Everything Is About You
Molly was just cleaning up her station in the St. Bart's Pathology Lab after a long twelve-hour shift when Sherlock entered the lab as he always did: both doors crashing open dramatically and him striding in with his coat billowing out behind him.
"Molly! Just heard from Lestrade! Double murder on the banks of the Thames involving an antique whaling harpoon and farming scythe! Just what I need after a day of boring and mundane clients and email requests! I know your shift ends now, so let's go!"
Poor, exhausted Molly shut her eyes and leaned against the lab counter. Rubbing her forehead, she asked, "Is John unavailable?"
His smile fell at her response, which was definitely not the positive one that he had been expecting. "I thought that Saturday evenings were the ones that couples spent together. When this case came up, I saw it as the perfect date for us to go on!"
Molly couldn't stop the chuckle that welled up in her chest at Sherlock's logical view of the matter. Less than a week ago, Sherlock had come clean to Molly about how his feelings for her had evolved exponentially from what they had once been. And Molly had responded by confessing that she had never completely stopped caring for him. The conclusion of the Moriarty imposter case ending in the imposter being captured had brought this about; Sherlock having a second chance at life in England had a lot to do with it as well.
Molly still couldn't really believe it, and had to mentally pinch herself every time Sherlock touched her or kissed her. And while this made her happier than she'd ever been, that didn't mean that there weren't moments where he didn't make her want to lose her mind.
Like right now, when she was completely worn out and her boyfriend (he hated the term but she didn't care right now) was completely clueless about the concept of romantic dates. Sighing, she said, "Sherlock, helping you on a case is not my idea of a date, especially right now."
"Why not?"
Molly shut her eyes at the petulant tone of his voice – honestly, he could be such a child sometimes! Then she responded with as much patience as she could: "Sherlock, look at me. I've been working for twelve hours straight. I'm tired, I'm sore, I feel gross, and I just want to go home to a warm bath and a warm bed. Besides, a date should be about the couple, doing something together just to spend time with each other and enjoy themselves."
"But you love going on cases with me," Sherlock interrupted, sounding quite let down.
"I do, Sherlock, but I wouldn't right now and not if you're going to call it a date. Then it would be about you, not us."
Sherlock, who was clearly not liking this argument, still spoke like a petulant child: "It's not only about me!"
If Molly hadn't been so tired and going on fumes, she would have had more patience and talked Sherlock through this until he better understood the situation. But, being in the state she was in, Molly snapped, "Sherlock, everything is about you!"
A very loud silence filled the St. Bart's Lab after Molly's outburst. Molly couldn't quite believe what had come out of her mouth, and Sherlock looked quite as surprised as she felt. But a few moments later, his face had become that cold mask that she always hated to see aimed at her. "Well then, I will make sure that your Saturday evening will not be," he said, and practically stormed out of the lab.
An utterly exhausted, defeated and regretful Molly had gone home after that. She'd had a quick shower, deciding that she didn't deserve to treat herself to a long soak in the tub, and then cried herself to sleep. After over seven years of wishing for this with Sherlock, she'd gone and ruined it before it had lasted a week!
But when she woke up, Molly found proof that not all hope was lost. Feeling a warm weight draped over her waist, Molly opened her eyes and saw that it was a familiar arm. Turning her head, she saw that Sherlock was deeply asleep beside her in the bed. Breathing a silent but deep sigh of relief, Molly reached out her hand and gently brushed a curl off of Sherlock's forehead. This was hardly the first time that Sherlock had shared her bed, but it was the first time that he hadn't kept to one side of the bed.
Suddenly, she felt her bladder waking up and giving her an impatient kick. So, she gently rolled out from under his arm and out of the bed. She tiptoed to the bathroom and took care of her bladder, washed her hands and brushed her teeth.
When she returned to the bedroom, Sherlock was awake, sitting up in her bed. He'd turned her bedside lamp on, and she could see the clothes that he'd been wearing when he came to the lab hanging on her closet doorknob. Looking at Sherlock, she could see that he was wearing the grey t-shirt and sweatpants that she kept here whenever he needed to sleep.
Standing in the doorway of her bedroom, Molly felt awkward as she remembered how their last conversation had ended. "Um…" she started, not knowing if he wanted to talk or not.
"Come here, please," he said softly, pulling back the covers on her vacant side of the bed. Molly immediately returned to the bed, scooching in next to him.
When he took her hand, words spilled out: "I'm sorry I snapped at you like that, Sherlock. I was so tired, and I just wanted to –"
"Shh," Sherlock shushed, moving closer to her and covering their joined hands. He looked sheepish and awkward. "I understand, Molly. I'm not angry with you."
"And neither am I with you," said Molly, and she meant it. "Clearly we both had long days and took it out on each other. It happens to everybody, Sherlock."
He nodded, but he didn't look up from their hands. So, Molly used her free one to stroke through his curls. "Did you follow up on the case?"
Sherlock nodded, leaning into her ministrations. "John was able to accompany me. After we'd finished at the scene, I…I talked to him and he…well, he clarified a few things for me before I came here."
Molly smiled. If Sherlock had talked to John about their exchange the previous evening, she knew that he now had a much better understanding of the situation. "I'm glad. He does have good insight and experience when it comes to these situations."
"Well, one insight that he had was quite…unnerving," said Sherlock, finally meeting her eyes. Molly could see that whatever he was about to say next was the cause of why he looked almost ashamed of himself. "When I told John the last words that you said to me, he told me that you had a point."
Molly opened her mouth to protest, but Sherlock put a finger to her lips.
"Please let me finish, Molly. John asked me to think over the last seven years in which we've known each other. First, he asked me to think of how many times you would do me a kindness, a consideration, go out of your way for my sake, on a small scale or a big scale. In other words, the times when you put my needs or interests before your own." He caressed her cheek. "There were too many too count."
Molly's cheeks flushed and she kissed his palm. "I was always happy to, Sherlock."
He smiled back, but his expression filled with sadness, even shame, as he continued. "Then, John asked me to do the reverse: what were all the times in the seven years we have known each other when I went out of my way for you on any scale…when I put your needs or desires before mine..."
Sherlock hung his head again, and Molly could think of nothing to say because the both of them knew what the result of that search must have been: very few to none. So, even in her tired and impatient outburst, Molly had been right: in all of the years they had known each other, very nearly everything (if not absolutely everything) had been all about him.
It was finally Molly who broke the heavy silence by doing something that Sherlock wasn't expecting. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his lips as tenderly as she could. Sherlock reacted immediately, wrapping his arms around her and holding her as tightly as he could. When the kiss ended, Sherlock buried is face in the crook of her neck.
"I'm sorry, Molly," he murmured against her skin. "I've been selfish – no, I am selfish, and you deserve better. I want to be better for you, to be as kind and selfless to you as you have always been to me. Please, I need your help to do that. I don't want…I can't lose you, Molly."
Molly lifted his face from her neck, and kissed away the two tears that had fallen from his eyes. "Of course I will, Sherlock. You only have to tell me. I can't lose you, either."
Sherlock kissed her fiercely, determined to start making it up to her right now; Molly responded with equal passion. Soon the two of them were sinking back down into the warmth and comfort of Molly's bed. It only took a look to confirm what they both needed in that moment from each other: to make each other whole by coming together, which they had never done before.
That day, they reached a new level of intimacy, both physically and emotionally. And that intimacy would last as long as they both shall live.
A/N: Hello, readers! I'm looking forward to "Doctor Strange" mainly for Benedict's sake, not being very familiar with the comic. But I watched the movie clip that recently came out called "The Strange Policy," and the man's self-centered arrogance reminded me of Sherlock. When Rachel McAdam's character said, "Stephen, everything is about you," I thought of Molly and how that could sum up her relationship with Sherlock on the show - it really is all about him. When has he ever done anything for her without an ulterior motive? So I wanted to address that in this little story, because that's something that would definitely need to change if they were to ever come to their senses about their love for each other. Hell, he should treat her better, anyway! And hopefully, in Series 4, he will.
Anyway, hope you enjoyed the story! Please leave a review, they make my day!