Chapter Text
Six Months later...
Molly woke to the soft click of the door as it opened. Still after six months, her body was on high alert but she had decided she would prefer to be woken up when the guys made it home at night rather than leaving the bedroom door open (even just a crack) and leaving herself vulnerable.
She slept facing the door and opened her eyes to see John shuffle through the doorway and to his dresser not trying to make any noise as he moved. He pulled out his pajamas and his favorite t-shirt and started to undress. As he pulled his jumper over his head, she could see in the moonlight the two large scars burned through the left side of his back. Both were from battle he had told her when he caught her ghosting her fingers over them after they had made love the first time. One was from Afghanistan for queen and country and one was from a battle fought not ten blocks away for the love of his life.
John continued to undress and Molly flipped over to give him at least a little privacy. Soon the bed dipped behind her and John crawled under the covers to settle against her back with his arms snaking out around her waist. She loved when they spooned and often told John how safe it made her feel. He loved that even in her sleep he could offer her this comfort and so they often ended up like this.
As John's breath whispered along the length of her neck, she thought back to the long road that had got them to here. The hundred and two stitches that had held her together after that torturous night at Jim's hand. The week in the hospital sitting next to Sherlock waiting for John to wake.
Oh Sherlock - he had been a saint and the devil wrapped into one those tense first few days. He had harassed the nurses and doctors to no end and in a way only he really could. She lost count of the people who rushed from that room in tears because of his deductions. But in the quiet of the night, as they would sit on the couch together in silence listening to John's heart beep on the monitor - Molly with her feet tucked beneath her and her head on his shoulder and Sherlock with his arm around her rubbing his hand up and down her arm, not only to comfort her but to try to warm her and keep her constant trembling at bay - she knew (and she wanted to believe the staff did too) that he only lashed out like that because his best friend lay across the room strapped to a ventilator. He seemed almost lost without John's guidance and she felt he may have been relying on her as much as she did him. But without that man, she wouldn't have made it through any of this especially when John had taken a turn for the worst and they almost lost him.
God - how many times she had cried that week as they waited but Sherlock was there every step of the way, even when she had tried to leave. She shook her head at the thought. She could still remember the fight John had woken to like it was yesterday...
'You can't do this, Molly. You just can't. I will not allow you to walk out on John or me for that matter.'
'Allow me?! You are not my keeper, Sherlock.'
'How could you even be considering this? After all we have been through. After all John has been through. You just want to up and leave?'
'No – I don't want to just leave. I want to protect you, you bastard and John. He won't stop. You know he won't. and the police… and your brother – no one can find him. I think… I hope that if I just walk away then you and John will be safe.'
'Molly, he will always be after us. He is about the game. It was never a personal vendetta against us about you… it was about the game.'
'No, Sherlock. I will not believe that. It was because of what he said…because I was his and he wouldn't have you playing with me. I can't sit here and do nothing. I can't continue to be bait. I love John too much… too much to stay and allow this to happen again. He deserves so much better than some broken toy.' she had yelled as her voice broke, 'I need to leave.'
She had tried to push Sherlock out of the way. But Sherlock wouldn't move and had pulled her into his arms as she sobbed. He glanced over to John's bed and saw he was awake.
'Molly, what's going on? Where are you going?' John asked.
She had clutched Sherlock's lapel and turned her head in a gasp to John's voice.
'John?'
'Morning, Sunshine. I'm not sure exactly what's going on here but (yawn) I hope you stay 'cause I love you...' his voice had trailed off in the end as he faded back to sleep but both she and Sherlock had heard.
She of course had stayed and had soaked Sherlock's shirt with tears that night. John still joked that he had to wake up just to keep the peace... That's John though - always cracking jokes and keeping his "family" together even in his least lucid states.
She remembered how the next day Sherlock came in with two cups of tea and told her she was now a resident of 221C Baker St. She was a little upset to not have been consulted in the matter of where she lived but both John and Sherlock agreed there was no way under no circumstances she would ever step foot in her old apartment again and so she didn't. She went to Baker St. that night to clean up and found all of her things had been packed and moved already. She asked Sherlock about the costs and if he would let her pay but he told her it had been a favor from someone and she wasn't to worry. Later, she found out he had asked his brother, Mycroft, to take care of it for him and his older bother did it in exchange for a few cases. She really felt loved that day.
As time went on, John finally had made it out of the hospital and home. He was fairly weak for awhile but she and Mrs. Hudson fed him up and took care of him. It gave her purpose and made her feel like she was doing something to help.
Early on, they started to develop a routine each night, after dinner and watching some crap telly together, she would rise from the couch and lean over and kiss him good night and telling him 'I love you and I hope you always remember that I choose you.' John would kiss her back and whisper 'I love you too' and then see her to the door and watch her as she went down the stairs.
Eventually, they started sleeping together - just sleeping mind you. She found that after settling home after the second attack and the long nights at the hospital her nightmares came back with a vengeance. She had a few nights where she woke the entire house with her screams. Despite, the two flights of stairs, John had rushed to her side each time and stayed with her those nights - his strong arms holding her tight as she trembled and wept. She started to see a therapist after the second nightmare and eventually they found it easier (and much better for Mrs. Hudson's heart) to just stay in the same bed together. Molly had confessed to John one night that she felt safer in his room than hers since Moriarty hadn't ever been there before and Sherlock was usually downstairs playing or pacing and could ward off the rest of the world for them and that was how she became a permanent resident of 221B.
John started to get his strength back and within a couple of moths, he and Sherlock spent many nights out on a case. She eventually made it back to work too and was glad despite being gone for more than a month that her job still was waiting for her. Life seemed to go back to normal.
Occasionally they would hear word of Jim but he never in all this time had sent her any more flowers or texts. Sherlock had tried to explain to her that Moriarty had given her up that night but she was still always a little wary when they spoke of him.
Even though they shared a home and more importantly a bed, John had been a complete gentleman the entire time. He seemed to have the patience of a saint and he always let her initiate anything intimate since her knew she had so many things to work through. But one night after a candlelight dinner at Angelo's, one thing had led to another and they had made love for the first time. Since then it seemed that they could barely keep their hands off each other, which drove Sherlock insane. Not because he was jealous - he had long conceded that John and Molly were perfect companions and he would not ever step in the way of that - but because as he put it 'if I wanted to see two people pawing at each other this much, I would take a walk through the park on a Saturday night.' John always chuckled when he said that and would go back to kissing her almost immediately.
It was a happy life... a content one... something she hadn't ever expected for herself after that first night in the alley.
She leaned back against John's chest and sighed. Despite Jim and those torturous attacks - despite the nightmares and the things that she had lived though and that still haunted her in her dreams - despite everything, she felt safe here - not just at 221B but here in John's arm as the little spoon. Here she knew no matter what she would always be home and would always be loved.
-The End-