Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sherlock BBC.
Sherlock Holmes knew all along what a selfish bastard he was and still is. Not that the consulting detective would ever 'mend his ways' for he saw no point in denying others the exasperating but necessary need to take care of him.
When Sherlock was six, he finished the entire batch of cookies meant for Aunt Sophie who was coming to visit Mummy. Young Sherlock did not appreciate the fact that Aunt Sophie loves to pinch his cheeks hard each time she sees him and she comes to their house rather frequently. It's simply not acceptable so he ate all of the cookies, every single one of them. Besides, Sherlock was feeling peckish.
Of course, he blamed his elder brother for the incident and got away with it. So Sherlock pushed his luck and also blamed Mycroft for his stomach ache later that night. Unfortunately, it sounded too far-fetched for Mummy.
At least he tried.
Even as a teenager, Sherlock Holmes was not interested in dating, what a revolving thought. That's for people lacking of control over their raging hormones, overabundance of emotions and generally low self-esteem. However, his ambition is to be the world's first and probably only consulting detective which means he would require knowledge of all sorts – human anatomy, deduction, psychology, tobacco ash, coats etc. etc.
So Sherlock kissed Olivia Lee, much to her delight and to his misery. Exchange of saliva was exactly what he had thought. A wrong kind of shiver ran down his spine. Luckily it was over quickly except it wasn't, not really.
Apparently, Olivia Lee complained to her parents that he made use of her who in turn complained to his parents about it hence the awkward situation.
"You sweet-talked me, Sherlock, so you could kiss me."
"As I recalled, no one placed a gun on your head and forced you?"
Before he could blink, Sherlock found himself lying on his back, staring at the ceiling and sporting a black eye. In hindsight, he should have chosen a better specimen to experiment with. The future consulting detective had forgotten to take into consideration the level of openness of their immediate family members, in particular fathers. If there is ever such a need to repeat this experiment, there's always his university days to further explore.
"I'm not a drug addict, Mycroft."
"Tell that to Mummy, Sherlock."
He was not lying. What better way to think like a drug addict than to be one? He temporarily reverted to drugs for research purposes so why couldn't anyone believe him? Granted, his previous track records were not without blemishes but his drugs and sex sprees were long over. Sherlock did not bother to explain all that to Mycroft; he would not take his word for it and with good reasons since he himself would not.
"Why are you always so mean to Molly?"
"I'm not mean to her, John. I'm just telling the truth and if she got offended then there's nothing I can do about it."
That's the story Sherlock would stick to till his final breath. It's the only way to protect her but the consulting detective's plan did not quite work out.
For Christ's sake, Sherlock, it's not a game!
Molly was right, it's not but if he takes it too seriously then Sherlock would inevitably realize that there are too many things he could lose. Worrying about the pathologist would not win the damn game but he still came to see her anyway. The consulting detective could not stop himself. Like a soldier going off to war, he has to see her for one last time.
Sherlock gently held Molly's limp and frighteningly cold hand as if she is the most precious thing in the world and to him, she is.
"I need you. Always have and always will. All I want is for you to be safe. I should have let you go but I couldn't because I'm a selfish bastard. I know I am. Every time I hurt you, it's me trying to push my luck and see how far you would let me. The more you give in means the more you love me. It's wrong to think like that but knowing the depth of your love makes me very happy."
A tear landed on the pathologist's hand.
"I don't deserve you, Molly but I love you so much. I don't know what I would do without you. So for the sake of my sanity and the welfare of Great Britain, you need to stay and never leave me. No matter how much I upset, infuriate or antagonize you, you still have to stay by my side."
Looking at Molly's vital signs, the consulting detective continued distractedly.
"I know your body is repairing itself and you must be tired but you cannot sleep forever or I would personally ensure that the people responsible for your current state would suffer more than excessively even if they literally asked for it by hurting you. You would not want that right? You always have such a kind heart despite people like me who are not worthy of it. Maybe that's why you love me because I'm such a terrible mess. You are the type of person that loves to take in strays."
Sherlock stood up and bent over to kiss her.
"This is a probably a bad metaphor but you are my wallpaper, Molly. A house without wallpaper would be too empty for my taste. Since I'm baring my heart to you, I might as well let you in on one more secret. Those colourful sweaters and cardigans that you love wearing? They are the wallpaper in my mind palace and I could not help but smile to myself like a lovesick fool whenever I think of you as my moving wallpaper."
Before the consulting detective left, Sherlock checked her vital signs once again.
"The game would end here, Molly. For you, I will end it."
Author's note: Another short story as I desperately needed a excuse to get away from my essays and projects. Please enjoy!