About Time.
Time is a funny thing, in the sense that you cannot ever predict how much it is going to stretch or shrink, like a new woolly sweater almost. Weeks have passed since those texts, since the meeting in the museum that ended up in nothing. At least, in nothing she knows about. There must have been no cases that he needed the lab or the morgue because he hasn’t showed up either. It is almost as if he were avoiding her but yet, that probably means she would be more important than she think she is at this very moment in time. She knew when it escaped her lips, that because it’s true, that it was going to ruin it all. It wasn’t the first time that it had happened to her, the friend-zoning. Turns out Molly was an expert on being the best friend, so this wasn’t the first time that she had spoken her heart out, even though this time hadn’t been willingly, more forced. And she lost. She feels a hand on her shoulder.
- What?!
- Molly, are you all right?
- Mike, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… sorry. I was in my own head.
- I can see that.
She shakes her head and apologizes again.
- I just came in to see how you were doing.
- John told you.
- I went by the clinic. He’s back at work today and yes, he told me that you had been one of the targets of the youngest of the Holmes
Molly nods.
- It happens I guess… I’m only glad it didn’t happen before.
- You mean with Moriarty. – Mike walks around to the other side of the counter and sits in one of the microscope rotating stools. –
Imagine what he could have done to you with that information.
A shiver runs down her spine. She has considered it.
- He’s dead. Best not to think about it. – she cuts this line of questioning.
- Right – says Mike, standing up – I just came because you know, you came to work the next day. And I was wondering…
She looks up.
- I was wondering if you’d want some days off… You know, you never miss a day, and you are the first to volunteer to come in when others are busy. I think it’s only fair if we have your back in times like this.
Molly softens.
- I really appreciate it.
- Will you think about it?
She looks towards the door.
- Do you think Steve can cope if it gets busy?
Mike smiles and walks towards her and give her a knowing smile:
- He’ll have to
Molly laughs.
- I’ll think about it.
And against all predictions, she thinks about it, and she decides it is best for her to do exactly that. Her brother and his partner will be happy to host her for a few days and more. She could drive up to Currie, stay at the farm, relax for once, walk in the countryside, the old lanes with the old memories, with the old trees and the lakes. She misses the lake. She runs to the door as Mike leaves.
- Mike!!!!
- Yes, Molly?
- How long can I take?
- How long do you need?
- Don’t know, a week?
- Feel free to take more if you feel that you can do with the break from… from it all.
His name lingered above the ellipsis, but she’s glad Dr Michael Stamford did not say it out loud. She nods and thanks him.
So, after her shift, she doesn’t hesitate, and she starts packing when she gets home. Toby, her cat, never likes it when the suitcase comes out and starts jumping in and out of it to prevent her from making it.
- You will be all right. Mrs Hudson will come and feed you and I’ll be back in no time.
She texts John first. John has followed other people’s advice and got a French au-pair to mind and play with Rosie when he’s stuck at work and to have some time for himself, but Molly still helps from time to time, so she makes sure he knows.
- Hi John, Mike has given me a few days. I’m gonna head up to the farm with Simon and Liam. Just letting you know because I won’t be available to mind Rosie, but I think you are managing with Angelique. Mike said you were back at work. Hope you are not overstretching yourself. Hugs, Mo.
She needs time and distance and it’s about time she takes time... and leaves London.
- Is everything all right? – John asks because he’s seen Sherlock the last few days a few times and he seemed odd.
- Yes. Just need a break. I haven’t had a proper holiday this year and I’ve been covering for everyone.
- So just work?
- Yes. – she lies. She lies because she can through text, otherwise if she were facing her friend, Dr John Watson, he would notice straight away.
- Have you seen Sherlock recently?
- We met by chance at Tate a few weeks ago, why?
- Just wondering.
She hates it but she can’t help asking: - Is he all right?
- Is he? That’s the question, isn’t it? He says he is, but who knows?
- Okay.
- Anyway, don’t worry. I’ll handle him. Enjoy the fresh air.
- Maybe when the weather gets better, you and Rosie can come with us up to the farm. I know Rosie would love the sheep and the chickens.
- Yeah. Sure thing. She would absolutely love it.
- Or I could take her, maybe at Easter so you can have a bit of a break too.
John smiles. Trust Molly to put everyone else first.
- Lots of time to think about it. But thank you. Safe drive yeah? Let us know that you arrived safe.
- Will do. Good night, John.
- Good night, Molly.
After a few seconds…
- Do you want me to feed Toby?
- Will you? It would be great, so I don’t have to ask Martha.
- Rosie will be delighted.
- Thank you! Do you have the spare key?
- I do.
- And do you have the code for the gate?
- I do.
- Great. Thanks again.
- No problem.
That’s how she leaves the next morning. She hasn’t driven the 7 hours to Currie in years. She decides to go via Manchester. She has started to listen the fascinating podcast Jackie The Ripper and she laughs and binge-listens all the way to Manchester, and she has every intention to continue after she stops for lunch and a stretch. As it is raining, she decides to be a bit of a tourist and stops at Wythenshawe Hall. Then around 1 p.m. she continues, she doesn’t want to drive the last bit of the country roads outside of Edinburgh in the dark so if she leaves now, she will be at Simon’s just for dinner.
- Mollycoo!!!! – Simon runs to open the door as she parks the Mini that did the whole journey like a champ. - Do you still drive that old can of coke? I would think that the RCS would pay you better than that… - Simon jokes hugging her tight.
- Where’s Liam?
- Cooking your favourite meal, of course. – Simon jokes.
Her brother, although he’s only two years older, has not left his protective streak behind.
- How are you? Really?
She smiles.
- Tired and cracked up after 7 hours driving.
- You know what I mean.
- I do. And I’m okay.
Simon doesn’t press but gives her the look of I-know-better-than-that-but-I-will-leave-you-alone-FOR-NOW.
- Why don’t you have a shower while Liam finishes his baking off spree?
- That okay? You guys don’t need help?
Simon rolls his eyes, and Molly brings her suitcase upstairs to the old guest room which used to be her old bedroom. There’s something
about the old farmhouse. It’s changed. Liam and Simon have modernized it to the point that if she was looking at it in a photo, she wouldn’t think it is the same place she grew up in, but once inside, the scent of the old materials and the creaking of the wooden floors make her forget all about the new furniture and the memory foams and feel younger and definitely much more stupid. She follows advice and opens her suitcase.
- There are two towels in the towel rack, so they should be warm!!! – Simon shouts from the bottom of the stairs.
- Thanks!!!
She knows that there is no way she will spend a week here and Simon won’t tackle the question. He liked Tom. Molly had brought Tom here once for New Year’s and they both adored him, his simplicity, his goodness, his adoration for Molly. And Molly had gone and broken up the engagement. Simon was bound to want to know why. And the main problem was that Simon’s like for Tom was directly proportional to his dislike for Sherlock. That’s why Molly hadn’t told him what had happened, about the explosives. As the water falls on her face, as she faces the shower head, she recalls the day Simon found out that Sherlock was indeed not dead like the whole country believed. They had had a fight one day he had visited her in London:
- You don’t see it! He’s dangerous.
- He’s not… You don’t understand. He’s my friend.
- I do understand. And he’s not your friend. You are hoping for more, Molly. Don’t tell me you are not. You are shutting everyone out in the hopes for a romance that will never happen.
- You are being cruel. I know that. I don’t want-
- One day you are going to end up on the slab just because you end up in the middle of whatever he’s into. He’s a drug addict for god’s sake. You said it yourself!
- Simon, I’m not sixteen anymore!
- Then behave like you ain’t.
They rarely had fights and that had been one of the big ones. He had hit the nail on the head on several issues. Her involvement in faking Sherlock’s death could have been dangerous and problematic for her. Mycroft had changed Molly’s signature in Sherlock post-mortem. He had cleared her name, because a breach of the kind without government’s approval could have cost her her job and definitely her reputation. Leaving aside that if the whole event hadn’t gone according to plan, she would have risked her life too. She turns off the shower and steps out. She knows that for everyone’s sake, she should cut him out, or let him be where he is now, at arm’s length. Eurus had noticed that Sherlock held her somewhere different to where he held others. And if she had noticed, others were bound to know too. Being his friend was a problem in itself. She wasn’t going to give up on that friendship, but why would she try to bridge the gap that seemed to have grown between them since the phone call? It seemed suicidal at best, self-harming at least, and futile.