Author's Notes: I, of course, do not own Sherlock.
This is a different type of story for me, one with no clear story line but rather snippets of events from Sherlock and Molly's relationship. I hope you like it. Also I am looking for a Beta if anyone is interested or knows someone who might be, please message me. Thanks.
Sherlock swept into the lab, his coat billowing behind him like Heathcliff running across the Moors.
His eyes searched the room until they locked on her. "Since my overdose, John has impressed upon me the importance of apologizing to my friends who I may have hurt in the past. In that vein, I would like to say that I do not believe that for the sake of law and order you should avoid all future attempts at a relationship."
"That's….nice?"
"Your response seems less than genuine Molly, which is quite rude especially since I am trying to be sincere."
"What would you like me to say? You don't think my dating will bring about the end of civilization? Thank you, I guess."
"Further to my belief that you may begin dating again without causing the apocalypse, I think that facially speaking, you are what some may consider as pretty. Not pretty as dictated by current societal norms, but your appearance is mostly pleasing."
"You think I'm pretty? You've never thought I was pretty before. In fact, you have gone out of your way to make me feel invisible. Why the sudden change?"
Without a response, Sherlock exited the room as dramatically as he had entered it.
Sherlock spent the next few weeks randomly bursting into the lab, attempting at what passed for normal conversation, interspersing what Sherlock probably assumed were compliments, "your new haircut, although short, does not make you look too much like a teen aged boy", and then leaving abruptly.
For Molly, it was distracting and strange but not unwelcome.
Sometimes she would catch Sherlock just looking at her. Not trying to deduce anything…just watching her. Almost like he had never seen her before, or like she was the newest clue in a puzzle he was trying desperately to solve.
A month later, when Sherlock finally declared his intentions in his usual blunt way, "it's dinner time Molly, and I don't believe the heroin chic look is popular again so I suggest you not skip this meal. Pasta would be perfect for you," taking her to dinner at Angelo's, she wasn't shocked by his invitation but that didn't mean it wasn't still surprising on some level.
The next morning, Molly realized she didn't regret having dinner with Sherlock. She didn't regret the sex that came after either. But in the early light of day she felt overwhelmed, that everything was happening too fast, which in a way was ridiculous considering she's been in love with the man for the last 6 years.
By the fifth day of their, whatever it was they were doing, "please do not feel the need to consult one of your insipid woman's magazines Molly to determine what to 'label' our relationship. Rest assured that during this time I will only be having dinner with you and I should expect the same from you," Molly realized that she was in love with Sherlock Holmes, not that she loved him but she was good and proper in love.
Sherlock entered her office late one night while she was completing the day's paper work, "I told my mother about our involvement."
"Okay." She answered and returned to her files. By the time she looked up again, he was gone.
Typical. So dramatic.
The first time she made him watch Glee he frowned the whole time.
"I must say, I do not understand your fascination with this show. These high school students are clearly in their thirties, and are we supposed to believe that the school's administration finds it acceptable that their students break into song at any given moment? I know the American education system leaves much to be desired but really, I expected better from you Molly."
"I've heard you're dating Sherlock," Lestrade asked, "Is it true?"
"Yes."
"That's bollocks."
"Why?" Molly asked, not because she didn't think it was bollocks, some days she couldn't believe she was dating him either, but she just wanted him to be more specific in what exactly was bullock about it.
Instead, Lestrade simply shrugged and walked away.
Sherlock and Molly's six month anniversary came and went without any fanfare.
They were still together and still happy.
The first time he said, "I love you," she froze, only for a moment, but it happened all the same.
Of course, he noticed. He's Sherlock Bloody Holmes.
"I had assumed you felt similarly towards me, but if you've ceased to feel affection for me…"
She shouldn't be surprised really; he was the one to pursue her. She'd known for months, years really, that she was in love with him, but she was so afraid to say it, as though saying the words out loud would burst their bubble of happiness.
"Please, Sherlock, you know I love you. You've always known." She bit off with an edge in her voice, suddenly remembering all the years of pining on her end and manipulation on his.
"I must admit I am not overly familiar with pronouncements of love as I have never been in a relationship before but I believe that is the angriest declaration of love I've ever heard."
Immediately, she softened. "I'm sorry. I love you too. Always."
Two months later, Molly moved into 221B Baker Street.
In June, Sherlock's mother came for a visit. Sherlock claimed there wasn't any reason to be worried. Molly wasn't as confident. She had been so used to being found lacking, to being seen as less than, her own mother's admonishment of 'stupid girl, who would want you? Always playing with dead things' always ringing in her head.
But as it turned out, Sherlock was right. He was always right. His mother was bossy, brash, and brilliant. To her delight, Sherlock's mother was more interested in complimenting Molly's ability to put up with Sherlock's mercurial moods than interrogating the small pathologist.
In the end, there was no wedding in their future, no daily outpouring of romance and flowers from Sherlock. That simply weren't who they were as people.
But they were together. And they were happy.
Always.