A/N: I was just thinking of how I could play around with Molly's "you wanted to see me?" lin in TEH. If I could play with it, it would make Sherlock's response have a whole different dimension of meaning too. This could have been written better but for now, this is all my sleepy self can muster. I hope you'll manage to enjoy it nonetheless :) x
Solve Crimes
Sherlock stared quietly out of his window. It certainly was a quiet morning. All he could hear were some footsteps, a few birds here and there and Mrs Hudson tinkering in her kitchen downstairs. Apart from those, it was quiet.
Inside his mind was a different scene entirely. Thoughts crashed and burned as he replayed conversations over and over again. Analysing phrases uttered, reading above, below and between lines. He ripped words apart and put them back together again. They did not make sense, and yet, he understood them.
What frightened him most was the way the words ricocheted in his chest. And when they were done, the bullets lodged themselves right in his heart.
Are you okay?
Don't just say you are.
Because I know what that means,
Looking sad when you think no one can see you.
You can see me.
I don't count.
He had known from the start that she could see right through him. Even when he would mercilessly play with her affections for him, he knew she could see it all. Sherlock could never dupe Molly Hooper, nor pull wool over her eyes. Everyone assumed that she was just a pawn in his consulting game of detective chess, but they were wrong. They saw, but they never observed. They never knew that Molly really could see right through him.
After he had jumped and escaped his life in London, this had plagued him. In her absence, it taunted him more that she had never known this. Of all the people to assume she had been a pawn in his life, he had never expected Molly herself to feel that way. Had he missed something? Perhaps he had misread her. Could he even read her at all? How could he make her see that she was no mere chess piece? Sherlock felt as though he had committed a crime. He needed to see her again, to discover for himself what he had done wrong.
His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden flash of colour on the pavement. Sherlock's eyes darted left and right, unsure of where he should be found waiting. Should he keep his eyes to the window? Or turn to face the door instead? Before he could decide, he soon heard footsteps. They were careful and polite. Most importantly, they were hers.
"You wanted to see me?" she asked sweetly.
There were so many wrongs he had to make right. It did not help that time was short. The ring on her finger marked the limits for him. Yet, more than ever, Sherlock wanted to see her. He wanted to really see her. If he did, he would know how he had rendered her invisible. Then, perhaps, he could make her see that he could see her too. Sherlock turned swiftly around, put on his best smile and mustered every single ounce of courage he had. This was a crime he was never going to commit again.
"Yes," he answered.
END