AN: I'm not really sure what to make of this and I don't know if I should continue it, but I just wanted to write a little ditty on how I imagined Molly's breakup with Tom happened.
I gotta say, I can't help but feel sorry for Tom. Sure, the guy isn't all that bright and he's just there to look like a ginger Sherlock on e, but I've never understood why people feel the need to make him a complete dickhead, especially in order to ship Molly with someone else. Naturally, I'm doing a little something else with a wee bit of a twist in the end. Maybe I'll explore his character a little more, but for now, please enjoy!
"Do you love me?"
It isn't the question itself that takes her by surprise, but the tone in his voice. He's usually so bright, even when they're arguing, but now his voice is cold and he asks the question as if he already knows the answer.
"I'm sorry?" she asks because she doesn't know what else to say.
"Do you love me? It's a simple question, Molly."
It really isn't, but she won't dare tell him that because she knows that he won't understand. Instead she tells him not to be ridiculous and turns away.
"I'm not being ridiculous, Molls, I'm being serious. Do you love me?"
"Tom, stop it."
"I'm not going to until I get an answer. Do you love me?"
"Stop asking me that!"
"Why?"
She doesn't have an answer, so she fakes an excuse. "It's getting late. We can talk about this tomorrow."
"We can talk about it now, Molls. Do you love me?"
"Tom, stop it now. I'm tired, I have to go to work tomorrow, and I don't know why you're being this stupid…"
"Because you don't love me."
Molly stops, already feeling the lump in the back of her throat begin to grow, as she knows exactly how tonight is going to end because to her great surprise, he's right. The silence is almost suffocating.
"Tom…"
"There's no use lying to me anymore, Molly. There's someone else, isn't there?"
Once again, she is startled and her heart feels as if it has leapt from her ribs and then sunk into the pit of her stomach like a stone. The swelling in her throat grows more painful and her eyes begin to burn. She wants to say something: the truth, a lie, or anything but the question: "How did you know?"
"I saw you," he said. "Both of you. I know how close you are, I've always known, but I wasn't quite sure how close until the wedding. I saw the way you looked at him."
Molly nods, her eyes welling with tears as she remembers the consulting detective leaving the reception early without a word when he thought no one was looking. She was looking. He looked sad.
The tears finally fall down her face as she admits it.
"Yes," she says. "yes, there is someone else."
There's always been someone else, which she almost says, but stops herself before she can so much as open her mouth. Doing so would be no different from twisting a knife in his abdomen. She expects him to cry, shout, hit her, scold her, anything. All he does is stand and nod, almost as if he's already known the answer for a long time.
"He's lucky to have you," he tells her with the weakest of smiles.
Molly shakes her head. "He doesn't see me that way."
"Yes, he does."
She can't help but laugh at the thought of it, though her laughter is as cold and unfeeling as the consulting detective himself.
"Tom…"
"I mean it, Molly, he does. I saw the way he was looking at you at the wedding."
"The wedding?"
"At John and Mary's wedding," he explains. "He couldn't keep his eyes off you."
He couldn't take his eyes off the maid of honour, she thinks, but doesn't say it out loud. Did she miss something? What is he even talking about?
She wants to ask, but is stopped short.
"I think I'd better get my things," Tom says and heads upstairs to their room.
Molly is left speechless as Tom takes his time to pack his things. No doubt, he will be staying with a friend tonight and will not be coming back.
As he leaves her to her thoughts, Molly finds herself weak in the knees and stumbles onto the sofa. He hasn't even left yet and already she can feel that familiar loneliness creeping up next to her as if to ask her if she's missed it. Holding herself, she allows her tears to fall and her sobs to escape her lips.
Alone again, naturally.
Within an hour, Tom has all of his things packed into two large suitcases and a backpack. Without a word, she meets him at the door and gives him the engagement ring. Before he can leave, one question still burns into her brain and, whether she will like the answer or not, she has to ask.
"Tom," she says. "Do you love me?"
When she looks to her now ex-fiancé, there is a sad smile on his face that she has never seen on him. It makes him almost entirely unrecognizable.
"Of course, I do," he says. "I've loved you since the day we met, but you deserve someone who can make you happy and that's something I've never been able to do, no matter how hard I've tried."
Molly nods, staring at her feet as the last tear falls.
"You'll be okay, though," he says. "Greg's a nice guy."
The name startles her and she looks back to Tom, who now opens the door, nodding with that same sad smile.
"Gr...G-Greg?" she stammers, but is stopped with one last kiss on her tear-stained cheek.
"Goodbye, Molly Hooper."
And he is gone.