Just a quick little RP I had with someone on Omegle that I lost contact with. I was Molly. I would like to continue this, but I don't have anyone to play Lestrade, so... :/

Let's Take A Walk

"...Can I go now?" Molly asked softly.

Greg looked at her with sadness in his eyes. "Oh. Yeah, I think we've got it from here. Thanks for your input."

Molly avoided his gaze and barely got a "thank you, Detective Inspector" out before hurrying to the door, tears slowly falling down her face.

Lestrade sighed as he watched her leave. She was so sweet, and it crushed him to know he had made her cry.

Clenching her fists and biting down on her bottom lip, Molly tried to keep the tears at bay, but they just couldn't seem to stop. How could she have been so clueless? Was every man who took interest in her only using her as a means to an end?

Greg stood there for about ten minutes before he could remember what he had come to do. When he did, it only made him feel more depressed. His wife... she meant almost nothing to him any more, but poor, sweet Molly.. It hurt him to know he would be leaving her. But if she didn't want him, his work was done.

Sherlock. Jim. Now even Lestrade. Maybe she should try John out, too. They were the only relatively constant men in her life, and they never seem to want Molly for her.

Greg flagged down a cab and climbed in—his mind numb. He hoped his wife wasn't there. He needed to think.

Molly walked home—not in the mood to deal with a stranger's company—hoping the cool night air would calm her down. She had a lot of things to consider. Molly Hooper didn't have a lot of options in life, but she knew that, if needed, continuing to work at Bart's was not one of them...

When Lestrade arrived home, he gave the driver his tip and stumbled up the stairs before collapsing onto a chair. He didn't know what to do. He had hoped that Molly would at least show a little more concern, but had instead found himself once again let down. Did she even care? Did anyone? Did he? Did it even matter to him? Or maybe her? He tried to think but one young lady kept resurfacing. He was so confused.

"When did life get so complicated? I miss being simple, little Molly Hooper..." she whispered to herself. Checking the time at her watch, Molly began to figure out how long it would take her to get home. The troublesome thing about leaving in a huff is that one's actions are not always thought out properly. She didn't want to get caught in a bad neighborhood after dark.

Greg gave up on trying to expel his thoughts about Molly Hooper, and thought about their encounter earlier. What did he do wrong? Everything, obviously. He kept seeing her in his mind as she walked out the door crying. Then he realized that she had walked off. She never got into a cab—no one was there to pick her up. Had she walked home? He had a general idea of where Molly lived, and it wasn't the best of neighborhoods. He threw on his jacket and ran out the door.

Molly knew that when you're a woman in unfamiliar territory, you should walk confidently so not to attract negative attention, but how could she feel so confident when... Her mother said that it was best to ignore feelings like this; she should just push them away and get on with her life.

Greg ran out onto the street, quickly contemplating whether or not he should take a cab, but decided against it. He didn't know quite where she was (he barely knew where he was) and didn't want to risk overlooking her. As if that could happen. Lestrade abandoned all dignity as he rushed down the street. He stumbled over the curb and fell, getting long grass stains on the knees of his nice pants.

She left at 4:30; she'd been walking for twenty minutes, and she was no where near home.

Greg was just turning the corner when he saw her. Good, she was safe. He slowed his pace to a fast walk and headed over to her.

Molly tensed when she heard someone approaching her. Reaching for her purse, she shoved a hand into it, looking for something to use as a weapon: keys, nail file—anything. Turning around swiftly, she pressed a hand to her chest in shock when she saw it was just Lestrade. "Oh, goodness, Detective Lestrade! You scared me so badly!"

He stopped abruptly and stepped back. "Sorry." He was still red in the face and puffing. God, this was embarrassing. "I just came to check on you..."

Eyes wide in surprise and mouth gaping a little, Molly flushed a bit at his concern. "Oh, well, you didn't have to do that. I'm almost home..."

Thoroughly embarrassed, Lestrade managed a: "So sorry. I just-well, see you later, I guess." Greg turned to go, disheartened and embarrassed. He didn't even get the chance to escort her home like a gentleman; instead he was walking away in a somewhat ruffled state, without chance to redeem himself. He'd had a chance and ruined it. Again. She always made him nervous..

God, why did she say that? Molly had at least another half hour's worth of walking to do, and a nail file was not going to cut protecting herself if she did get hassled by anybody. Torn between calling out to him and continuing on her own, Molly surprised herself by squeaking out a: "If you want, erm, you could come over for tea... or something..."

Could she be giving him another chance? 'Oh Molly', he thought, 'you've saved me again.' He straightened his jacket and gave a faint smile. "That..would be lovely." He considers offering his arm to her but decides that would be silly and too expecting of him. It was enough to be with her.

Flushing a bit more, Molly stuttered out: "I, um, may have fibbed a bit when I say I was almost home. It will take at least another 30 minutes to get there from here... I hope you don't mind."

Actually, he was quite pleased. More walking time. That was always welcome. "Not at all. It's nice out tonight anyway."

Molly gave him a brief smile, forgetting about why she had ran out of the room crying. "I thought the night air would do me some good."

"It's..relaxing. Listen. are you okay?" 'AUGH, idiot', he thought to himself, 'of course she isn't okay. I was such a jerk—she's been crying—and on top of that, I've just startled her and brought it all up again.' Greg wondered how one person can be so stupid, and why it had to be him.

"I'm... I'm ok, really," she said with a halfhearted smile. Molly wasn't quite sure if this was a discussion she wanted to have again with the detective. Greg. His name is Greg. Why didn't she just call him that? Was this formality really necessary considering...

"Okay." He glanced at her and then continued to walk on in silence. Why couldn't he think of anything to say? He only ever thinks about her, about him being with her, and when opportunity struck, his mind was void of thought.

"I hope my place isn't too far away from yours; I would hate for you to pay a heavy cab fee for just a cup of tea!" Molly murmured, biting her lip. Spending time with her wasn't worth the amount of a five-minute taxi drive let alone a 30 minute to a full hour trip.

"Oh, it's not a problem at all. I don't live too far from where I met you.." 'Just for a cup of tea', she had said. 'Oh, how wrong you are", he thought. The truth was, he lived about a kilometer or so from where he had first spotted her, and in his rush he had forgotten to bring along his wallet. It was well worth it though. He smiled faintly. This was good, very good.

"Oh, alright then." She was still a bit unsure about how she felt about this; their argument from before was still unfinished, and... But that didn't matter right now. Maybe things would turn out differently. Giving him a shy smile, she said, "I hope you won't find my company too boring. I'm not used to talking; my companions are a bit on the silent side..." She bit her lip, hoping the detective wouldn't find her joke stupid or creepy. She had an odd sense of humor; not many people understood it...

Lestrade smiled. She was so perfect.