O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?

by shezzalovesmolly

Molly knew Sherlock well enough to know that he will never do a play like Romeo and Juliet and honestly, she shuddered at the thought of Sherlock as Romeo. On one hand there was Romeo, whose name had now become synonymous with lover, and then there was Sherlock, who scoffed at sentiment, calling it a chemical defect found on the losing side of the brain.

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to Moftiss and BBC and the lines from Romeo and Juliet are a property of William Shakespeare.

---

It was lunch time and Sherlock, John and Molly were sitting together at the canteen, when Mary came to their table to join them.

Giving John a peck on the cheek, she settled beside him. Sherlock and Molly sitting across from them.

"What took you so long?" asked Molly.

"Oh, I am sorry! I almost forgot to tell you. I have got some news." Mary replied with a cheerful tone but not leaving behind her penchant for suspense.

"Not again. Tell us already what its about." Sherlock said sounding bored.

"Fine, but you didn't need to be rude Sherlock." answered Mary, shooting daggers at Sherlock.

Mary and Sherlock had a queer sort of friendship, both of them telling off each other all the time but it was always in good humour. Molly suspected it had something to do with how alike they were whereas John said he didn't have any care in this world as long as they continue this because in his words 'It is even better than the shows on telly' .

"Oh stop it you two. Go on Mary." replied Molly giving Sherlock her, what John called the, no shit sherlock look.

"I was passing by the notice board and they just put up the sign up lists for the annual drama." Mary answered, squealing with delight.

"What play is it this time?" asked Molly, bouncing with joy.

"Oh, you will love this one. Its Romeo And Juliet!"

"Oh my god! They are finally doing it! I have been waiting for this for years now!" replied Molly, her previous excitement increasing ten fold.

"Guess our Juliet is already geared up for it." John teased Molly, amused by how exhilarated she was at the prospect of staging Romeo And Juliet, the classic love story.

But then that was Molly, a weird combination of a hopeless romantic and an aspiring forensic pathologist.

Molly blushed at John's praise. True, she had been the lead in all the dramas staged till date but she was really nervous for this one. After all playing Juliet had been her dream, silly yes, ever since she had read Shakespeare's masterpiece.

Deciding to divert the attention from herself, she asked Mary what part she was trying for.

"I will be trying for the Nurse. Won't even dream of auditioning against you for Juliet, you're bloody brilliant!"

If Molly was blushing before, she was positively as red as a tomato now.

Noticing her friend's discomfort, Mary turned to John.

"What will you be trying for, my dear?" Mary asked smirking, knowing very well how such endearments irritated Sherlock, never giving up ways to spite him.

"Mercutio. Don't have a chance for Romeo, thanks to the bloody git here. I don't call him a drama queen without reason." John replied, looking pointedly at Sherlock.

Sherlock simply shrugged at the friendly accusation. "Maybe you do have a chance this time. I won't be participating in the drama this year. Romeo and Juliet, not really my area. I was hoping they did King Lear this time. But then, what do they say about hopes." Sherlock sighed and promptly got back to his food while John and Mary stared at him in shock while Molly seemed completely unfazed.

Why should she be shocked? Molly knew Sherlock well enough to know that he will never do a play like Romeo and Juliet and honestly, she shuddered at the thought of Sherlock as Romeo. On one hand there was Romeo, whose name had now become synonymous with lover, who gave his life because he could not imagine his world without his love Juliet and then there was Sherlock, who scoffed at sentiment, calling it a chemical defect found on the losing side of the brain and, in Molly's opinion, didn't have any sorts of romantic feelings for anyone. Molly reckoned that the beautiful dialogues of Romeo's confession of his true and undying love would sound so unnatural and abysmal coming out of Sherlock's mouth. Despite being the great actor he was, even Sherlock couldn't manage to pull this facade off without letting a hint of mockery and disdain slip in his tone even if he wanted to. And Molly had never been this wrong.

The school bell brought Molly out of her reverie.

"Okay guys, we gotta go!" Molly waved her goodbyes to John and Sherlock and left for her biology class with Mary.

"Mate, are you sure you will not be auditioning for the part of Romeo?" John asked Sherlock.

"I thought my opinion on this matter was quite clear, John."

"No, Sherlock. You aren't thinking about it properly and don't give me that look because I am not talking about you deducing Greg's girlfriend dumped him by the color of his socks or that Anderson and Donovan have been making out again in the library by their odour! I am talking about your feelings for Molly."

"John."

"No. Listen to me Sherlock. We both know that you're head over heels for her. And don't even try to deny it, I've seen how you look at her when you think none can see you."

That shut him up and if it wasn't Sherlock Holmes, John might have thought that he was blushing.

"Ya. So where was I? Right. You do realize that Molly will get the part of Juliet."

"Obviously."

"And if you don't audition for Romeo, then you know who will get the part."

Comprehension dawned on his face and his face now settled in an expression of disgust.

"Jim Moriarty."

"Nice deduction. Everyone knows he has a thing for Molly who, just for your information, has the same feelings for you but has already given up, all thanks to your love is a dangerous disadvantage theory. And a play like Romeo and Juliet, the epic love story, don't you think Moriarty will take advantage of it and make a move on her and Molly being Molly will most likely confuse her feelings with the feelings of Juliet. You might finally lose her, mate."

As John's monologue ended, Sherlock abruptly stood up from his chair and started walking briskly out of the canteen leaving John no choice other than following his friend.

"Where to Sherlock?"

"The notice board. To sign up for the role of Romeo." Sherlock replied, sounding so casual like he wasn't ever against the idea at all.

---

Sherlock's House

One week later…

"Oh hello Molly dear! Its nice to see you." Mrs. Holmes opened the door for Molly and ushered her inside, greeting her with her ever so affectionate smile.

"Nice to see you too, Mrs. Holmes."

"Honestly Molly, I can't believe my Sherlock will be playing Romeo. Its my favourite play and I've always wanted Sherlock, seeing his interest in dramatics, to play this part once. But considering how he turned out to be, I didn't think I will ever see this day! And who could be a better choice to play Juliet to my Sherlock than you my dear. I simply can't wait to watch you two create magic on the stage!"

Molly blushed at those words of praise. Mrs. Holmes had always been a darling. After knowing Sherlock and meeting his brother Mycroft, when Molly met Sherlock's parents she could not help but think of them as… ordinary. They weren't eccentric like their sons and there wasn't an urge to asphyxiate them while they were talking, which happened often with their sons, in fact they were very loving and adorable.

Quite the opposite of Sherlock. But if you come to think of it, even Sherlock was behaving a bit… weird. Weird in an un-Sherlock way.

The biggest example was him auditioning for Romeo. What with the not my area. Though she herself was not present when he auditioned, Mary said that he swept everyone off their feet with his dialogues and even Miss Dominick gave her verdict the very moment, not even waiting for other students to audition for the part. This made her even more nervous. And now here she was, at Sherlock's house, to practice for the play for the very first time and hoping beyond hopes that Mary was just exaggerating and that he wasn't that good because if it were the case, she would not need any blush for makeup on the stage!

Nodding politely at Mrs. Holmes, Molly made her way upstairs and to Sherlock's room. The door was open.

"Ah, Molly! On time as always. Shall we begin?"

"Sure. What scene would you like to start with?" Molly asked, tapping at her copy of the script.

"Umm… What do we have here? Oh! Lets do the balcony scene … Act II Scene II."

And he had to choose the most romantic scene in the whole play! Good going Molls!

Sherlock was looking at her with a raised eyebrow and then she realized that she hadn't answered him. Nodding at him, Molly turned the pages of her script to the required scene.

And then she sat transfixed as Sherlock's deep baritone washed over her, drowning her completely.

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?

It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.

Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,

Who is already sick and pale with grief,

That thou her maid art far more fair than she:

Be not her maid, since she is envious;

Her vestal livery is but sick and green

And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.

It is my lady, O, it is my love!

O, that she knew she were!

She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?

Her eye discourses; I will answer it.

I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:

Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,

Having some business, do entreat her eyes

To twinkle in their spheres till they return.

What if her eyes were there, they in her head?

The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,

As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven

Would through the airy region stream so bright

That birds would sing and think it were not night.

See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!

O, that I were a glove upon that hand,

That I might touch that cheek!"

He spoke those lines with such intensity, his blue-green orbs brimming with passion that Molly couldn't help losing herself in those beautiful eyes, completely unaware of the surroundings and just drifting along with the tide. The script lying forgotten on his bed. She didn't need it, every line engraved in her very soul.

"Ay me!"

"She speaks:

O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art

As glorious to this night, being o'er my head

As is a winged messenger of heaven

Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes

Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him

When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds

And sails upon the bosom of the air."

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?

Deny thy father and refuse thy name;

Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,

And I'll no longer be a Capulet."

"Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?"

"'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;

Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.

What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,

Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part

Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!

What's in a name? that which we call a rose

By any other name would smell as sweet;

So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,

Retain that dear perfection which he owes

Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,

And for that name which is no part of thee

Take all myself."

Without realising, they both had gravitated towards each other, looking deeply into each other's eyes, lost completely into each other. Sherlock's hand was now lightly grazing her cheek and Molly's hand on Sherlock's racing heart as they continued what turned out to be more than a rehearsal.

"By whose direction found'st thou out this place?"

"By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;

He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.

I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far

As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,

I would adventure for such merchandise."

"Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,

Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek

For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night

Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny

What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!

Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'

And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,

Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries

Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,

If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:

Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,

I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.

In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,

And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:

But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true

Than those that have more cunning to be strange.

I should have been more strange, I must confess,

But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,

My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,

And not impute this yielding to light love,

Which the dark night hath so discovered."

"Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear

That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops—"

"O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,

That monthly changes in her circled orb,

Lest that thy love prove likewise variable."

"What shall I swear by?"

"Do not swear at all;

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,

Which is the god of my idolatry,

And I'll believe thee."

"If my heart's dear love—"

"Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,

I have no joy of this contract to-night:

It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be

Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,

May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest

Come to thy heart as that within my breast!"

"O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?"

"What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?"

"The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine."

"I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:

And yet I would it were to give again."

"Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

But to be frank, and give it thee again.

And yet I wish but for the thing I have:

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite."

By now both Sherlock and Molly knew that Romeo and Juliet were long gone and that these confessions of love were from their very own hearts. Nothing else was needed to be said between the two of them. It was strange how beautifully those last few lines seem to fit them.

Sherlock could wait no longer, as he lowered his head and captured her lips in the most amazing, intense and toe-curling kiss of her life. Years of suppressed love, passion and yearning emerging in that one moment. When the need to breath could no longer be withheld, they separated and Molly looked into Sherlock's eyes. The fierce look of devotion and love he was giving her was enough to make all doubts vanish from her mind. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her petite form and pulled her against his body and Molly couldn't help but think how two of her biggest dreams had come true in one evening.