[Sherlolly fanfiction] Silhouettes

Chapter 32-- Remember Before You Forget

(MOLLY THINKING)

Everything has timings; as the hands turn and the numbers change, we all circle around with it.

In our case, everything is badly timed. And that's all it is, bad timing.

The last month was the hardest, as you could imagine. They'd invite us places, asking us to come over next week and we'd have to agree so suspicions wouldn't rise.

It's all just bad timing.
**
Sherlock and Molly walk back along Baker Street in silence. They keep their eyes forwards, not looking at one another, barely acknowledging one another.

Sherlock stops abruptly, looking up at 221b's window. Molly slows her pace and turns. "What is it?"
He pauses for a moment. "I didn't close the curtains."
"It was probably Mrs Hudson." She shrugs, continuing up the steps to the front door.
After another moment of contemplation, he follows her and goes to unlock the door, only to find that it's already open. He pushes it open and hesitantly walks in, gesturing Molly to wait outside.
She does so, suddenly anxious at his wary movements. "What--do you think there's been a break in?"
"No, the door hasn't been forced. It's someone with a key."
"Mrs Hudson?"
"Or John."
"John? Wouldn't he just have called us?" She points out, following him in and closing the door behind herself, writing off the discovery as non-threatening.

Sherlock theorises silently, then turning to Molly. One theory sticks in his head, he dreads it to be true. He looks at her before turning and going up the stairs.

Molly has no idea what's happening.

Sherlock opens the apartment door and his eyes fall upon Lestrade and his fiancée, Mrs Hudson, John, Mary and Scarlet, all of them sat in the lounge.

Scarlet is beginning to walk now. She has thin, curled, blonde hair that borders her round face.

Only is this moment does he see her and actually notice the difference. For months, he hasn't truly regarded her, he's been busy.

And now, she's there. She's beautiful.

And she won't remember him.

They all look at him with hopeful, happy and warm eyes.

Sherlock doesn't move his gaze from Scarlet, once again considering his previous thought:

She won't remember him.
**
(MOLLY THINKING)

They thought they were doing a nice thing. A small gathering to congratulate us. Mrs Hudson simply couldn't keep information as sacred and exciting as my pregnancy to herself.

First, she told Lestrade and he was just proud of his deductions. Obviously, he'd called John and Mary and then, together, they'd all arranged this.

We couldn't afford to blow our cover by letting the emotion and brutal reality of our situation overcome us, especially in front of them. And so, we don't. But, we don't do anything.

For Sherlock, acting unresponsive and silent is just about acceptable, but for me it's not. And yet, I still do it. It's all I can do.

I can't remember what the night itself was like, pain tends to numb the senses.

Though, I can remember the end, as everyone left.
**
The Watsons were the last to leave. As Mary and Scarlet stepped out into the street, Scarlet hanging from her mums hand as her legs wobble and swing from underneath her. Mary picks her up and she laughs softly.
John turned back to Sherlock, looking into his eyes, trying to work out what was wrong. He knew that something was wrong. Sherlock had been tense, tenser than usual.
"What's happened?"
Sherlock looks back at him, not giving anything away, but not giving anything at all. He just looks at him, grey eyed and stony faced.
"Is the baby alright?" He theorises.
"It's fine." His voice is flat.
John knows it's not that, but he can still tell that it's something. Something bad. "Tell me what's going on." He swallows.
"There's nothing to tell."
"Sherlock, for christ's sakes, it's me. If something is going on--"
"It's not. There's nothing to tell. It's fine." He repeats, rounding up his replies to subtly dismiss the conversation.
John sees that he isn't open to discussion. He looks his best friend deeply his eyes asking him something. But the questions faded as he stepped away, turning and leaving with Mary.