You Do Count
Jul. 1st, 2019 08:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darnedchildSummary: Angsty Reichenbach AU - Sherlock is back from the dead, but not everyone is happy to see him.
Rating: G
A/N - Sherlolly Monthly Prompt for June - Angsty Reichenbach AU
Molly is not involved with helping Sherlock fake his suicide. He leaves Molly a private message telling her, “you do count”. Now, here he is, arriving on her doorstep to tell her that he’s not dead.
You Do Count
Sherlock had thought he knew what kind of reaction he’d get from her. He’d been wrong.
John had been easy enough to predict. He had always been a volatile creature, prone to emotional outbursts. It had simply been a matter of deducing which end of the spectrum John would swing toward: blissful happiness at the return of his ‘dead’ friend or raging anger.
Anger it had been, as Sherlock’s still tender nose and split lip attested.
The meeting with Lestrade had gone exactly as expected, bar the uncomfortably long display of physical affection.
But Molly …
He’d planned it very carefully, waiting in the locker room to ensure their reunion would be unobserved.
For some reason it was important that they had this moment to themselves.
She’d seen his reflection in her locker mirror, just as he’d planned. But instead of astonishment, her expression was a carefully blank mask as she turned to face him.
Neutral.
Practiced.
He sighed. “You already knew.” It wasn’t a question.
Sherlock would have preferred a repeat of Lestrade’s hug, or even John’s swinging fists, to the dead smile that didn’t reach Molly’s eyes when she eventually spoke.
“Greg called. Somehow, he got the idea that I had to have been involved in this. As if I’d spent the last few years covering up your faked death.”
Damn it.
“Molly.“
“Ridiculous, right?” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “As if you would have trusted me with a secret like that. As if you-”
“Molly!” Sherlock snapped.
She stopped talking.
“Didn’t you get my letter?” He would kill Mycroft if his brother hadn’t delivered the handwritten note he’d left for her. Mycroft had assured him it would reach her hands once Sherlock had been spirited out of the country.
Sherlock still had the carefully chosen words burned into his memory.
You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you. Perhaps we’ll meet again in another life, Molly Hooper.
He hadn’t bothered to sign it. She would have known who it was from regardless.
“I did. Your brother practically stood over me until I read it, and then insisted I tell him what it said.”
Sherlock scowled. “You told him?”
“Of course not,” Molly huffed. “Just because you were dead didn’t-didn’t mean-“ Her voice broke and her mask crumbled as she leaned back against the lockers. “Why did you come back, Sherlock?”
There were so many ways he could answer that. He could tell her about the terrorist plot, about wanting to see John and the rest of the people he’d missed over the last two years, about how he’d craved one of Mrs Hudson’s ginger nut biscuits nearly constantly while he was gone.
Instead he settled on the most pressing reason, the one that mattered the most at the moment.
“Because Moriarty’s network is gone and it was time to come home and start fresh.” He took a deep breath and steeled himself for her reaction. “You might even say it’s a chance for a whole new life.”
Rating: G
A/N - Sherlolly Monthly Prompt for June - Angsty Reichenbach AU
Molly is not involved with helping Sherlock fake his suicide. He leaves Molly a private message telling her, “you do count”. Now, here he is, arriving on her doorstep to tell her that he’s not dead.
You Do Count
Sherlock had thought he knew what kind of reaction he’d get from her. He’d been wrong.
John had been easy enough to predict. He had always been a volatile creature, prone to emotional outbursts. It had simply been a matter of deducing which end of the spectrum John would swing toward: blissful happiness at the return of his ‘dead’ friend or raging anger.
Anger it had been, as Sherlock’s still tender nose and split lip attested.
The meeting with Lestrade had gone exactly as expected, bar the uncomfortably long display of physical affection.
But Molly …
He’d planned it very carefully, waiting in the locker room to ensure their reunion would be unobserved.
For some reason it was important that they had this moment to themselves.
She’d seen his reflection in her locker mirror, just as he’d planned. But instead of astonishment, her expression was a carefully blank mask as she turned to face him.
Neutral.
Practiced.
He sighed. “You already knew.” It wasn’t a question.
Sherlock would have preferred a repeat of Lestrade’s hug, or even John’s swinging fists, to the dead smile that didn’t reach Molly’s eyes when she eventually spoke.
“Greg called. Somehow, he got the idea that I had to have been involved in this. As if I’d spent the last few years covering up your faked death.”
Damn it.
“Molly.“
“Ridiculous, right?” she continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “As if you would have trusted me with a secret like that. As if you-”
“Molly!” Sherlock snapped.
She stopped talking.
“Didn’t you get my letter?” He would kill Mycroft if his brother hadn’t delivered the handwritten note he’d left for her. Mycroft had assured him it would reach her hands once Sherlock had been spirited out of the country.
Sherlock still had the carefully chosen words burned into his memory.
You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you. Perhaps we’ll meet again in another life, Molly Hooper.
He hadn’t bothered to sign it. She would have known who it was from regardless.
“I did. Your brother practically stood over me until I read it, and then insisted I tell him what it said.”
Sherlock scowled. “You told him?”
“Of course not,” Molly huffed. “Just because you were dead didn’t-didn’t mean-“ Her voice broke and her mask crumbled as she leaned back against the lockers. “Why did you come back, Sherlock?”
There were so many ways he could answer that. He could tell her about the terrorist plot, about wanting to see John and the rest of the people he’d missed over the last two years, about how he’d craved one of Mrs Hudson’s ginger nut biscuits nearly constantly while he was gone.
Instead he settled on the most pressing reason, the one that mattered the most at the moment.
“Because Moriarty’s network is gone and it was time to come home and start fresh.” He took a deep breath and steeled himself for her reaction. “You might even say it’s a chance for a whole new life.”