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MOLLY HOOPER doesn't remember much about her literature lessons back at school, but the situation she finds herself in reminded her too much of THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO.
She doesn't remember the vital key points of the story, she had only read it overnight in hopes of passing her high school exam. Yet she knows its a story about a man who decides to lure the man he hates inside a wine cellar to kill him, she wasn't even sure if it was a wine cellar or a catacomb.
Either way, the fact that she was descending into a dusty old cellar with a dead woman made her realize that this was probably the closest thing she could get to living inside Edgar Allan Poe's mind.
The man would've killed to get such an experience, and the thought comforted Molly more than she wanted it too.
She'd stop being nervous around her whenever Annabel would ask her to go out, she had been, after all, alive for nearly seven whole months now. The incident was more of a foggy memory than a bitter reality, and it took Molly a few bottles to convince herself that it was in fact real.
She blamed it on the human mind and its tendency to ignore things it didn't want to think about, and the idea of her body decaying under the metal shelves by her desk isn't something she wants to bring in her dreams.
Besides, she felt it was rude to keep calling her 'dead woman' in her head when she literally has a name, a pretty one that is. She stole another glance at the brunette, and she shook her head, she was more than a pretty name.
She could tell why Sherlock likes her so much if it wasn't for the idea that she could stand his horrible personality, it was probably because she was pretty. Soft cheeks, pink lips, and beady eyes, if she wasn't supposed to be six feet below ground, everyone wouldn't mind her running around by now.
Apparently, curses don't discriminate between the saint and the sinners. She felt sorry for Annabel most of the times, and she thought about what's it like to live in fear that every second you're awake is just another closer to death. She pinched her lips together, trying to push those thoughts away, it wouldn't do for a girl's night out.
She had been taken aback by the offer, and Annabel had explained at how she would've invited Mrs.Hudson if she didn't have bingo night at the local elderly center tonight. Molly didn't know whether she should be flattered or upset that her invitation felt more like a second offer, either way, she decided to come because she wanted to enjoy herself, and give her a second chance.
She had judged her poorly, partially because it hurts to see how she get along so well with the man she had been pinning for years, and because she's supposed to be inside a coffin.
Molly felt awful, her mother would've disowned her for being so rude, she just wanted to be friends, and it made her feel more awful because she couldn't imagine how lonely it was to live with the knowledge that you're not supposed to be alive.
Making friendships that may not last is something difficult to do.
" Remind me again why we're in a secret wine cellar?" Molly called out, ducking so that her head won't hit the low ceiling on her way down.
" Sherlock told me about it," Her voice echoed from the bottom of the stairwell," He said that we could find one by this address, he says its where his brother goes to clear his head."
" So we're trespassing," She concluded," and stealing wine from the head of national security?"
" He's the one who stopped me from going around London making friends int he name of national security," She appeared, two bottles of wine on her hands, " This is the least he could do for me."
Molly smiled," This does look too shabby for him."
" I think he'd rather use his money to have wine with the queen than a dead rat," Annabel joked playfully, eyeing the ceilings.
Molly couldn't swallow her laughter, the two women settling on a small table. The lights cast a dim yet comfortable glow around them, and the glow coming in from the entrance served as a reminder of safety, especially for Molly, who still thinks she's going to be found dead inside a wine cellar thirty years from now.
" This wine is good," Molly hummed, nodding as she examined the label. Annabel seemed to agree, pouring herself another glass, the red liquid swirling around her slender fingers.
" So this is where our tax money goes," She looked around," Wine for Mycroft Holmes and his sorrows."
Molly grinned at her sense of humor, and she wished that the memories of her corpse would stop clawing their way into her mind. For once, she wanted her to be a friend, not a living dead.
Molly hated the wave of sadness that would come with every smile she gave her, and she wondered if this is what she feels like every time she finds herself happy and content. What's it like, to know that no matter how much you pretend, you know you'd never belong.
They talked throughout the night, and Molly couldn't feel more at ease in her jumpers and light makeup. She would usually make an effort when it comes to going out with her friends, yet when Annabel called she had originally planned to crash in her bed and finish a season of Glee with her cat. She was glad she had said yes because she regrets not accepting the offer earlier.
Dead people can't be this wonderful.
She was alive, for all she cared.
" Will you miss me?" Annabel whispered, her tone still playful, yet it caused a shift in the mood. Molly stared at her, clutching her glass.
" You're leaving?"
" No, " She replied, her eyes shone like crystals under the water. If Molly leaned close enough, she could hear the gentle murmurs of the shore as they hit the sand, and eerily she felt wind prick against her skin inside the windowless room.
"I'm just curious since you're my friend if you'd miss me when- if I'm gone."
Molly blamed the alcohol because she didn't notice the way she had corrected herself. In her daze of giggling, Molly had replied enthusiastically. She had meant every single word, and the fact she did, made her even more afraid than before.
" Of course I'd miss you. I had fun tonight, and I want to have more nights like these with a friend. I'd miss you terribly."
That morning MOLLY HOOPER came to work with Annabel Lee's haunting smile on her mind, and the sadness in her eyes reminded her of how in THE CASK OF AMONTILLADO someone without a doubt, ended up dead.
