A/N: This is a teenlock story but you'll have to bear with me - I don't know the British school system from the inside, so Sherlock and the others are in high school. The focus here isn't really on school, so I hope it isn't too much of an issue.
Disclaimer: Not mine, it all belongs to the BBC.
I can't believe I did that! I'm such a klutz! Sherlock must absolutely hate me… Thank God he didn't lose any of those lovely black curls. "Sherlock, I want to say I'm sorry again for-" Molly Hooper started to say.
"Don't worry about it, Molly," Sherlock Holmes muttered. "The nurse said they'll grow back in a couple of months. It'll just look like I overdid it with the tweezers until then." Seeing Molly start to cry, again, Sherlock stooped to give her an awkward hug. "I'll be fine, I promise," he said, trying to sound more cheerful. They continued walking to the cafeteria then got in line for the school lunch.
Sherlock and Molly were best friends, though Sherlock would only admit it very reluctantly. He was an eighteen-year-old senior and would have been at the top of his class if it weren't for the fact that he tended to skip assignments that he considered boring. Sherlock was tall, already six feet, and lanky, which made him seem taller. He favored black or dark blue jeans, button-down dress shirts in various colors, black trainers, and a black pea coat – he was saving money to buy himself a Belstaff.
Molly was a couple months short of sixteen and also a senior, having skipped two grades in elementary school. She was at the top of their class, though she didn't like to talk about it. Molly was petite with long brown hair that she almost always wore in a ponytail and large brown eyes. She favored jumpers that she called "colorful" and Sherlock called "eye-searing," faded blue jeans or knee-length skirts, and ballet flats.
"What are you doing this weekend?" Sherlock asked casually, trying not to sound too interested.
"Studying," Molly said, smiling weakly. "Boring, I know, but exams are next week. What about you?"
"Mum and Dad are threatening to take us to The Phantom of the Opera on Sunday." He winced at the mere thought.
Molly's whole face lit up. "Oh, I love Phantom! The music is so lovely and you can see how much Erik really loves Christine and the costumes are so detailed and…"
Sherlock bit back his "he's a homicidal maniac" retort, mesmerized by how animated Molly became as she talked about her favorite musical. She's so quiet most of the time. Like a mouse. No, that's not right. She's too pretty to be a mouse. Like a wallflower.
They picked their lunches (cheese pizza and ice cream for Sherlock, a plain hotdog on a bun and fruit for Molly, French fries for both) and carried their trays to their usual table in the back of the cafeteria, near the vending machines. They sat down next to each other, as always. Sherlock thought of Molly Hooper's profile as one of the best things about school.
Molly drizzled ketchup all over her fries and started eating them while she talked about the musical's lyrics. Meanwhile, Sherlock dipped his fries in his chocolate ice cream before he ate them. Molly made a face at him and Sherlock just smirked.
"Don't knock it until you've tried it, Molly."
"Hi, guys," Sherlock's other best friend John Watson said as he approached them, interrupting Molly's one-sided discussion of the musical's themes. John was the same age as Sherlock, on the short side though he insisted he was average height, with short blond hair and dark blue eyes. He took one look at Sherlock and burst out laughing. "What the hell happened to your eyebrows?" He sat down across from Sherlock and opened his brown paper bag, pulling out a ham and cheese sandwich and an apple.
Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "There was an accident in the lab, if you must know."
"It was all my fault," Molly said forlornly.
"What was your fault?" John's girlfriend Mary Morstan asked as she came over, carrying her vintage Star Trek lunchbox. Mary was eighteen and a senior, with short curly blonde hair and light blue eyes. Mary and Molly were best friends. Mary had taken the younger girl under her wing when they were juniors. She sat down next to John then kissed his cheek and looked at Sherlock, smiling a bit. "Interesting look, Sherlock." She pulled out her cucumber sandwich on her own homemade bread.
"Can we please get off the subject of my missing eyebrows?" Sherlock asked irritably. He was blushing now, much to his annoyance. Stupid fair skin.
John smirked. "I dunno, mate, I'm tempted to take a photo and send it to Mycroft."
"Do it and I'll tell Mary exactly what's on your laptop."
Sherlock had deepened his voice to sound more threatening, but to Molly, it sounded like black velvet. He certainly puts the Phantom to shame. It was all she could do to keep from sighing dreamily.
Mary noticed the dreamy look on her friend's face and gave her boyfriend a knowing look. John just rolled his eyes. His friends' lovelives didn't interest him nearly as much as his own.
"Are we still on for Friday, Mary?" he asked hopefully.
"Yes, but this time, I pick the movie," Mary said, smiling a bit. "A girl can only take so many car chases and explosions."
"What are we seeing, then?"
"The arthouse cinema is doing a Shakespeare festival – Much Ado About Nothing, Hamlet, Coriolanus-" She was cut off by both boys snickering. Mary rolled her eyes. "Boys."
"I love Much Ado," Molly said, smiling happily. "Is it Branagh's or Whedon's?"
"Both – the people putting on the festival want to settle the debate over whose is better."
"Branagh's," Molly said at the same time Sherlock said, "Whedon's."
Molly stared at the boy she'd been in love with for over a year. "You think Whedon's is better? I didn't even know you liked Shakespeare movies."
Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly. "Branagh's is good but the landscape and the costumes distract from the dialogue. By making the movie black-and-white and setting it in modern times, Whedon makes you pay attention to what everyone's actually saying."
"Sherlock Holmes, film critic," John said, amused.
Molly had just taken her first bite of her hotdog when Jim Moriarty's voice carried across the cafeteria. "Oi, Hooper, practicing for your next date?"
Sherlock was out of his chair and halfway to Jim before the seventeen-year-old junior had finished speaking. John and Mary scrambled after Sherlock but weren't fast enough to prevent him from punching Jim in the nose. Moriarty folded like a house of cards, both hands covering his nose, blood dripping through his fingers. Sherlock had absolute murder in his eyes. John and Mary managed to pull him away before he did any more harm to the kid he considered his archenemy. Molly saw the whole thing from her seat, too mortified and shocked to move. One of the lunchroom monitors rounded up everyone, including Molly, and ordered Moriarty to report to the school nurse and the rest to report to Vice Principal Donovan's office.
"Alright," Vice Principal Sally Donovan said when the four were seated in front of her, "tell me what happened, one at a time."
All four of them spoke at once.
"Moriarty insulted Molly!" Sherlock still looked like he wanted to murder Moriarty.
"Jim was being really gross, Sherlock taught him a lesson." Mary gave the vice-principal a challenging look.
"Moriarty should know better than to say anything to Molly." John looked almost as angry as Sherlock.
"He … he said … then Sherlock, he…" For the third time that day, Molly started to cry, burying her face in her hands.
Sherlock immediately knelt beside her chair, saying softly, "It's alright, Molly. Moriarty just likes to shoot off his mouth, don't pay any attention to him." He gave her his handkerchief and put a reassuring hand on her knee.
"Sherlock Holmes, save your PDA for off-campus," Donovan said firmly. "When you're in school, I expect you and your girlfriend to behave."
Four pairs of eyes stared at her. Sherlock said crossly, "She's not my girlfriend."
Three pairs of eyes stared at him. Molly's eyes were wide and immensely sad. Is he really that disgusted by the idea of dating me?
Sherlock felt like a complete heel. God, Molly, don't look at me like that… "I, um, didn't mean it that way."
Mary turned back to the vice-principal. "Ms. Donovan, Sherlock was just defending Molly. Jim's the only one who should be in trouble."
"I'll decide who's in trouble, Miss Morstan," Donovan said firmly. She assessed the four teenagers for a moment. "Mr. Holmes, I'm giving you one day of out-of-school suspension, which you will take tomorrow. You will need to collect the day's assignments from your instructors. I will inform your parents of what's happened."
Sherlock was about to protest but one look from Donovan made him hold his tongue. She looked at the other three. "Miss Morstan, Miss Hooper, Mr. Watson, there will be no punishment for you. However, I think you should reconsider your friendship with this one. You don't want to end up tainted by association."
"Ladies, Mr. Watson, you can go to your next class now," said a male voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to see Principal Lestrade standing there. "Ms. Donovan, I'd like a word with Mr. Holmes."
"You heard him," Donovan said.
Molly, Mary, and John reluctantly got up and left, Molly looking back at Sherlock sadly before she left the room.
"My office, now," Lestrade said firmly.
Sherlock got up and followed the principal into his office. Lestrade closed the door then turned to him.
"Have a seat, Sherlock." His tone was much friendlier. Lestrade sat on the edge of the desk.
Sherlock slumped into one of the chairs. "Moriarty started it," he said sullenly.
"That doesn't mean you have to finish it." Lestrade ran a frustrated hand through his silver hair. "This is the second time in as many months, Sherlock. You can't let that kid get to you."
"I don't," Sherlock protested, "not when he's talking about me. But when he says something nasty about Molly…" He trailed off helplessly.
"Look, Sherlock, I know being in love for the first time is hard-"
"Why does everyone insist that I'm in love with Molly Hooper?" he asked petulantly.
Lestrade chuckled. "Alright, you're not in love with her. She's just a friend. A very good friend, someone you're willing to get into a fistfight for whenever anybody makes an off-color remark about her."
"Yes! Finally, someone gets it."
"Just try not to get in any more fights, alright? I want to see you graduate on-time and start living up to your massive potential."
"What about Moriarty? Isn't he going to be punished?"
"He'll get a week of in-school suspension and an anti-harassment lecture." Lestrade sighed quietly. "That kid is a bad apple and I don't want to see him bring you down too."
"As long as he stays away from Molly, I don't care what he does."
"Good." Lestrade smiled a bit. "Now run along. I don't want you to miss the rest of your next class."
"Yes, sir."
Sherlock hurried to classroom 221B, Mrs. Hudson's English class. She was in the middle of a lecture about the book they were currently studying, Pride and Prejudice. She just waved him in and he sat down in his assigned seat in front of Molly. Mrs. Hudson continued talking about how important reputations were in the Nineteenth Century and compared that to reputations today.
Sherlock ignored her. His focus instead was on Molly's perfume. Vanilla and sugar. Sweet, but Molly's sweeter. The principal's and vice principal's words came back to him. Molly's not my girlfriend and I'm definitely not in love with her.
By the time school was over for the day, Sherlock was in a definite funk. He, John, Mary, and Molly were walking home together as they always did when the petrol tank of John's car was low and none of them could afford to fill it. Sherlock and John were in front and the girls followed them. Mary and Molly were discussing Pride and Prejudice.
"I'm definitely Lizzy Bennet," Mary said. "Mischievous, witty, all of that." She grinned, showing off her dimples.
"Well, I'm Mary Bennet," Molly said quietly.
"Jane," Sherlock said firmly.
Both girls looked at him. "What?" Molly asked.
Sherlock turned to face her, walking backwards. "You're not a boring little nobody, Molly. You're just like Jane – you've got a big heart and you always see the good in people." He suddenly tripped on an uneven square of pavement and fell on his butt, wincing.
Molly immediately went to him. "Sherlock, are you hurt?"
John helped him up. "Nothing's wounded except his personality."
Sherlock muttered, "Very funny."
"So, you think Molly's like Jane Bennet?" Mary grinned knowingly. "Isn't Jane considered the prettiest girl in Hertfordshire?"
Both Sherlock and Molly blushed. "Looks don't matter," Sherlock said firmly. "All that matters are someone's heart and brain. Both of Molly's are good."
Molly couldn't help smiling happily. Mary gave John another knowing look. John just sighed.
After seeing Mary to her townhouse and John to his apartment building, Sherlock walked alongside Molly as they made their way to her apartment building. Sherlock's townhouse was closer but there was no way Sherlock was going to let Molly walk home alone, even partway.
"How's your dad?" he asked.
"He's good," Molly said. "He just got a raise at work, now he wants to have the kitchen remodeled. What about your parents?"
"They're fine. They're going to Oklahoma again after Easter." He rolled his eyes. "I don't know what it is they like about line-dancing. The steps are idiotic and the music is inane."
Molly laughed softly, a sound Sherlock preferred. "Oh, I don't know, some of it's sweet. 'You be my glass of wine, I'll be your shot of whiskey.'"
Sherlock couldn't help smiling. "You be my Elizabeth Bennet, I'll be your Fitzwilliam Darcy."
Molly smiled back. "You be my Benedick, I'll be your Beatrice."
They arrived at her building, but Sherlock wished they had more time. "Text me tomorrow? I'm going to be bored to death stuck at home."
She smiled sympathetically. "I'll text you between classes and at lunch." Molly stood on her tiptoes to kiss Sherlock's cheek. "I'll see you Friday." She opened the security door and walked in, leaving Sherlock on the front steps, a hand to his cheek where she had kissed him, and blinking rapidly in what John called his "buffering" mode.