A/N: Going back to series three for this one. Set during The Empty Hearse. Give me a heads up if you see an obvious mistake as I'm still running on empty health wise and not really all there right now.
It Can't Happen Again
Molly Hooper Appreciation Week Part Deux - Day 4 -Feels Like _ (Fanworks focusing on feelings)
Come to Baker Street. – SH
Molly couldn't hold back a small smile at the text. It had been years since she'd received a text like that, summoning her to Baker Street. She was just thinking that his two years away had done very little to improve his people skills when her phone pinged again.
Please. - SH
She laughed then, a brief burst of sound that ended in a soft—nearly delicate—snort.
"All right, Toby, what do you think? Should I go, or should I stay home and catch up on the laundry I've been avoiding all week?" As if there was any real question.
Still, thinking about the laundry reminded her that she did need to throw a load of Tom's things into the wash.
How would Tom feel about her stopping by Baker Street? He knew Sherlock was back, she'd made a point to bring it up at dinner the night before. She didn't go in to her part in Sherlock's "death", obviously, but she had wanted Tom to understand that Sherlock had been—still was—her friend. He'd been a bit awestruck, to be honest, that she actually knew the famous detective (even though she'd mentioned it before).
"Well, yeah, you said you knew him; but I didn't think you meant you actually knew-knew him. I just assumed you worked with him at Barts sometimes."
"Is it a problem?" she'd asked, suddenly uneasy about what he might say.
"No, it's great! Have you helped him solve any crimes? Do you think I'll get a chance to meet him? If we invite him to the wedding, do you think he'll come?"
She pulled out her mobile to send off a quick text to Tom to let him know where she'd be for a few hours, but her thumbs hovered over the screen without moving.
Tom wouldn't mind, if last night had been anything to go by he practically had a case of hero worship for the man . . . But Molly continued to hesitate.
"I just, he's only just come home, Toby. Is it so wrong to want one day with him for myself?" She stood up and dropped her phone in her bag. "Tom's at work, anyway. I'll tell him all about it tonight, and it will give me a chance to ask Sherlock if he'd like to join us for dinner next week without getting Tom's hopes up when he inevitably begs off."
Toby just blinked a long cat blink and quietly meowed.
"Hush. I'm not trying to justify anything."
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
"Molly."
"Yes?"
"Would you . . ."
She wasn't used to hearing him hesitated like that. As if he couldn't quite work out what he wanted to ask. She found herself physically leaning toward him, trying to anticipate what he was going to say.
"Would you like to . . ."
The build-up was killing her and she blurted out the first thing off the top of her head. "Have dinner?"
"Solve crimes?"
Not what she'd been expecting at all; but then he seemed just as thrown off by her suggestion of dinner, so she supposed that made them even.
He cleared his throat and looked down at the floor again. "You know I don't eat when I'm working."
That sounded so familiar, it made her grin. She'd have to try to remember to bring up dinner again later though, Tom would pout if he found out he'd missed a chance to meet Sherlock. "You work fast."
Sherlock's head shot up and he stared at her in wide-eyed alarm. "Pardon?"
"You've only just come back and you're already on a case." She moved toward the wall and eyed the various bits and pieces tacked on it. "Is it a big one?"
He stepped over the table to stand at her side. "This one is, yes. But that's not what we'll be doing today. Assuming you agree?"
She turned her head and saw while he was still facing the wall of information, he was actually watching her from the corner of his eye. "It's my day off. It's either this or the laundry, so . . ."
"Excellent. Ask Mrs Hudson to bring up some tea, would you?"
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
"You're not being John, you're being yourself."
Molly knew she was smiling, and she knew it was terribly inappropriate considering there was nothing remotely cheery about Sherlock's clients or the case they were describing. She bit the inside of her cheek to force the smile down, then let it free as soon as Sherlock let loose on the cheating husband.
The husband stormed out with his angry wife already calling the lawyer Sherlock had recommended, and Molly leaned back in her chair with a giggle. "Do you always carry around cards for divorce lawyers, or did you already suspect that he'd stolen the money?"
"It never hurts to be prepared." He looked at her for a long moment, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I've missed hearing you laugh." Sherlock spun on his heel before Molly could even blink. He hurried to the top of the stairs and yelled, "Next!"
The sound of heavy footsteps thumping up the stairs kept her from asking him to explain.
இڿڰۣ-ڰۣ—
Watching him work up close was fascinating. She'd always known his mind made leaps and bounds that the average person would struggle to follow; but seeing it happen out in the wild was incredibly different than in the lab or the morgue.
Still, there were a few awkward moments . . . When he got her confused with John—especially after his earlier insistence that she wasn't a John substitute—that hurt a bit.
(A lot.)
On the whole, though, it was one of the best days she'd had in months.
Up until the last case, the train enthusiast.
There had been teasing, giggling, and . . . flirting.
It had hit her while they were watching the security footage. She'd been flirting with Sherlock, and she was fairly positive he'd been flirting back. And she was engaged to another man.
A man she was supposed to love with all her heart.
Suddenly, she was more than ready for the day to end.
"You can't do this again, can you?"
She couldn't, but not for the reason he'd deduced.
He thought it was Tom, probably thought she was worried her fiancé would be jealous.
But the real reason was because she desperately wanted to spend another day with Sherlock. She wanted it too much to let it happen again.