Molly, Only Molly (Sherlolly)

Chapter Three

I knock loudly on the door of my parent's flat, yawning. "Come in!" Mum's voice calls from inside. I open the door and step in, kicking my flats off at the front. It makes me nostalgic, coming back here and seeing my old home. I spent all of my life here.

"Hi Mum." I walk into the kitchen.

"Molly! How's my girl?" She rushes towards me and squeezes me in a giant hug. 

I laugh and hug her back. "I'm alright."

She holds me at arm's length and studies my face, her hazel eyes boring into mine. "You don't like the new job? You know, if you ever want to quit and work somewhere else..."

I shake my head violently. "No, no. Just-" how can I tell her this? Mum, there's a man that keeps coming in to study the bodies? He says he's a detective and I really don't like him but at the same time I'm really attracted to him? I'd end up sounding like a psychopath.

"Well, come and sit down!" She gives me a shove to our worn in sofa and I drop down onto it. It smells familiar and comforting. "What's for dinner?"

"Mashed potatoes and chicken. Does that sound alright to you?" She sits down beside me.

"That sounds great." I tuck my feet underneath me. "How have you and Dad been?" I ask.

"Good. It's lonely here without you, I'll give you that. But we've got Tibby." Tibby is my cat, a light grey Scottish Fold who spends most of her life sleeping.

I smile. "I wish I could have taken her with me." She couldn't stay at my flat with me as I would have been away all day, so Mum takes care of her.

"Where is Dad anyway?"

"He had to work late," Mum sits up and walks to the kitchen. I follow her. She hands me a glass of water. 

"Is he going to retire soon?" I take a sip of the cold water.

"I don't know. I've brought it up with him, but he doesn't like talking about it." Mum puts her hair behind her ears. It's the same caramel brown as mine, but hers is mostly grey now.

"It drains him." I tap my finger against the glass. Mum sighs. 

"I know, but he loves it." She smiles brightly. "So, new job? Are you liking it so far? Met anyone special?"

My thoughts drift to Sherlock. "The job is good. I've met people..." I trail off, biting my lip. "But no one special."

She raises her eyebrows at me. "Sure?" A potato masher is placed in my hands, and I go to work. Just as the food is being set on the table, the door opens. 

I run to the entry way. "Dad!"

"Molly, sweetheart!" He wraps me in a warm hug. "Home isn't the same without you." His eyes look tired and his face strained, but he puts a smile on for me.

"How are you?" I ask him as we walk to the table. He sets his worn leather briefcase on the carpeted floor. 

"Good." He looks far away. I catch Mum's eye across the table and we share a worried glance.

But when we start to eat, everything is just the same as it was before. Mum and Dad are talkative and happy, and I allow myself to be swept up in that happiness. But there's still those annoying thoughts nagging at the back of my mind.

Is Dad alright? And then there's the matter of that strange antisocial man, Sherlock Holmes? Will I see him tomorrow? It's true, I'm interested in him. I want to know more about this consulting detective.