Work Text:
“Miss Hooper, be patient for just a little while,” Sherlock explained, stepping over to where she stood. “I’ve been told the soldiers are on their way.”
Her brown eyes went wide.
She’d picked quite a day to call on Mrs. Holmes. Of course this had to be the moment that angry mobs decided to swarm the Holmes’ courtyard because of the claims of Sherlock Holmes being a liar and a fraud. It was all insanity to her, and shouldn’t ever have got this far. He had his faults, oh yes. But he was no fraud. In fact, she’d lately begun to see a bit of his good side. It was those recent glimpses at his heart that now motivated her to help him see reason.
“Mr. Holmes, surely you don’t wish for this to end in violence. These people are being fed lies and that is why they believe you to be a fraud. They are as much victims as you are, and they deserve to know the truth!”
She paused, glancing down at the noisy crowds before meeting his gaze again.
“Go and speak to them,” she more commanded than suggested. “Make them see the truth. Make them see who you really are…the man I see so clearly.”
Something shifted in his eyes, and it was as if she could feel the trust he put in her words and advice. Ironically, it was at the very same moment that he left her side and marched out to the balcony to face those people, that Molly glanced back out the window and observed one of them picking up a rock.
Her heart raced, realizing the level of danger she’d just urged him to face. Suddenly, she couldn’t bear the thought of him facing it alone, hurrying after him onto the balcony.
“For God’s sake, think about what you’re doing!” Molly called out, pushing in front of him. “No matter what you believe, he is still just one man and you are many. Go in peace before the soldiers come!”
“Have you been lying to everyone?!” a voice in the crowd screamed.
Sherlock hesitated a split second before replying in a less diplomatic tone than Molly would have hoped for.
“I need not answer to any of you!”
The people below erupted in a fresh roar of anger.
“Miss Hooper, go back inside!” he pleaded.
“No!” She stayed put, keeping herself between him and the crowds below, attempting to but barely providing an adequate shield. “They will not want to hurt a woman!”
They struggled for a desperate moment, Sherlock trying to turn her back towards the doors as Molly stubbornly threw her little arms around his neck to stay in place. It was all a bit of a blur, till suddenly something came rushing at them…and then she fell.
Silence instantly took hold of all as Sherlock bent slowly, examining Miss Hooper where she lay. His fingers brushed a bit of chestnut hair off her face, revealing the slightly bloody mark made by the rock which had been thrown. Rage welled up in him, boiling till it forced him to stand and poured out of his mouth.
“Are you satisfied?!” he yelled, stepping forward towards the railing and stretching his arms wide in offering at the now horrified crowd. “If you came to kill me, here I am!”
That was when all heard the whistle of the soldiers and chaos erupted.
Seeing the opportunity to withdraw, Sherlock bent down again, lifting Molly from the stone and into his arms. He carried her inside, laying her on a chaise sofa and leaning over intently, still examining the wound at her temple and praying that it wasn’t serious. He brushed her face with his fingers just once more, before his mother and a servant came in the room and he stood to leave.
He had to go, had to speak to the soldiers and see that things were properly settled. For now at least. On his way out Sherlock gave orders for Dr. Watson to be called for Miss Hooper, trusting that he would accurately determine the seriousness of the wound.
He also knew, as he hurried from his home, that he’d have to see Miss Hooper again, and very soon. He’d have to go and speak to her, more honestly now than he ever had before. Sherlock never believed such a woman could care for him, and even then he still couldn’t believe it. He didn’t deserve her, surely. But he could be silent no longer, especially after all he’d seen- and felt- that day.
Whatever Miss Hooper’s answer would be, Sherlock knew he must ask.