Wethern's Law: Assumption is the mother of all screw-ups.
Thanks to the-keeper-of-the-keys for betaing this story.
"Molly, I have decided it is in John and my best interest to bring our relationship to the next level."
Molly Hooper dropped the tray of sterilized instruments she had just finished organizing at Sherlock's sudden pronouncement. He had come in earlier to collect aortic valves for an experiment. He had been waiting for nearly a month for an appropriate donor body to come in to do his experiment. He was lucky that University College's freezers were under repair and Barts had taken some of their load. Much to Molly's surprise, he didn't leave after collecting his prize like usual instead choosing to conduct his experiment at Barts.
Silence hung in the air as neither of them spoke. Perhaps she only imagined him saying it. Though why on Earth she would imagine him saying that was beyond her. If she was going to imagine Sherlock saying something like that she would imagine him declaring his burning desire for her not John. The fact that it was John and not her that he was talking about made her think that she, in fact, did not imagine it.
"I will need your guidance to make sure I proceed appropriately." His voice sounded almost hesitant. Well, hesitant for Sherlock Holmes. That tone in anyone else would sound more than confident. Arrogant even. That's just how Sherlock was. Hide any uncertainty with an extreme amount of confidence so that no one would second guess you.
Molly slowly gathered her now unsterile instruments, cursing the fact that she would have to make up a new tray. Just an extra thirty seconds was all she needed to compose herself. She tried to school her face into something approaching calm and accepting as she turned to face her. In his own Sherlock way he just came out to her. If she was the first person that he did so, she wanted to make sure he knew that she thought that it was fine. Most of the time, she was pretty sure her opinion didn't mean much-though he at least did lip service to asking her opinion lately- but she knew that for most people this was a Big Thing. There was no way she was going to take the chances that he would not find it to be so. After spending three years living with him off and on after his faked suicide, Molly came to realize how much Sherlock wanted- no needed- to be accepted. Not by everyone, not even by a lot of people but he needed the handful of people he had chosen to be in his life to accept him, body parts in the fridge and hoarding tendencies and all.
Though, really, she couldn't be blamed for being surprised. Save that one woman several Christmases ago it is not like he showed interest in any woman. Or any man. Or, really, anyone. Honestly, Molly was starting to think that he may be asexual. His sudden pronouncement came a bit out of the blue. In a way, it made sense that Sherlock would chose John. He spent the majority of his time with him and after those years of living with Sherlock Molly was of the opinion that John deserved to be canonized for some of the shit he put up with. John Watson knew Sherlock Holmes better than any person on the planet and Molly was confident the same applied for Sherlock's knowledge of John. That didn't stop the hurt when the tiny flicker of hope she tried to shut away and pretend didn't exist was suddenly and irrevocable snuffed.
Chances were her smile was more nervous than accepting but really that was pretty much par for the course when it came to her interactions with Sherlock. Go for being nonchalant; come out being meek and awkward. Ask most observant man she'd ever met out on a date; he thinks she's wishes to get in touch with her inner barista. Instead of Murphy's Law, Molly had Sherlock's Law. Anything that had the slightest potential to be an awkward encounter with Sherlock will be more than likely become more awkward than you ever anticipated. She had thought that Sherlock's Law had mostly faded away over the years but here it was: back like an unlucky penny.
Sherlock's eyes swept over her lightning quick, the way they always did when he entered a room or first spoke to a person. His face became masklike after deducing her down to her atoms. There was no way he didn't know what she was thinking. There was no way he didn't see the despair in her eyes as she finally realized that she never ever stood a chance with Sherlock Holmes. "I take it you don't agree."
"No!" Molly protested. It was more than fine if he was gay or bi or just John Watson-sexual. Just because he didn't want her the way she wanted him didn't mean she hated him or anything. Sure it would take some time to get over the hurt but really it was fine. In some small way this was good. A very small infinitesimal way. A look so hard for a silver lining you aren't entirely sure if you just imagined it type of way. Of course he eschewed her advances. She'd do the same if a woman made the same advances to her. Though Molly thought she would at least have the courtesy to state her sexual preference so as not to give this theoretical woman hope. Like any woman would be interested her. Molly shook her head as her thought train started to derail. "Of course, I'll help you with John. Why wouldn't I? This is just-news. I mean, wonderful news. Yes, wonderful." She cringed at the shrill laugh she let out. So much for playing it cool. "Just-just let me know what you need help with."
Molly was almost insulted by the stunned look on Sherlock's face at her pronouncement. Did he really think she wouldn't help him? After all she had done for him, did he really think her loyalty would falter because of his sexual preference? She may love him but that was her problem, not his. Just because he wanted to be with someone who wasn't her doesn't mean she would stop being his friend. Revise almost insulted, she was insulted.
"I mean it. Questions on dates and relationships and things. I'll help any way I can. I'll have to base it off of my own experience but it should give you a jumping off point, right? Little data is better than no data." Molly suddenly became aware that she had been nodding enthusiastically for the entire time she was talking. Christ, she probably looked like a bizarre bobble head doll.
Sherlock blinked at her. "You are going to help me with John."
It wasn't a question yet it wasn't quite a statement. It almost sounded as if he was testing out the words, contemplating each syllable as he uttered it.
"Of course. Yes, feel free to ask me questions. I'll help, no problem. Oh my is that the time?" She looked at her wrist, knowing that Sherlock would notice she wasn't wearing a watch but not truly caring, "This can wait until later, right? Of course it can. I have post mortems to do. Bit of a back up with University's fridges on the fritz plus our own load. Busy busy! Everyone is just dying to come here." Molly's eyes rounded in horror when she realized what she just said. Of all the jokes she had to make she made that one. "Oh God."
Molly ran from the room before something even worse slipped out of her mouth. She'd just make a tech get her another tray
"Please tell me you asked her and can stop acting like a 15 year old girl," was John's greeting as soon as Sherlock stepped over the doorframe. He glanced up when Sherlock didn't respond to him. Sherlock always replied unless he was in his mind palace and he wouldn't let something like John calling him a 15-year-old girl slide.
Sherlock stood there with a faint expression of disbelief on his face. He opened his mouth before closing it without saying anything. John sat up at the expression. He couldn't remember the last time-or ever really- seeing Sherlock so stunned.
"Sherlock, what's wrong?" This was starting to get weird. Did Molly-Molly Hooper- actually say no? He'd be baffled and a little bit impressed if she did.
"She thinks I want to date you."
John coughed violently as he choked on his own spit. John gasped comically loud for air after his lung stopped seizing. He finally managed to wheeze out, "How did you ask out a girl and come away with her thinking you're gay?"
Sherlock sat down heavily. "Perhaps she is just not as intelligent as I had believed her to be. I don't see how she could possibly misinterpret what I said. I told her why I was asking her out before warning her that I had not done this before and therefore am in need in guidance."
"Wait. Hold up. What exactly did you say? No paraphrasing. Exact words."
Sherlock sighed in annoyance. "I said, 'Molly, I have decided it is in John and my best interest to bring our relationship to the next level.' To which she stared at me in disbelief and stammered something about how she will help me woo you before buggering off!"
Sherlock must be upset if he started to use profanity, no matter how mild. "Sherlock. Think about what you said. Really think." His flat mate looked offended by being told to think. He cut him off before the dark haired man could speak. "Don't say anything, just think it over."
John sat back and watched Sherlock contemplate his words to Molly. He smirked into his cup of tea as realization dawned on Sherlock's face. "Oh."
"There it is." He sat back with his newspaper, content with examining the footie scores. It was always nice to be better at something than Sherlock.
"Damn."
"Yeah. Well done, mate."
