Chapter 18

Twilight and Mist

It was hard not to notice a storm brewing in the distance. The western sky hung heavy with dark, inky clouds just waiting for the precise moment to burst open with a fury of rain. I couldn't help but wonder if this was an ominous portend about us… Still, this is where you wanted to meet, in this blustery twilight that felt more like the end of October instead of a week past equinox. Even the damp air, in the middle of the city, smelled of decaying leaves that left me longing to sit along side an open hearth, listening to logs crackle and pop, drinking something that warmed me on the way down. Let the rains come and the winds blow…

Though you stood at the rail, your gaze intent upon the water, I know you saw me coming. We were the only two people crazy enough to be out on a evening like this, allowing us the whole place to ourselves. Such as parks go. With impeccable timing, you turned to greet me with a shy smile that hid what looked like relief.

I shivered against the wind and you couldn't help yourself but to adjust my scarf, as well as pull my coat more tightly around me. You guided us to the bench where I noticed you bought me coffee!

"Is that for me?"

"Double cream, no sugar."

"Perfect."

I have to admit, the cup's warmth sent a soothing jolt through my cold hands. And, it tasted wonderful. The only thing missing was the fireplace.

You shared a few awkward pleasantries, but at least you tried and it was mildly amusing to watch you stumble around offering a compliment, without the intent of manipulating me to some ulterior motive.

"You look…lovely."

"Thank you."

There are moments like this when everything melts away. All the anger and hurt given a momentary reprieve. When you took my hand, entwined your fingers with mine, it left me wondering what happened? What changed? It's not that I don't like it…I just don't know how to trust it. Or, you.

"Do you, um, regret the other night?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I about gave up…that you'd meet me. Thought you might have some regrets."

"I was surprised…never expected…but I don't regret it. Do you?"

"No."

"I just needed some time to think about something's."

If you want to tell me…"

"Really?"

"Yes."

You have no idea how odd this felt. Or, maybe you did. I worked hard at suppressing a scoff, not quite trusting who this person was that looked like you.

"I was angry. It's been two months, but every time I think about that call, I feel ripped open. Cameras recording my life…John and your brother watching. When I left I didn't want to come back and I'm still unsure. You and Mycroft have made decisions for me that you have no right to make, as though I'm fragile or…an idiot, and I don't even know why.

"Saying those words…if anyone else had called, it would have been easy…easier…even if they were true. But, you, the things you've done… I should have been able to trust you, but I couldn't.

"I've never asked anything of you, Sherlock. I wanted to live my life…even the mistakes. But, you reign me in…every time."

"You're neither an idiot or fragile, Molly. You are remarkably strong."

"Ha! It doesn't feel that way…it hasn't in a long time."

"I am sorry. Please, forgive me."

"Who said, 'Forgiveness is a beautiful word, until you have something to forgive'? I'm trying, Sherlock."

I felt you squeeze my hand as though this was the reassurance you needed and, for now, it was enough. No matter what thoughts I had about this evening, or why you wanted to talk, there was nothing that could have prepared me for what you were about to say next.

"I was here recently. At this park, on this bench. A woman came to me for help in remembering who her father murdered. She was planning suicide, so I took her for chips, we walked and ended up right here. On this bench. She told me her name was Faith Smith, which led me to that case…"

You shot me a knowing glance. I will never forget Culverton Smith, or how close you came to destroying yourself in the process. You, at war with yourself, is maddening with heartbreak.

"When I met her again, she wasn't the same woman who came to see me…who I sat with here. Two completely different people. I was so high I thought I hallucinated her. It wasn't until a week later that I found a piece a paper she gave me when she came to my flat. She was real. I examined the paper and under the luminescent lamp discovered the words, 'Miss Me.'

I flinched when you said 'Miss me?' You don't know, I never told you about all the nightmares I used have. I never told you a lot of things about Jim. Why would I?

"John showed up later, panicked and dazed from being drugged – he'd been shot with a tranquilizer. The woman who posed as his therapist was the same woman who came to see me."

"Eurus? You mentioned that name, when you came to see me afterward…" "

It's what she told John that changed everything. She is my sister…a person I had no memory of."

"What!?"

"She set our home on fire, tried to kill me in the process. She also murdered my best friend, Victor, in a game gone horribly wrong. Eurus trapped him in a well, refused to tell anyone where he was, but instead coded the answer within a riddle…a child's nursery song. I couldn't solve it, no one could…I blocked it out, rewrote my memories. I was five years old, and Eurus four. She's been locked away ever since. Technically, Mycroft told my parents she died.

As a child, I was told her genius was said to be 'beyond Newton'. There was no place secure enough to keep her, so my uncle moved her to a secret prison called Sherrinford, where she's been since very young.

"Lovers and friends should know the worst about each other, don't you think?"

For the next thirty minutes you didn't stop talking and I couldn't form the words to speak, even when you looked at me, questioning if I was listening. I sat in stunned silence as you described the different trials, a coffin meant for me, the loss of life, Eurus's separation from family and human interaction, the desperation to connect and not merely mimic. I hated what she had done, and grieve for her in turn. No child should have had to live like that.

But, you…aren't you the surprise in your family. With the heart of an alchemist, you've created a different kind of philosopher's stone, transforming loss to healing, isolation to belonging, and giving something to your sister she desperately wanted. We all need love…most especially when we don't understand what it is. I remember the day when you wouldn't even allow yourself a friend…

You brilliant man, how hard you are on yourself. Thinking this is the worst about you, when I rather think it's the best. The part of you I love most.

"Walk with me?"

So we walked, arm-in-arm, away from the thunderous clouds that were quickly moving in. You talked about Baker St, how it was just about finished, and that you've been staying there for some time.

"I got you something."

"Me?"

"Yes."

"What?"

"You'll have to come to Baker St."

"Luring or enticement?"

"Both."

"Animal or vegetable?"

Neither."

"I'm intrigued."

"Thought so."

A loud crack of thunder rolled overhead as bright streaks of lightning charged the sky with a spectacular web that would leave even the most audacious spider with envy. The misty rain began to fall as we raced toward the stairs, where I stopped on the first step…it's not often I have the advantage of height. I want to remember this moment, looking into your eyes, seeing the you that's hidden behind all the different masks you wear. Here, right now, this moment frozen in time, where there's no threats at your back other than the weather.

"I'm waiting."

"For what?"

"To know the worst about you."

"That's easy."

"Hmm?"

"My abhorrent taste in men."

These days, I find it telling that so much can be said without conversation, but through a look, or a glance. This much I've learned: Lies can be disguised and cloaked behind beautifully spoken words, but the body's nuances, no matter how subtle, will always give way to the capricious nature of one's intention to deceive. It's a feeling that sinks like a stone, which even indifference can never reconcile. There's a look you have, Sherlock, when I know you're being genuine. I can see it in your face and how you hold yourself. We are so very different, but there are some things I trust. I trust you with my life and, maybe one day, I'll learn to trust you with my happiness.

"I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

You leaned into me, your hands drawing my lips to yours, tasting sweet with rain and desire. I could linger here forever, breathless with intimacy, your body along side mine.

"Please come home, Molly. Come home with me."

I brushed my lips against yours and without saying another word, took your hand, led the way up the stairs and beyond the park.

Fini

Author's notes:
The forgiveness quote is from C.S. Lewis/