Sherlock's Love Interest (BBC Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"Where are you going?" asked Sherlock that night when Molly started walking down to her room.

"To bed."

"No, you're staying in my room tonight, and as many consecutive nights as I think best."

She blushed. "Okay."

Ten minutes later Molly was snuggling up to Sherlock in his cold room. "Why is it so cold in here?"

"The heat would disturb the experiments I have in here. John wouldn't let me keep the flat cold; this was his compromise."

"It doesn't bother you?"

"Not many things bother me, Molly."

She fell asleep, but seconds before drifting off she heard Sherlock say, "Goodnight, my Molly." She wasn't sure if she had heard him actually say that or not though, so passed it off. My Molly. The words appealed to her and the way he said them sent shivers down her spine.

She woke up in the middle of the night, not due to nightmares of her own, but due to Sherlock's nightmares. This stunned her for a moment. Sherlock had nightmares? That had to mean he was afraid of something. What on earth could Sherlock Holmes be afraid of?

She moved hastily as his jerking motions became full-blown attacks. "Sherlock, hey." She lightly shook his arm, then discovered that he wasn't easily woken.

He began to mumble as well. "No..." This Molly hardly caught, but his next words were much clearer. "Let her go. No, no..." His eyes flew open so suddenly she gasped.

He turned and his hand landed on the empty space Molly used to be. "Molly?" he gasped wildly, not yet being able to see her for the darkness of the room.

"Right here. What was that about?"

"Nothing," he said as he sat up to rub his eyes. "What-how-why are you awake?"

She smiled softly at his flustered mind. It didn't often happen. "You were kicking."

"Oh." His face screwed up. "That explains a lot."

She sat back in bed and his arm wrapped securely around her. "I know you had a nightmare, Sherlock. What was it about?"

She was pretty sure it had something to do with her, because his first reaction was to see where she was, but just wanted to ask.

"You."

"What did I do? I know you're creative, but you couldn't have imagined me doing anything too bad."

"You didn't do anything, and neither did I. That was the problem." He covered his face with one hand and rubbed it. "Just go back to sleep," he said as he got up. She couldn't catch it as he left, but he had an uncovered look of longing on his face when he looked back at her before walking out.

He unexplainably wanted to tell her exactly what it was about, but he knew he had to keep it from her. He wanted to keep her safe, and his nightmare had frightened him. He thought it was real, that he had honestly lost her. When she wasn't on the bed, he thought it had been true, that it was a memory, for just a second. The most terrifying second of his life.

Then she got on the bed. Sherlock sat in his armchair to cool down, but his thoughts weren't helping. She got on and his first instinct was to protect her, so he put his arm around her. What had happened to him? He thought about the events of the past six months, how he had slipped down the slope of showing his emotion-of having emotions like he did.

He must have scared her. He knew it. With how he acted when he first woke up, and with his kicking while he was asleep, he had to have scared her at least a bit. He decided he would let her fall back asleep before going back in.

But she came out. He didn't see her, his gaze was focused on the ground, but her socked feet gave her away. "Sherlock?" she said quietly.

He didn't answer, but when she came over to him, he held his hand out. She took it and sat on his lap sideways. His hand, together with hers, laid on her stomach. His arm stretched around her so she wouldn't fall.

"You're tired," he noticed. "Why aren't you in bed?"

"Because you need me." Her answer was hesitant and slow, but held a ringing truth.

"Didn't I frighten you at all?"

She looked confused. "Were you trying to?"

"No."

"You didn't. You startled me, but that's different."

He nodded. Her head laid on his shoulder and her eyes fluttered closed, giving Sherlock the want to lay his head on hers and sleep. But he knew it was strange to do that, he couldn't. He'd already almost scared her enough that night.

"I died, didn't I?" Molly said a few minutes later.

Sherlock held back a sigh. "Yes."

"Who would've thought," she chuckled. "The great Sherlock Holmes, famous detective, afraid of losing a silly little girl?"

He smiled too, just a small one. "Why wouldn't I be?"