She didn't know if it was because of the nature of their work. Examining bodies wasn't very romantic, was it? Maybe it was because he thought she was taken. He did get touchy when she mentioned a date with someone else. Perhaps it was because he was just too busy for someone. Whatever it was, Molly was positive of one thing. Sherlock wasn't in love with her.
He knew that she liked him. He'd deducted it himself, that Christmas night. She had been so mortified, and it must have shown on her face. Because he leaned in and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. Molly knew that he'd meant it as an apology for his rude remark. But she felt the inside meaning of that kiss. It meant, I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way. Basically, a wordless rejection.
She wasn't stupid. But she wasn't being smart either. "You changed the part in your hair," he'd said once. "Shame, I liked it the other way." Stinging with the barb, she'd gone straight to the mirror, took out a comb, and re-parted her hair. As she walked back in to the lab, Sherlock took a quick glance at her part, nodded once, and went back to work.
He did that a lot. Noticed a new thing about her. Commented on it. And every time, she'd go and change it back to normal. Sometimes, she was actually a bit grateful that he had pointed it out. Like when she wore pink lipstick to work. She'd gone to the mirror to remove it and saw that he was right, it didn't suit her. But other times, it just infuriated her. Like that day that she'd worn a bit of subtle eyeliner and mascara. It made her eyes look wider, brighter, prettier. She had been complimented by the people downstairs, even a few strangers on the street. But in the fateful moment when he noticed it and questioned her, she went to the bathroom and wiped off the eye makeup.
Too long she had been letting his opinion rule her life. Molly was an independent girl. And she could do what she wanted.
She walked into the lab. Sherlock was already there, fiddling with the microscope slides. She dumped her purse on the ground and walked over to the desk, where she picked up a file and got to work on her notes.
"Molly?" Sherlock's voice almost made her jump. She calmly closed her file.
"Yes, Sherlock?"
He took a few steps towards her and she felt his index finger brush her cheek. "Are you wearing... blush?"
Molly blinked. She wasn't sure what to say. The normal her would have muttered something and rushed to the bathroom to wipe it off. But she wasn't feeling very normal today. "Yeah. And no matter what your opinion of my beauty experiment is, I honestly don't care. Because I like it. And I am keeping it on."
Sherlock looked like he had been slapped between the eyes. He mouth was slightly tilted open. His eyes were wide with surprise. Molly wondered to herself if she had gone too far.
"Actually," he said, "I was just going to say that it looked nice. You should do it more often." And with that he looked down and returned to his microscope.
Molly returned to her notes. She remembered her words. 'I honestly don't care.' She smiled. And it felt good.