A/N: Okay so it's another Sherlolly but I couldn't imagine Wednesday on a date… it's too bizarre and WAAAY too AU, even for me. Feel free to check out the "sister" to this story, it's a different kind of psycho with a different kind of mortal, but have you noticed there are so many parallels between Molly and Joel and Sherlock and Wednesday… weird! But it makes this challenge so much more fun!
Day 4:
On a Date
"Sherlock." Molly hissed, a smile plastered on her face inside though the detective could see she was seething, a fact he was blatantly ignoring.
"Yes darling?" He whispered, running his long fingers over her fists on the table.
To anyone they looked like a young couple – not that you'd recognise them, oh no, Molly's bangs were a very dark brown and curled extensively so, Sherlock was blonde, hair cut shorter but his bright blue eyes still stood out in the gloomy darkness, supposedly romantic nature of the restaurant.
Sherlock Holmes had been resurrected with some help from the good Doctor Hooper and after she babysat him for six months she thought her helping days were over. Apparently not; Sherlock had invited her out for dinner.
Sherlock hadn't been entirely clear about his intentions though when he invited her.
"You want me to come to dinner with you?" Molly looked at the detective with apprehension. "What's the trick Sherlock?" She crossed her arms, staring at him, but his face never flickered.
"I thought I owed you dinner from the amount of trouble I caused you whilst you were hiding me." Sherlock explained simply, looking at her as if it was the most rational cause. Sighing and huffing, Molly had dithered over the answer but said yes anyway – what was the point of missing an opportunity and Sherlock owed her big time. Living for half a year that intolerable man had tested her patience and her sanity, she was owed a dinner.
Molly had begrudgingly primped and preened for Sherlock, half of her was pissed she had said yes to this and was being incredibly negative, assuming he was using her yet again, the other half was squealing, fainting and panicking over what to wear.
A simple green dress, with onyx jewellery her Nana had given her was her final choice and he was at her door at seven thirty.
Without chocolate, flowers or jewellery. The pessimistic side was one nil up. But there was an expensive black estate car waiting at the bottom of the road, and he opened the door for her. One all.
"Sherlock." She demanded again. "You brought me here to spy on some suspect." Molly was hurt, hurt by her own stupidity that she had actually prepared for this date and that he was just using her again. "Do you know something Sherlock… I thought you were actually making it up to me, for the shit you put me through when you were hiding out with me, when James was after you. I genuinely believed you had changed again Sherlock." Molly was startled by the feeling of tears down her cheeks.
"Molly." Sherlock also seemed surprised by the turn of events, forgetting about his target and turning, for the first time that evening, his full attention towards her.
"Piss off Sherlock." Molly left before her main course arrived and stormed out of the entrance to the still waiting black car. "Take me home." She sobbed in the back seat.
The week after Molly had psyched herself up for the suspicious death she was examining, a death that would require Sherlock there. Watching the curly haired man stride into her lab like he owned it irritated her, but he didn't even glance at the body – in his hands he held a bouquet of chrysanthemums and lavender, and a box of chocolates.
"I'm sorry Molly." He said it outright and at first the doctor was stunned, then her eyes narrowed shrewdly.
"What do you want Sherlock?" She tapped her foot and stared at him.
"To apologise." He said, he seemed sincere; for a start there were emotions flickering behind his eyes, uncertainty and irritation.
"Leave the flowers and chocolates on the desk the body is here." She turned back to Miss LaVelle, hiding the small smile that was threatening to erupt into a goofy grin.
"I also want to invite you to dinner. I'm cooking." He said as he walked to the other side of the busty blonde corpse on the examination table.
Molly was stunned into silence – Sherlock was cooking. Sherlock was cooking.
"No chemicals?" She said calmly; she was proud of how her voice barely shook as she uttered the words.
"None." He whispered and the tender, frankly bizarre moment passed. They were back to business discussing Miss Amore LaVelle or Kitty Munderwick who was found in a dumpster in Knightsbridge.