Set s3 somewhere between TEH and HLV.
"I won't kiss you. It might get to be a habit and I can't get rid of habits."
– F. Scott Fitzgerald
x
Molly's lips are pursed. She taps a pen against them as she looks over her reports, making sure everything is in order. She must notice a mistake, because she clicks the pen and puts it to paper. Her tongue peeks out of the corner of her mouth while she scribbles something down.
Sherlock feels heat begin to surge all over his body and stands abruptly. The stool he had been sitting on teeters and nearly falls over. Both John and Molly's head snap up at the commotion and look at him. He spares them each a quick glance then smooths down his shirt and whirls around. Without a word he strides toward the exit, snatching up his coat, and leaves the morgue.
John and Molly share a questioning look, but neither of them has an answer for the Consulting Detectives sudden departure. John just shrugs and offers Molly a lopsided smile before loping after his best friend. Molly puzzles on it for a moment more, but easily lets it go; it's just Sherlock being Sherlock.
x
She catches him starting at her one day while they are alone in the morgue. Her skin itches under his gaze and she bites her lip. A small noise, something like a gasp or a moan, comes from Sherlock, and it adds to Molly's discomfort.
"What is it?" she finally asks, unable to take it any longer.
"You have some... chocolate?" Sherlock lifts his hand and touches the tip of his upper lip. Molly squeaks and flushes, quickly swiping her tongue over her lip, tasting the sugary remnants of the pastry she'd eaten earlier. Sherlock is still staring at her, a tinge of red splotching his porcelain cheeks.
"Is it gone?" she asks, uncertain. Sherlock is quiet for a moment. He swallows hard, Molly can see his Adam's apple bob. She licks her lips again and rubs them together to be safe. "Sherlock? Did I get it?"
Finally, he clears his throat and looks away from her. "Yes." He smoothly rises to his feet and gathers up his coat and scarf. "I have to go."
"Really?" Molly asks. "You've not even been here ten minutes. Your results aren't finished yet."
"I'll get them later," he says, his back to Molly as he heads for the door. "Goodnight, Dr Hooper."
Molly stares after him, a crease in her brow. She sighs as the door swings closed. She shakes her head and crosses the room to put away the equipment Sherlock had gotten out.
x
"Oomph!" Molly grunts as she collides into the solid wall of a man's chest. She bounces back a bit from the force, but is steadied by firm hands on her shoulders. She giggles at her clumsiness and says, "Sorry." She lifts her head and smiles at the pair of sharp blue eyes she is met with. "Oh, it's you." She's happy to see him; it seems like it's been weeks since he's been in the lab.
"You're not scheduled to work this shift," is how Sherlock replies, and Molly's smile falters, a burrow appearing between her brow.
"Er, well, no, I'm not. But Dr Lewis had a family emergency. So..." Sherlock looks troubled, and a sinking feeling forms in the pit of Molly's stomach as a thought comes to her; has Sherlock been intentionally trying to avoid her? His reaction to seeing her seems to suggest as much. But why?
She can't think of anything offending she has done lately. Her lips form a pout as she ponders what reason Sherlock could possibly have for not wanting to be around her. She hears a sharp intake of breath, bringing her attention back to Sherlock. He is staring down at her, almost transfixed, and Molly realises then for the first time how close they are standing to each other, and that Sherlock's hands are still clasped onto her shoulder. His fingers curl and squeeze her tightly, not quite enough to hurt.
Molly feels her mouth go dry and licks her lips. "Sherlock?" she asks, her voice coming out as a whisper. Sherlock blinks, and his grip slackens, arms dropping to his sides. He raises his eyes to gaze over Molly's head, now purposefully not looking at her.
"I have to go," he announces.
"What? But you only just arrived. You haven't even done anything. Surely you had some reason for coming here."
"I...forgot something," Sherlock plainly lies; Molly can tell by the way his eyes shift from side to side. Something is definitely going on here and she wants to know what it is. She deserves to know. Sherlock makes to step around her, but Molly swiftly blocks his path, crowding the door. The only way he can get passed would be to physically move her out of the way.
"Wait a minute," Molly says, putting out a hand to Sherlock's chest; he flinches away from her touch. Molly drops her hand, hurt by his reaction. The pain is quickly replaced by anger though. Molly knows she has nothing to deserve the way Sherlock is acting towards her. She pinches her lips together and puts her hands on her hips. She tries to make her stance as imposing as she possible, It's difficult for one with such a slight build, but she doesn't let the disadvantage of her height deter her. She lifts her chin and does her best to get in Sherlock's face. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she demands, poking Sherlock's chest.
Sherlock blinks in surprise, but recovers himself easily. "I don't what you are talking about." He brushes the spot on his chest she just touched as if wiping away crumbs. The action infuriates Molly. She pushes at him again, this time with a flat palm and he staggers back slightly.
"Why are you acting like such an arsehole?" she shouts. "You have been avoiding me and now you're treating me like some sort of annoyance. Like the way it was before." Her voice lowers and her eyes soften with pain. "I thought we had gotten past that Sherlock. I thought things had changed since... Since I helped you. What have I done to make you go back to treating me like I don't count? Unless I never really did in the first place. If you were just lying to get me to help you..."
"It wasn't a lie," Sherlock affirms, voice low, but fierce. "Of course you still count."
"Okay. Then why are you acting like...like... You!" Molly's brow furrows; she's sure that's now how she meant to phrase it. "Er, I mean..." She grasps for another way to put it but is at a loss. She sighs. "Well, you know what I mean, anyway."
"Yes," Sherlock simply replies.
"Well then?" Molly prompts. "What's going on?"
Sherlock stares blankly at her a moment but then his expression darkens with frustration. He turns away from her making a noise something like a growl and raking his hand through his hair. "I can't!" he shouts, storming across the room. He puts his palms down flat on a work-top and hangs his head. "I want to, but I can't," he repeats, his voice much softer now, a note of pain clouding it.
"What?" Molly gently prods, tentatively shuffling closer to him but still keeping her distance.
Sherlock answers, but his voice is so quiet, and Molly is sure she must have misunderstood him. Because he couldn't have said what she thought he said.
"You...what?" Her throat has gone dry making her voice is a bit reedy.
Sherlock straightens himself and whirls around. "I want to kiss you!" he all but explodes, and Molly's eyes go wide, her heart freezing in her chest.
"Oh," she faintly replies; that's what she had thought he said. She feels a bit lightheaded all of the sudden.
"But I can't," Sherlock avers. "I won't."
"Erm, okay," Molly says. She pauses. "Why can't you?" She is surprised to hear herself ask the question. She can feel the weight of the band around her left ring finger like an anchor; it's presence should be enough for her not to be having such a conversation. She licks her lips. "I mean, why won't you?" And that isn't what she meant to ask either. The waters are clearly dangerous yet she still wades in deeper. She doesn't try and take it back though. She holds her breath and waits for Sherlock to respond.
"Because I am an addict, Molly," he states. "Your lips call to me like a drug, and I am afraid that once I get a taste I will never be able to break the habit. If I allow myself to indulge even once there would be no going back. I can't afford the luxury of having a vice. It would interfere with my work."
"Oh," Molly breathes, and she feels a bit high herself at the moment. She has never wanted to kiss Sherlock Holmes as much as she does right now. And she has very much wanted to kiss him on many occasions.
"So you see," Sherlock begins. "The only way to ensure I don't give in is to avoid temptation. Which is why I have to stay away from you. So, will you allow me to leave?"
Molly's head is spinning to much to make any kind of verbal response. She just steps aside, clearing the path to the door. Sherlock strides across the room and pauses at Molly's side. He looks at her and she looks at him. Neither say anything. Sherlock breaks eye contact first, turning his head away, and walks out of the door.
Molly doesn't know what to do with herself. She stands there dazed for a few moments before her senses slowly start to come back to her. She closes her eyes and shakes her head, taking a much needed deep breath. She finally feels somewhat normal and able to return to work, but before she has the chance the doors burst open. Molly whirls around to see Sherlock. Her eyes widen as he strides towards her. She opens her mouth to ask him why he came back. Her question is smothered when he pulls her to him and covers her mouth with his, one arm wrapping firmly about her waist as his other hand presses gently at the back of her neck.
The kiss is everything she ever dreamed it would be, and she knows without a doubt that Sherlock was right: There is definitely no going back.
The end.