memeconsolidation ([personal profile] memeconsolidation) wrote in [community profile] bakerstreet2017-03-23 07:49 am

de la posséder est de gagner les étoiles (to have her is to have the stars)

the shipping picture prompt meme




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theonewhocounted: (pensive)

Molly Hooper | BBC Sherlock

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-23 06:16 pm (UTC)(link)
[Open to cross-canon but the shipping would have to be pretty mild at first unless they've interacted before.]
punchmeitssubtext: (Connected.)

what up :3

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-23 11:42 pm (UTC)(link)
1, 2, 3, 4, 5

bonus for lolz and because I love her art <3
Edited 2017-03-23 23:46 (UTC)
theonewhocounted: (Neck)

All of these are beautiful so of course I'm going to go with angst. You're welcome

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-24 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
Even with her busy work schedule and her budding relationship with Sherlock, Molly has started making regular trips to the cemetery to visit Mary's grave. She hasn't told Sherlock this even though she has thought of inviting him along, but the wound and guilt are still so fresh for him and she doesn't think he's the type to visit a grave site anyway. She knows that he's deduced her though (soil on her shoes, pollen on her coat sleeve that fell of the latest flowers she brought with her, crumpled up tissues in her coat pocket), and has decided for one reason or another not to say anything.

She goes and talks to Mary about everyday life - to update her on Rosie and John and of course what's going on between her and Sherlock. She has to admit that's part of her motivation for coming too. Mary understood Sherlock in a way no one else in her life does and Molly doesn't feel comfortable sharing the details of their relationship with even her closest living friends because he is still a bit of a celebrity and she doesn't need anything going 'round about their sex life or anything. So she talks to Mary like she would have talked to her if she were still alive. She knows it's silly but it makes her feel better.

Today she visits on her lunch hour and brings a blanket and her lunch. Rain is threatening but so far it's just gloomy and grey. She knows Sherlock is wrapped up in the renovations at Baker Street so she doesn't expect he'll be by the morgue looking for her.
punchmeitssubtext: (Why is it always the hat?)


[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-24 01:09 am (UTC)(link)
Sometimes the thing he has the most difficulty processing is the fact that he can be so happy with one of his best friends dead.

Already he's woken Molly up once, thrashing and soaked in cold sweat, trapped in a nightmare where Mary's last breath and John's guttural howl are the only sounds his heartbeat can make. Three times since their relationship's begun, he's had case work take him close to the Aquarium and gone straight from a crime scene to Molly's place to crawl into bed with her fully clothed and hang on to her in silence until his pulse slows to something less panicked.

("Please," he'd whispered, the first time, when she'd asked him what was wrong. "I just need to be here. That's all.")

Objectively he knows that everyone who matters has forgiven him, even if he'll never forgive himself. But when he's with Molly he thinks he might begin to really believe it.

It's an overcast day and there's not much to do in the way of case work; John's managing today's section of the cleanup effort, as it involves renovating the top floor a bit. So Sherlock decides to head over to Bart's and see if she's up for something tonight. (Who knows, maybe they can grab something from the crepe truck he likes.)

Except she's not there when he arrives. Her coworker Sophie--who absolutely wants to ask him everything about his relationship with Molly, he can tell, but is thankfully too flustered by him to blurt any of her questions--tells him she said she was going for a walk, to have lunch outside.

He knows Molly well enough to know what that means.

He hasn't gone to visit the grave yet. Why would he need to, when Mary's been lurking at the corners of his vision, when for a while the only thing that drove away her voice was the cocaine?

But because it's her, because now he understands that grieving alone is a slow route to infected wounds and hurts that can spring up like tumors, he swallows the bitter taste that coats his tongue and calls a cab.
Edited 2017-03-24 01:10 (UTC)
theonewhocounted: (pensive)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-24 01:56 am (UTC)(link)
Molly feels the guilt too - the guilt of being happy, of having someone. Every time she sees John, every time she comes to tell Mary about how wonderful it's all been with Sherlock so far, she feels it. She knows his guilt is a thousand times stronger. There are a lot of things lately that could be the cause of Sherlock's continued emotional distress - his sister's terrible game, his memories of Victor, Mary, the drugs. Too many to choose from. She knows, though, that it is Mary's death that haunts him the most. Can feel it in the way he clings to her on the bad days where something brings his mind back to that night. She's stopped asking him what's wrong but encourages him to see someone. To talk to someone.

It stings a little that he won't talk to her about what he's feeling, but she doesn't hold it against him. He's opened up more emotional doors to her than she ever imagined he would and she is grateful and thankful that he's willing to accept any level of comfort from her. She hopes she can help keep his other, more self-destructive coping mechanisms at bay.

And she's not exactly been entirely forthcoming with her own emotions over Mary's death either. She worries that if he sees her made upset or too sad by it that it will only make his guilt worse and she's terrified that he'll slip back down to the depths he was in right after it happened. So her grief waits for times she is alone in her flat or in the cemetery like this afternoon.

She lays out the blanket on the grass near Mary's gravestone and sits down before pulling her sandwich out of her bag. The weather along with an especially difficult autopsy that morning have Molly feeling a bit morose (even for someone having lunch in a cemetery).

"Hello, Mary," she says as she takes her sandwich from the wrapper. "It's an awful gloomy day out. It's rather amazing how much the weather can affect our mood. Sherlock would probably say that it's psychosomatic bollocks but you know he gets when it's raining."
punchmeitssubtext: (Why is it always the hat?)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-24 02:14 am (UTC)(link)
Twice on the way over he thinks about texting Molly, but something stops him. What would he even say? Hi, coming over to intrude on your quiet time with our dead mutual friend, hugs and kisses? And somehow, just as it's been for quite some time now, he finds he wants to spare her feelings. Over the years he's known her he's said the wrong thing--on purpose and by accident--far too often, and he'd rather not do that now.

He stays quiet as he pays the driver, as he makes his way through the gate and into the strange pocket of near-silence that all city graveyards seem to have. He hasn't been here since the funeral, but he remembers exactly where the headstone is.

(He remembers where his own is, too. Or was. His family's had it removed, and he suspects he's going to have to track it down and smash it at some point.)

Mary's grave is up at the far end of the cemetery, and he walks slowly, half hoping he'll simply meet Molly coming back even as he recognizes that hope is really cowardice.
theonewhocounted: (Neck)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-24 02:46 am (UTC)(link)
Molly eats her sandwich slowly, in between telling Mary about this morning's autopsy and updating her on the progress at Baker Street. It strikes Molly for not the first time that Mary hadn't even been alive when that had happened. She was already gone. It's how Molly felt when her father died. There was life before his death and life after. Her life had been cut in two by the passing of his. There were all the things in her life that she had able to share with him and then there were all the things that she no longer could. It didn't stop her from talking to him either. Even though his gravesite is down in Manchester and he's been gone almost 10 years now, she'll still find herself talking to him from time to time.

"I worry a little," she says to Mary's headstone. "That once things are back in place at Baker Street, once things are back to 'normal' for lack of a better term, that Sherlock will also go back to 'normal.' His life is in an upheaval right now in so many ways. I wonder if my own hand in it - in forcing those words from him - will come back to haunt me. Sorry. No ghost pun intended.

"I know he loves me. I know that isn't going to change...I just...I don't know...."
punchmeitssubtext: (Biology doesn't lie.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-24 08:34 pm (UTC)(link)
At last he's close enough to see her sitting by Mary's headstone, her back to him; as he gets closer he can hear the indistinct murmur of her voice, but he purposely stays far back enough that he won't be able to make out the words. She should, at least, be able to finish a thought before he interrupts her. She deserves that much from him.

He waits for her voice to fall away into silence, and then clears his throat loudly enough that he can be confident the distance between them and any breeze that might kick up won't dampen the sound out of her range of hearing.

For a second he feels ridiculous and far too vulnerable, sneaking up on his not-girlfriend on her lunch hour to talk about their shared trauma in a cemetery. But he's learning that sensation is usually a sign that he's heading in the right direction emotionally, even if he hates it and it makes him want to squirm and chain-smoke his way through a pack of cigarettes.
theonewhocounted: (surprised)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-24 08:47 pm (UTC)(link)
When she hears the noise, she looks up and towards the sound. Her eyes go wide when she sees him at a short distance off. Even though she knew that he knew, she still feels a surge of shame or guilt or embarrassment at having been caught talking to a gravestone. To Mary's gravestone.

She still manages to give him a small, somewhat apologetic smile and lifts her hand in a wave. It's of course a sign that he's welcome to come over and join her. In some ways it's not a surprise at all that he'd turn up one day, in other ways it is. She knows all this makes him uncomfortable and historically Sherlock is very good at avoiding things that make him uncomfortable. It will take her a while to get used to this new Sherlock.
punchmeitssubtext: (We might all just be human.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-24 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
The wave is clearly an invitation, so he follows it, drawn towards her smile even though it's a diminished and shy version of itself. He manages a somewhat hesitant smile of his own as he reaches her--but somehow he's not at all hesitant about shifting his very long coattails around so he can sit next to her on the blanket.

"I know I'm interrupting," he says, a bit awkwardly. (No shit, Sherlock.) "But you weren't at the morgue, and... I suppose we were going to have to get round to this eventually anyway."
theonewhocounted: (Looking down)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-24 09:29 pm (UTC)(link)
She watches him elegantly fold himself onto the blanket next to her before looking down at the not-quite-finished pieces of her sandwich. It is a bit awkward and it's ridiculous that it is, but when do human emotions ever really make sense?

"You're never interrupting," she says, echoing words he'd said to her a couple weeks back when she'd found him at her kitchen counter working on a case. She looks back up at him. "I've been...meaning to tell you. But then I knew you already knew and I just...figured it would happen when it happened."

She shrugs and looks over to Mary's headstone. Molly wonders if her friend is out there watching over them, feeling amused at the awkwardness of them and also proud of Sherlock for being there.
punchmeitssubtext: (We might all just be human.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-25 01:53 am (UTC)(link)
He doesn't believe in ghosts, other than the sorts that people invent and carry around with them, but having known Mary Watson as a living breathing person it's easier than it ought to be to imagine her perching on the edge of her headstone watching them. It's as if she's at the very edge of his vision, leaning forward to grin at the two of them, a breath away from asking them to spill whatever story they're hiding.

"It's sort of funny," he says, before the silence between himself and Molly can grow into a chasm. "Up till now I thought this would be worse than the Aquarium. Because it's here and it won't change. But... it's not bad."

And the fact that he's not here alone with his memories helps more than he can begin to understand.
theonewhocounted: (pensive)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-25 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
Molly nods at his words and she realizes then that that's what been triggering his visits to her flat to hang on to her for dear life - the Aquarium. She'll never be able to go there again either, just knowing that's where Mary died. If she believed in ghosts, that's where she expects Mary would be. Although that thought devolves into a much sillier one of Mary scary getting her kicks out of scaring children on school trips and spooking the sharks.

A corner of her mouth upticks but she doesn't share the vision with Sherlock. He's too traumatized by the place still. She doesn't expect he's ready for that sort of dark humour her mind is good at.

"It's peaceful," she says about their current location instead. "I know there's nothing of her that really matters anymore that's still here, but it's a place to come and feel a bit closer to her anyway."

She doesn't really expect Sherlock to understand entirely, but that's okay.
punchmeitssubtext: (Connected.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-25 05:55 pm (UTC)(link)
A place free from any trauma except the actual, concrete fact of her death. It makes sense in the same way that things make sense in dreams, a logic that's entirely self-contained and not remotely scientifically measurable. If he tries to pick it apart the way he's used to, factually, it'll just lead him back into the tangle of his emotions anyway.

It is what it is, he thinks, and though it's still not easy to accept, he finds he can do it now.

"And it does give you a--" he gestures at the headstone-- "a sounding board. So to speak."

For the first time since the funeral, he reads the words below her name. Beloved wife and mother, cherished friend. He's not sure any other headstone in this cemetery can claim those words as fully as Mary.

"I suspected she was trying to work out how she could trick me into a lunch date with you," he adds, his mouth quirking briefly.
theonewhocounted: (mmhm)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-25 07:45 pm (UTC)(link)
Molly nods.

"That's a good way to put it," she agrees. She doesn't want to compare it to the skull on his (former) mantle that he uses to talk through theories with because that is macabre when you're talking about a friend of yours, but it is similar.

"Yeah?" Molly asks, raising an eyebrow as she looks over at him, a bit amused. "Sounds like Mary. She used to tell me not to give up on you."
punchmeitssubtext: (Musician.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-27 01:00 am (UTC)(link)
He can't help but chuckle quietly. "God. That makes it sound as if she was planning something. I mean--knowing Mary, she probably did have something in mind, but."

But not this, he thinks, and the thought brings a sudden heaviness with it. Not any of it. And for a moment he's almost glad she was spared everything that happened with his sister. It's difficult enough knowing John had to go through that... and Mycroft, even if his poor choices did sort of set the whole thing in motion.

"Can I ask you something?" he says, after a moment, fidgeting once the question is out of his mouth.
theonewhocounted: (mirror)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-27 01:11 am (UTC)(link)
"Yeah, probably," she says and it sounds a bit sad to her ears. "I have a feeling the first bit of it was getting both of us to be godparents."

She does smile then a little, looking at her friends' headstone and thinks what were you up to?

His question gets her attention again though and she focuses back on Sherlock. He looks nervous about what he's going to ask her and it immediately makes her nervous.

"Of course."
punchmeitssubtext: (Less than ideal.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-27 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
"You don't..." This is terrifically uncomfortable. It would, he knows, be worse if he were trying to articulate this to a stranger--yes, John's recommended therapy, but if that's anywhere in Sherlock's future it's years off yet. It's too difficult for him to trust anyone right now except the people he already knows love him, and even that isn't easy.

But it's because he trusts Molly that he persists.

"You don't find yourself thinking, do you, that--that maybe you'll turn out to have been wrong about everything? I know it's... not possible, and not rational, we both know too much about death to know otherwise, but..." He has to take a breath. "It's just. Sometimes I think, maybe it didn't happen at all. And for hours I can stay convinced, and then I'm reminded, and..."

And it's like I've had to watch her die all over again.
theonewhocounted: (Sees you)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-27 01:57 am (UTC)(link)
Molly moves her hand to cover his in comfort. She is well versed in this sort of irrational thinking. It does surprise her a little that Sherlock is capable of it as well. Grief does odd things to people.

"After my father died, I used to have thoughts that maybe he hadn't really died. Maybe he had faked his death to get away from my mum and he's off living a lovely little life in Australia or the States or Russia. That someday I would pass him on the street in my travels and he would be so happy."

The idea is appealing. Even if it meant that he abandoned his daughter, at least he would be alive. Anything for him to still be alive.

"I've had similar irrational thoughts with Mary. (She had been a spy after all. If anyone could fake her death it would be her.) It's normal."
punchmeitssubtext: (Foundering.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-27 02:09 am (UTC)(link)
His breath catches a little when her fingers settle over his, but he doesn't flinch. There's an odd pressure building behind his eyes, something that isn't quite a headache.

Sherlock turns his hand a bit, letting her fingers slot through his. Hanging on to her.

"I've texted her," he confesses, staring very hard at the headstone. "Most of the time I only get partway through before I remember, but... sometimes I don't."
theonewhocounted: (Neck)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-27 02:19 am (UTC)(link)
Molly hangs on to him in return.

"Grief can do weird things to our brain, to how we think," she says. "John used to text you, after..."

She looks down as the pain of those two years comes to the surface. Watching John struggling afterward. How he had shown up pleading with her to tell him it wasn't true. Lying to him had been the most difficult thing she'd ever done in her life. And to now have to watch him go through it again, knowing that, unlike Sherlock, Mary wasn't coming back, was like a terrible deja vu.

"It's alright."
punchmeitssubtext: (Foundering.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-27 02:36 am (UTC)(link)
He closes his eyes, and to his horror and shame heat prickles against the insides of his eyelids. Sherlock hates crying when he's not faking it--so much that he's tried not to do any of it sober for pretty much his entire adulthood.

And though it's terribly selfish, though he knows he doesn't deserve it, he grips her hand tighter.

Because now he thinks he can understand what faking his death did to John, emotionally, and that's been a guilt all its own that he doesn't know how to grapple with. Sometimes he can ignore it, or push it aside, but the knowledge keeps sneaking back up on him just like the reminders that one of the few people he thinks of as family is dead.

"It's not, though, is it?"
theonewhocounted: (pensive)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-27 02:45 am (UTC)(link)
It's too late to take back the bit about John once it's out. She realizes too late that it's another point of guilt for Sherlock and she doesn't mean to bring that back. Not when there's so much else to feel guilty about in the present.

She feels his hand tighten on hers and her other hand comes to cover them both where they sit on his leg. What she wants to do is put her arms around him and hang on tightly but she knows him being here, him talking about this is a delicate thing. She waits for his cues.

" it's not."

Not really. It's alright for him to grieve though, to want to believe she's still alive, to hang on to her. It's not been that long after all.

Tears prick at her own eyes and she can feel the tension in his own body, trying to hold in the dam.
punchmeitssubtext: (Foundering.)

[personal profile] punchmeitssubtext 2017-03-28 12:48 am (UTC)(link)
Her hand settles over his, and he's silently, deeply grateful for a moment--a gratitude that's cut a second later with shame. He's feeling far too much, right now (which has been a problem for most of his life, if he's honest with himself), and it's confusing and exhausting and terrifying.

At the same time Sherlock wishes he'd never had to fake his own death, he's still strangely proud of having done it. And at the same time he wishes the bullet meant for him had actually gone through his heart instead of Mary's, he's glad to be alive, glad he's with Molly. It doesn't make sense, that all these thoughts and wants can exist inside him at the same time, but they're all crowded into his head with everything else and he can't just pretend to detach himself from them anymore.

"And you can never go back from it," he says, his voice strangely soft and hoarse. "There isn't a way to make it right, to undo any of it. It's something that you know is wrong with the world around you, something you should be able to solve, but you can't--"

That last word splinters, almost imperceptibly, at the end, and he has to stop. Thus far she hasn't judged him harshly for the times he's allowed himself to be vulnerable with her, including right now, but he's still reflexively afraid of letting other people see him in genuine pain. Even people he loves. Especially people he loves.
theonewhocounted: (pensive)

[personal profile] theonewhocounted 2017-03-28 01:04 am (UTC)(link)
If anything, Molly is relieved that he is finally talking to her about it.

"Things don't 'happen for a reason'," she says quietly, not in a bitter way but in a matter-of-fact way. "They just happen. You can't solve it."

Molly's heart aches for him. Her and John are grieving but Sherlock is ripping his heart out. A heart he's only very recently started to admit is even there and feels things. He feels so much. Maybe too much even. She always suspected that was part of why he pushed people and emotions away.

"The most you can do is learn how to live with it and know that Mary wouldn't blame you. She would want you to live enough life for her too. She would want that for all of us."

Molly's hand moves away to wipe the tears that have fallen down her cheeks. They could grieve, but they couldn't feel guilty about their happiness forever. It was no way to live.

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