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geekmama · 6 years ago

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All Souls

I had this written, and Ellis_Hendricks very kindly betaed and Brit-picked it, over a week ago, and was waiting until this weekend before Halloween to post it for Sherlolly Halloween at 221B, but cactusnell beat me to the punch, posting her uncannily similar Things That Go Bump in the Night early yesterday morning. With apologies to her, I’m posting mine here, at least, since I don’t think she hangs out at tumblr, but I’m not putting it on AO3 or FF.net. Apparently it’ s an all-too-obvious plotline -- or great minds think alike?

~ All Souls ~

The rain had nearly stopped by the time they reached the village of Grendon and the house where Molly had grown up, and where her mother still lived. He’d been there once before, a few months ago, not long after the Sherrinford/Musgrave debacle, and the house hadn’t changed. Still quite undistinguished from the other residences in this thoroughly middle class neighborhood. For the second time, Sherlock found himself wondering that the unique creature beside him, his beloved, could have sprung from this thoroughly mundane environment. Of course, it had taken him an unconscionably long time to realize exactly how unique Molly was. It seemed irrefutable proof that, while he was very quick in most areas of perception, he could be slow to the point of idiocy in others – and some of them rather essential. It was always possible, Sherlock reflected, as he pulled the car into the drive, that there was more to Molly’s childhood home, too, than first contact had suggested.

However, as they walked in a minute later and Sherlock became immersed in this second contact -- ordinary furnishings, framed family photos and drab art reproductions; carpet and wallpaper well maintained but virtually screaming late 90’s -- he was once again struck by the banality of the place. Molly’s old room on the first floor was a little better, he knew, still featuring elements of her personality even after being purged of her belongings and made into a guest room. But all in all, it was… disappointing.

There being no sign of her mother, Molly called out, “Mum! We’re here!”

Her mother shouted from upstairs, “I’ll be down in… oh, good heavens. Molly dear, can you come up and help me for a moment? Tell Sherlock to have a seat, I’ll just be a few minutes, I’m sure… oh, good grief!”,

Sherlock couldn’t help rolling his eyes, and Molly chuckled and said, “Her zip’s probably stuck -- she always wears that dress to weddings. Make yourself at home and I’ll be right back.”

Home? Sherlock nearly exclaimed with distaste, but caught himself in the nick of time. Instead he said aloud, “I’ll go and take a look at your mother’s greenhouse, see what she’s been up to.”

“Good idea,” Molly said with approval, patting his arm, and then stood on tiptoe to give him a quick kiss. Her eyes twinkled, as though she knew exactly what he’d been about to say. Which she probably did.

As he watched her trot quickly up the stairs, caroling, “Coming Mum!” in reply to another bleat of motherly distress, Sherlock reflected that it had been a long time since he’d been able to put one over on Molly Elizabeth Hooper. In certain ways, she undoubtedly had the advantage now. He found it both intriguing and disconcerting, but could not but acknowledge the justice of it. Sauce for the gander, as it were.

A half smile on his lips (oh, that twinkle in her eye… not to mention the flash of those slim legs, and the delicious swirl of skirt against that pert backside...) , Sherlock turned and strode through the sitting room, the dining room, the kitchen, then out the back door, shutting it behind him and taking a deep breath of damp country air. His hand automatically went to the packet of Silk Cuts in his pocket, but then he discarded the idea -- she wanted him to quit, though she never said anything. If he had a smoke now, she’d know.

Instead, he started out across the wet lawn, toward the greenhouse.

The property had this one advantage: it had a very large back garden that bordered on open parkland, and at the back of the wide lawn was Mrs. Hooper’s greenhouse. It was a really magnificent structure, a red brick half-wall and porch surmounted by high framed glass, and fitted with Victorian finials and fleur de lys ridge cresting. It was, Sherlock knew, Mrs. Hooper’s pride and joy, and the first time he’d seen it, all those months ago, he’d been most impressed. She grew tropical plants, orchids and palms and the like, and the structure was big enough to serve as a sort of conservatory. Now, opening the door, Sherlock saw the small cafe table and several chairs where one could take afternoon tea, and slung across one verdant corner was a hammock.

There were also a couple of stools. One of them was beside Mrs. Hooper’s wide, well-equipped potting bench; the other, however, was in the corner opposite the hammock, and upon it, just at this particular moment, was seated a man, an older gentleman in a somewhat outdated suit, smoking a prettily carved meerschaum pipe that was coloured deep gold from much use.

Sherlock, halting just inside the door, stared in surprise.

But the old gentleman spoke first. “You’re Sherlock. Molly’s young man,” he stated with a kindly smile.

Sherlock approached, somewhat warily (and almost giving a ridiculous start at the sound of the door clicking shut behind him). But the stranger rose from the stool to extend a friendly hand, and Sherlock felt obliged to take it. Clearly the man was in familiar surroundings, and his grip was warm and firm.

“The name’s Bev,” the old gentleman said, taking his seat again and looking Sherlock over, head to toe. “I’ve been wondering if Molly would bring you by. She doesn’t come here as often as her mother would like, that’s certain. It seems you two have worked things out. I must say, I’m glad of it.”

“Are you… a neighbor?” Sherlock asked, feeling quite awkward.

“You might say so,” said Bev, with a jerk of his head to indicate the direction. “Just across the common, by the old church. But Amanda doesn’t mind me visiting when I like. It’s a pretty place, this.”

“It is,” Sherlock agreed, glancing around, but then fixing Bev with a frowning gaze again. “You’ve… known Molly and her mother a long time, I take it.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve known Molly all her life, bless her. Good job you’ve come to your senses and snapped her up. She was mighty unhappy at times when you couldn’t see her -- as it were.”

“See her,” Sherlock repeated. “Did she tell you that?”

“Didn’t have to. As I said, known her all her life. But that’s water under the bridge now, I take it.”

“Well… yes. We are engaged to be married. Sometime next year, in fact. We haven’t set a date but… we’ll send you an invitation.”

Bev grinned. “Oh, I’ll be there -- with bells on! Lord, it’ll do my heart good to see her so happy.” And then he shook his finger at Sherlock and said more seriously, “You just see that she stays that way, eh? Don’t forget what a treasure you’ve been given.”

“I… that’s my intention, certainly. To make her happy. As far as I am able, at least.”

Bev nodded. “Good. Best thing in life, you know. A good marriage. Children. All the little things that make a real home. True blessings from God.”

“Yeees. I… I expect so.”

“You’ll see,” Bev said, and winked at Sherlock. Then he got to his feet again. “You know Molly’s favorite flowers?”

Flowers. Sherlock glanced around, but then thought of Molly’s own well tended garden. “Er…. roses?”

“Well, she likes those, too, of course, but here, let me show you.” Bev walked past Sherlock, and rounded the potting bench, halting beside a rack of small pots, each filled with an array of lush, velvety leaves and bright blooms in shades from white to deep purple. “African violets!” the older man said, with a twinkle in his eye as he looked back at Sherlock. “Amanda’s always grown them out here, and Molly’s always loved them. She can’t grow them herself, though, not in that London flat. Not enough light, wrong exposure. A greenhouse window in that kitchen of hers might do the trick.”

Sherlock came over to look at the plants. “These seem excellent specimens.”

“Amanda always did have the knack of growing them.”

“So it seems.”

They stood in silence for a few moments before Bev said, “Well, I’ve got to be off. But you should take a look in that big notebook, on the bench there. Has all Amanda’s notes, and all the ribbons she’s won. She’s quite the star at the local garden shows.”

Sherlock took up the thick notebook from the collection of gardening tomes that sat between bookends at the back of the potting bench. Opening it, he glanced through some of its pages. Amanda’s careful records and observations were very precise, and her writing small and neat. And the collection of ribbons was indeed impressive.

After a minute or so, Sherlock looked up, intending to make a comment and say goodbye. But the old gentleman was gone, the greenhouse door still ajar.

Sherlock frowned. Closed the notebook and put it back among its companions, then quickly followed Bev from the greenhouse.

Or he thought he had.

But the man was nowhere to be seen.

Could he have reached the house so quickly? There was no evidence of it, only Sherlock’s own prints on the wet lawn, left when he’d walked out to the greenhouse. And glancing back beyond Amanda’s garden, there was no sign of an old gentleman crossing the common toward the distant steepled church.

Sherlock walked to the house and went swiftly in, only to encounter a scene of mild chaos.

“Oh, dear! Where can they be?” Amanda exclaimed, looking distractedly around the sitting room. “I know I left them down here somewhere!”

“She’s looking for her earrings,” Molly explained to Sherlock as she came to him.

“Molly, did you see--”

“I know!” Amanda exclaimed, suddenly straightening and raising an imperative finger. “They’re in the library!” She turned and headed in the direction of a closed door on the far side of the tiled foyer. “I took them off when I was in there on Sunday afternoon, making out a check for Martha Havisham’s daughter, she was selling tickets for a raffle that’s being held to raise funds for a new computer lab they want to install at her school -- though what they need with computers I have no idea, they should be reading books, not wasting time with games. But time marches on, I suppose. Yes! Here they are. Bear with me a moment while I put them on, and then we can be off.”

They had followed Amanda into the library, a room Sherlock was seeing for the first time.

“This was my father’s special room,” Molly said. “Mum had her greenhouse, and Dad his library.”

“Oh, yes,” said Amanda, peering in the mirror over the fireplace as she carefully put on her earrings. “It always gives me such a lovely feel to work in here, as though Daddy is watching over me.”

But Sherlock, who’d been taking in the oak desk with its comfortable chair, and the many books, suddenly felt a weird chill as he caught sight of an object displayed on one of the shelves.

In a stand that had been crafted to fit it was a meerschaum pipe. Prettily carved. Coloured a deep gold from much use.

Sherlock walked over to stare at it.

Molly joined him, saying, “That was Dad’s pipe, the only one I ever saw him use.”

Sherlock said, slowly, “Didn’t you tell me your father’s name was William?”

“Yes. William Beverly Hooper. His friends all called him Bill--”

“--but he was always Bev to me,” broke in Amanda. “And to all the family, really.” She gave a little sigh.

Sherlock straightened carefully and turned to Molly.

Her smile faded. “Why? Is there something wrong? Are you alright?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Do you have a picture of your father?”

“Of course. I’ll show you.”

She led the way out of the library and back into the sitting room, where that group of somewhat faded family photos hung in frames upon the wall. “Here,” she said, pointing to one of the largest. “It’s Mum and Dad’s wedding portrait. She was a beautiful bride, wasn’t she?”

“Yes,” Sherlock agreed absently. But he only had eyes for the groom.

Younger. But… no, impossible!

Or only improbable?.

Sherlock swallowed hard, trying to dismiss his certainty and failing utterly.

His heart was thudding perceptibly beneath his Belstaff. Beneath his stylish, bespoke suit. Beneath the Dolce and Gabbana dress shirt that had cost upwards of three hundred quid.

All of them ashes.

Vanity of vanities.

He must think. The implications….

“Sherlock?”

Molly had placed a hand on his sleeve.

He looked down at her hand, and then up, into her brown eyes. Confusion was writ there. And concern.

He took a breath. Took her hand in his and swiftly bent and kissed it. Then forced himself to smile. “I’m fine,” he said, and feeling that his voice had been a little off, repeated, “Fine!”

“There, I’m all ready!” Amanda announced brightly, coming into the room. “So sorry to keep you both waiting. Molly, I have no idea what I would have done without you, the zip on this dress is just impossible, perhaps I can get it replaced, we have a very good tailor over in the village who might be able to do it for me at a very reasonable price. Are you two ready to go? We are running behind schedule, you know. You can always look at those old photographs later.”

“Yes, we’re ready,” said Molly, though she did not sound quite certain. “Sherlock?”

“Let’s go then,” he said, lightly. And he took her arm.

It was odd. The implications…

And yet, absurdly, the thing uppermost in his mind as they walked out to the car was the prospective purchase of a greenhouse window for Molly’s kitchen -- and that Christmas was just around the corner…

~.~

#sherlolly halloween at 221b #Sherlock #sherlolly

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mizjoely · 6 years ago

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By the Light of the Moon

My last addition to the Sherlolly Halloween collection, a werewolf fic inspired by this post (especially the gorgeous artwork). On ff.net and AO3.

They tell her she's crazy, that he'll kill her and think nothing of it while trapped in the form and mind of a wolf.

They tell her her death will be meaningless; that even though he'll (possibly) mourn her death at his teeth and claws once he's human again (if he survives the night's hunt, the guns and knives, the savage pack of hunting hounds bred for just such prey), it won't change anything. He'll still be under the curse, but now with the taste of human blood in his fangs and thus even more dangerous.

But she stands fast, refusing to give into the fear and panic of the villagers. She implores Sir Mycroft for this one chance, this one opportunity to break the curse. He's a man of learning; surely he'll allow sentiment, just this once, just to try and save his only brother's life. Surely he'll listen to her, and allow her show him the evidence she's collected, in the old tales, in the whispered legends and myths of their land.

To the dismay and astonishment of the local sheriff, Gregory Lestrade, not only does Sir Mycroft listen, but he agrees to allow her the attempt. He even gives her a set of his brother's clothes to throw over his wolf-form, as another possible way to turn him back to human - a legend so obscure she'd overlooked it in her own desperate research.

But when the sheriff bravely offers to accompany her on her lone quest, Sir Mycroft and Molly both refuse him. "I'll not risk another life at a task that can be easily carried out by one person," he says in that firm, irrefusable way he has of speaking. He's always been far less approachable than his tempestuous, impulsive younger brother, as sturdy and unscalable as the walls of the centuries-old keep that is their family stronghold.

Lestrade continues to argue but Molly no longer listens. Heart beating fast, she carefully hugs the clothing she's been given to her chest, and retreats back to her small cottage on the edge of the forest into which Sir Mycroft's brother had vanished only hours before.

She hesitates before changing from her plain, workaday clothing into the one truly valuable gown she owns. She will be more easily seen in the moonlight wearing white, she reasons, difficult to mistake even in the darkness between the trees.

And it's not only the man she loves that she fears for; she'd recognized the look in Lestrade's eyes, and knew that she would not be entering the forest alone. That he and some of his finest trackers would slip in behind her, no matter what Sir Mycroft might command.

Indeed, she thinks as she pulls the whisper-thin gown over her head and tugs it awkwardly into place, he might very well be instructing him to do so now that I'm out of their hearing.

Well. Of such is the case, there's nothing she can do about it.

Picking up his clothing once again, she takes a deep breath, tries to slow the frantic beating of her heart, and heads for the door of her cottage.

Time to see if her research - and her feelings - are as true as she believes them to be.

oOo

She enters the dark forest, her feet bare (the better to leave a scent trail for him to follow, although she doubts he'll need it), his clothing held tight to her chest. It's a warm summer night but there's still a slight chill in the air. Or is it an inner chill that raises goosebumps on her arms?

She's frightened, of course she's frightened, but more for him than for herself. If this doesn't work, if the curse can't be broken, then his life is forfeit. Even though he's not killed anyone, the threat is real: the sharp, clever mind of the man has been consumed by that of the savage beast he's become, and she hopes - oh how she hopes! - that her love, unrequited though it might forever be, will be enough to save him.

That, or the clothes she holds, she thinks with an attempt at humor. She only hopes she'll have time to throw them over his body before he tears her throat out, if her first attempt fails.

She reaches a clearing, one as familiar to her as her own home. She pauses in a shaft of moonlight as she studies the shadowy outlines of the great oak trees that surround her, remembering days spent picking wildflowers and identifying mushrooms with her father before his death. A touch of melancholy threatens to overcome her, but she resolutely sets it aside: this is no time to become lost in memories.

The truth of that thought is instantly proven as she feels every hair on her body rise up in response to something yet unseen, unheard. She holds still, moving only her eyes as she seeks out...there. In the darkness between the two largest oaks, across the clearing, she sees it. Him.

The wolf.

He pads out of the darkness, teeth bared in a snarl, a low growl sounding deep in his throat as he approaches, moving with slow deliberation. His fur appears to be black, but she thinks she sees streaks of reddish-brown; his eyes are golden orbs fixed on her with no sign of humanity in them.

She is in mortal danger no matter how slowly he approaches; should she attempt to turn, to run, he will be on her in an instant. So she remains still, heart pounding in her chest, and waits.

He stops only a few yards away, his eyes still fixed on hers, but his ears are pricked and she thinks that means he's curious. Certainly not the savage, out-of-control beast she'd been expecting to see. Slowly, carefully, she extends her hand, allows the clothing to drop to the ground at her feet.

He raises his snout, sniffing the air, letting out another low growl that turns to a questioning whine, or so it sounds to her ears. Even more carefully she extends her hand to him, holds it out entreatingly, and whispers his name.

Slowly, hesitantly, he inches forward, step by agonizingly slow step. She remains motionless but for the wind in her hair and her ragged breathing and the slight trembling of her outstretched hand.

He stops. Gazes up at her through the golden eyes of the wolf, but she sees the human heart behind them.

She smiles. Stretches her hand closer.

He raises a forepaw. Shuffles closer. Extends the paw closer.

And it is a human hand she grasps in her own.

She drops to her knees, trembling with relief as she meets the blue-green gaze of the man she's loved for so long.

"Sherlock," she whispers.

"Molly," he replies in a hoarse whisper of his own. With trembling fingers he reaches up, brushes the hair from her face. "My Molly."

Her love has not only saved him, but brought forth the love he held hidden so deeply in his heart even he hadn't recognized it for what it was.

Love for her, the moonlight to his darkness, always.

#dis is me #sherlol #sherlolly halloween at 221b #mizjoely writes #mizjoely's fics

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lilsherlockian1975 · 6 years ago

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Halloween lovin’ Sherlollians...

What is up, my peeps? Sorry I’ve been so absent, but real life is attempting to kick my arse and I’m just going to let it for a while (perhaps it knows what’s best for me!). As you know (or maybe you don’t) @darnedchild and I mod @holidaysat221b and I’m ‘bout to give a shout-out to everyone who participated last year as a friendly reminder that we are once again having a Sherlolly Halloween Bash.

@mrsmcrieff @mel-loves-all @reticentintrovert @mizjoely @hobbitsdoitbetter @likingthistoomuch @the-sapphiresky @damselindeduction @mae-jones @knapp-shappeys @simplyshelbs16xoxo @cumbercougars @willsherjohnkhan @eastwindiscomming @thehiddenlawyer @forthegenuine @katfevre @sundance201 @katerbees @greenfleeze @rebka18 @escaily @mrsfrankensteinwinchester @potemkinx (this is you, isn’t potix?)

I’m not calling anyone out, I’m just trying to... wait for it... scare up some fics. Yeah, I know... I’m funny.

So, if you want to participate, even if you haven’t before, please write a fic, make some art, do a little William Shatner inspired spoken word! Whatever strikes your fancy! If you have any questions, contact me. I’m happy to help.

Halloween hugs and spooky smooches ~Lil~

#sherlolly halloween at 221b #sherlolly

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thehiddenlawyer · 6 years ago

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Vampire Sherlolly

I’ve been feeling nostalgic and rereading From Her to Eternity from last years Halloween, and DAMN.

If you’re enjoying I Had A Dream, Molly I recommend checking that vamp!lock too!

Both inspired/requested by @mel-loves-all cuz she’s awesome

#sherlolly #sherlock #my writing #sherlolly fanfic #molly hooper #sherlock holmes #sherlolly fanfiction #sherlolly halloween at 221b #2017 sherlolly halloween #vamp!lock #vampire sherlolly #smutty sherlolly #blackdagger brotherhood universe #sherlolly meets the BDB #vampire molly hooper #smut #sherlolly smut #fluffy smut #self promo

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escailyyy · 7 years ago

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The vanishing Hitchhiker

Sherlock Holmes consulting detective didn’t believe in apparitions, specters or anything of that sort, he was pragmatic and cynical, that’s why when Lestrade warned him against driving down St Margaret road on a Friday 13th he scoffed at the silly superstition and refused to listen to more, really, the less evolved could be so idiotic sometimes.

It was a quiet evening with little traffic and he’d just finished a seven in a nearby town, maybe that’s why Sherlock decided to stop for the petite woman who was so evidently failing at getting a ride from the cars passing her by.

“Oh thank heavens” she said when Sherlock pulled up to the curve, turning around to smile at him revealing the probable reason why she was in her predicament “I’ve been walking for miles but nobody will stop, one look at this bloody lab coat and everyone thinks I’m a serial killer” She huffed in indignation

“Its the logical conclusion since evidently the blood isn’t yours, yet you had little choice in wearing it because the dress you are wearing underneath is a flimsy protection against this windy weather” Sherlock replied rapidly deducing the stranger, she was female, in her late twenties “you’re a doctor working on your PhD, live alone but you’ll be married soon, sentimental, have a cat, and are well off financially…. judging by the tools in you pocket and lack of purse I’d say you were called to do an emergency consultation during some important event that required you to wear that dress”

She watched him for a couple of moments blinking in astonishment before extending her hand “Molly Hooper, recent hire by St Bart’s pathology department”

“So I was right” Sherlock congratulated himself “I’m Sherlock Holmes, only consulting detective in the world” he said smugly

“Well Sherlock I’m sorry to bother you but can you take me to Heathrow? I had a row with the people supposed to drive me back and they just left me at the side of the road, someone’s waiting for me and I can’t be late”

Sherlock was exasperated but agreed to give Molly a lift and to nobody’s surprise she turned out to be a veritable chatterbox, but that wasn’t a surprise to Sherlock, she had the look of someone who found silence uncomfortable.

Mostly she told him about the situation where he’d found her, she’d told him of a old rival who was being accused of murdering his pregnant wife, she of course noticed immediately that the lady died at childbirth and the “friends” that had offered to give her a ride home had quarreled over her verdict, eventually deciding to leave her to reach home alone.

“One of them probably did it” Sherlock deduced after hearing the bare bones of the case “They knew you didn’t like the accused man personally and would probably be willing to lie about the COD if it meant getting even”

“I figured so too, except that I take my professional integrity very seriously” Molly replied in a huff “I still don’t understand why, I mean the victim was a battered housewife, wouldn’t it be more logical to kill the abusive husband?”

“Not necessarily, if the killer had a personal connection to the victim and she didn’t want to leave her husband” Sherlock shrugged not realizing he found her line of questioning interesting “saving the baby from a household like that would have looked like a better option…And if you were willing to commit perjury then most likely the killer would return the child”

“So the murderer was either related to the victim or loved her hard enough to "save” her baby from the abusive father, they also knew of my personal history with the man and wanted to see him behind bars….I think I have an idea on who it is" Molly hummed non committal “As if I would commit perjury because of a petty grudge” then she turned to Sherlock “And you? What was a posh detective doing so far from London, in the country no less”

So Sherlock told her, he talked about his case a complicated closed room situation where a snake the width of a penny had been pushed through a hole in the roof and been confused as part of the furniture by the idiots on Scotland Yard. Molly listened attentively, happily offering suggestions on how the forensics could have done better and giving positive commentary.

It was already dark when about one mile before their destination, Sherlock’s car stuttered to a halt and refused to start again, for some reason Molly didn’t look disappointed, in fact to Sherlock’s view the animated pathologist looked strangely at peace “ the tow truck, will be here in a while Molly” Sherlock explained after making his calls

“It’s all right, today has turned out to be a better day than I expected, I should thank you for that” Molly shook her head laughing “you’re a great detective Sherlock Holmes, it was good luck that I met you”

“The universe is rarely that lazy” Sherlock retorted using a phrase Mycroft was fond of, thinking that he would like to see Molly again after he saw her home “You said your fiance is waiting, I hope your anniversary dinner won’t be spoiled” he didn’t know why he said that, but he felt the whole car ride was driving him too close to sentiment for his liking.

“He probably IS worried crazy, but don’t worry about it, I’ll see him again eventually, when this blows over” Molly explained cryptically “I was actually surprised that you picked me up from St Margaret’s road, they say Friday 13th is known to produce it’s fair share of accidents in that area”

“I don’t believe in superstition and magic nonsense Molly, statistical analysis will tell you that any road is dangerous when the wrong driver decides to get behind the wheel” Sherlock scoffed remembering Lestrade and his poppycock excuse for staying behind while Sherlock drove himself to London

“Either way, do me a favor and don’t take that way up to London again, next time try Carsonfield Road, it’s actually shorter and less bumpy” Molly advised and in a blink Sherlock saw her face turn yellow with decay, a gruesome cut that ran from her cheek to her arm, and a collection of fresh bruises marring the skin that had been blissfully smooth all evening “It’s been a wonderful day, thank again for your help Sherlock” the corpse like vision said again and like midst in the air she vanished right before his eyes. Leaving behind only a bloody lab coat to prove she existed at all.

Later after not being able to give himself a logical explanation for what had happened, how or why or when. So many things didn’t make sense that Sherlock naturally decided to investigate. It turned out that the address she’d given him wasn’t a house in Heathrow, but a hospital, Saint Margaret’s General Hospital to be exact.

But try as he might he couldn’t find her, or any mention of her anywhere, there were really no Molly Hoopers associated with that hospital. It wasn’t until he began investigating in St Bart’s employment records that Mike Stamford took pity on him and pulled him aside to show him an old framed newspaper from the world war II era.

“I heard that you’re looking for someone called Molly and I thought you might be interested in knowing how an old road in the countryside got it’s name” Stamford said pulling up the framed picture from his filing cabinet “St Margaret’s road was called Linton Lane before the war you know” Stamford explained “around that time a general suspected of smuggling weapons to the Germans was accused of killing his own wife, everyone was sure he’d done it, except for the mortician: a woman named Margaret Hooper, she used to work here”

The story went in an identical vein to what Molly had told him the previous day, a mortician well known to have been wronged by the general gave a testimony that corroborated the man’s innocence casting a doubt over the location of a kidnapped baby. But unlike Molly’s story, she hadn’t been left on the side of the road to catch a ride home: She’d been left there to bleed out after being gruesomely stabbed multiple times and as a result for a long time nobody could pass the road without thinking about her. Hence the name of the place.

“Here I know that name, right here, William Scott… he’s one from mummy’s relatives” Sherlock realized zeroing on one of the names listed in the newspaper. He of course knew that his family tree had a smattering amount of detectives here and there, but to find out that his ancestor had been leading the investigation gave him pause.

What had Molly, if there was even a Molly in the first place, been trying to tell him?.

Apparently detective Scott launched an investigation on the officers involved in the case that Molly had been consulting on at the time of her murder, which led to Scotland Yard discovering that the wife beating general was being set up to take the fall for a superior that was using his wife and working for the Germans into creating a bomb that would have decimated half of the Parliament.

Which still didn’t tell him anything about Molly, until finally he caved and asked his mother.

“Oh Molly Hooper? She was his fiance” Mummy replied absentmindedly “you probably deleted that when I told you that you were named after a hopeless romantic” Yes Sherlock definitely had skipped that part of the family storyline “ your three times Great uncle William was going to get married shortly before her murder, tragic stuff with him, they used to exchange letters filled with love and he never recovered from losing her”

“Did he ever find out who murdered her?” Sherlock wondered thinking back to the smiling brunette who had almost stolen his heart too in the space of one road trip

“No, that’s the sad thing, William Scott closed the general’s case, but he never could find enough evidence for Molly’s murder, although he did fund a hospital in her honor using the house that would have been theirs when they got married”

“Saint Margaret’s General Hospital” Sherlock muttered with dawning realization

“So you do remember!, Well that’s all I know about the issue, I named you after him because I thought he was a very dedicated sort” And that was the end of the conversation.

Sherlock never told anybody about the little vanishing hitchhiker. He later learned that superstition or not there really were a number of unexplained car accidents around that road. When questioned the victims that swerved into trees claimed to have seen a woman in a white dress standing right in the middle of the road, some said she appeared repeatedly again and again as they drove by, and the less injured ones claimed to have been giving a kind lady a lift when their cars stopped for unexplained reasons in the middle of a well transited spot.

Sherlock never talked about her clever mind, her button nose or the way she seemed to know exactly what to say to put him at ease. So much he was distracted from the splash pattern in the lab coat that was consistent with multiple stab wounds.

Sometimes of Friday 13th he found himself talking Mycroft’s car to drive down St Margaret’s road, thinking about a ghost stuck wandering in the countryside trying to get back to her loving fiance.

And perhaps he also thought about his newfound determination to solve her murder.

#molly hooper #Sherlock Holmes #sherlolly #sherlolly halloween at 221b #another #ghost story #happy halloween #some girls like ghost stories #other girl write them

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holidaysat221b · 3 years ago

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Let’s turn back the clock to Halloween 2020

If you’re in the mood for some older Sherlolly Halloween fun, look no further.

To help get you in the Fall/Halloween spirit, here are all the submissions we received during the 2020 Halloween Fest. Please give them another look, leave a comment or a kudo (or both!), and show a little love to the creators who took the time to participate in 2020.

Some of 2020′s submissions had been featured before, some were written years ago, and some were brand new for 2020.

2020 Sherlolly Halloween - Created by @mel-loves-all A Ghost and Mrs. Muir AU (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

2020 Sherlolly Halloween - Created by @mel-loves-all Theme: Gothic Mystery AU (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

2020 Sherlolly Halloween - Created by @mel-loves-all Theme: Underworld (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

The Accursed Huntsman of Bodmin Moor - Written by @mizjoely Late one night, on a lonely, wind-swept moor, midwife Molly Hooper has a supernatural encounter that will changer her life - but for the better, or for the worse? (On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

The Addams Family - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Sherlolly Addams Family AU (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

The Adventure of the St Bartholomew Vampire - Written by @darnedchild Bodies that had been found drained of blood are mysteriously disappearing from the morgue. Could it be the work of a vampire? Or is there something even more sinister stalking the dark streets of London? - Written for the Halloween at 221B - A Sherlolly Celebration Fest. A Victorian vampire story written in several short chapters. (Repost from 2016′s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated M)

Banshee - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Sherlock’s the head of his family with Mycroft away, but he isn’t prepared to deal with Molly, a banshee who once harassed his older brother. She’s not as frightening as she appears…in fact, he thinks he could be falling for her. (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

British Supernatural - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo This week on British Supernatural, Molly conducts a séance in a manor on the moors whilst Sherlock investigates the hellhounds that are rumored to roam the land. (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

Cozy Autumn Night In - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Cozy Autumn night in (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

A Different Angle - Written by @mizjoely Jim Moriarty is dead, Molly Hooper has a secret, and Sherlock Holmes is about to jump off the roof of St. Bart’s and fake his death. A Post Reichenbach horror AU. (On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated T)

Happy Death Day - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo “So, uh, now that your bedroom is officially a crime scene and all, where are you planning on crashing?”

“Is that an invitation?” (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

Happy Sherlolly Halloween Pumpkin - Created by @darnedchild I carved this pumpkin with a pattern based off of the “Coat Flip Hair Ruffle Kiss” shirt sold by Saniday on Redbubble. (Repost from 2018′s Sherlolly Halloween, On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

Haunted Mansion - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo ‘Yes, my dear heart; I will marry you. I will love you for all eternity. And tonight, at last, we will be together. I do!’

Sherlock as Edward Gracey and Molly as Elizabeth Henshaw (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

The Haunting of Pondicherry Lodge - Written by @mrsmcrieff It’s coming up to Halloween and Sherlock has a spooky case to investigate. He’s not helped by his friends who are seeing it as a holiday but will they get more than they bargained for? (On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated E)

The Heart of Betrothal - Written by @mychakk Not once had he shown any kind of interest in her since the beginning of their betrothal. And yet here he was. (On Ao3, Complete, Rated M)

Let’s Watch This World Burn - Created by @terrmissamorriver My small art for 2020 Sherlolly Halloween.

Spooky holidays, everyone! (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

The Manor - Written by @afteriwake Growing up, Molly knew of a building that only came out on Halloween, the building all the people in her village referred to as The Manor. When she was eight she saw it come into existence, and one of her friends was lost to it that same year. Since that day she has avoided it and tried her best not to think about it, until it came up in conversation with Sherlock. Sherlock is adamant that she was making it up so the two of them travel to her home village and watch as The Manor materializes there as it does every year. But this year is different. This year Molly and Sherlock enter the malevolent home, and it’s up to the two of them to keep the owner of The Manor from claiming any more victims. (Originally written in 2013, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated T)

The Maiden Mirror - Written by @hobbitsdoitbetter He finds it after the fire, after the funeral, while they’re rebuilding 221B Baker Street.

The mirror is heavy. Oak. Vines and leaves curl around its border. A carving that might be a face gazes out between the branches, eyes dark and wide. Watching. The wood is polished and smooth, the glass speckled with age.

In the aftermath of a tragedy Sherlock Holmes finds a mysterious object in his home and develops an odd new fascination…

Ghost story, Victorian AU. Set post Abominable Bride and post HIs Final Vow. Enjoy! (On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated M)

Molly Hooper - (Assistant Reanimator) - Written by @darnedchild Sherlock Holmes learns the shocking secrets of Molly Hooper’s past. *Cue dramatic music and an evil laugh* (Repost from 2017′s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated T)

The Munsters - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Sherlock and Molly as Herman and Lily Munster (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

The Pathologist’s Skeletons - Written by @englandsgray ‘He passed his hand over his mouth, closed his eyes. If he opened them, he would look straight into the eyes of the people who loved Molly Hooper long before him. What would they think, what would they say to him if their opportunity had not been snatched from them? Would he too have to look into the dead eyes in the waxen face, hair a mass of congealed blood..?’

Even Dr Hooper, it seems, cannot be protected by her own quiet brilliance from the stains of a murky history. (On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated T)

Pleasant Surprises - Written by @ladysolitaire Molly encounters an entity that makes her appreciate her relationship with Sherlock.

She uncapped her lipstick and turned to face the mirror. “Oh, my God!” she shrieked, dropping the lipstick to the stone floor. Her eyes wide, she ever so slowly turned round. “Bloody hell,” she muttered to herself as she stared at the doorway with her heart thundering in her chest.

Happy Halloween! (On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

Potions - Created by @mel-loves-all Theme: Potions (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

Sherlock as Dracula - Created by @terrmissamorriver Halloween is coming, so I’ve made one more work. Sherlock as a Vampire? Why Not. (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

Sherlolly/Beetlejuice AU - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo A Beetlejuice AU (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

Simplyshelbs16xoxo List of Spooky Fics - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Spooky Sherlolly stories by Simplyshelbs16xoxo (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated G)

Siren - Written by @darnedchild Woman or sea creature - did it really matter? Molly was as mysterious and beautiful as she was vicious; her very existence a scientific improbability. From the moment he saw her, his fate was set, Sherlock would never let a mystery remain unsolved. (On Ao3, Multi-chapter, In Progress, Rated M)

Spellbound (Trailer) - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Trailer for my Fanfic Series, Spellbound. (Repost from 2018’s Halloween at 221b, On Youtube, Complete, Rated T)

Undercover - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Sherlock and Molly go deep undercover to thwart an unhinged serial killer who’s next target may just be Molly herself. (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

Uni!Sherlolly/Blair Witch AU - Created by @simplyshelbs16xoxo Sherlock receives found footage and is asked to investigate the Blair Witch. He takes Molly along with him and what they find is beyond their imaginations. (On Tumblr, Complete, Rated T)

The Woman in Hampstead Parish Burial Ground - Written by @mizjoely The first time he sees her he’s seven and visiting relatives in London with his parents and older brother. Mycroft at fourteen is all teenage aloofness and disdain, at first ignoring the tug on his hand by his over-eager sibling who begs him to let him explore the cemetery so like and yet so unlike the one at their old house. (On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

The Undead Is the New Alive series - Written by @afteriwake

1) The Vampire & the Detective Molly Hooper was a vampire, a fact she kept hidden from the world at large. But Sherlock Holmes is a genius, so of course he’s going to figure it out. But his reaction is surprising, and from that Molly finds their relationship changing. When Moriarty puts it and her existence in jeopardy, however, decisions are made that have life-changing consequences for the two of them. (Originally written in 2014, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated E)

2) Her Own Personal Hell Upon returning to work after the events on the hospital roof, Molly finds she has an unwelcome visitor in her morgue: the ghost of Jim Moriarty, and he’s bound and determined to make her pay for killing him. (Originally written in 2014, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

3) But In All Chaos There Is Calculation Sherlock is still coming to terms with his new existence as a vampire and Molly is still wrestling with feelings of guilt that she had to turn him. When they return to her home after a walk they find that Mycroft is waiting for them, and he has a few bits of surprising news for the two of them. (Originally written in 2014, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

4) Home Again Sherlock returns to 221B Baker Street and he, Molly and John find out more about Mrs. Hudson’s very interesting past. (Originally written in 2014, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

5) Easily Solved This fic is not eligible for Halloween at 221b; but as it is part of the series, I decided to include a link for continuity’s sake.

6) How To Spend A Day Off Molly tries to sleep in on her day off but wakes up hungry, and since her body is on a feeding schedule it’s very important she get her blood before she’s in pain. While she and Sherlock feed they talk, and one thing leads to another, ending with them deciding to put their vampiric stamina to the test and spend the entire day shagging each other senseless. (Originally written in 2015, On Ao3, Complete, Rated E)

7) Silence Pressing In The night is too quiet tonight. Molly needs…something…to soothe her tonight. But not sex. Something else. (Originally written in 2017, On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

8) Revenge Is A Dish Best Served (Magically) Cold For some time now Sherlock has suspected Molly of sleepwalking. But when Lestrade calls him with a case that involves a vampire victim one evening when Molly appears to have been out, he starts to wonder if her sleepwalking may be having homicidal effects. But there is more to the whole story than it seems… (Repost from 2017′s Sherlolly Halloween, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated T)

The Unexpected Legacies series - Written by @afteriwake

1) Questions Answered While Questions Remain Deciding to make the best of the situation he’s fond himself in (being immortal and impervious to harm), Sherlock incorporates his developing skill set into his consulting detective business. But even as he gets some of his questions answered by (the supposedly fictional) Merlin, it still leaves him questioning exactly how he’s supposed to do what the wizard wants him to do. (Originally written in 2014, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

2) Attempting To Run An Experiment Among the many interesting new powers Sherlock has received as a wizard is the ability to see and communicate with ghosts. Being of a scientific mind he wants to run an experiment of seeing just what he can do with this newfound power, and Molly has volunteered to help. But it doesn’t work out exactly like he had planned. (Originally written in 2014, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

3) Malevolent Intentions After Sherlock has been trained by Merlin more in the use of his powers he takes a case in Eynsford, trying to find out why a particular home there has the occupants feeling as though there’s an evil presence. Molly is accompanying him and before the case is solved Sherlock comes to a stark realization of just how important to him Molly is, and the lengths he will go to keep her safe. (Originally written in 2014, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated G)

4) Infestation Molly calls Sherlock one evening shortly after the Eynsford case after hearing a buzzing sound and seeing a strange woman with bugs on her face at the foot of the bed. It turns out Molly’s house is infested with dark magic imbued insects who want nothing more than to kill anyone in the home. After Sherlock gets poisoned by one of them he and Merlin begin to work on taking care of the threat and getting Molly her home back…if they can. (Originally written in 2015, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated G)

5) Thwarting A Potentiall Uprising When Merlin informs Sherlock and Molly that a very mischievous and dangerous fae has escaped with the intention of raising her own personal army comprised of the male police force in attendance at the Halloween party thrown by Scotland Yard, they take steps to make sure that doesn’t happen…with some unexpected help from some from friends and acquaintances. (Originally written in 2015, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated G)

6) A Glimpse At What Could Be This fic is not eligible for Halloween at 221b; but as it is part of the series, I decided to include a link for continuity’s sake.

7) Monster Madness Halloween comes around and it starts every bit as irritating and uncomfortable as Sherlock and Molly have expected as every ghost in the vicinity makes their presence known, and only gets worse as disciples of the Dark One turn a twelve hour monster movie marathon into an attempt to wreak havoc in the city of London by making the movie monsters come to life. (Originally written in 2015, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated G)

8) In The Shadows And In The Light Sherlock and Molly finally get to go out on their first date and nothing, come Hell or high water, is going to ruin it. Nothing. Or at least that’s what he thought, until he wakes up having a vision. Fortunately, he’s got a very understanding girlfriend. (Originally written in 2015, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

9) A Complicated Evening One of Sherlock’s normal cases becomes one of the strange ones, and while it has a satisfactory end, it doesn’t have the best of endings for everyone. (Originally written in 2015, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

10) Rare Gifts Mycroft is sent to Hampshire for a meeting that he has an ulterior motive for going to: there has been talk of strange goings ons in the nearby village of Farnham, Surrey, and a high ranking government official has disappeared. He tasks his brother to find out just what is going on, which leads to the discovery of a long lost colony of an ancient race who are normally peaceful but are being manipulated by an unscrupulous businessman with plans for taking what he believes to be rightfully his. (Originally written in 2016, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated G)

11) History Repeats Until Stopped When Merlin tells Sherlock and Molly that another one of his descendants is living in a village under a curse and could be in danger, Sherlock and Molly go to the shore to try and break the curse and change history from here forward. (Repost from 2017′s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Multi-chapter, Complete, Rated T)

12) Surprise Visitations Sherlock and Molly are settling in for the night when they get an unexpected and unwanted visitor in their bedroom. (Originally written in 2018, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

13) Magical Lineages Molly, Sherlock, Phryne and Merlin enjoy a morning of magic and cozy family feels, and unbeknownst to them they’re being watched by two people wanting to keep their magical lineages safe. (On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

The Universally Monstrous series - Written by @darnedchild

1) Universally Monstrous - The Hunchback of Notre Dame “The Quasimodo Killer?” Sherlock scoffed. “Really, John. That’s the best you could do?” (Repost from 2018’s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

2) Universally Monstrous - The Phantom of the Opera It was a well-known secret that New Scotland Yard was haunted. (Repost from 2018’s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

3) Universally Monstrous - Dracula It’s Molly’s voice. The woman he had buried just six days prior. (Repost from 2018’s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

4) Universally Monstrous - Frankenstein They were four bodies in before someone noticed a pattern. It was Philip Anderson, of all people, who made the first connection. (Repost from 2019’s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

5) Universally Monstrous - The Mummy “I must admit I’m surprised you managed to secure authorization for me to see the mummy.” (Repost from 2019′s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

6) Universally Monstrous - The Invisible Man “This is the strangest thing I have ever seen,” John marvelled. “Haven’t seen,” Sherlock corrected. (Repost from 2019′s Halloween at 221b, On Ao3, Complete, Rated G)

7) Universally Monstrous - The Wolf Man Normally, she would hardly deign to give the tales of Holmes’ fantastical detective work a passing glance, but something about The Hound of the Baskervilles drew her interest. (On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

8) Universally Monstrous - The Creature from the Black Lagoon “I think I’m looking at a fake, albeit a well-constructed one.” The Skipper huffed, but Sherlock ignored him. Surely the woman in the tank would need to surface soon, or risk betraying the presence of a breathing apparatus of some sort. (On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

9) Universally Monstrous - The Bride of Frankenstein To his chagrin, it took Doctor Matthew Hooper more than a dozen interactions before he realized that the notorious Sherlock Holmes was not the man he pretended to be. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t a man at all. (On Ao3, Complete, Rated T)

Wonderful Halloween fest graphics by created by @mel-loves-all

#sherlolly #sherlolly halloween at 221b #2020 sherlolly halloween master list

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simplyshelbs16xoxo · 4 years ago

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This week on British Supernatural, Molly conducts a séance in a manor on the moors whilst Sherlock investigates the hellhounds that are rumored to roam the land.

#sherlolly #2020 sherlolly halloween #sherlolly halloween at 221b #my edits

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mel-loves-all · 4 years ago

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“2020 Sherlolly Halloween”

Theme: Gothic Mystery

#2020 sherlolly halloween #sherlolly halloween at 221b #sherlolly #mollock #sherlock x molly #sherlolly edit #sherlolly halloween

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darnedchild · 5 years ago

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Everything that Kills Me - Part 2

Here’s where we start to earn that M rating, friends. Consider that a fair warning.

Part 2

“I was beginning to think you didn’t want to see me again.” Molly’s voice wrapped around him like a sheet made of the softest silk.

He slowly opened his eyes, fully expecting to see the lab at Barts where he’d spent the afternoon bent over a s microscope. Molly had checked in with him off and on while he’d worked. Had he become lost in his thoughts waiting for her to return?

However, it wasn’t the lab he saw. Instead, it was the tiny room he’d discovered while exploring the old horse tunnels near the Stables Market, not far from the Camden Lockes. He’d left an electric lantern on when he’d lain down on the cheap mattress that some of his people had smuggled down more than a year ago.

Clearly, he must have fallen asleep at some point, because there was no feasible way that Molly Hooper would be standing in front of him. She was wearing the same thing she’d been in when she’d said good night as he left the lab. There was no mistaking her current favourite jumper. Mustard yellow and at least a size too large, it hung nearly to her thighs and completely obscured her firm breasts and tiny waist.

He shook his head and promised himself, once again, that he would be deleting the memory of Molly in that little black dress from his mind very, very soon. There was no reason to continue to remember what her body looked like under her bulky, over-sized clothing.

“You’re not Molly.” Sherlock was positive of that. Wasn’t he?

“Ah, but what if you’re wrong?” she countered with a hint of laughter in her voice.

“Why would Molly be lurking around here in the middle of the night? Or back in that shed at the cemetery? She has a house with a very comfortable bed. I know, I’ve slept in it.” It occurred to him that, perhaps, he should have left that last bit about the comfort of Molly’s bed out of his argument.

“And you have Baker Street.” She gestured around the nearly empty room. “Yet here we both are.”

He studied her for a long moment and she calmly let him, without a hint of unease in her expression. “What are you?”

“I could have sworn we worked this all-out last time. I’m a figment of your exhausted mind. Merely a dream. You really do push yourself far too hard, Sherlock.”

He almost believed she was actually concerned about him.

“If this is all a dream, then it won’t matter if I wake myself up.” He watched her face to see how she reacted to that.

“If that’s what you want.” She pointed to mattress he was still curled upon. “May I?”

After a moment Sherlock nodded and sat up to make room for her. The low-quality mattress shifted under her added weight, sagging in the middle and tilting them close enough that their shoulders touched. He quickly pulled away from the contact and tried to cover the action with a sarcastic verbal jab meant to distract her. “No plans to throw yourself into my lap this time?”

“You didn’t seem to like it.” Her mischievous smile told him that she knew what he’d done, but she was willing to let him get away with it for now. “Have you changed your mind?”

He was quick to reply with an indignant, “Of course not.” Seconds later, he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Wouldn’t you have already known that, without needing to ask? You acted as if you could practically read my mind before.”

She shrugged. “You didn’t seem to like that, either.”

When he thought about it, her earlier knowledge made a strange sort of sense. Of course, his dreaming mind would know what he was thinking. Matter settled. Perfectly logical explanation. Nothing to worry about.

Except something still felt off.

“Is that important, doing things I like?”

“Mmmhmm,” she hummed. “It’s very important.” She leaned toward him and practically purred, “I want you to like me.”

Sherlock caught himself watching the way her lips moved and hated himself for it. He forced himself to look into her eyes instead. “But I don’t. Won’t. I can’t. Not while you’re wearing Molly’s face.”

“I don’t need to read your mind tonight to know that’s not true.”

He pulled himself off the mattress with an indignant huff, and began to pace.

She let him circle the room twice before she spoke again. “This is just a dream, Sherlock. You don’t have to lie to yourself here. I certainly won’t tell.”

His scoff echoed against the stone walls, but he reluctantly turned to listen to her.

“Anything can happen in your dreams. Anything, anywhere … with anyone.” She held out her hand to beckon him closer. “With me.”

“But you are not Molly!” He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at the strands, hoping to force himself awake. It didn’t work.

“I am. I’m your Molly, if you want me to be.” She spoke softly, as if she were trying to sooth an agitated beast. “You can talk to me, hold me, love me without worrying about the consequences in the morning.” She extended her hand just a little bit further. “Sit with me, just a little while. Please.”

Sherlock took a deep breath and hesitantly took her hand. She slowly pulled him closer, wordlessly urging him to settle beside her. This time, when the mattress dipped, he didn’t pull away.

She leaned her head against his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”

Almost on instinct, he put his arm around her when she released his hand and burrowed closer to his side.

He’d always know that Molly was petite, but he hadn’t quite understood what that would feel like if they were ever this close, this intimate. How strong and dominate it would make him feel to curl around her small body.

The first soft brush of her lips against his neck made his skin prickle. He couldn’t contain his sharp inhale of surprise.

Somehow, impossibly, she even smelled like Molly.

“I-This isn’t-“ He stumbled over his words as her lips trailed upward along his jaw.

His eyes fluttered closed and he moaned when her teeth gently nipped his earlobe. Her voice was husky when she reassured him that nothing would happen that he didn’t want.

She flicked her tongue against the curve of his jaw. “Do you want to stop?”

It took less than a second consider it. He shook his head.

“I need to hear you say it, Sherlock.” She pressed a soft kiss against the corner of his mouth. “Tell me what you want.”

He brought his hand up to her cheek and nudged her back so he could see her face. “I don’t want to stop.”

Her eyes flashed that golden brown that he remembered from before. He wondered what it meant, what his subconscious mind could be trying to tell him. Then she smiled and said, “So kiss me,” and he could think of nothing else but her.

The taste of her.

The delicious sound she made the first time he parted her lips with his tongue.

The softness of her skin when his hand slipped beneath that awful yellow jumper.

His groaned “Molly” was barely audible; but, somehow, she heard it.

She shuddered in response. “Yes, love. I’m right here.” Then she leaned her weight into him, and he allowed himself to be pushed down onto the mattress.

He felt her teeth pull at his lower lip as she settled over him. He protested when she sat up to begin tugging at the buttons of his shirt, but the way she ground her arse against his rapidly hardening cock took his breath away and cut off anything else he would have said. She flicked his shirt open and licked her lips at the sight. The scratch of her nails against his chest was electric. His back arched as she teased the skin just below his navel, so close to where he craved her touch the most.

When she finally pressed her palm against his clothed cock, he growled.

As much as he wanted this, wanted her, he had to make a half-hearted attempt to stop her when she slid between his legs and reached for his fly. “You shouldn’t-“

She looked up at him with those odd golden brown eyes, silently asking for permission to continue. He swallowed and gave her one more chance to back out. “If you’re sure?”

Her answer was impossible to misread as slipped the head of his cock into her mouth.

“Fuck!” He’d received and given oral sex before, but this was nothing like he remembered. It was more. So much more. Almost overwhelming. He curled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms in a vain effort to temper the urge to beg or to thrust his hips up every time she swirled her tongue against his glans.

At some point she pulled away with an obscenely wet sound and he ground his teeth together to muffle his whimper of protest.

“Don’t hold back. I want everything you can give me, my love. Everything. I want to drain you dry.” She took him back into her mouth and he willingly gave up his tenuous hold on his control.

He took her at her word and trusted that she would let him know if he was too rough.

Sherlock sunk his hands into her hair and urged her to take him a little deeper. “That’s it, just like that.” He let her set the pace for a while, until he felt the first familiar tingle at the base of his spine. “Gonna come soon,” he panted. “And you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl. Aren’t you, Molly?”

She moaned her very enthusiastic consent around his cock and somehow managed to take him even deeper until he was certain that he was touching the back of her throat. “Fuck. Christ. So good.”

He gripped her head and held her still as he used her mouth to chase the orgasm that was just out of reach. “Use your tongue. Don’t stop. Don’t. Stop. Don’t. Molly!”

Sherlock came so hard that his vision whited out. He tried to reach for her, perhaps to offer to reciprocate, but his hands grasped at empty air. “Molly? What about you?“

“Shush.” He felt her hand brush a sweat dampened curl off his forehead. “Next time. You’re tired now. Sleep.” She kissed him, soft and gentle. “Dream of me, love.”

Eventually he opened his eyes again to find that he was sprawled out on the mattress. All of his clothes were still in place, properly buttoned and zipped. There was a small, still sticky patch of drying semen in his boxers; a humiliating reminder that he must have come in his sleep like a hormonal adolescent.

#2019 sherlolly halloween #sherlolly halloween at 221b #sherlolly

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rebka18 · 7 years ago

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I finally finish it For @whclocked who asked for some Sherlock and Molly Halloween hope you like it dear Happy Halloween 🎃🎃

#Sherlolly Halloween at 221B #sherlolly #mollock #sherlock bbc #kidau #happy halloween #crappy drawings #my art

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eastwindiscomming · 7 years ago

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💀 💀 💀

@holidaysat221b

#sherlolly halloween at 221b #mollock #sherlolly #sherlock BBC #sherlock x molly #Molly Hooper #Sherlock #halloween #myedit

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sundance201 · 7 years ago

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Posted the Halloween fic! Head over here to read the fic on AO3 or read on. :)

Title: How The Ghosts Stole Christmas

Rating: Mature (which I went back and forth on, but there’s some language and violence...)

Summary: Sherlock and Molly go searching for a serial killer on Halloween. Or go ghost hunting. It depends on who you ask.

“Alright, really Sherlock, what are we doing out here?” Molly asked as she watched the scenery fly by out the window. Sherlock seemed fully focused on the road, but Molly saw his eyes flick over to her briefly. “Is there really a case out here?”

“Of sorts. We’re going to catch a serial killer.”

Molly’s eyes widened. “A serial killer? Sherlock! A girl needs proper warning before she goes to catch a serial killer! Not the type of thing that you just spring on someone.”

“Would you have come if you had known?”

“Probably not!” she sputtered, too flustered to lie.

Sherlock’s jaw tightened. “You have to come, Molly. He only kills couples and he only kills on this night.”

Molly looked out the window at the passing signs and retraced the route that they had taken in her head. “Wait a minute…are you taking me to the old Scully estate?”

Sherlock smiled. “Knew you’d catch on.”

“Sherlock, that’s a haunted house! There’s no serial killer there.”

Sherlock slowed the car and turned down a darkened road. It seemed like it had gotten progressively darker – logically, Molly knew it was because they were getting further from the closest village. Sherlock scoffed. “There are no such things as ghosts, Molly. I would expect a woman of science to know that.”

She shrugged. “You know that I believe in ghosts, Sherlock. That doesn’t make me any less scientific. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

“Does that make you the Prince of Denmark then?”

Molly giggled. “So Shakespeare is worth keeping on the hard drive then?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Obviously.” The car slowed to a stop before a large iron gate. There were two big black cars parked alongside the road and a man exited one of them to go and unlock the gate for them. Sherlock waved. “Mycroft’s men. They’re here as backup.”

The large home came into view and Molly gasped. “That somehow isn’t comforting,” she murmured, taking in the decrepit house in front of them. “How are there not a ton of people here? It’s usually a popular destination tonight – ghost hunters wanting to catch a glimpse of the ghosts and the unlucky couple.”

She looked over to Sherlock in time to see him roll his eyes. “I had Mycroft lock down the estate. We have to be the only bait for the killer to chase after. Anyone else would be a distraction.”

“Lovely. And what makes you so sure that it’s a serial killer?”

Sherlock fixed her with a look that would have made the Molly of yesteryear shy away and blush madly. This Molly stared right back, challenging him to explain himself. “There are no such thing as ghosts, Molly. A couple dies here nearly every year…it’s obviously a ritualistic serial killer. And we’re finally going to catch him.”

“So your plan is to just go in there and basically dare a serial killer to come and kill us? Are we just going to sit around and wait for him? Did you at least bring Cluedo to help us pass the time?”

“Very funny, Molly. Obviously we’re not just going to be sitting ducks. We’ll search for him.” He stopped the car and unbuckled his seat belt, twisting to fully look at her for the first time in an hour and a half, since they left London. “Well? Any other imbecilic questions?”

Molly glared and hovered her finger over the seat belt release, as if debating her next action. “Yeah, because going after a serial killer or blood thirsty ghosts on Halloween makes you the sane one.” She released the seat belt, but didn’t make a move to get out of the car. “Just one last thing. Couples die here…we’re not a couple.”

Sherlock shrugged. “Victims are thin on the ground tonight. We’re the only option.” With that, he got out of the car and started towards the house, not looking back to see if she was following.

She grumbled and exited the car as well, jogging to catch up to him. “If we die, I’m going to kill you.”

“Well, as the story goes, there is always one murder and then a suicide. Are you volunteering for the role of murderer?” Molly didn’t dignify that with a response, she just bumped her shoulder against his arm, causing him to stumble slightly.

Molly couldn’t help but feel mounting dread as they approached the house. She could tell that the house was illuminated, but Sherlock handed her a torch as they made their way towards the front door. Sherlock reached out as they approached the door, his hand resting on the doorknob. “Are you ready, Molly?”

“Does it matter? We’re here, aren’t we? Not like you’re just going to turn around,” she mumbled.

“That’s the spirit!” he said jovially and Molly rolled her eyes as he opened the door.

For a moment, Molly couldn’t breathe. The old house was lovely, that was certain. But there was a certain heaviness there, which didn’t surprise her, knowing the sort of things that had gone on in the house.

Something that most people didn’t know about her (although she was sure that Sherlock had deduced it) was that Molly Hooper was a bit of an amateur ghost hunter. She loved a good haunted house and knew all about the old Scully estate. The first murder/suicide incident had been in the late 1800s – the daughter of the owner was betrothed to a man but had loved another. On October 31st, her lover shot her and then himself and in the note that she left behind, she told her father that she’d rather be with her lover forever in death than spend one minute married to another man.

Since then, there had been at least 20 other instances of murder/suicides in the house. They always occurred on October 31st and they always involved a couple. The rate had seemed to pick up in recent years, but Molly guessed that was because the story was publicized more now with the internet and all the various ghost hunting TV shows. People made a special trip out to the estate on October 31st and it showed – there had been murder/suicides on the property for the last five years in a row.

So it didn’t surprise her that the house seemed dark and sad. Dark and sad things had happened there. But none of them seemed to affect Sherlock. He turned to her, a slightly maniacal grin on his face. “Great! Where should we start? Should we split up?”

“No!” The force of Molly’s response must have surprised Sherlock. His eyes widened and he looked like he had his “buffering” face on. “Have you ever even seen a horror movie, Sherlock? Splitting up means almost certain death. It’s like shagging. Both are very bad options in a horror movie, which is basically what we’ve walked into. So no. We are not splitting up. Got it?”

Silently, he nodded. Molly nodded once and looked around the foyer. She tilted her head towards a door on the left. “Let’s start there. We’ll just work through the house until the ghosts find us.”

“Until we find the killer,” Sherlock said dryly, following her towards the door.

She made a face and mocked him silently, safe in the knowledge that he was at her back and couldn’t see her. The door creaked open and Molly shone her flashlight around, stepping cautiously into the room. “Oh for God’s sake, Molly. It’s a tourist destination. There are lights,” she heard from behind her. He flipped the switch and the room lit up.

The furniture was all pristine – it certainly didn’t look like a serial killer’s lair. It did, however, look like a haunted house. Molly pointedly looked back at Sherlock. “Any serial killers about?” Molly called out, smirking.

Sherlock glared at her. “It would serve you right if he popped out from behind that couch right now.” Molly simply stuck her tongue out at him.

“Should we actually take a look around?” Molly asked, stepping further into the room. Sherlock nodded and moved swiftly around the perimeter of the room, while Molly searched around the furniture. “Clear?” Sherlock nodded and made his way back to the front of the room and waited for Molly to join him before they moved out into the main hallway again.

Just then, there was a loud crash from somewhere upstairs and Molly jumped and screamed, clutching Sherlock’s arm. She looked up at him, gratified to see him looking less than put together as he looked up towards the ceiling and then his gaze darted around the rest of the main hallway. “Could have been anything,” he murmured.

“Could’ve been a ghost.”

He rolled his eyes. Molly took a deep breath and relaxed her grip on Sherlock’s arm, sliding her hand down to his and grabbing a hold of it. Sherlock intertwined their fingers and gave her a little squeeze. Molly couldn’t help but smile at the sweet gesture, even as he pulled her towards the next room. The door creaked open again and just before they flicked on the lights, Molly could have sworn she saw something dart across the room.

She gasped and squeezed Sherlock’s hand again, but by the time the room was illuminated, whatever she had seen (or thought she had seen) was gone. “Did you see that?” she whispered.

She heard him swallow. “Yeah. I did.”

Looking up at him, she tried to smile. She was sure it looked more like a grimace. “Tell me you’re not afraid.”

He licked his lips and looked down at her, before heaving a sigh. “I am afraid. But it’s an irrational fear.” He looked around and paused on the door at the far end of the room, presumably leading into the kitchen or servants’ quarters, since they were in the dining room. “Whoever that was couldn’t have gone far. They probably went through that door. I’ll go check it out.”

He made a move towards the door, but Molly tugged him back. “Don’t you dare leave me here,” she hissed.

“I’m just going to see if he’s there.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out what Molly assumed was John’s gun.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a gun? Did you bring another one of those?”

He fixed her with a look. “Even if I did have just a spare gun lying around, you don’t know how to shoot, do you? You’d be more of a hazard with one than without.”

She huffed. “But it would have made me feel better since we’re supposedly all alone in this house with a serial killer.” Her grip on his hand loosened and he started moving towards the back of the room.

“Well, look at it this way, if you’re right, it doesn’t matter whether or not we have guns because they’re already dead.”

Molly glared at him. “Shut up.”

He opened up the door and flipped on the light to the small hallway. Molly snuck over to the door, peeking into the hallway behind him. “Stay here,” he murmured.

“I hate this,” she whispered.

“I know.” He leaned forward and kissed her forehead briefly before turning and entering the hallway, slowly making his way towards the kitchen.

Suddenly, it felt like something pushed her backwards, away from the door, and it slammed shut. Molly yelped and rushed forward, tugging on the doorknob, but it wouldn’t move. She started pounding on the door, hoping Sherlock could hear her. “Sherlock? Sherlock! The door is jammed!” The door that they had entered through slammed shut as well, making Molly jump. She ran towards the other door, only to find it jammed as well.

“Shit,” she murmured. “Shit, shit, shit.” She ran back to the other door, banging on it again. “Sherlock! I’m locked in here. I can’t get out. Sherlock? Sherlock, can you hear me?” She pressed her ear to the door, hoping to hear any sign of him, but it was useless. She was alone, at least for the time being.

Sighing, she turned her back to the door and looked around the room. The dining table was immaculate, not even a little bit dusty. The place settings looked like antiques – they were gorgeous. And hanging on the wall just to the right of her was a giant portrait – Molly could only imagine that it was the woman from the stories, the one who killed herself to be with her lover.

She was beautiful, but there was something sad and melancholy, even in this portrait. Molly found herself entranced by the portrait, moving closer so she could examine it more. “You poor thing,” she whispered, staring up at the woman.

A few seconds later (or had it been minutes? It was hard to tell), Molly finally took a step back from the portrait and wondered if she should try either of the doors again. She turned and screamed, jumping back.

“Jesus, Sherlock! You nearly gave me a heart attack! How long have you been standing there? Why didn’t you say something?”

His lip curled up in a soft smile but something about it seemed…off. Molly tried to shake the feeling away – it was probably just the adrenaline from his suddenly appearance still coursing through her veins. “I’m sorry, Molly. I didn’t mean to scare you. You just seemed so enchanted by the portrait – I thought you would have heard me come in.”

Molly made her way across the room to where Sherlock was standing, near the door that they had used to enter in the first place. When she got closer, Sherlock held out his hand to her. “Come on, Molly. I found something.”

Without really thinking about it, she took his hand and let him lead her from the room.

Even with the lights, the servants’ hallway was dimly lit and Sherlock couldn’t help but sigh with relief once he reached the kitchen and the overhead lights illuminated the space. He was glad that Molly wasn’t there to witness his moment of weakness. The kitchen was practically cavernous, with a large island in the middle. Sherlock slowly moved around the space, careful to keep his back to the wall at all times in an attempt to see as much of the room as possible. “Damn it,” he murmured as he completed his survey of the room and lowered his gun.

“He must have escaped somewhere,” he muttered to himself as he made his way towards the door that he assumed led to the main hallway.

Just then, there was a loud BANG. Sherlock broke into a run as he made his way back to the dining room where he had left Molly.

That had been, unmistakably, the sound of a gun firing.

Molly did think it was a bit strange that Sherlock had foregone the other rooms on the main floor and had led her up a staircase to the private rooms. But she had shrugged it off until this very moment. This moment, when she was standing in front of what was clearly the master bedroom with a huge four-poster bed, and had Sherlock at her back with his hands on her hips and his mouth at her neck.

“Sherlock, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she gasped, spinning around in his embrace, her hands going to his chest in an attempt to push him away.

“Oh come on, Molly. I’m just giving you what you want. Try and tell me that you haven’t been dreaming of this,” he murmured, leaning forward, clearly aiming to capture her lips. She gave one great shove against his chest, causing him to stumble back.

“This is not what I want, Sherlock,” she said firmly, knowing that he would accept her answer. Sherlock respected her as a friend, even if he didn’t want her as a lover. She’d come to terms with that a long time ago.

That smug smile that she usually found at least somewhat endearing spread across his face, but there was a cold edge to it that she wasn’t used to seeing. “Oh come on, Molly. It’ll be a fun little experiment. Fucking in a haunted house. Didn’t you say that fucking and splitting up were the two ways to guarantee dying in a horror film? We already split up and nothing happened so now we should fuck.”

She shook her head and stuck a hand out in front of her, warding him off as he continued to approach her. “No. This isn’t…what’s going on here, Sherlock? This isn’t you.”

He scoffed. “Oh please, Molly. This is me through and through. Why do you think that I really brought you here? You’re disposable!” He chuckled and the sound made her blood run cold. “I couldn’t risk bringing anyone else here – they’re actually useful to me. But you, sweet little morgue mouse, I could use you as bait and it wouldn’t interrupt the work nearly at all if the serial killer were to get to you first.”

Molly had been moving backwards as Sherlock continued to advance on her and she didn’t realize that she was so close to the bed until the back of her knees hit against it and she fell backwards onto it. Sherlock laughed again as she scrambled to right herself. “You’re not him. I don’t know who you are, but you’re not Sherlock Holmes. He’d never say these things to me,” she said quietly, shaking her head.

He clicked his tongue and tilted his head, giving her a pitying look. “Oh Molly. When will you learn? You’re not important. When I told you that you counted, that you mattered, I was just lying. I was manipulating you. I do it all the time so that you’ll give me what I want.”

She was still shaking her head and even though she tried to stop them, tears started leaking from the corners of her eyes. “It’s not true,” she whispered.

Sherlock pulled the gun from his belt and examined it casually, as if he was bored with this whole scene in front of him. “It is true, unfortunately, Molly dear. You should probably just save the serial killer the trouble and end it now. Maybe the gunshot will catch his attention.” He held the gun out to her and Molly looked at it, dread flooding her body.

Sherlock ran at a breakneck speed down the hallway and practically threw the door to the dining room open (and a small part of his brain that wasn’t completely focused on finding Molly quietly filed away the fact that the door had been open the last time he saw it). He frantically scanned the room. “Molly? Molly! Where are you?”

He ran around the table and gasped as he came to the opposite end, the one closest to the portrait of the woman. Molly was lying on the ground, bleeding from a wound near her heart. Not enough to kill her instantly, but she’d probably die of blood loss before Mycroft’s men could get inside, let alone before medical help could be attained.

Sherlock collapsed beside her, his hands going to her face. “Molly? Molly, what happened?”

Her eyes fluttered open and they slowly focused on him. “The…the killer,” she whispered. “He was here. He had…that gun.” She feebly raised her arm and pointed to the weapon that he was just now noticing, laying only an arm’s length away. “He shot me, Sherlock. Said he…he…wanted you to find me like this.”

“Molly, I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing her forehead over and over again. “I’m sorry. Forgive me. I never thought this would happen. I swore to myself that I would protect you. I’d die before I’d let harm come to you.”

She smiled weakly, her lips starting to turn blue and her complexion turning ashy. “A bit too late for that.” She gestured towards the gun again. “But you can join me, Sherlock. There’s still a bullet left. He left it for you.”

She raised her hand and lightly brushed it against his cheek and then ran her fingers over his lips. “I still love you, Sherlock. Even if you don’t love me,” she whispered, before her arm dropped beside her and her body went limp.

“Molly?” Sherlock shook his head, his hand trembling as he sought out her pulse with his fingers. “Molly? Please don’t. Don’t do this. I do love you, Molly. I should have told you. I should have saved you. Oh god. Molly? Please don’t do this. I’m sorry.” He collapsed over her, not caring that he was getting her blood all over him.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

With a yell, Molly shoved past Sherlock, knocking him away from the door and causing him to drop the gun. She watched for just a second as it skittered across the floor and then she was off. She ran out the door and down the hallway, then tore down the stairs. “Sherlock! Where are you? We need to leave NOW!”

She thought she could hear something in the dining room and headed in that direction. That was where this had all started after all, maybe that’s where she would find Sherlock…the real Sherlock.

The noise got louder the closer she got to the room, but she couldn’t see anyone inside. “Sherlock? Sherlock, are you in here?” There was a muffled sob and Molly made her way around the table, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim lighting of the dining room.

There was a figure, huddled in the corner of the room, his knees against his chest and his head buried on top of his knees. It was Sherlock but…he seemed to be crying. Molly approached him carefully, reaching out to lightly touch his shoulder. “Sherlock, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He jerked the second she touched him and sprang to his feet. She noticed immediately that he was holding a gun, because he was aiming it at her. She was willing to forgive him, since she’d startled him, but she started to worry when he kept it trained on her, even after the recognition dawned in his eyes.

She held her hands up and spoke quietly, calmly to him, even though she was feeling far from quiet and calm. “Sherlock, you need to stop pointing that gun at me and we have to get out of here.”

“Where’s Molly?” he asked through gritted teeth, his hand shaking, but the gun never lowering.

“I’m right here, Sherlock. I’m here. It’s me.” Her head was spinning. Had he seen a fake-Molly, just as she had seen a fake-Sherlock? What had happened? What had she done?

His eyes darted around the floor frantically, seeking something out and clearly not finding it. He shook the gun at her and Molly couldn’t help but take a step back. “Where’s Molly?” he bellowed. “She was right here! She had died because of me and she was right here but now she’s gone and you’re here! But you’re not Molly…you’re a hallucination. She was real,” he whispered, his grip on the gun never wavering. “She was real.”

“She wasn’t,” Molly pleaded with him, keeping her hands up in a placating gesture. “Sherlock, it’s this house. I know you don’t believe in it, but it’s haunted. I saw things too…I saw you and you said terrible things to me, but I know it wasn’t you. It wasn’t you.”

Sherlock shook his head, his eyes darting around the room again. “Ghosts don’t exist.”

“Then how do you explain me? If Molly had died and I’m standing in front of you, I would have to be a ghost, wouldn’t I? Or if a ghost had taken my shape and made you believe that I’d died…your run-of-the-mill serial killer couldn’t do that.”

He was slowly lowering the gun and Molly took a deep breath before taking a step forward. His grip on the gun had loosened enough that it seemed like he was barely holding on to it. “That’s…logical,” he murmured, his eyes losing some of the crazed quality that they’d had just a few seconds ago.

“Sherlock, I’m going to touch you now. I need to prove to you that I’m alive. I’m here. Ok?” He nodded minutely and Molly took another step forward before gently grabbing the hand that wasn’t still holding the gun.

The second he felt her, the gun clattered to the ground and with the newly freed hand, he wrapped his fingers around her delicate wrist and took her pulse, feeling the blood rushing through her veins. “Elevated,” he murmured.

“Yeah, a bit stressed,” she replied, with a small quirk of her lips.

“We need to leave,” he said decisively, pulling her towards the door.

“Give the man a medal,” she murmured under her breath, practically breaking into a run with him as they ran out into the main hallway, towards the door.

They burst through the doors of the house and took a deep breath of the crisp, English air, before running all the way to the gates and beyond. Once they were through, Sherlock shouted to Mycroft’s men, “Shut them now! Under no circumstances is anyone to re-enter that house tonight!” They nodded and the gates began to shut, creaking in protest all the way.

Molly started laughing as they watched the gates close and Sherlock looked over at her, probably wondering if she had gone mad from their experience. “Do you believe in ghosts now?”

Sherlock swallowed heavily and considered his words carefully, shooting a look over to Mycroft’s men before answering her, sotto voce. “That was…inexplicable.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Molly felt a pang of disappointment, but then Sherlock turned fully towards her.

The haunted look on Sherlock’s face made Molly move on instinct. She cupped his cheek, eager to comfort him. He nuzzled against her palm before softly confessing, “I thought you died in my arms. I thought that I had led you into danger and I couldn’t protect you.”

“Well that was bloody dangerous, but I managed to protect myself. I think that…whatever was in there, it fed on your worst fears.” She stroked her thumb across his skin. “But I’m here, Sherlock. I’m here.”

He nodded, before his gaze sharpened slightly. Molly’s hand dropped from his cheek, but he caught it with his own, this thumb rubbing over the top of her hand. “What did you see then?”

She shook her head, looking away briefly. He tugged on her hand and she turned back to him, biting her lip before softly answering. “You tried to seduce me and then you told me that you only brought me along because I was disposable. That I didn’t really matter to you.”

Now Sherlock’s hands were cupping her cheeks, as he stared at her intensely. “That’s not true, Molly.”

She smiled again, this time softer and more content. “I know. But it’s nice to hear you confirm it for me.” Sherlock tugged on her hand and she willingly went into his embrace, relishing the warmth of him as she wrapped her arms around his torso and he nuzzled his cheek against her hair, before gently kissing her cheek.

He pulled back and his eyes seemed to scan her face, reading her reaction to his latest cheek kiss. Molly grinned and went up on her tip toes, her hands tugging down on the lapels of his coat, taking his lips in a kiss. He seemed surprised by her actions for a moment. But the surprise faded quickly, and soon enough he had his arms around her and was returning the kiss fervently.

When they broke apart, he couldn’t help but smile at her. “I’m sorry for ruining Halloween. I know how much you love it.”

Molly giggled, her fingers leaving his coat and traveling up to the back of his neck to tug playfully at his curls. Sherlock groaned. “That’s alright. I think that we’ll figure out a way for you to make it up to me.” Sherlock’s grin was positively wolfish. “It’ll probably involve tiramisu.” The wolfish grin fell slightly.

But Molly’s eyes gleamed and she grinned, her tongue flirtatiously peeking out of her mouth. “Tiramisu, preferably enjoyed while naked in a bed.”

And the naughty grin was back. “Oh Molly, I definitely think that can be arranged.”

#sherlolly #fanfic #sherlolly halloween at 221b #the babes doing spoopy stuff together #my precious baby darlings who love each other #bonus points to whoever can pick out the x-files exchange

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