Sherlock's Love Interest (BBC Fan-Fiction)

Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Molly was wringing her hands. She had outright lied to Sherlock when he asked what took so long and now, four hours later, it was getting to her.

"You weren't with Megan," he said. "Where were you?"

"With-with Mycroft. Uh, I just...I had a few questions f-for him." She sighed as her nervous stutter returned.

"What were those questions?"

She looked down at her hands, her eyes closing because she didn't want to see his reaction. "Maia." Her voice was quiet, hardly understandable to herself, but Sherlock understood.

It was quiet for a few minutes while Molly waited for him to say something. She looked up and saw him sitting in his armchair, his eyes shining. His hand twitched, then he motioned for her to walk over to him. She did so and he pulled her down on his lap. "Maia?" It sounded painful to say her name. "What would you like to know about my dear sister?"

"Mycroft answered most of my questions, but he answered like he was watching a complete stranger grow up. Who was Maia, really? What did she like? What did you two do together? She seemed like a big part of your life, and I didn't even know she existed until this morning."

"She was." He took a breath, suppressing memories and emotions to calm himself. "Maia Marie Holmes, that's her full name." He didn't meet her eyes the entire time he spoke, saying, "We were always very close, despite the fact that she was interested in none of the same things I was. She enjoyed cooking, so I would help her. She didn't like it when Mum helped, she wanted to feel like the head chef, so she would call me in and have me help her. Her eyes were her greatest asset, and she knew it. She knew all she had to do was blink those pretty little eyes and I would fall at her feet." He smiled here, yet it wasn't happy for reliving past times, it was sad for lost ones.

"Maia, she never took anything for granted. She always hugged me before bed, every night, whether we were cross with each other or not, then would do the same with Mycroft and close her door. The first night she didn't was the night after she died, and..." he stopped talking. Molly could see him squeezing his eyes shut, trying to block the pain away, the same with his hands-balled into fists. She threw her arms around him and held him tightly. "Mycroft didn't seem to care," he continued. "He just closed our door and laid down. Mum came up to me and gave me a hug in her place, and she continued to do that until I moved out. It made me angry at first, but I grew to understand it. Mycroft never spoke about her, he tried to block her out completely, the fact that she had ever lived." He took a deep breath, which made Molly clutch him tighter. "Molly, I was meant to be on the bus with her that day. I was supposed to be with her, not even in that car, but I got sick. She should still be alive. I should've gone to school that day."

By now even Molly was crying. "Don't do that. Don't you dare do that."

They both buried their faces in the other's shoulder and tried to stop their tears. Molly tried for Sherlock's sake, he for his own. He had sworn that he was done crying over his sister, that nothing would make him so sad that he would cry over her again.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I'm so so sorry."

"What are you sorry for?"

"Maia was always correcting me whenever I was rude, but it was nowhere near as bad as anything I've done to you. She was a kind person, the kindest you could ever meet. It appalled her every time I was rude, and she made me apologise every time. At first, after she passed, I thought that I might try to hold onto that and be kind for her, but it slipped away from me without me even noticing. Within a year, I was a cold, heartless jerk to everyone. I was only sixteen when I started drugs, because I couldn't take all of the pain anymore. I'm sorry, Molly, for everything I've done to you."