Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 14: It should be, but it isn't

I hope everyone is doing okay during the quarantine. If anyone needs to talk or whatever, I'm here, although I'm kind of awkward.

Please stay safe and healthy. Prayers, 

Lis

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14

Molly picked up the phone, keeping one eye on the stove, where a soup was simmering. "John? Any news?"

"He's going to have to stay in the hospital for a few months, but I think he wants to come back."

"He's coming back? We have to do something for him when he gets here."

"If you're thinking of a party, he'd kill all of us."

Sherlock is coming back.

It was different when he left this time. He hadn't asked for her help, or spoken to her at all. Most of his (and everyone's) attention had been on Rosie. As much as John had wanted to believe he could manage, the saying was true: it takes a village.

If anything, Molly saw him more often because of her. She was surprised by the interest he had taken, and sustained as Rosie grew older. It was cute to see them together, and sadly adorable when he didn't know what to do but still tried.

"No, maybe we could find him a case? Or... make one? We could try to stage something."

"He'd see through it immediately. Besides, Sherlock shouldn't be back for six months, and he'll have been staying in the hospital. We have to treat this delicately."

"Do you think I could go see him?"

"Take it up with the nurses."

She lifted the lid to check on the soup and stared down at it, not taking anything in. "Yes but, what would he think? Would he want me to leave him alone, or..?"

"Look, Molls, it's getting late. I have to go."

"Bye..."

He was being touchy about this whole thing. He probably thought Sherlock wouldn't want to see her, and he was probably right. She'd think he'd forgotten her, if she hadn't known that was impossible.

Nevermind all the help she'd given him. Or those three words, years ago...

Molly had tried a lot of things to get an explanation. Direct questioning, sneaking up on the topic, surprise-- to no avail. She had to assume they were a lie, or a fluke, something for a case, or one of his mind games.

Twenty minutes later she was knocking on John's door. It swung open almost instantly, Rosie's beaming, gap-toothed face appearing in the doorway. "Hi Mooper!"

"Is John home?"

"He's in the shower." Rosie pulled the door open wider to let Molly in. "You're here to talk about Sherlock."

"And I've brought cookies." She always had a few on hand, cycling through a few of Rosie's favorite kinds. Today she'd brought a tin of gingersnaps.

Rosie smiled again, and helped herself to one, flopping down onto the couch. Molly joined her. "So... he's coming home."

"Not for a while."

She nibbled on one of the cookies. "Are you going to visit him?"

"When Daddy says I can."

"Yes... how long does he usually take in the shower?"

"Not long."

Rosie was doing that looking-you-over thing that Sherlock did, except she looked out of the corners of her eyes instead of staring.