The Lonely and Sad
"I know your heart's been broken but don't you give up
I'll be there, yeah I know it to fix you with love."
Stand Up-One Direction
He wants to leave as soon as the dancing begins. It's not real dancing, of course, just everyone swinging their hips and waving their arms and honestly looking like idiots…
He does not belong here. He has to get out. As he slips through the glass paneled doors, he glances back to the guests on the dance floor. That's a mistake. The glitter of the colored lights and the disco ball makes Molly Hooper sparkle.
He really shouldn't be thinking about her right now. She's dancing with that absolute imbecile of a fiance that she's (surprisingly) still engaged to.
Sherlock smirks when he remembers her waspish "Sit down," after Tom gave his "meat dagger" theory. What an insult to intellect. Although, now that he thinks of it, Tom wasn't half wrong.
He pops his collar sits down on the steps, stretching his legs out in front of him. What he would give for a smoke right now…
He crosses his arms across his chest and tells himself that it's the wind that's making him cold.
It's a warm spring night. His brain argues back.
"Shut up." He snaps. But his voice is weak.
He wants to cry. This day has been shit. He'd suffered through a church wedding, flirted with a flirty maid of honor, successfully made a best man speech, contained his panic trying to find a murderer and he even prevented a suicide. The finality of today's main event hits him (for the hundredth time) like a load of bricks.
No tears, Sherlock. Caring is not an advantage. It's Mycroft's voice.
What utter bullshit. Sherlock realizes. Love does not make a person weak, it makes him strong. That is John Watson speaking. John loved him and John loved Mary. And John was the strongest person he knew.
He does not know how long he's been sitting there, alone, in the dark. It must be after midnight by now.
Sherlock feels a hand on his shoulder. He turns and looks up. It's Molly.
"Aren't you cold?" Her voice is sweet.
She knows. Is all he can think.
"No." She'll leave. Again. Isn't that what everyone does?
She sits beside him. "So, John and Mary?"
They're finally married and they'll be away for a few weeks and then they'll come back and everyone thinks things will be the same but they won't be because now they have a baby to raise and everyone's so fucking happy except me…
He sniffs suddenly. He has to, but dammit did it have to be so loud?
Molly's arms wrap around him, squeezing tightly. He hears her hiccup softly.
She's drunk and so am I. He thinks. There's no way we'd be this close if we weren't. But I dropped and broke my glass of champagne…
Then he realizes that his coat has fallen open and there's a wet spot on his shirt, right above his left pectoral…
Molly is full out sobbing and he really can't imagine why. Isn't she happy with Tom? No, of course not.
"Molly?" He whispers.
She only sobs harder.
He raises a hand and pats her back. She seems to relax and he realizes he enjoys the feeling of a woman in his arms. Not a crying woman, though. Especially not this woman.
She sits up, tears still streaming down her face. Poor woman didn't know to wear waterproof mascara.
Don't say a word about how she looks like a raccoon, Sherlock. You'll get yourself slapped. That's John's voice.
"Sorry." She says.
I hate it when she apologizes. She has nothing to be sorry about.
"It's alright. People cry at weddings, don't they?"
She scrubs a hand across her face, streaking her makeup even further.
He doesn't comment. "At least that's what I've been told."
"People cry at weddings because they're happy, Sherlock."
Crying when you're happy isn't logical, but then it's the women who cry. There's nothing logical about women.
"Why aren't you happy?"
"I don't know."
"You do. Tell me."
She sighs and sounds world weary. "When I was a little girl, I always thought I'd fall in love and marry the love of my life."
"You can't wait for your wedding, then?"
"Tom's," she begins. "Tom's definitely not the love of my life."
"He didn't even come looking for you." Whoops, shouldn't have said that.
"Sherlock, I know that it's probably obvious to you, but I love you."
He sighs. "I know." She is the love of your life. She thought you were the one. "I love you too."
She twists the ring on her finger. "Karma's a bitch."
He looks down at her.
"I try to get over you and as soon as I'm engaged, you come back.
"It's not like I had a choice." He smirks a little. "A terrorist threat had something to do with it."
"What will you do if I break it off with Tom?"
It's a test.
"I'll ask you to marry me, Molly Hooper."
"You're being serious?"
"You'd like it, wouldn't you."
"Of course I would. You're," She pauses. "Unique."
He snorts. "Is that the best you can come up with?"
"You're Sherlock Holmes."
"That's what I've been told."
"Oh, shut up you." She's giggling now.
He's never made a woman laugh before. "Make me." Where the heck did that come from? Am I flirting? Was that a challenge?
Molly looks up at him, a smiled spread across her face. She kisses him.
He closes his eyes without meaning to. This moment is everything he's ever dreamed. It's perfect, never mind how cliche that sounds in his mind. All memory of
his first kiss with Mycroft's girlfriend is removed. His mind is humming at a thousand meters a minute, one thought echoing in his brain. Molly Hooper. Over and
over again.
He wants her. Badly.
Author's Note: I'm sorry if Sherlock seems out of character but apparently Sign of Three gave me more feels than I was aware of.
