Well folks this is my first fanfic story, so I hope you enjoy. I am open for constructive criticism just please be nice.
This was no office romance. Andy may be an average guy, but an average guy was outstanding for Molly Hooper who was use to dating cheaters, drunks and a world class criminal or two. Most of these relationships ended when by some chance the couple would bump into Sherlock Holmes. Who would promptly point out the major flaws in the man and some minor flaws in Molly. Now, after years of failed affairs, Molly was confident that sweet and lovable Andy would have no addictions, secret pasts or wives in Liverpool for Sherlock to point out. He had a stable job as a lawyer with a house in the suburbs and an adorable son (though Molly has only seen pictures). Molly wouldn't describe him as handsome but he wasn't ugly, and he treated Molly like a queen.
So when Molly saw Sherlock finishing a case at the restaurant she and Andy were spending date night at, she believed she had nothing to fear. She didn't even think Sherlock would notice her. She was wrong.
...
Sherlock and Lestrade had just made the arrest of the drug lord they had come to retrieve when Sherlock spied Molly with a new beau. As with all of Molly's boyfriends Sherlock felt a wave of jealousy, and after a moment of analysis he was ready to separate what he felt was his from the liar.
...
Sherlock's ears are ringing. His left cheek burned and is turning an angry red. Molly's hand is also turning red, but she is oblivious to the pain. Who knew someone so small could hit so hard. Slowly, trying not to show the inner turmoil he is facing, Sherlock turns back to her. They are standing in the ally where Molly ran after the debacle, Sherlock following promptly. The moonlight illuminates the angry tears in her eyes. "How dare you." She snarls, narrowing her eyes as she attempts to understand how he could be so cruel. "I don't see what I've done wrong," Sherlock says. If John were there he would have laughed at the obliviousness of his friend. "I only revealed his compulsive lying, something that would have ruined your relationship eventually. Honestly how could you believe such obvious lies. Would a father really be wearing-"
"I DON'T CARE IF HE'S BLOODY MORIARTY!" Molly screamed, Sherlock jumps slightly, shocked at her sudden outburst. Her face holds an expression that is as savage as it is exasperated. "You had to ruin another one didn't you? Andy treated me like a princess! He sent me flowers, he made me cookies. Even if he didn't do all that he respected me and was there for me when I needed him. That is more than you've EVER done for me after everything I've done for you. I've spent countless hours of my own time, not even overtime for work, helping you with your cases. I came when you called, sleep be damned. For god sakes I saved your bloody life! I had to spend two years lying to John, Lestrade, , all of them. Do you know how hard that was for me?"
"But-" Sherlock tries to interject, but Molly knows what he is going to say and is having none of it. "Yes, you thanked me and took me out," she continues. Cutting him off, "but sometimes that isn't enough. Would it hurt you to say one kind word? Or take two seconds to think how it might hurt me if you commented on my weight, my too thin lips or my non-existent breasts? Don't tell me that you say I look nice because fake compliments used to get into the morgue aren't compliments. Mousey Molly who is only worth a glance when tests need to be run. Little who is even more bothersome than the average dimwit, and less intelligent considering her horrid taste in men." At this she slumps, her snarling expression dissipates and is replaced with a look of defeat. It is as if she has given up hope. Sherlock wants desperately to say something, but has no words. After a pause Molly continues. "Well Sherlock, I am no match to your brilliance and I will not make a difference to anyone. So come to the lab, It will be open. Mock my appearance, it won't hurt you. Ask me for my help, because no matter how much you insult me I will be there for you. Forgoing sleep, running tests, fetching you coffee. Because what you do makes a difference; it saves people. I just want to pretend that what I do is important, too. Andy treated me like I was important to him. That is all I ever wanted. So leave me in peace and let the mouse find her happy ending."
With that she turns her back on him and begins walking out of the alley. She looks heartbroken, her shoulders down and her chin lowered. Taking deep breaths trying to recover from the outpour of pent up emotions. Now she would go home. Pour herself a glass of wine or two, then curl up on the couch and let the tears flow. Silently she berates herself for being so foolish as to think the relationship, any of her relationships, would last.
Many people think love is a mystery to Sherlock, but love is not a mystery. Love is a combination of serotonin and oxytocin and diagnosed by dilated pupils and an increased heart rate. The emotions of love are mysteries to Sherlock. How watching a woman walk away could cause a heart to ache. He must stop her from leaving, because if he let her leave he knows she would be lost to him. He could not endure the pain of that. Before she could get too far, Sherlock reaches out and lightly puts a hand on her arm, immediately moving in front of her when she stops. Putting a hand on her chin, he lifts her face so he can see her more clearly.
"You're wrong," he says, his speech slow and cautious. An entirely different tone than his earlier deductions. "Molly, what you do does make a difference. It may not be written in the case files or the papers, but it makes a difference to me. You are the reason I am here today, and not only how you helped me survive the fall. You put me back together, you were always there when I needed you offering food and shelter and ears that would listen. Eventually the only thing that kept me going while breaking Moriarty's network was knowing that when it was done I could go back to you. You did that, all of that, even after my remarks. You did not care that you could have lost your job or your reputation." Gradually his speech begins to speed up, taking on light tones of desperation. A floodgate of emotions he fought to oppress opening up. "Since I've come back you've invaded my mind palace. I find you where you shouldn't be. The patterns of your sweaters are the wallpapers. I hear your comments during my deductions. I can't even clean with anything that is not citrus scented because it reminds me of your lab space. I know you're right, I've been a right pick to you, but that is because I don't know how to handle my emotions or control my thoughts. If I say your lips are too small it's because I need a reason not to want to kiss them. When I destroy your relationships it is because I'm jealous, hard as it is for me to accept it. Molly you count to me! To them you may be unimportant but to me you are everything. You are the reason we have solved so many cases. You are the reason I try to be a better man." His speech is changing again. Now instead of desperation, it is possessive. A dark look came over him and he steps even closer to Molly. She is shocked by what he is saying, and tries to step back but his hand on her arm prevents her. "You are better than them Molly, they don't deserve you. In fact, I don't deserve you, but I don't care. Because You. Are. Mine." With this he grasps her other arm and pulls her closer until they are only centimeters apart. So close their breaths mingled. Molly stars up at Sherlock with wide doe eyes while his eyes continue to see into her soul. She is effectively confused, Sherlock ...love her? Emotions swept through her and twisted her like a tornado. Shock, confusion, anger, joy, hope. The array was beginning to make her feel lightheaded.
"Give me a chance, Molly. I know I'm not a true knight in shining armor you deserve, but I'm... what did you call it? Your... type?" Sherlock tries to keep his aloof personality, when in reality butterflies have found his stomach. His voice is slightly higher than normal and his face clearly shows his uncertainty. Molly doesnt know what she had done to steal the heart of Sherlock Holmes, but she had. Of all the emotions battling within her a calm happiness won. With a confidence she did not know she possessed she raises a hand to cup his chiseled jaw and slowly leans in to give him a small but lingering kiss. She counts it as a victory that he did not pull away, but he made no move to return it. Uncertainty returned quickly and she began to draw away, but she was stops only centimeters back when she felt his hand cup the back of her neck. Their eyes lock for only a moment before he pulls her back into the kiss. It is soft and chaste kiss at first but quickly developed into a passionate need to simply taste each other.
They are so consumed in each other they do not hear Lestrade calling. "Sherlock! Oh, for god sakes where is that man? Sherlock!" He turns the corner to the ally, and lifts his flashlight to search for Sherlock. As the sudden intrusion of the light hit Sherlock and Molly they jumped apart. Everyone stood there too shocked to speak. Lestrade's eyes bounce between Sherlock and Molly, he looks like a deer in the headlights. Molly suddenly finds the cracks in the asphalt extremely interesting, a vain attempt to hide her embarrassment, the color of her face could rival that of a prizewinning tomato.
Sherlock takes only a moment to recover before jumping into action. "For gods sakes, Lestrade I found you a serial killer, again I might add. All you need to do interrogate him. Ask him about his cross-dressing habit and he'll spill so if you would kindly bugger off Molly and I were sharing a moment," he fires at Lestrade, being ever the consulting detective. Molly expects Lestrade to respond defensively as he normally does. Instead, much to the confusion of both Sherlock and Molly, a wide grin began to spread across his face. "Took you long enough," he says directly to Sherlock. Then he spins on he heel and walked out of the alley, muttering something about Mycroft owing him a fiver. Leaving a very confused Sherlock and Molly staring after him. Molly is the first to recover, bursting out into giggles at the hilarity of the situation and how Sherlocks annoyed glare is made comical by smeared lipstick. Sherlock raises an eyebrow at her. "He's right!" She gasps out between giggles, "It took you long enough!" Sherlock lets her finish giggling, waiting with an affectionate smile. Before he smiles and replies, "I think so too."