Hello all. This is my first Sherlock fic. I had read a different story some months back with similar premise (unfortunately, I've not been able to find it again), and felt inspired. I've cut the story in an odd place, but I intend to upload the next chapter soon. Hope you all enjoy it. Thanks!
Sherlock enters the lab at St. Bart's the same way he always has - as if he owns the place. Samples in hand, he scans the room for any sign of life. He sees no one, but hears a soft sobbing from behind a counter.
Molly.
Knowing he'll have to deal with her one way or another, he follows the sound of her crying and finds her sitting on the floor, leaning against a counter.
"Molly. Are you alright?"
"Sherlock! I'm - I'm fine." she says, wiping away a tear.
"Obviously not. Your boyfriend broke up with you this morning. Didn't know you had a boyfriend."
"Well. Not a boyfriend, as such. We had been seeing each other - casually - and - I though it was going well, until I saw his text message this morning."
Molly hands her phone over to Sherlock, and he reads the message.
hey baby. i dont think i wanna c u anymore. met dis hot chick tha bar 2night, & she's freakin awesome in tha sack. u're great wit ur tongue & everythin, but u've got a small chest, a flat ass, & ur cat creeps me out. i rly think this chick is a better deal 4 me. peace - brian
When Molly looks away to grab another tissue, he scrolls up to see Brian's previous messages.
hey sexy...dtf?
what r u wearing?
that was so awesome. u free again 2night?
feelin lonely. wanna cum over?
"Americans." he mutters.
"How did you know?"
"Between the poor spelling, atrocious grammar, and improper use of the word 'awesome', it was obvious. Really Molly. First, Moriarty. Now a shallow, half-witted American. Where do you find them?"
She starts crying again.
"You know, you can be just as cruel as Brian."
Sherlock reads the text message again, and changes his tack.
"Molly, I -"
"You come in here, and say these awful things to me, and then expect me to just give you whatever you want. That's not what normal people do. I mean, if you even pretended to be human once in awhile, that would help."
Her rant stops when she looks at his face. Instead of the usual look of haughty superiority, he looks genuinely concerned.
"You're right, Molly. And I'm sorry. I'll be right back."
Before she can respond, he is up off the floor, and out of the lab. A few minutes later he returns, coffee and chocolate scone in hand.
"Here. These should help." Sherlock says, handing them to her.
She sips the coffee and smiles slightly. "It's perfect. Thank you. But why the chocolate scone?"
"Don't all women like chocolate?" he asks, looking rather puzzled. "That's what John gives his girlfiends when he has messed something up. He always keeps a box in the flat, just in case."
Molly snickers. "I don't doubt it."
"There. See? Feeling better already, aren't we?" he asks, wiping a tear from her cheek.
"Yes. Much. Thank you."
"Right. So, up off the floor. We have some tests to run." Sherlock says, grasping her hands, and helping her upright.
"Is that the only reason you were nice to me? To get me to help you run some bloody tests?"
Molly practically spits the words at him.
"No. Not the only reason." he says sheepishly. "But now that you're better, we can get on with the work."
"You really just don't get it, do you?"
"Apparently not. Just tell me what you want me to do, so I can run these tests." replies an irritated Sherlock.
"I want you to be nice to me for reasons other than your own self-interest. But you can't, can you?" she shouts.
"No."
"Fine then. We're not friends. This is just a business transaction. You want something from me. What do I get in return?"
Slightly taken aback by quiet little Molly Hooper suddenly standing up to him, Sherlock just stares for a moment.
"What do you want?" he asks.
After a beat, she responds: "A kiss."
"A kiss?"
"Yes. Not just a peck on the cheek. Right on the lips. And you have to make me believe you mean it."
"I don't know if I can do that."
"If you want these tests run. You had better try."
"Alright. Alright. Just give me a moment." replies a very irritated Sherlock.
He turns away for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose with his right hand. After a deep breath, he turns back to Molly and pulls her in close with one arm around her waist. His other hand tucks an errant strand of hair behind her ear, and gently guides her face toward his. With their lips just inches apart, he pauses for a moment.