Only Yours

12 part 2

Previously;

John's P.O.V

I am no longer in denial. I know that I need Sherlock Holmes to live. Without him... I'm just not dying.

'I'm coming, Sherlock.' I whisper as I run along the train.

Sherlock's P.O.V

Baker Street tonight. William's with Mrs Hudson. 7pm. Don't be late. SH

The text is to the point. Blunt. Just like my relationship with Molly before William.

She has been helpful, very helpful, over the past three and a half months. I would have been lost long ago without her and tonight, for the first time in my life, I am going to say thank you. Properly.

I know what Molly feels for me and I hope she knows I cannot return those feelings. I am a sociopath and until very recently I didn't think I could love anyone who was not of my blood at all. I was astonished to find I could love someone who wasn't Mummy and to a certain extent Father and Mycroft but I did love John. I do love John. Tonight is not a 'date' and I am not 'courting' Molly. I am simply saying thank you.

The flat feels strange without William. In one of the parenting books I read it said that new parents feel a strange sense of loneliness when absent from their child. As I look around the flat, I strangely agree with the idiot professor. The kitchen is stacked with empty bottles and although I have an experiment on the table I would rather play educational games with William. The living room is too big and my violin stands against the leg of John's chair, but I do not want to compose without William here. He tells me which pieces are good or bad. I have some cigarettes in the bottom of my sock drawer but William hates the smell.

It is too quiet. I do not know how I could stand living alone before. I check my watch; it's six. That gives me an hour alone in my mind palace.

As I walk around, someone else tags behind me. It's not Molly, or Mrs Hudson. It's not even John.

It's William.

He points at random objects, touching things he shouldn't touch. I start searching through all the different blood types I know, putting them in a new order, but William insists on picking them up and throwing them around the room. I look at the case Lestrade gave me to solve, but I am distracted by William pointing at different facts, wanting them explained. I cannot concentrate so I leave my mind palace, locking the door behind me. I won't need it this evening.

Molly arrives at exactly 7. I jump out of my chair and run over to her. 'Molly! You're here! Thank God.' She laughs at me and hangs her coat up. 'Will's at Mrs Hudson's, is he? Empty-nest syndrome?' I remember reading about this in a parenting book. It's when parents get upset when their children are no longer around. 'Yes, well...' I trail off and turn around, walking back towards my chair. She follows me, sitting in John's chair opposite. I consider asking her to sit on the sofa instead, I don't like people sitting in John's chair, but I leave it. Molly deserves a night without me constantly telling her what to do.

Having a kids changed you, Sherlock. You're a lot more observant of human feeling now. Empathy. How weak. John's voice sneers at me, mocking me.

'So, Sherlock, what's this evening about?' I look her up and down, wondering what she thought this evening was about. She is wearing clean jeans and a white sweater, with some black liquid thing on her eyelashes. She isn't dressed up... but she isn't dressed down.

'This is me saying thank you for the last three and a half months. If it wasn't for you... I don't know where we would be.' She blushes and makes eye contact with me. Her pupils are dilated and I am aware her pulse is racing but I don't check. For one evening I will not be Sherlock Holmes, high functioning sociopath, I will be Sherlock Holmes, low functioning sociopath. Which is basically just a more normal version of a sociopath.