Ten Pounds

"A bet. That's all this was, that's all I was? A bet?"

Molly Hooper cannot remember a time when she felt as unwanted, as humiliated, as hurt as she does right now. And that's coming from a girl who's been the butt of bullying and manipulation her entire life, the invisible girl who was never anybody's first choice, the lonely girl who had lost her beloved parents too early.

At least when her parents died, she knew she was loved.

"Molly. Listen to me. I don't want you to make a scene—"

"My voice is at its normal decibel, Mr. Holmes." She says his name like she's ashamed to have ever uttered it playfully before. "I just wanted to clarify something that I already know the answer to."

Her heart is broken, no doubt about that. Her heart has always been broken, held at the seams by duct tape and fake smiles, but apparently there is a level beyond that, because the moment she found out what she did she felt another thing breaking inside her, scattered around the remnants of her heart previously destroyed. She knows she's crying, but she fights to keep her voice steady because that's the only thing that can be steady at the moment. Her head is spinning, her vision is spinning, her heart has crumbled and the world around her follows. No, her voice couldn't break, because it's the only think that isn't broken right now.

"I suppose I should return this to you, then." She slips the ring off her finger, staring at it for a moment before tossing it to him in horror when she thought she saw their once happy future in the gem.

Sherlock's eyes show their own despair as he catches the ring, the thing that represented her agreement to be his forever now resting unwelcome on his palm. It's not supposed to be there. It's supposed to be on her. "This is yours. Put it back on your finger." This time, it's his voice that breaks, even though his face is still trying hard to maintain its usual impassivity. He couldn't bear think of what would happen if she refuses.

"That's not mine. It never was. That's a prop. Just a prop in your little act." she says bitterly.

"Molly. It started out as a wager, yes. John had challenged my ability to find a girlfriend and I couldn't just let him have the final say."

She chuckles masochistically to herself. Of course.

"But it changed, alright? I enjoyed it far too much and John said I should stop before it got out of control but I couldn't. Not when—"

She rolls her eyes, and more tears fall out. "Oh please. Don't tell me you've fallen in love with me in the process."

"I did—"

"No you didn't—"

"YES I DID!" Now he's the one making the scene.

She's silent.

"Molly I did fall for you. I do love you, alright? Everything… everything after that day at the estate was real. I didn't tell you about the bet because it wasn't relevant anymore! We were in a relationship, a real relationship and that's the truth."

"You expect me to believe that?" she retorts in disbelief. "Tell me, how much was the bet for? Just so I know how much I'm worth to you."

"Molly, that's not—"

"How much was the bet for, Sherlock?" her voice is wavering now, begging to at least be told the hard truth. Painful, yes, but she at least deserves the truth.

"Ten pounds." he mutters ashamedly. "But that's not what you're worth to me Molly, honestly—"

"Honest? You know the meaning of that word?" she snaps at him, before looking down on her feet, a rueful smile on her face. "Ten pounds. Wow. Just… wow." She shakes her head and more tears fall to the ground. I was worth a cab fare to him.

Sherlock cannot see her like this. Broken, in pain, alone. He takes a step forward, muttering her name soothingly before he gets stopped in his tracks by her voice.

"Don't you dare take one more step, Holmes. Don't you dare."

"Molly, why can't you understand? It started as a bet but it's not anymore! Not for a long time now. I would have dumped you immediately after you agreed to be my girlfriend if it was just all about the bet to me. But I didn't!"

She laughs. Outright. She must be going mental already. "Oh how sweet of you! How unbelievably touching. I think I'm falling in love with you all over again…"

"Don't mock me."

She glares at him. "Don't tell me what to do. I spent years doing what you tell me to and where has it gotten me? The same level as two whole chickens from the supermarket!"

"You are NOT worth ten pounds!"

She doesn't speak anymore, instead she just keeps her head down and cries. What's a few more tears, right?

"Molly. I am telling you the truth right now. If you'd just listen, you'd hear me telling you that I love you, that I want nothing but for us to continue as we were, that I wish to marry you in three months as planned. Truly. Now slap me if you wish, then stop this and put this back on your finger. We can still make our dinner reservations if we hurry—"

"No."

Sherlock feels like all the moisture in his throat has evaporated. "No?"

"No. No slap, no dinner, no ring. I want nothing to do with you anymore."

He hadn't taken this into account. His mind couldn't have handled it if he tried, so he merely passed it off as impossible. But it's happening right now, Molly is leaving him, and his mind short-circuits. "But… I've explained it to you! Look, I'm sorry for misleading you at the start but I told you it changed, and… It's been real for a long time now—You're supposed to understand, not… You can't be serious."

"I am. I'm tired of your games, Sherlock. You've won. Congratulations." comes the emotionless response.

"Molly. I demand that you stop this… this right this instant!" he says in the most authoritative voice he could muster. What is he going to do with himself if she just walks away? Impossible. Impossible.

"That's exactly what I'm doing. Stopping this."

There's nothing left for her to say, no reason left for her to stay, so with a shaky breath, she turns to leave.

He panics. Taking two long strides toward her, he grasps her wrist, so firmly he'd wonder later if he hurt her. His mind has shut off, unable to process the idea of not having Molly anymore. Of Molly not loving him anymore. "W-we've already paid the deposit for the wedding reception." It's a pathetic attempt to make her reconsider, yes, but his normally lightning quick brain isn't coming up with anything better.

She chuckles again. Her morbid humor really knows no bounds, and now it's turned into a twisted, masochistic sense. "I'd help you pay for it, but I'm broke. I could sell myself if you want, but that's only going to add up to ten pounds."

"Molly, please…"

She shakes his hand off her wrist, her eyes connecting to his one last time. "Goodbye." her shaky voice says with finality, and she walks away before he could say anything that might tempt her to jump into his arms and stay there.

Sherlock Holmes remains standing on the spot for hours after, seemingly paralyzed by the sight of Molly walking away from him, the image ingrained in his brain as the rest of the world fades.

Note: The author apologizes for the angst. But not really.

What she won't apologize for is doing the 3-a-day challenge. :)) Would the reader be interested in doing the challenge too?