On the First Day of Sherlockmas... "Waiting For the End", a gift for porpoise_song.
Author: ?
Title: Waiting for the End
A gift for: porpoise_song
Characters/Pairing: Molly/Lestrade
Category: Het
Rating: PG
Warnings: No warnings apply.
Summary: "This was the last chapter, and in the last chapter things always happened violently. Perhaps all life was like that -- dull and then a heroic flurry at the end."
Author's Notes: Merry Solstice, and whatnot!
Molly set down her book. It had been horribly disappointing in the end, with an over-the-top buildup. A gory, bloody unsatisfying resolution to a poorly written “novel”. Just as well, at least she had filled a little of her time, rather than checking her mobile every five minutes, waiting for a text or a call.
She stared out the frosted window and pulled her afghan up to her shoulders. She wished she could say otherwise, but it was definitely Greg’s fault for volunteering to work Christmas Eve. Ah well. It wasn’t as though he had any great obligation to her. They had only been dating for five months. But what a magical five months, maybe the best in Molly’s life! The look in Greg’s eyes when she would wake up to find him watching her said that it was the same for him.
Midnight. At midnight, he would be all hers again. For 36 hours, he wouldn’t belong to London, but to her. Safe in her arms, she would keep him.
At half past one, Molly woke up. She blinked her eyes clear and checked the time on her phone. She didn’t have any messages and Greg should have been home an hour ago.
She called his mobile, frustrated. Greg’s voice sprang up immediately, politely asking her to leave a message.
“Hi…it’s Molly. I thought you’d be home after twelve, and I’m a bit worried.” She wouldn’t tell him that she was angry. That would spoil things. “So, please call or text me to let me know you’re fine and when you’ll be home. Bye.”
Molly put her phone away and curled up with Greg’s pillow. It was okay. He lost track of the time, burying himself in his never-ending stack of paperwork as usual. It was the price of dating a detective inspector who loved his work. It was a very fair price to have someone she loved, who checked up on her and slept in her bed. He was worth the waiting.
At 3 am, Molly’s phone rang, shrilly interrupting the silence. She answered, half-groggy.
“Hey, babe, I’m sorry. We finally caught up to that jewel thief and his 12 accomplices. Took forever to get them all printed and processed. It was a nightmare. I’ll be home in 15 minutes…”
Molly cleared her throat. “Did you get my message?”
A brief silence. “Yeah, I did, just now…why I’m calling. I’m sorry. I just didn’t have a second to stop. But I’m coming home now.”
“Okay,” said Molly. “I’m in bed, just come home.”
“Be right there.” He rang off. Molly turned over and fell back to sleep.
The phone rang again about half an hour later and Molly knocked her mobile onto the floor trying to answer it. She reached out to into the cold with one arm to fumble for her phone. She barely managed to get to it before the voicemail picked up. The number was unfamiliar to her.
“Miss Hooper, it’s Sergeant Donovan. I don’t want you to panic, okay?”
Molly’s chest tightened. “O-okay. What’s wrong?”
“Inspector Lestrade is in the hospital, but he will be all right,” said Sally.
Molly rolled out of bed and pulled off her pyjama bottoms, trying as fast as she could to get dressed. “Oh, God, what happened? What happened?” she whispered into the phone.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Sally said, “He was shot.”
Molly stopped breathing, stopped thinking. She mechanically dressed herself and left her flat, managing to find out from Sally that Greg was at Charing Cross. She took a taxi, staring at her phone the entire time, as if Greg was going to call or text her. The drive there was exceptionally long, even though there was no traffic. 4 am on Christmas morning, and she should have been in bed, like everyone else.
Molly went to the reception and barely held herself together enough to ask the nurse where Greg was. The nurse, dressed in festive scrubs, smiled compassionately and looked up the information.
A furrow crossed the woman’s brow. “Come with me, Miss. Are you family?” She began to lead Molly down the corridor.
Molly shook her head. “N-no. I’m…I’m his girlfriend. But please…please, I have to see him.”
“No, don’t worry, you can still see him. He was very, very lucky, you see.”
They stopped at an open door in the middle of a dozen other doors. “Go ahead,” said the nurse. “You can stay as long as you like for tonight.”
“Thank you,” said Molly, breathlessly. She steeled herself for whatever she was about to see as she walked into the softly lit room. “Greg?” she said quietly.
Greg was sleeping. Molly approached him, searching for the bandages that would give away the position of his injury. She had to pull down his covers to find them, but she sighed in relief in seeing the bandage wound around his lower leg. Molly looked back to his serene face. She stroked his hair back. Finally, she pulled a chair next to his bed and laid her head against his arm.
A movement that felt to Molly’s drowsy head like an earthquake woke her. About 10 seconds into her confusion, she realised that Greg had moved his arm and she had been subsequently shifted. She must have grunted something awfully un-feminine because Greg was laughing. Her cheeks pinking, Molly sat herself up straight, hissing at the soreness of her back. Greg was watching her wake up, as he almost always did.
“Hey, Molls,” he said.
Molly stared into his eyes, relieved. “What happened?” she asked.
“As it turns out, there was one person in the band of thieves that we didn’t manage to get. Gang leader’s son was pissed about me arresting his little family. Lucky for me, he is 18 and a terrible shot,” said Greg. “I’m sorry to worry you, and doubly sorry that we’re spending our Christmas in Charing Cross…I’ll make it up to you though. I’ll be sure to get a week off for my injury.”
Molly smiled softly. “I’m just so glad that you’re okay, love. Try to get some sleep. In the morning, we’ll make plans for our week together.” She kissed him chastely before climbing into bed on his good side and wrapping her arms around him. Greg kissed her cheek and watched her fall asleep.
Title: Waiting for the End
A gift for: porpoise_song
Characters/Pairing: Molly/Lestrade
Category: Het
Rating: PG
Warnings: No warnings apply.
Summary: "This was the last chapter, and in the last chapter things always happened violently. Perhaps all life was like that -- dull and then a heroic flurry at the end."
Author's Notes: Merry Solstice, and whatnot!
Molly set down her book. It had been horribly disappointing in the end, with an over-the-top buildup. A gory, bloody unsatisfying resolution to a poorly written “novel”. Just as well, at least she had filled a little of her time, rather than checking her mobile every five minutes, waiting for a text or a call.
She stared out the frosted window and pulled her afghan up to her shoulders. She wished she could say otherwise, but it was definitely Greg’s fault for volunteering to work Christmas Eve. Ah well. It wasn’t as though he had any great obligation to her. They had only been dating for five months. But what a magical five months, maybe the best in Molly’s life! The look in Greg’s eyes when she would wake up to find him watching her said that it was the same for him.
Midnight. At midnight, he would be all hers again. For 36 hours, he wouldn’t belong to London, but to her. Safe in her arms, she would keep him.
At half past one, Molly woke up. She blinked her eyes clear and checked the time on her phone. She didn’t have any messages and Greg should have been home an hour ago.
She called his mobile, frustrated. Greg’s voice sprang up immediately, politely asking her to leave a message.
“Hi…it’s Molly. I thought you’d be home after twelve, and I’m a bit worried.” She wouldn’t tell him that she was angry. That would spoil things. “So, please call or text me to let me know you’re fine and when you’ll be home. Bye.”
Molly put her phone away and curled up with Greg’s pillow. It was okay. He lost track of the time, burying himself in his never-ending stack of paperwork as usual. It was the price of dating a detective inspector who loved his work. It was a very fair price to have someone she loved, who checked up on her and slept in her bed. He was worth the waiting.
At 3 am, Molly’s phone rang, shrilly interrupting the silence. She answered, half-groggy.
“Hey, babe, I’m sorry. We finally caught up to that jewel thief and his 12 accomplices. Took forever to get them all printed and processed. It was a nightmare. I’ll be home in 15 minutes…”
Molly cleared her throat. “Did you get my message?”
A brief silence. “Yeah, I did, just now…why I’m calling. I’m sorry. I just didn’t have a second to stop. But I’m coming home now.”
“Okay,” said Molly. “I’m in bed, just come home.”
“Be right there.” He rang off. Molly turned over and fell back to sleep.
The phone rang again about half an hour later and Molly knocked her mobile onto the floor trying to answer it. She reached out to into the cold with one arm to fumble for her phone. She barely managed to get to it before the voicemail picked up. The number was unfamiliar to her.
“Miss Hooper, it’s Sergeant Donovan. I don’t want you to panic, okay?”
Molly’s chest tightened. “O-okay. What’s wrong?”
“Inspector Lestrade is in the hospital, but he will be all right,” said Sally.
Molly rolled out of bed and pulled off her pyjama bottoms, trying as fast as she could to get dressed. “Oh, God, what happened? What happened?” she whispered into the phone.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, then Sally said, “He was shot.”
Molly stopped breathing, stopped thinking. She mechanically dressed herself and left her flat, managing to find out from Sally that Greg was at Charing Cross. She took a taxi, staring at her phone the entire time, as if Greg was going to call or text her. The drive there was exceptionally long, even though there was no traffic. 4 am on Christmas morning, and she should have been in bed, like everyone else.
Molly went to the reception and barely held herself together enough to ask the nurse where Greg was. The nurse, dressed in festive scrubs, smiled compassionately and looked up the information.
A furrow crossed the woman’s brow. “Come with me, Miss. Are you family?” She began to lead Molly down the corridor.
Molly shook her head. “N-no. I’m…I’m his girlfriend. But please…please, I have to see him.”
“No, don’t worry, you can still see him. He was very, very lucky, you see.”
They stopped at an open door in the middle of a dozen other doors. “Go ahead,” said the nurse. “You can stay as long as you like for tonight.”
“Thank you,” said Molly, breathlessly. She steeled herself for whatever she was about to see as she walked into the softly lit room. “Greg?” she said quietly.
Greg was sleeping. Molly approached him, searching for the bandages that would give away the position of his injury. She had to pull down his covers to find them, but she sighed in relief in seeing the bandage wound around his lower leg. Molly looked back to his serene face. She stroked his hair back. Finally, she pulled a chair next to his bed and laid her head against his arm.
A movement that felt to Molly’s drowsy head like an earthquake woke her. About 10 seconds into her confusion, she realised that Greg had moved his arm and she had been subsequently shifted. She must have grunted something awfully un-feminine because Greg was laughing. Her cheeks pinking, Molly sat herself up straight, hissing at the soreness of her back. Greg was watching her wake up, as he almost always did.
“Hey, Molls,” he said.
Molly stared into his eyes, relieved. “What happened?” she asked.
“As it turns out, there was one person in the band of thieves that we didn’t manage to get. Gang leader’s son was pissed about me arresting his little family. Lucky for me, he is 18 and a terrible shot,” said Greg. “I’m sorry to worry you, and doubly sorry that we’re spending our Christmas in Charing Cross…I’ll make it up to you though. I’ll be sure to get a week off for my injury.”
Molly smiled softly. “I’m just so glad that you’re okay, love. Try to get some sleep. In the morning, we’ll make plans for our week together.” She kissed him chastely before climbing into bed on his good side and wrapping her arms around him. Greg kissed her cheek and watched her fall asleep.