Disclaimer: The characters of Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the writers/producers of BBC Sherlock. No copyright infringement intended.
Sherlock thought he knew all there was of her. When he met her years ago in the morgue at St. Bart's, he had read her easily. Molly was so open and easy to manipulate. Unfortunately, there was always something he missed.
Molly was surprisingly clever and over the years of interacting with him, had learned to interpret him in ways others could not. He had discovered in a singular moment that she did count. She had always counted. She could and would help him in the most important task of his life, and subsequently, his death. That said, Sherlock then assumed there would be no more surprises. A survey of her belongings upon going to ground seemed to confirm his assessment. The great detective should have known not to assume anything of his pathologist.
She harbored a secret passion. There were few things that could shock the man who staved off boredom with serial killers, but this was certainly shocking. He watched as she leapt from her couch and spewed profanities at the screen before them. It left him dumbstruck. Her arms were cast about and her face colored with indignation. Molly was a rabid football fanatic and it left Sherlock speechless.
He gaped openly as she stood to yell again,"Can't any one of those idiots protect the bloody ball!"
AN: This is part of my one-a-day challenge, although it's really only Sherlolly if you squint. I decided to double the challenge today and attempt my first "221B" format story as well. This was inspired by my own fanaticism of all things football (including futbol/soccer and American football). It sometimes shocks people as I don't seem to be a football fan (whatever a football fan seems like). I'm actively seeking prompts/challenges so please drop me a line. Reviews are love! - CG