Sherlock hated to have to wake her up, but John yelled up from downstairs, "there's a cab waiting."
Molly looked so peaceful, he almost ignored John, but then saw that it was half an hour until the deadline.
Hesitantly, he touched her arm. "Molly." He whispered. She didn't stir.
Sherlock didn't know what to do. "Molly," he said a bit louder, shaking her shoulder.
Molly suddenly took a sharp breath and opened her eyes slowly, shielding them with her arm. "Hi." Her voice was slightly mangled with sleep.
"Hello." Sherlock said awkwardly, standing up straight again. "There's a cab here for you."
The cab ride seemed too short, considering how long it had taken to walk.
Molly realized she was crying. Why? She wiped her face, feeling stupid. She was fine. Perfectly fine.
The driver looked back at her in the mirror. "Boyfriend troubles?" She asked sympathetically.
"Of a sort." Molly nodded, embarrassed, even though it was much, much more complicated than that. "Left here."
The door to Jim's flat was still wide open. Molly paid the driver and climbed out.
Jim looked up as she walked in, but quickly looked back out the window. "Your tea's cold." His voice was flat.
"Shame." Molly said sarcastically, sitting on the sofa.
"Are you hungry?" He asked.
Molly shook her head. "No, I already ate. Are you?"
"I'm fine." Jim said, glancing quickly at her.
Molly took it as a yes and stood up. "Hope you like quesadillas." She sighed and yanked open the refrigerator.
"Molly, you don't have to-"
"Shut up." Molly snapped, and threw some cheese onto the counter.
The snack only took five minutes to make. She gave it to Jim and then sat back down on the sofa.
Jim wasn't sure how to respond. He'd never gotten this kind of care, from anyone.
Molly looked towards the bookshelf while he ate. "May I?" She asked, pointing.
"Yes, go ahead." Jim smiled.
She looked for a good book, but the only one she recognized was on the top shelf where she couldn't reach, and she didn't want to ask for help.
Molly waited until Jim was in the kitchen returning his plate to climb up on the sofa arm to get it. It was too far away. She gave up and jumped down.
He was in the kitchen doorway, looking amused. Molly held her head high and asked, "do you mind showing me my room?"
Jim nodded and led her down the hall. "Your things were delivered while you were....out."
Molly tried hard not to be annoyed. She didn't like it when other people went through her possessions. "Thank you." Molly forced out. Her voice sounded vaguely strangled. "That was- kind of you."
Jim turned away. "You don't have to lie, Molly. I know that you hate me." He quickly walked out of the room. "If you need anything, let me know."
"Freedom would be nice." Molly said after she thought he was out of earshot, collapsing on the small bed.
"Forgive me." Jim muttered, and went back to the front room.
John was asleep by midnight, but it wasn't that way for long.
"There has to be SOMETHING!" Sherlock exclaimed from the kitchen. There was a crash of breaking glass.
"Sherlock, get some sleep." John's words were slurred from tiredness. He was answered by a louder crash.
Swearing as he bumped into the bedside table, John stumbled out to the kitchen. "Sherlock, breaking all the dishes is not going to help Molly."
Crash.
"Go to sleep."
Crash.
John squinted against the dim kitchen light and pulled a blue plate out of Sherlock's hand. "Go get some rest."
Sherlock flung himself onto the sofa. "What for?"
John rolled his eyes. "I have to work tomorrow. Quiet down."
Sherlock sulked on the couch. As soon as John had got back in bed, Sherlock began playing his violin. John pulled a pillow over his head.
Molly sat there for a moment, feeling guilty, though she couldn't imagine why. Moriarty had ruined everything. Finally, she called down the hall. "Jim, I'm sorry."
Jim turned his head, but didn't know how to answer. He'd honestly never heard that sentence in his life. Sure, he'd heard "I'm sorry" but it was mostly people begging for their lives or something, and never with his name, his first name, in front of it.
Molly felt a bit better, but was still angry. Her phone beeped. She threw it against the wall.
Jim heard a loud cracking noise and stood quickly. "Are you all right?"
She looked at her phone, with the back cover popped off and the battery a yard away. "Fine."
