Phone Call #2
Chapter 7: Phone call #2.
There is one good thing about having a break when everybody else is at work: They leave you alone. Liam is a good buffer though. Simon has been on best behaviour because Liam has been keeping an eye on the questions and the pressure.
- She’s an adult, Simon. You have to stop behaving like you are her dad.
To everybody’s surprise, Simon had complied. So, Molly has enjoyed a week of early morning hikes to the hills and on country lanes, bumping into elderly neighbours that she hasn’t seen in years with the obligatory cup of tea, good food, cooking, slow life. The weather has been generous too and the sun has shone even though the wind was still wintry cold. She has caught up in all her reading that she never gets to finish when she has time in London because she’s too tired to keep her eyes open when she has time for reading. She has visited the few sheep that Simon and Liam keep, more for company than for anything else, and had fresh eggs from the chickens they also look after. Liam works in Edinburgh and leaves early in the morning and Simon sometimes works from home, sometimes from Edinburgh but this week is one of those when he hasn’t had time. They have planned to do something on the weekend, maybe go up North, they know a spa. They have talked quite a bit, but nothing has materialized. Molly has a feeling that they are just saying it for her sake, not because they really want to. They are probably very tired to do anything in the weekend after a whole week of commuting, so she’s not going to press. She’s happy to stay put and read by the fire. Simon may take the fiddle out of the case. It belonged to their dad, who died at the early age of 62, 15 years ago now, and their mom developed dementia and died two years ago in a nursing home after Simon and Liam were not able to look after her anymore, blind and with oxygen 24/7. She picks up the black and white photo where she is smiling in that pedal car, her boyish and unruly hair making her smile as well, Elaine and William. Simon arrives a bit earlier today and catches her with the fiddle in her hands.
- You never learnt to play – he says waking her up from whatever reverie she was submerged into.
- No. Didn’t have the patience.
- But you weren’t bad at the harp.
She scrunches up her nose.
- I don’t know about that, but I haven’t played in years.
Simon takes the fiddle from her hands and starts playing a tune. It still sounds good. He plays one of her dad’s. He had written a traditional tune for her when she became eighteen and Simon plays it from memory.
- You were always the favourite – he jokes.
- Of course, why wouldn’t I be?
- Hey! – he laughs and hugs her – Mollycoo!
- I hate that name.
- That’s why I call you it.
- Go have a shower, you stink.
- You have a point. Is dinner ready?
She nods. She has been thanking the couple by making sure they are well fed when they get home in the evening.
- Is Liam home yet?
- No, you got here first.
- Cool. I’ll ring him. – Simon says trotting upstairs as if he were the same rambunctious boy he was when she left to study in college.
Molly goes to the kitchen to check on the roast and the vegetables, and her phone rings. Her eyes dart to it. Sherlock Holmes. She considers not picking up. But she relives the situation and shakes her head picking it up at the fourth ringtone.
- Sherlock. – it’s curt, laconic, there’s no messing in her tone.
- I need your help with an experiment I’m performing.
- I’m not at the lab.
- No, I can hear that. What time can you be at my place?
- I’m in Currie. In Scotland. At home.
- I see. That’s why you are not at the lab.
- Yes. I decided to take some leave, instead of pushing on. Mike suggested it. So, I’ve come to visit my brother at the farm. I told John. – In her words, it’s clear that she’s implying that she expected him to hear from John.
- I didn’t know you had a brother.
- You never asked.
- No. I didn’t ask, but you didn't volunteer that information, so one must assume you didn't want me to know.
- It’s no secret. Mary knew. John knows. He was at my 30th birthday party.
- That rings a bell. You were all drunk when I arrived.
- That’s because you arrived two hours after we had started drinking.
- Yes. I remember. Lestrade was glued to the karaoke mic.
- Liam, my brother’s partner, was there too. He sang ‘I believe I can fly.’
- Okay. But what about my experiment?
- What do you need?
- I’d need your microscope.
- I can make a call. Maybe Steve can let you in.
- I don’t like Steve. When will you be back?
- I don’t know.
Sherlock tenses up.
- You don’t know? What’s that supposed to mean?
- It means that Mike has said I can take all the leave I need.
- What leave could you possibly need? It’s not a holiday. You are at your family home. It sounds much more like an escape.
- What if it is?
- I’ve upset you. You are upset now.
- I’m not upset. I just need a break.
- A break from?
- From you.
Sherlock doesn’t respond but doesn’t hang up either. Molly feels her frustration rising up.
- Forget it.
- No, I won’t forget it. You need to understand. I need to understand. You started to make a point, you tried to say something, and you stopped. I want to know that. I want to understand. Please go on.
It takes her a few seconds to organize her thoughts. She doesn’t want to sound clingy or weird. She lets out a calming breath and says:
- Sherlock, I think we need to talk about what happened in Sherringford and the phone call.
John had pressed him to explain. He had said that Molly deserved an explanation, a conversation with him about it, but he had delegated it all. John had explained a bit, but not enough, he had explained what happened but couldn’t get into much detail. John had pushed Molly to ring him to explain but she hadn’t. She had realized after they bumped into each other in Tate that they needed to tackle the issue head on if they were going to have any kind of friendship from then on, if this awkwardness was going to lift.
- The phone call where you said 'I love you'…
- You said it first.
- Because you asked me to.
- You asked me to first.
The game is on, but she’s not sure she wants to play.
- What do you want to talk about it, precisely?
- I don't know... maybe you want to explain, or even I don’t know... John thought that you, that we... I mean...
- John thinks a lot and normally gets to the wrong conclusions.
Molly thought her battery had charged throughout the week but right now it’s at its lowest, and her patience is too.
- You know what? Forget it. Really. There’s no point.
- You want to talk about this because it was John’s idea, right?
- Good evening, Sherlock.
She doesn’t know why but she hangs up. She can’t handle him, not now, not anymore, not any more like this.
Frowning, Sherlock stares at the blank screen on his phone and thinks for a few moments. She sits down on his couch and texts Molly:
- I'm not good with feelings and people, but you know that. Tell me what you want me to say, and I'll comply.
That’s a first and what an odd way of phrasing it. He waits for 15 minutes, which feel like 15 hours. When she doesn't respond, he texts again:
- Please Molly. It's frustrating trying to understand what you think. Don't leave me hanging.
She sits down in front of the fire and types furiously:
- Don't try to understand, you are fucking genius. Just ask. Just fucking ask.
She continues:
- I don't want you to comply with anything, or whatever that means. I know you are not good with feelings and people, and that’s all right, but you've never needed to be good around me, right? I’m not expecting you to. I just want to... I want to clear the air. I want things to be okay again.
He stares at the phone. He shouldn’t be doing this via text. They shouldn’t, but he doesn’t have a choice now. He stares at her message and re-reads it, deciding to be direct:
- Then clear it.
- How?
- Tell me what to do. What do you want me to do? I want that too, Molly. You know you are one of the few people that count.
- Thank you.
- What am I meant to do, Molly? What should I have done that you are not happy about?
He stares at the three titillating dots on the screen. She’s writing a lot. He winces with a sense of foreboding of what’s coming.
- You are meant to tell me what went through your mind during that phone call, at least. Do you have the faintest idea of how vulnerable it made me feel? At least, you should want to share how you are doing. We haven't spoken since you came back from Sherringford. Well, at Tate the other day, but can you really call that a conversation? I know you have been back at the prison twice at least, one with your parents and one alone. Yes, John blabbed. You haven't come by the lab, or texted. You haven't reached out. And you said I’m your friend; that’s not the way you treat your friends. I guess that the least you could have done was to ask me how I was doing after having my flat rigged with explosives?
He lets out a frustrated breath. He knows she has a point, but the thought may have crossed his mind and been quickly dismissed. He is not sure what to reply so he asks again.
- You want me to talk about Eurus?
- Do you want to?
- No. Maybe. – he sends and then types again – I’m not sure. Maybe. Look, I thought it had been dealt with. It was not easy. I thought she would kill you. She killed others in front of our eyes. She almost killed John. Things are back to normal. She’s secured. My parents are coping. I’m okay. I texted you to say I was sorry.
- By text.
His brow creases. She has a point. Realization dawns on him and he feel a pang of guilt, pressing his index and thumb on his sinuses, he texts:
- Not my finest moment. Sorry.
That makes her smile.
- It’s okay. I'm fine with whatever you need. I can call you, or I can wait until I'm back in London, or we can talk via text.
What does he want? He stares at the phone again and texts:
- If you are prepared to hear it, I’ll call you now.
She looks upstairs. Simon could come downstairs any moment and Liam could arrive. She texts:
- Gimme a second. I’ll call you in five. I don't want Simon to hear. You are not exactly in his good books.
- Okay.
- Sy! I’m going out to the polytunnel for some tomatoes, can you keep an eye on the veg?!!!
- Will do, Molls.
She grabs a jacket and heads to the privacy of the greenhouse. She puts on her Bluetooth headphones and dials his number. He answers, putting the phone on speaker and placing it on the table. He sits down on the sofa, with his hands crossed on his chest.
- Molly. You wanted to talk.
- No, Sherlock... - she smiles, and he can hear the smile – YOU wanted to talk.
- You’re right. I think I do. – He can’t hide a smile.
- I’m all ears, as usual.
He pauses for a second, not sure where to start. But after all, the best place is always at the beginning.
- Well, Eurus, she’s complicated.
- You don’t say - her irony makes him chuckle.
- Fine. Uhm… Eurus got it in her head that you were important to me, or me to you. She thought we were in love.
- She got at least half of it right - she says in a self-deprecating filled with a half-serious attempt at comic relief.
- She got you to confess you love me.
- Not exactly. She got you to get me to confess that I love you.
- Molly, love is a …
- Disadvantage, I know. I’ve overheard Mycroft saying it to you enough times. Caring is on the losing side.
- You don’t think so.
- I don’t know. But I know you care. Not just for me. For John, for Rosie, for Martha, at least.
He’s quiet for a second.
- And you meant what you said.
- That I love you?
- Yes
- Jesus, Sherlock. Yes. – she laughs because it feels comical to be surrounding by vegetables having this conversation. – but…
- What’s so funny?
- I’m in a greenhouse.
It makes him chuckle, but there's a note in his tone that sounds like disappointment.
- But what, Molly?
- But … uhm… I don't want you to feel awkward or ... compelled or... I don't know. This is my stuff, my responsibility. – She thinks for a second-. I love you, yes. I've tried to change that feeling with series of more or less ... compatible boyfriends... And failed royally and not exactly gracefully. Now I know it's not going to change, but look it... it's not like I expect you to... it's like... I'll figure it out. I'll figure what to do. I'm happy to be friends or whatever. because I know you don't... you don't do this.
His mind is backpedalling over her words, working overtime as she speaks. His breathing has shortened involuntarily, and he doesn’t like it. He’s trying to control it, so she doesn’t hear a thing, but he says immediately after she finishes her speech:
- You know I don’t do what?
- Relationships, love. That sort of thing.
He lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding. Finally, he clears his throat before saying:
- I can't deny that is true.
- I just need you to know that I’m not expecting anything because I said I love you.
- I know you don’t.
He notices how short that sounded, and he adds:
- I'll be honest, Molly. I am not sure what to think. I was quite disturbed when you said those things, not because you said them, but because I... I... I'm unsure how...
He clears his throat again. Molly listens in silence:
- I considered the idea, before Eurus. And then I tried to suppress it because it felt irrelevant. I'm not sure what to do with that information, Molly.
- That's precisely why I wanted to talk. You don't need to do anything. Consider it... I don't know... like an unwanted gift. No need to unpack it.
He can't help but laugh at her description. He says:
- An unwanted gift that I can't regift because it’s intangible...
He realises that, despite the ridiculousness of the situation, he's feeling relaxed and comfortable. That’s something she does. All the time, so he adds:
- Molly, there is something I want to try. Will you help me?
She chuckles hearing him relax. She's happy the tension is lifting, and she says:
- I'm always worried to agree to something that you haven't explained properly before...
He smiles and then realises, as a scientist, he needs to explain exactly what he wants. Molly is right not to be sure. He sighs and tries to clarify himself.
- Right, sorry, let me explain… - He thinks for a moment and then says - Will you be my girlfriend for a few hours so I can decide if this is something I may be interested in, with you?
She almost chokes:
- Sorry?
He pauses. That's not quite what he meant. He guesses it didn’t come out the right way.
- Well, I suppose I should start by asking you out on a date. Molly, would you be interested in having dinner with me the day you return to London?
- Sherlock why are you doing this? - she's worried he's feeling pity or worse, guilt.
He sighs a bit frustrated with himself or with her it is not clear.
- I don't understand it myself yet, Molly. But I think I would like to... if nothing, to satisfy my curiosity.
He realises something then.
- Am I making you uncomfortable?
- No. I just don't want you to do this for pity or any wrongly-placed sense of guilt.
He can detect an undercurrent of joy in her voice, despite her words.
- No pity. No guilt. I promise you. This is for me.
He pauses, choosing his next words carefully.
- I will require a few ground rules, though.
She has that lopsided smile that he admires. He can't see her on the phone, but he can almost hear it.
- Okay... let's hear them.
- I am not to be forced into a physical relationship until I’m ready.
He waits a moment, then asks.
- No hugs, then? - she jokes a bit.
- Do we have an agreement, Miss Hooper?
- Yes, but it's Dr Hooper. Yes, of course, we do. I would not expect anything as I said earlier.
and
His face turns worried, and he’s glad she can’t see him.
- Good. I must say, I’m surprised you didn’t have any questions or… additions.
He waits a moment, and then he can’t help but ask.
- And do I have to kiss you at the end of the date?
She’s not sure if he’s joking or not, so she plays along.
- Do you think you would like to?
- I am unsure. That is why I'm asking.
He bites his lip as he admits his uncertainty.
- It seems like an important rite in the dating procedure.
- Not at all. Not for me. There are no rites, no rules... I'm happy to go with the flow. We just go out, grab dinner, and see.
- That doesn't help at-
He stops abruptly, realising he's being difficult, even for him.
- I can ... I am happy to accept whatever rule you think is appropriate. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I don't need to you to behave in any way you don't want to... even if you think it's the 'proper dating procedure'.
- You're right, let's go with the flow… When will you be back?
- When I will be back... I don't know really. I took indefinite leave, but I can go back to work whenever I want with 24-hour notice.
- Hm – he says deep in thought - I need to understand what I am to expect from this, Molly. When we... date, will there be a lot of... emotional turmoil? Will I have to constantly assure you that you're not too fat or too stupid, too thin, will have to reassure you at all hours of night that I'm not cheating on you? And is this a one-time activity, or will you want to do something silly like this again in the future? Are you going to-
He cuts himself off, realising how much he's saying, how much he's betraying to her.
- Sherlock... breathe, please.
He takes a shaky breath.
- Sorry.
He trails off, unable to justify himself and unable to explain his fears and concerns. He breathes deeply again. He didn't want to push her away before they even got to try this arrangement.
- Okay. I've no idea what to expect, but I know that I'm not generally a jealous person. I like sharing spaces naturally... which we kind of do... - she doesn't need to remind him that they have spent countless nights together in the lab so no need for major arrangements- if that's what you mean... and as for emotional turmoil, I generally dislike it.
- So, no jealousy and no emotional drama?... Molly, you're an anomaly.
That makes her laugh.
- You are not the first to say that. I’m afraid.
He lets himself share the smile with her, chuckling.
- I have one more question. Will this ruin our existing relationship? Because I don't have many friends and I'm quite fond of you.
She knows that's a biggie because she feels the exact same fear.
- ... Sherlock, I don't know how I'm going to feel tomorrow, but I know one thing... I don't love you for what you will give me or how you will be with me... I love you because you are you. My love for you means I care for you no matter how you treat me, how you relate to me. I see no reason why that would change. Uh… Can you make me mad? Of course you can. Will I run away for a while and lick my wounds if ... if our friendship changes for the worse? Yes, but I can assure you I'll always love you and admire you so I see no reason why I would not come back and fix whatever broke.
He takes a moment to consider her. He didn't expect that answer...
- So, whatever the outcome of this date, you're still going to be in my life? You'll still be there after, whatever happens...
He takes a deep breath.
- That’s a lot of faith you’re placing in me, Molly.
- Why wouldn't I? You have proven yourself faith-worthy countless times. And yes, I will be here for you, whatever happens, if you let me.
He swallows.
- I think a part of me, for whatever reason, expected you to disappear, once you realise how impossible it is for you to deal with me as a romantic partner.
- Expected or wanted?
He's quiet for a moment, but then he says, barely over a whisper.
- A little bit of both, if we're being honest...
- Ouch
He sighs and runs his hand over his face.
- It's not a slight on you, Molly, it's on me. It's easier for me if I expect to be disliked by everyone. It is... easier to live with that way.
Suddenly he's very tired, the conversation has been draining and has left him confused. But... he feels somewhat comforted by the fact he has not pushed Molly away, and he feels happy... in a strange way. She can feel his tiredness. He’s talked from the heart much more than she has ever seen him do.
- I understand. And I will respect your decision if that's what you want from me.
He nods. The conversation is finally ending but there’s one more thing.
- May I ask something else?
- Mhm…
- What is there to love about me, Molly, really? I have a temper, I am inconsiderate, and I'm incredibly selfish. I don't understand how you could have... fallen for me, despite my flaws.
She smiles.
- Mary used to say that you were not a sociopath, not really, that you used this, what did you say, temper, selfishness… as a shield, almost.
He is silent for a moment, considering Mary's words.
- Yes, that is true. Being...
He can't say the exact term, not after everything that happened because of it,
- ... being like me makes it... hard to get attached to people. In fact, I'd rather not be attached, but some people just... creep into your life and refuse to be removed, and that is... nice, sometimes. So why me, Molly? Why not... I don't know... Lestrade?
- Greg? I can write a list and bring it to London but be prepared because it will be long.
He lets out a soft chuckle.
- I'd like that. I suppose this list could also be a guide to the date.
- You're such a narcissist - she says laughing.
He laughs but then he says quietly, in a voice she won't hear something that she will never know. He sighs and then a smile begins to spread across his face.
- We'll have to agree to disagree.
There's a moment of silence.
- I suppose… we should end the conversation? Unless there is something else you would like to discuss, Molly?
- Just one question
- Which is?
- are you okay?
- I... - He pauses. It's not a question he's been asked often, and certainly not often sincerely.-
Surprisingly, yes. I am... happy. Are you?
He asks the question and waits with barely restrained anxiety.
- I don’t think I have been happier in quite a while.
He smiles briefly, though she can't see him. Then he says quietly.
- Good. That's... I'm glad to hear it.
He breathes out the remaining tension and then asks.
- Is that all, then?
- I believe so, yes. I'll let you know when I come back.
- Very good.
He wants to say more, but he doesn't and for the first time during the call, there's silence, awkward silence. He doesn't know how to say goodbye, but he forces himself to say it anyway.
- Goodbye, Molly.
- Love you, Sherlock.
He swallows hard and says:
- ... love you too.
He ends the call and stares down at his phone, unsure of what to do. He feels strange. He can think straight, his mind is... racing, filled with thoughts of the upcoming date and how he is going to mess everything up. A voice in his head screams at him to call her and cancel. She gapes at the last words he said. She wasn't expecting that. Not really. She takes a few minutes to recover from the shock of the last three words coming from his mouth and walks out and into the house without the tomatoes. Simon frowns.
- And the tomatoes?
- Oh lord… - Molly runs out before a flock of questions come down on her. Liam has just arrived and when she returns with the tomatoes, he will use him as a buffer. But for now, she needs to tone down the excitement, the weird sensation that this phone call has planted inside her chest. She doesn’t want to let her imagination fly with the possibilities. She doesn’t want to let her mind produce a million expectations. It will probably end up in nothing, a dinner with a friend and things will probably go back to normal. Normal is not so bad after all. Normal is better. It will have to be.