Reconciliation — Chapter 17: Realisation

When Sherlock left London, John and his identity behind, so did Molly. But destiny can be cruel at times, throwing things from your past at you when you'd rather make a fresh start. Eventual Sherlolly, Post Reichenbach. Please read and review!

Life went on for the both of them without either of them mentioning the confrontation that had taken place in her flat a week ago. Their relationship was more Doctor-Patient like than ever, and Molly refused to talk to him about anything other than his medical condition, which, much to her superior's delight, was improving dramatically. Very soon, he would no longer need their services and would be fit enough to return to London. Molly wasn't sure how that made her feel. Sure, she had yelled at him to go away and leave her alone, but a part of her still ached at the thought of cutting him out of her life entirely. The thought of cutting out that one link to being Molly Hooper was enough to plunge her thoughts into sadness and she had started wondering if her decision to stay back in Dublin was just a hasty decision of an angry mind. But every time she considered going back to London, a voice at the back of her head that sounded very much like her former lover, whispered quietly to her that she would regret it terribly when she went back to being Molly, the supplier of body parts and the lab technician for Sherlock's experiments. And hence, with every passing day, her resolve to remain Dr. Ella Patrick strengthened, only to be subjected to a lot of wavering when with Sherlock. She had always known how persuasive he could be, having been at the receiving end of his requests too many times. However, now, it was as if he was leaving no stone unturned to make her reconsider her decision. It broke her heart to see him try so hard for something that wasn't going to happen, if she had her way. Sure, it was a relief to be spared from his scathing remarks, but it had been so long since he had spoken to her like that, that she even missed those. She hated to admit it to herself, but every time there was a mug of coffee or flowers on her desk, or any such gesture from him, she felt her resolve waver, if only for a second. Also, she felt guilty for dashing his hopes to the ground. But she was only trying to protect her already battered heart from further damage, wasn't she? Going back to London would mean resigning herself to a fresh wave of the same emotions: hope, expectation, disappointment and heartbreak. After all, she knew perfectly well that Sherlock was doing this only because he needed a competent pathologist at Bart's once he returned to the land of the living. She sighed sadly. How messy ad her life become in such a short duration? Just in half a year, she had left behind her identity, changed her profession, fallen in love with her ex boyfriend/ criminal mastermind/ memory-less patient, managed to lose him forever and hurt the former love of her life in the worst way possible. How on earth had that even happened? Her head was aching dully and she was unbelievably glad when the clock struck seven and it was time for her to return to her flat. Stifling a yawn, she gathered her things and was halfway to the staff quarters when it started raining. Cursing the heavy droplets that pelted at her skin, she ran to the nearest shelter, a bicycle shed, which was quite empty since very few people on the campus owned bicycles. She was in the process of wringing out her hair when a deep voice behind her made her jump. 'Caught unawares again, just like last time?' he said and she shivered involuntarily, remembering that awful night when they had run for shelter just like this and he had realized that she had been in love with Moriarty. She mentally sighed again. Why did everything have to come back to this? Why couldn't she have a moment of peace when her head was so heavy that she felt that it would burst? He said nothing so she shook off her now half wet coat and laid it on the only bicycle in the shed. It was eerily quiet in there and the only sound she could hear was the pitter patter of the raindrops on the asbestos roof. His eyes bored into hers as usual and she shied away from his intense gaze, knowing that another bout of persuasion was about to arrive. 'Dance with me' he said quietly. 'What?' she exclaimed, quite sure that she hadn't heard right. He said nothing, but merely extended his right hand forward for her to take it. She just stared at him, shocked. 'There's no music' she finally whispered. 'Isn't there? Or maybe you're just not listening hard enough' he murmured. And she heard it. The rain had stopped, and the absolute silence that surrounded them was so serene, that she immediately knew what he meant. This time when he extended his hand, she took it. Her small hand was warm and soft in his and he hesitated slightly, before gently resting his hand on her waist. Her own arm wound around his shoulder and she wondered if she had only imagined his breath catching slightly at the action. His eyes were aquamarine once again (he had ditched the lenses, deeming them too irritable to the cornea for daily use) and she found herself drowning in those pools just like before, when he was Sherlock and she was Molly and none of their lives were in such a disarray. Slowly but steadily, he steered them around the almost empty shed. It wasn't so bad, she thought silently as they revolved on the spot. Somewhere in between the dance, her head had rested on his shoulder, and his own chin had rested on it, so that she could hear the peaceful thrum of his heartbeat. It was just what she needed, she thought as her eyes fluttered shut. A moment of total peace, without having to worry about anything at all. She hated to admit it to herself but she had never felt safer. There was something about being in his arms that made the worst of her worries fade away. And in that moment, she knew that her adamancy was pointless. She wouldn't be able to tear herself away from this man even if she tried her best. He was the only constant in her life and to let go of him would be sealing her fate as Ella Patrick forever, which, despite her many insistences, she realized that she did not want. Suddenly, she felt ashamed of herself. All this mess, all the yelling, all the fights could have been avoided had she realized this earlier. How could she have been so hot headed and put her own needs before everything else? After all, she was the only one Sherlock had at the moment. He would never admit it but he really needed her help and support. And he had stayed back just for her, when he could have been back with John. Just as she was pondering over these thoughts, she felt his chin leave its perch and felt his lips at her forehead, just a millimetre away from touch. Her breath caught and she merely squeezed his hand to let him know that everything would be alright and she would always be there for him. His lips barely grazed her pale skin and his head dipped down, so that his mouth was somewhere close to her cheek. As he pressed another hesitant kiss over her prominent cheekbone, she could hold it in no longer. She had loved him in the past and had forgotten how overwhelming her emotions could get where he was concerned. Now they rushed back at her in one great surge and a lone tear escaped her eye, because damn everything that had happened so far, a part of her still loved him and she could never get rid of that part, even if she tried her hardest. Winding her arms around his neck, she pulled him down till their faces were an inch apart. His hands were cupping her face, wiping away the tear that had rolled down her cheek. She didn't have a chance to think about what was about to happen and what would be its aftermath, because at that moment his lips came crashing down on hers and all coherent thought was totally banished from her mind as she pulled him close and his arms enveloped her till she didn't know where she ended and he began.

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