.
Now it was time to open the damn thing.
Molly procrastinated a few minutes longer by opening a bottle of red wine and pouring herself a small glass. She didn’t want to get tipsy, Rosie was asleep in a cot in Molly’s room and it didn’t look as if John was going to be in any fit state to take care of his daughter any time soon. She just wanted a little something to take the edge off if whatever was in the box was too . . . much.
Eventually there was nothing else to do but sit on the sofa and pull the thing into her lap. The lid came off easily enough. Inside were half a dozen discs with notes taped to the sleeves and a letter.
She took a fortifying drink, then began to read.
Molly,
Assuming you aren’t just taking a peek for a lark, then something has happened and my luck has run out.
I need you to do some things for me.
I know it’s a lot to ask, especially when I know full well that you’ve probably already stepped in to take on a lot of the responsibility for Rosamund’s care while John grieves. He’s a good man, Molly; but I remember how he was when I met him, still trying to deal with his grief over Sherlock’s death. He will let his sorrow and pain swallow him up if someone doesn’t step in.
The first disc is meant for Sherlock. You won’t be able to just hand it to him. He needs a bit of mystery to ensure we’ve got his attention.
Molly frowned down at the letter. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Read. Why does everything have to be a bloody puzzle with you lot.”
There are instructions on the disc on how to get it to him.
I’m going to ask him to do something difficult, and probably very dangerous, to save John. I need you to not interfere.
“Fuck that,” Molly snorted.
He’s going to need to push himself to the breaking point. At the very least, please don’t get in Sherlock’s way unless you feel you have absolutely no other choice. This is important, and Sherlock knows his limits.
“The hell he does.” Mary and Sherlock may have been the best of friends since he returned from the dead; but Molly had known the man far longer than that.
The second disc is for John. Hold on to it until he’s stable. There are instructions for delivery on that disc as well.
The other four discs are for Rosie. I want her to hear me say “I love you, Rosie”. I want her to know what her Mummy’s voice sounds like.
You’ll know when it’s time to give them to John.
Finally, Molly, I want to say thank you. I only had a chance to know you for a little while, but you have been a great friend to me. I am forever grateful for the day John introduced us.
I still laugh when I think of my hen night and the stripper. I have no idea where Maurine found one willing to dress up as ‘The Boffin Detective’, but the look on his face when you told him he should have brought a magnifier lens because the real thing was much bigger . . . How much had you had to drink by that point?
“Too much.” Molly remembered that night, and the way she’d tried to stammer her way through an explanation involving a certain detective who had a habit of wandering around his flat in only a sheet. She’d pointed out that John had probably received an eyeful more than once, but that didn’t seem to help her cause any. If anything, it only made things worse.
You were there for me through the roughest parts of my pregnancy, and I will always be thankful for your support when I felt so alone. I don’t know what I would have done without you, Molly.
You’ve been the best Auntie that Rosie could ever hope for. I’m devastated that I won’t be there to see her grow up, but it helps to know that you’ll have you to turn to when she needs a woman’s touch.
Take care of her for me, Molly. Take care of our boys. All three of them are going to need you more than ever.
Love,
Mary
She swallowed the last of her wine. Even though she knew with absolute certainty that she was going to regret it, Molly reached for the first disc and read the instructions Mary had given her.