Sherlock Holmes was finding that he spent more and more of his time between cases visiting at the homey flat of his friends John and Mary Watson, and their infant daughter Claire. He was drawn there . He liked how easily he fit into their family milieu, how it reminded him of his own childhood with two parents who loved each other and obviously adored him. But he found himself more and more unhappy lately with being assigned the role of the eccentric uncle. Granted, he was, indeed, eccentric, or most people would judge him to be so. And he had no problem being referred to as "Uncle" Sherlock. But he wanted more. He wanted to be more to somebody, perhaps somebodies, plural. Having come to this conclusion, he did, of course, set about making it just so.
John had decided to go visit his best friend has his old flat on Baker Street, as he had not heard from the detective for all of one week. This would not have been unusual in his previous incarnation, but Sherlock had changed considerably since the two years of his "death". And while he may very well have been able to do without the company of John or his wife for an extended period, it was highly unlikely that he would absent himself from his adored goddaughter for more than a few days at a time. When he arrived at the flat, he found the detective sitting in his favorite chair, wrapped in a dressing gown, and staring off into space.
"Ah, the bloody mind palace again!" Watson exclaimed, only to be surprised ny Sherlock's quick response.
"No, John, just thinking. What brings you to Baker Street?"
"We got concerned. You haven't been over to spoil my kid for over a week. Case?"
"No."
"Important experiment?"
"No."
"Fatal disease?" John was now grasping at straws.
"Do be serious, John. I'm working through a personal problem…"
"You don't have personal problems, mate. You'd have to have a personal life to have personal problems…"
"Molly turned down my proposal of marriage."
John slumped down onto the couch, his mouth slightly open in unhidden shock. He was, however, slightly unsure of the source of that shock. Sherlock proposed? Molly turned him down?
"Do close your mouth, John. Although I must admit my reaction was much the same. Why would she turn me down?"
"We are talking about Molly Hooper, right? Our Molly?"
"If you mean my Molly, yes, your assumption is correct."
"And she turned you down?" John said, almost unbelievably. But then again, this was Sherlock, he thought. "What did you say to her?"
"I merely pointed out that, as we are, neither of us, getting any younger, perhaps it was time to consider our future."
"Alright…"
"And as she had seemingly worked her way through a series of available males without success, she should possibly consider her days of experimentation to be over and settle down…"
"So, in human speak, you implied you were willing to bring her days as a loose woman to an end…"
"John, Molly is no loose woman!"
"Well, she could have inferred that from your choice of words, Sherlock…"
"Ah, that could explain her response."
"Which was?"
" 'Thank you, Mr. Holmes, but I much prefer my experimentation with live bodies over a lifetime of experimenting with you over dead bodies'."
"I tried to explain that I was more than willing to experiment with her live body, but she was already on her way to the ladies' room before I could get the words out!" Sherlock said gloomily. "John, I have to tell you that I much prefer the days when she could barely string together a complete sentence in my presence without stammering!"
"No you don't."
"No, I don't." the consulting detective admitted. "But, in this case, I would have preferred a stammered 'yes', and an accompanying blush. I do miss her blushes, John!"
"Did the word 'love' come into the conversation at all, you git?"
"Why state the obvious, John? Or are you suggesting that she no longer loves me?" Sherlock looked upset merely to consider the possibility.
"I meant you, you git! Did it occur to you that she may not want to marry a man who does not love her, merely because she is so infatuated with him? Maybe she just doesn't want to settle?
Molly's still young, despite your observation that she was not getting any younger…"
"A totally accurate observation, I must point out! And where did you get the idea…"
"Don't interrupt me when I'm lecturing you about the female psyche, Sherlock, a subject about which you know nothing! I may, in fact, know next to nothing, but still it's an improvement on you!"
"John, I was merely going to ask where you ever got the idea that I did not love Molly Hooper?"
Once again, John Watson's mouth fell slightly open in shock, "Our Molly?"
"I will repeat, again, that I take some exception to your use of the possessive adjective 'our'. In future, I would prefer you refer to her, if your must use such an adjective, as my Molly!" As John continued to appear confused, Sherlock attempted to explain further, "Not you saying 'my' as in she's yours, but say 'your' indicating she's mine…"
"Enough, mate, I get it! But, to clarify, you love Molly Hooper?"
"Of course, I do. Isn't it obvious?"
"No, it bloody well isn't, you prat! Not to a normal human being! Maybe to you, and perhaps some other alien species…"
"Mycroft knows…"
"My point, exactly. Another alien!"
"John, think about it. I spend an exorbitant amount of time at the morgue and/or lab."
"I thought you went there to observe the autopsies…"
"In the early days, perhaps. But you know I have come to believe that Dr. Hooper is the best pathologist in London. Even allowing for my obvious affection for her, you must concede that this is, at least, a highly tenable conclusion. There is no reason for me to look over her shoulder as she does these procedures. The results are posted immediately in the computer records, which I could, indeed, access from the comfort of my sitting room. I go there to observe Molly, not the procedures!"
"Experiments in her lab?"
Sherlock laughed. "Had you been more observant, John, you may have noticed that half the time I am looking down the microscope at a blank slide!"
"Your experiments in the flat?"
"Sometimes, I can talk her into making a delivery. I often persuade her to stay for takeaway if she does. Even if I have to pick up the specimens myself, I never return them for proper disposal, knowing that my Molly will eventually arrive to take them away. Granted, sometimes Mrs. Hudson has to call her, if the experimental medium is getting a bit too ripe, so to speak."
"But, you've said some horrible things, Sherlock…"
"What have I said that wasn't completely true, John. I said her breasts were small. They are small! It was her over compensation for the fact which I found unattractive. Her mouth, too, is small. A mere fact, simply stated."
"You constantly insulted her taste in boyfriends…"
"Of course I did! She has abominable taste in men. She's been in love with me for years, for god's sake, and I am, perhaps, the most abominable choice of all. But when I finally come to the conclusion that she is not likely to get over it, and I might as well at least try my best to make her happy, and me happy, she turns down my proposal!" Sherlock Holmes looked stricken.
"So, if I have been following this conversation at all, it seems that you believe that one Dr. Molly Hooper who has been in love with you for as long as I've known her, knows that you, indeed, love her, but turned down your marriage proposal because she has mysteriously fallen out of love with you. Correct?"
"Right!"
"Wrong!" When John said this, Sherlock looked puzzled. And even more so as his best friend continued. "You're an idiot! You cannot propose to a woman, without the word 'love' coming up at least once! Take my word for it. Molly has no idea that you are in love with her. I'm your best friend, and I have had no idea. Although, I must say Mary may have had an inkling…"
"I sincerely hope young Claire inherits her mother's intelligence…"
"Yes, yes, but not her homicidal predilections!' John rolled his eyes. "Anyway, get dressed. You have to go tell Molly how you feel. Leave no doubt at all, Sherlock…"
"John, she has already turned me down. I never beg! I can't just…"
"Yes, Sherlock, you can. I know you have never begged. I heard you say that to Irene Adler in this very room. But this is not The Woman. This is our, er, your Molly. Get dressed. Get down there. Get down on your knee, damn it! And beg for all it's worth!"
Sherlock looked at his friend for a long moment, before jumping to his feet, discarding his dressing gown, donning his Belstaff, and heading out the door.
John looked at the door as it closed behind the detective, and reached into his pocket for his mobile. It's not that he didn't trust his friend. He would trust him with his life. Just not with his own heart. His fingers moved quickly across the keyboard as he texted Molly Hooper in her basement lab at St. Bart's.
SHERLOCK IS ON HIS WAY TO PROPOSE AGAIN. HOPEFULLY THIS TIME HE WILL DO IT RIGHT - JOHN
But, seeing as he harbored continuing doubts about Sherlock's ability to deal with romantic situations, John felt compelled to send an additional text.
EVEN IF HE DOESN'T DO IT RIGHT, PLEASE ACCEPT ANYWAY. HE LOVES YOU VERY MUCH. AND MARY CAN ONLY HANDLE ONE SULKING CHILD AT A TIME. - JOHN
A few hours later John Watson was enjoying a quiet dinner with his wife and daughter, when he mobile signalled an incoming text.
I DO NOT SULK! - SHERLOCK
Followed quickly by another.
HE REALLY DOES, I KNOW, BUT HOPEFULLY HE'LL HAVE NO NEED TO FOR AWHILE!
John looked across the table at his wife, and gave her a quick smile. A smile that said, for once in his lifetime, I know something you don't know!