#morbidmegz

[mousedetective]

Ship of your choice and 40 :)

I am so so so late in answering, but it’s going to be a multichapter fic so I hope that’s okay? This was claimed by morbidmegz for Sherlolly Spring Fling but I have no way to let them know, so if anyone could help that would be great.

Nothing’s Changed That Matters (1/?) - When Sherlock comes to Molly in Oxford ten years after their divorce with a favour to ask, she agrees to help. While a lot has changed some things remain very much the same...including the love that Sherlock and Molly once shared.

Read Chapter 1 | Buy Me A Coffee? | Send Me A Prompt

Well, he was certainly a...sight.

She was surprised to look up from her lectern and see Sherlock Holmes sitting in the front row. He still looked dashingly handsome as ever, still so bloody gorgeous. She’d melt all over again if her heart had its way, but no. Things had been over for ten years. Ten years and a disastrous attempt at marriage and no, it was better if they simply stayed what they were: exes with no reason to talk to each other.

But if he was here, she supposed that meant there had to be a reason. There always was with Sherlock.

“Was it satisfactory?” she asked, gathering up her papers.

“You are still preeminent in your field,” he said softly, getting up and coming towards her. “You look well, Molly.”

“I am, I suppose,” she replied. Truthfully, she was. She was single, yes, but she had friends, she had her professorship at Oxford, she hadn’t worried for her safety in ten years...it was a good life. And then she spotted his left hand. He was still wearing his wedding band, and her eyes widened at that. “Your hand...”

“My one regret,” he said, reaching over and fingering the band. “A reminder of what I’ve lost, I suppose.”

She stilled and shut her eyes. No, this was not good. He couldn’t come careening into her life again, not after everything. She’d given up London, given up her goddaughter and her friends and her career at Barts, all because of him, and he couldn’t...no, he wouldn’t...do this to her. She had to be resolute and firm and find out what he wanted and send him on his way. “Why are you here, Sherlock?”

“Mycroft was murdered,” he said.

Her eyes flashed open. Unlike most people in his life, she’d always had a fondness for her brother-in-law. He had come to Oxford when he could to see her, the only link to her old life, really. “What happened?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t know who to trust, other than you and Lestrade. I need you, Molly.”

She knew she should turn him down, walk away and mourn Mycroft in private, but she knew she wouldn’t. If this was a situation where Sherlock didn’t know who he could trust, there had to be a reason, and if that reason was big enough that he broke ten years of silence to ask for her help, chances are that meant she was going to be involved whether she wanted to be or not. It was probably best to help now and have some measure of safety in all this. “Are old enemies at play?”

Sherlock shook his head. “As far as I know, this has nothing to do with Moriarty or any games Eurus might be playing.” He was quiet for a moment. “He had always thought he was going to die like this. I had just hoped he wouldn’t be right.”

She finished gathering her papers. “I suppose I can say a family emergency has come up,” she said. “I assume you want me to perform the post-mortem?”

Sherlock nodded. “And I need your help with...other things.”

“Why not ask John?” she asked, just a tinge of bitterness in her voice. She was rather proud of herself for that.

“I don’t know where he is,” Sherlock said quietly. “Rosie came to Baker Street crying and saying her dad was nowhere to be found. After getting the news about Mycroft and that, I sent Rosie off with Mrs. Hudson and Andrea to somewhere I’m not privy to, for their safety.” He looked down. “I was worried you would be targeted, too. As my ex-wife, you’re someone who figured into my life prominently.”

“And you were worried,” she said. This was worse than she had imagined, all of it. “Sherlock, if anything happens to me and my life here, so help me, I will make you pay. Understood?”

“Clearly,” Sherlock said, looking up and nodding. “I will do everything I can to make sure your life here is still intact when I know there’s no longer a threat.”

“Alright,” she said. She knew that, for the most part, when he made a promise he kept it, wedding vows notwithstanding. She finished gathering her things and then moved to him. “Tell me what you need me to do next, Sherlock.”

“Thank you,” he said, relief in his voice. For now, she would go along with his plans, follow him where he led. But that was all. She was not going to make the same mistake of falling for him and giving him her heart again.

She hoped.

[bbcsherlockpickuplines]

“Your coffin isn’t the only ‘box’ of yours I’d smash with passion.”

Based on a suggestion by @morbidmegz.

[strawberrypatty]

morbidmegz

  Can we please reflect on the fact the original...

I agree, but holy crap can you imagine that scene the other way? Equally furious Sherlock would be an end result, we may have even gotten a physical Sherlolly moment. Not that I don’t looooove how they actually went.

I would rather not.

The scene we got was beautiful. It was emotional. It was a culmination of four seasons of Molly and Sherlock’s back and forth. I do feel robbed of a proper coda, but that is what fanfic is for.

We wouldn’t have gotten a physical Sherlolly moment. It would’ve been Molly locked in a coffin and Sherlock having to clever it open. Then she would’ve been dragged away by plot. I already had one woman fridged for manpain this season. I didn’t need to have the other physically tortured for the same. Was it hard for Molly? Yes, it was. But this was the next step in Sherlock and Molly’s relationship. 

[theleftpill]

morbidmegz replied to your post: I’m seeing some compelling arguments for TST being...

I see compelling theory, but also wishful thinking. I am really just excited to see more creative transitional shots and continued plot

The majority I’ve seen is definitely wishful thinking and more of that patented Plot Projection (I KNOW from the way he turns his head to the left that IT MEANS THIS) but there are a couple of things that bother me -

The change in the Mr Blue Skull picture.  Why?  Both the change of the art itself, and the fact that the color changes. 

The layout of John & Mary’s flat.  It’s *completely* different, from the placement of the front door to the missing alcove under the stairs.  That’s not just a continuity error.  Set designers keep detailed schematics of wall and furniture placement for continuity purposes.  So why so different?

However, on my second watch through, I’m confident that once again, the whole episode is not a fever dream.  The overall tone is straightforward in the telling.  One post talked about the projection of the water on Sherlock’s face, and connected that to the hints of the “landing” in TAB, but in TST it happens only once and is clearly connected to Sherlock’s “prickling thumbs.”  So no, not an alternate reality. 

[mousedetective]

Here's a prompt for you if you're interested. Mary tells Sherlock that if anything should happen to her that she would like Molly to be the legal guardian to the Watson's child. (Of course she's just kidding) she tells him that both Molly and John agree to this arrangement. This eventually gets Sherlock in a bad mood because he's been trying to get back on Molly's good side for a while now, but here she is agreeing to be someone else's mother and yet not being in a relationship with him

Wow, this one is even older than some of the other ones I’ve answered. I am so bad at this. ::hangs head in shame:: But after series 4 aired and Sherlock and Molly became the godparents to Rosie, it finally became much easier to answer this. I’m sorry there’s no Molly in this, but I hope you and @morbidmegz (who claimed it) both enjoy it, Nonny!

A Tiny Bit Of Matchmaking - Mary knows her past iscatching up to her, and before it does, she wants to make sure thatSherlock and Molly know at least some of the happiness she hasfelt...even if it means a little bit of deceit to get Sherlock torealize what’s in front of him.

Relationship: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper

Characters: Mary Morstan, Sherlock Holmes

Additional Tags: POV Mary Morstan, Mary Ships It, Sherlock Series 4 Spoilers, Lies, Mary Lies, Matchmaking, Matchmaker Mary, Jealous Sherlock, Sherlock Has A Crush, Surprised Sherlock, Sherlock is a Good Godfather, Happy Ending For Sherlock, Eventual Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper

Read @ AO3 | Buy Me A Coffee? | Send Me A Prompt

Something had to be done.

It had been some time since the christening, since Sherlock and Molly had agreed to become Rosie’s godparents. And she knew there was a very good chance that her time in London, with her husband and daughter and all the other people she loved, could be quite short. Her past was catching up to her faster than she would like, and she wasn’t sure she could outrun it, not without the people she had grown to love being hurt in the process, and that was something she absolutely refused to do. Better she leave or die than a hair on any of their heads be harmed.

But she had some time, enough to get things through certain thick skulls that the future was brighter if it was shared with someone you loved, and that a certain someone was in reach if he’d pull his head out of his arse and just look. And Mary Watson thought she had just the idea of how to do that…

---

Sherlock always took Rosie when he came over. Mary wasn’t even sure if he noticed it, that it was his first move to go to his goddaughter now that he wasn’t on his mobile all the time, but that was the plain truth of it. Oh, he loved this little girl, so this part of the plan was probably going to break his heart.

Still, what needed to be done needed to be done.

“So John and I have been putting our affairs in order,” Mary said, beginning to serve them both tea. She’d made sure there were ginger nuts there but somehow she doubted he would touch them. Or who knew? Maybe he’d eat them all. She wasn’t sure. “It never hurts to be careful.”

“I suppose not,” he said, looking down at Rosie, letting her play with his finger, which she had a good time grasping and trying to gnaw on.

“We’ve decided, while you and Molly are both godparents, it might be best if legal and physical custody went to Molly,” she said, trying to break it as gently as she could. Still, Sherlock’s head snapped up to look at her and his eyes were as wide as he had ever seen them. “With all that room she has the proper space to care for a child, and she can have set hours at her job. She and John have agreed, of course, but we wanted to make sure you knew.”

“She can’t raise Rosie without me,” he said. “As her godfather, I have a say.”

“Of course you do, dear,” Mary said, patting his knee when she set his tea on the table next to him. “I mean, she’ll make the final decisions, of course, but she does value your input. And until she gets engaged again and eventually married and has a husband, I’m sure it will be the most important.”

His eyes narrowed at Mary. “Is Gavin making advances towards her?” he asked.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Mary said, going to the tea service she’d brought out and getting her own tea. “I mean, she has mentioned since the engagement ended and she stopped dressing so cutesy there’s been interest, but I’m sure it’s not going anywhere.” She waved her hand as she sat down. “Not with Greg, I mean, but other men.”

“Who?” he asked. “Names, please.”

“I’m not even sure,” Mary said, taking a sip of tea to hide her smile. “I don’t think it’s serious interest, really. No one she’s told me by name at least. I mean, sometimes there’s extra portions of her food, free coffees, free drinks when she goes out with her friends...things like that.”

He scowled at that. “So I suppose I should bribe her to get back on her good side,” he muttered.

“I don’t think bringing her a coffee every so often would hurt,” Mary said. “Or taking her to lunch for no real reason and you paying for it. Or maybe seeing a film together after a long day?”

“Dates,” he spat out.

“You are interested, Sherlock,” she said, dropping the teasing tone. “It’s plainly written all over your face right now. You’re nearly green with jealousy.”

He pursed his lips together, scowling at Mary, and then he seemed to deflate. “I...care. But I don’t deserve her. She’s done so much, without asking anything in return, and all I do is use her and in the past, I’ve mistreated her as well. I doubt she still cares, not after I ended her engagement.”

Mary raised an eyebrow at that. Oh, she knew the story behind that, of Sherlock using her bedroom as a bolt hole and timing an exit in nothing but his pants while Molly was asleep in the guest bedroom for the full view of Tom. The row that had caused had been extraordinary and had been the death knell of Molly and Tom’s relationship. And yet she also knew Molly may have forgiven him soon afterward if it hadn’t been for Janine’s tabloid story. Things had settled between them since he was allowed his second chance to stay in London, but it was still a bit icy at times. But she knew that through it all, Molly still loved him. And she would admit it, too, if he told her this, simply, with no airs of needing anything from her or wanting anything more than her returned affection.

She set her tea down and went to him, picking Rosie up off his lap. He looked up in surprise. “Molly deserves to hear what you just told me, and when you tell her, if you tell her the same way, I expect you’ll find, in fact, she does still care. A great deal.”

“You’re sure?” Sherlock asked, standing up.

Mary nodded, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “I may have fibbed about the guardian thing, but on this I’m telling the truth.” He shook his head at her, giving her a small grin as he realized he had been fooled but for a good cause, and went to get his coat. “Tell me how it goes!” she called after him as he left.

---

The next morning as she was tending to Rosie and making breakfast, her mobile’s text alert went off. She saw it was from Sherlock and opened the message.

Went to Molly’s. Told her. Stayed over. Just left. SH

She smiled at that message and then entered her reply. Same bed?

It didn’t take long for him to answer. Yes. SH

Mary set down her mobile and grinned at her daughter in her high chair. “Well, Rosie dear, looks like your Aunt Molly and Uncle Sherlock might have things taken care of on their own. Hopefully it will stick.” And she hoped it did, just in case she wasn’t there to see it. After all, those two deserved happiness too.

[mizjoely]

Warm Up

for @morbidmegz. I hope this makes your day a little better hon. And I hope you don’t mind my very loose interpretation of the prompt you gave me (blanket burrito)!

Molly Hooper was cold. No, she was absolutely freezing, and it was all Sherlock Holmes’ fault. Even he had to admit that it was his fault that they’d been locked in a freezing room full of hanging slabs of meat; if he hadn’t insisted on insulting the suspect - the manager of the place rather than one of the butchers, thankfully - to the point of locking them in the freezer, they’d be safe and sound while Lestrade and the Met took him away in handcuffs.

“Yes, it’s all my fault,” Sherlock said, clearly reading the murderous expression on her face as she wrapped her arms around her shaking form. Her teeth were chattering, but his weren’t, the git. And why should they? HE was still wearing his Belstaff, while SHE had only come in her favorite jumper over a blouse.

Well, and her trousers, shoes and socks of course, but still...

Molly’s unhappy thoughts stopped short at the feeling of something warm and heavy settling on her shoulders; she looked down to see that Sherlock had shed his coat and wrapped her in it. She looked up at him, her anger melting at the sight of the very real regret on his face. “I’m sorry I got you into this mess” he said, carefully wrapping his arms around her and holding her close.

“Well, maybe next time try not to goad the suspect into a murderous rage, okay?” was all she said - but she said it with a wry grin that he answered with one of his own.

“Consider it done,” he replied.

She shivered again and he held her more snugly to his body. “Still no signal for your mobile I suppose?”

He loosened his hold enough to bring the mobile up so he could see the screen. “Nope, not a single line. Looks like we’ll just have to wait for the cavalry.”

At Molly’s inquisitive look, he explained. “I told John and Mary where we’d be and when and how long it should take. When we’re not back at the appointed time - less than an hour from now - they’ll come in with guns blazing. Figuratively speaking, of course. Lestrade gets so testy when I use that phrase.”

“What if the suspect comes back to finish us off?” Molly asked, glancing uneasily at the door. 

“He’s done a runner, probably half-way to Scotland by now, or possibly Wales. The idiots at the Met will run him down eventually.” Sherlock sounded supremely confident, and Molly decided to accept that confidence as if it were fact. 

She shivered again, teeth clattering together in spite of the warmth of Sherlock’s coat and arms around her. He frowned and turned her so that she was facing him. “Put your arms around me,” he instructed her. “Under ideal circumstances we’d be sharing warmth skin-to-skin, but since I deduce that John and Mary have already arrived on the premises, it would probably be best to save that for when we get back to Baker Street.”

She blushed and nodded, burrowing her face against his chest, enjoying the warmth of his body and the steady thump of his heart beneath her cheek. She didn’t bother asking how he knew John and Mary were there, just trusted that he was right. As for the skin-to-skin thing...well, she’d wanted that for about as long as she’d known him, so it was nice to know he wanted it as well. Unless, of course he didn’t mean what she thought he meant...

She peeked up at him, to see him smiling down at her. “Yes, Molly, when I said back at Baker Street I meant so we could have sex. There’s no point in denying ourselves what we both clearly want, is there?”

“No, I guess not,” she said, but could tell by the way his smile became a frown that he wasn’t satisfied with her response. “I mean, it’ll be lovely, and of course it doesn’t have to mean anything more than that...”

“What? Why not?” he demanded, pulling her away from his body and deepening the frown. “Don’t you want it to - yes, we’re in here!” he added in a shout as a muffled voice from outside the room began shouting their names. “Don’t you want it to mean something more?” he continued his question in a softer tone of voice, as if he hadn’t just interrupted himself.

“You know I do,” she replied, not bothering to prevaricate. “I just didn’t want you to think that I had expectations, if you didn’t have them.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, this is why relationships are so blasted complicated! Too much worrying about whether you’re both on the same page or not! Which, for the record - we are. I love you, you love me, we both want to be involved in a romantic relationship, and yes, we both want to have sex!”

“Um, yeah, are you, uh, sure you need us to...because we can just come back later.” Molly blushed hard at the sound of John’s hesitant voice; she hadn’t even heard the door open, and obviously he’d come in just at the tail end of Sherlock’s declaration.

“Yes, of course we want rescuing, John, don’t be an idiot,” Sherlock snapped, sweeping her into his arms and then sweeping the pair of them out of the meat locker. John was grinning and so was Mary when they encountered her. “Mary, your husband is an idiot,” he pronounced as he passed her and headed for the door. “Just tell Lestrade the suspect’s either headed for Wales or Scotland, he has relatives in both countries that he thinks will aid him in leaving the UK.”

“And where are you two going?” Mary called after them, but Molly, looking over Sherlock’s shoulder, saw the knowing grin on the other woman’s face.

“Molly’s freezing, she needs to be wrapped up in a blanket, preferably at Baker Street and preferably with my naked body wrapped around hers,” he called back, causing Molly to blush again. “Laters!”

It was, John confessed years later, his favorite pub-night story to tell to their friends. And he made certain to use it in his Best Man’s speech at their wedding.

[mizjoely]

Hello love. I'm so sorry I missed your birthday. I meant to do something for you...but then had a family crisis arise that's stealing my attention for awhile. But I want you to send me a prompt for a present idea and I will get it to you asap. :)

Aww, no worries. Family comes first! I would like something piratey thank you!!!

[mizjoely]

Jumping Through Hoops: A Sherlolly Short

MorbidbyDefault  Um...I don't know if you want more prompts, but if so...here's one. Molly can't seem to stop crying, much to Sherlock's dismay. He tries to figure it out, and is taken by surprise when he finally figures it out. (Can be any sort of surprise...Teehee. I just like Sherlock jumping through hoops to make Molly happy...and surprised Sherlock)

“Is she in any kind of pain?”

“Not that I’m aware of.”

“Has someone said something hurtful to her lately?”

“No, John! I’ve been taking care NOT to say anything hurtful, thank you very much!”

A heavy sigh from the other end of the mobile. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be YOU, you git. What about coworkers, friends, online trolls?”

“Online what?”

“For her blog, Sherlock.” John was oozing patience now, a trait he’d been forced into with Sherlock and had honed upon the birth of his daughter, now deep in the throes of her terrible twos. “Has anyone been saying crap about her on her blog? I know you monitor it,” he added.

Sherlock shrugged, keeping one eye on his weeping girlfriend (who had thrown herself across their bed after he’d greeted her with “And how was your day?” instead of just deducing it, as she’d insisted he do once they became romantically involved). “Nothing on her blog, the idiots who were sending her hate mail when our involvement became public were all shut down very efficiently by my brother. And he’s the one who ‘monitors’ her blog, by the way; as her boyfriend, I should think it would be perfectly normal and acceptable for me to look in on it now and then...”

“Yes, fine, you’re a prince among men,” John interrupted impatiently. Sherlock could hear Belinda shouting something about tiaras and army men in the background, and grinned at the thought of her dressing her father in her play jewelry. Again. The pictures Mary had sent over a few weeks back had been priceless, made both him and Molly giggle.

The thought of Molly brought his momentary cheer to a quick end. She was still sobbing and he was still utterly clueless as to why. “So what do I do? What do I say? All I did was ask her about her day and she burst into tears and ran into the bedroom!”

“You go in after her and ask her what’s wrong,” John said, then almost immediately added, “Yes, of course, sweetheart, Daddy will be happy to wear the pink tiara, just let me finish talking to Uncle Sherlock, yeah?”

That of course was the wrong thing to say; Belinda immediately began clamoring for the phone, John was forced to hand it to her to keep her from throwing a world-class tantrum, and Sherlock then spent another three and a half minutes assuring his god-daughter that yes, he and Aunt Molly would be happy to come over for an army man tea party. “Tomorrow,” he added in a murmur as John was finally able to take the phone back.

“I heard that,” his friend grumbled. “But you’re off the hook till you find out what’s wrong with Molly. And yes, I expect an update, even if it’s just along the lines of ‘she had a bad day at work’, got it? Don’t make me sic Mary on you!”

The mock-threat was ignored as Sherlock mumbled his farewells, turned the mobile off entirely and tossed it on the sofa. If he was going to try to comfort Molly all by himself, he wanted no interruptions. Bearing that in mind, he detoured over to the door, shut it and locked it, the agreed-upon ‘no calling hoo-hoo up the stairs’ signal for Mrs. Hudson. A particularly embarrassing encounter when he’d been mostly naked on the sofa while attempting to bring Molly to the same state had been the catalyst for the new system.

The details having been taken care of, he headed with some trepidation to the bedroom he and Molly had been sharing for the past eight months. He’d wanted her to move in, oh, about five minutes after their first kiss, but she’d insisted on waiting until they’d ‘tried things on’ for six months before taking such a huge step. Luckily she hadn’t been nearly as stubborn about waiting for sex; they’d been doing that for well over a year now, and it had been very, very good.

He paused in the doorway, mentally reviewing his most recent actions just to assure himself that he’d done nothing to warrant her current crying jag; finding nothing, he nodded, straightened his shoulders, and waded into the fray.

“Molly? What’s wrong? What did I do? Whatever it is, I swear I’ll fix it,” he blurted out as he dropped to his knees by the bed, reaching up to take her hands in his. Damn, so much for his male ego; that was NOTHING like what he’d meant to say.

Still, it was effective, if the watery smile she was giving him was anything to go by. “It’s not anything you’ve done, you daft man,” she said affectionately (and through a series of sniffles). He thumbed away the tears on her cheeks and waited for her to continue instead of jumping in with a deduction the way he might have done before she’d moved in. 

As Molly shuffled over to give him room to lie next to her, he froze in sudden dismay as she seemed to rethink her words. “Well, actually...”

“Whatever it is, I swear I can fix it,” he immediately promised. “Is it the baboon heart? I know I said I would move it from the crisper to the new fridge upstairs, but I wanted to keep an eye on it...”

Molly was struggling to hold in her emotions again - but this time it was laughter she couldn’t restrain. She shook her head and cradled his face close to hers as she giggled. “No, nothing like that. This is something that’s actually both our faults, mine and yours. Sort of. Not that I’m laying blame on either of us because it’s just one of those things, you know? We got excited at the end of the Crododile-Poisson case, and a bit drunk...and neither one of us thought about using a condom...”

Her laughter had died well before the end of her rush of speech; she was biting her lip and looking nervously at him. Why was she nervous? He was the one waiting for her eventually come to her senses and realize what a mistake she’d made in agreeing to a romantic relationship with him! HE was the ex-junkie, HE was the one people called a freak, who’d self-diagnosed himself as a high functioning sociopath because it was far easier to pretend not to have emotions than to deal with the intensity of the ones he did possess...

His brain stuttered to a stop as the meaning of her words finally filtered through the mass of self-loathing and guilt and reached the logical core of his mind.

“You’re pregnant,” he breathed, once he could speak.

She nodded, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes again. “We’ve never talked about children, and I just want you to know this wasn’t some sort of...trap, or, or evil scheme to force you to stay with me...mmmph!:

He interrupted her with a passionate kiss, relieved and happy and yes, the tiniest bit overwhelmed but never mind, think about that later. Together, they could deal with it together, because clearly this meant she wasn’t going to leave him and with a child even if she did they’d be tied to one another for life so no matter how horribly he messed things up, she’d always be there.

“Yes, of course I will! I’m not going anywhere, Sherlock!” Molly said, the first clue he had that he’d said all that aloud. “I love you, you git! And I guess this means you’re not upset about the baby, then?”

“Not at all,” he assured her, taking the time for another kiss before resuming speech. By now she was cuddled in his arms, her body warm against his, and he traced a soft path over her abdomen, still soft and flat and encased in her favorite pair of hideous khakis. “I admit, it’s not something I ever thought about, but now that I know?”

His smile matched hers for radiance when he said softly, “This is the second best thing to ever happen to me, Molly, and I know you can deduce the first.”

This time she kissed him, her lips warm and sweet against his. As he pulled at her clothes, he thought distractedly that things couldn’t have worked out better if he’d planned them.