A/N:The first of my (hopefully) regular Ficlet Fridays. If you have a prompt for me, pop on over to my Tumblr page (MissMollyBloom) and send it on through!
This is a response to a prompt from weasleygirl928 on Tumblr. The prompt is: "Molly's son is quite fond of her boyfriend Sherlock and wants him to be his dad." I tweaked it a little bit.
Molly Hooper had experienced more than her fair share of awkward social interactions - but she truly felt this most recent one had to be one of the worst.
It was certainly more humiliating than the afternoon, almost nine years ago, when she had to explain to her highly-religious parents how their youngest daughter had found herself pregnant during her third year of medical training. Especially when they held to the mistaken belief that she was still a virgin at the time.
And, it was even more horrific than the conversation she had with Jamie, who (along with her) was responsible for her predicament. When she tried to explain that he was the father of a baby she planned to keep, she didn't get very far. Especially when he claimed that he could neither remember her name nor their frantic coupling in a spare room at Meena's birthday party two months earlier.
No, walking into her office at Bart's that afternoon to hear the tail end of a conversation between Sherlock and Danny, Molly's eight year old son, had the potential to be worse than both of these events put together.
Sherlock and Danny were sitting behind Molly's desk, pouring over a book about dinosaur biology.
Danny smiled at Sherlock. "I'm glad you're my mummy's boyfriend."
Molly stood in the doorway, eyes wide, mortified.
Sherlock's face was blank. Molly had heard John refer to it at his mental-buffering mode.
Danny didn't notice anything was wrong. "I know she really likes you," he continued.
If she thought that having to explain to Sherlock how her son got the impression that the two of them were dating was embarrassing enough, Molly had no idea how much more awkward it was soon going to get.
"I like you lots too." Danny said, and hugged Sherlock. Sherlock stiffly patted Danny on the back. "If you marry my mum, will that make you my dad?"
Molly realised too late that she'd let the conversation go on too long. Now she had to manage the fragile feelings of her eight year old while also making it very clear to Sherlock that he certainly hadn't picked up these ideas from her.
"Danny," Molly began in her most practiced, motherly tones, "what makes you think that Sherlock is my boyfriend? You know I've never said he is." She said the last part for Sherlock's benefit, meeting his eyes over the top of Danny's head.
"I know. But I deducted it." Danny smiled warmly at Sherlock, his eyes searching for approval.
Sherlock nodded. "How did you deduce it?" He asked. Molly was impressed with how gently he had corrected Danny's mistaken terminology.
"Well, you don't work at Bart's with Mummy, but you're here nearly every time she has a shift."
It was true that Sherlock was around - certainly more in the last year than he used to. But it was always for a case. He would invariably come to her for a consult on another technician's autopsy, or ask her to perform an analysis on some trace evidence he'd gathered.
"Sherlock just needs my help sometimes," Molly explained.
"Oh," Danny paused for a moment, "but what about the other day?" Danny asked Sherlock.
"What happened the other day?" Molly said, catching the slight terror in Sherlock's eyes.
"Nothing," Sherlock answered all too quickly.
"You had dropped your files and while you were picking them up, Sherlock was staring at your bum."
"Really?" Molly said, finding it impossible to hide the incredulous tone from her voice.
Sherlock was looking anywhere but at Molly.
"And sometimes I hear him muttering about your clothes."
"Danny, it's not nice to lie," Molly warned him.
"But what about the time he complimented you on your lipstick?" Molly could tell Danny was starting to get frustrated.
"Darling, Sherlock just told me that without it my lips look small." She patted him on the head in sympathy.
"That's how Sherlock compliments people – tell her, Sherlock!" Danny pleaded.
Sherlock didn't agree, nor did he disagree. "What else have you deduced, Danny?"
"You're always at our place, sometimes you even spend the night."
Molly and Sherlock shared a look. The one rule they had agreed on when Sherlock used her flat as a bolt hole was that Danny wasn't allowed to know he'd stayed the night. This was precisely what Molly was trying to avoid. She didn't want to get his hopes up.
"Tommy Mathers from school says that when his mummy has boyfriends stay over they sleep in the same bed. And sometimes they - do sex." Danny whispered the last two words. Molly was happy he'd remembered how much trouble he got in when he'd gone to school equipped with one of her old textbooks and gave human anatomy lessons in the school playground.
"Well, if Sherlock has stayed at our flat, it's because he's very tired from his work. He sleeps in the spare room and he's supposed to be gone before you wake up," Molly emphasised the last part for Sherlock.
"So he doesn't sleep in your bed and do sex with you?"
Sherlock coughed awkwardly. Molly's cheeks went bright red.
"No, honey. Sherlock and I are just friends. Aren't we, Sherlock?" Molly couldn't hide the insistency from her voice.
Sherlock ignored her.
"Is there anything else you've observed?"
"You come over for dinner with us once a week."
Molly scoffed. "Well, that's not true, Danny. It's hardly once a week."
"Fine. Maybe not one night every week, but most weeks. Isn't that right, Sherlock?"
Sherlock nodded.
"Well it's just nice to have someone else to cook for." Molly was wondering why she was feeling so defensive all of a sudden.
Molly could see that Danny was beginning to give up. She was glad. She wanted nothing more than to move on from his mistaken assumptions.
Danny's eyes widened, like he'd remembered something really important. "What about the security guards?"
"What?" Molly had no idea what he was talking about.
"You know, the men who guard our flat and follow us about when we're out."
Molly shook her head. "Now you're just making things up, Danny," she said.
"Tell her!" Danny implored Sherlock.
Sherlock looked sheepish. Molly couldn't remember ever seeing Sherlock looking sheepish. It was odd, and slightly endearing.
"Since the broadcast, I've had Mycroft assign a detail to you both."
"Oh." Molly wasn't sure if she should feel angry for the implication that he saw her as weak and in need of protection, or if she was honoured that he thought she and Danny were important enough to protect.
"Well, Sherlock is just looking out for us – that's what good friends do," Molly explained.
"But what about all of your other boyfriends?" Danny demanded.
"See – surely that tells you that Sherlock can't be my boyfriend if I see other people."
"But he's always so jealous when you do!"
Molly looked at Sherlock for any sign of amusement or derision. His face was blank. He'd be an excellent poker player, she thought.
"Sherlock isn't jealous, Danny."
"Then why does he always try to break off your dates?"
"He doesn't," Molly said, but even she wasn't convinced there wasn't some truth in what Danny said. "He just likes me to be prepared by highlighting every – single – flaw…"
Molly was starting to wonder if Danny wasn't entirely mistaken in his assumptions. She looked at Sherlock, wordlessly asking for him to weigh in.
He did.
"So, Danny, what does all of this lead you to deduce?" He asked.
Danny smiled at him. "It tells me that you like working with my mummy, you think she's pretty, you are comfortable spending time with us, you want to protect us, and you want mummy to be happy."
"You've missed one thing," Sherlock told him.
"What's that?" Molly asked.
"I would like very much for you, Molly, to be my wife and you, Danny, to be my son."
Molly was gobsmacked.
"But there's one thing you and I haven't deduced," Sherlock said to Danny.
"What's that?" he replied.
"Would your mum like me to be her husband and your father?"
"Absolutely," she said and kissed him.
Earlier, Molly had thought that afternoon was going to be one she'd rather forget - instead it ended up becoming a cherished memory, a story re-told in their family for the rest of their lives.