Now You See Me

Chapter 2

Molly shifted the clear goggles on her face as she looked at the experiment going on before her.

She wrapped her smock tighter around her body, she didn't want any blood on her clothes, least of all today.

Sherlock stood beside her, hacking into a forearm she provided for him. He was on a case and needed to know the exact damage a hammer could do to the bone.

When Sherlock showed back up a few days after her visit to the grave, Molly couldn't stop smiling. She was so grateful to have him back, and in one piece, that she almost jumped into his arms as he surprised her at Bart's one day after her shift, looking all handsome and mysterious as she eyed him in her locker mirror.

His exchange with John didn't go as he had planned she heard from Mary. It was an interesting tale, and one she wished she could have been a fly on the wall for.

Events seemed to be a blur from there. She had gotten engaged (long story), John and Mary got married, Sherlock was asked to give a best man's speech, she ended her engagement, and Sherlock ended the reign of another horrible criminal.

Everything had been quiet since then, everyone falling into a typical routine. Sherlock and John still solved cases together. Sherlock still commandeered the lab whenever he felt like it, and Molly's love for him only continued to grow. But with the love, came the ache once more. Her constant interaction with him, was lovely, and she looked forward to it, but every time he left or said something unkind, it chipped away at her already fragile heart. The pain inside her was growing, so she did what she did best, she tucked it away, pushing the pain down as far as it would go, and plastered on a fake smile she had perfected so many years ago, even the genius Sherlock Holmes couldn't tell the difference.

Her days were lonely, her life forgettable, and she found herself living for the days when Sherlock would sweep into the lab, his curly locks bouncing with exuberance, as he pestered her for body parts or lab results, effectively taking over his stool and microscope without a second thought. She smiled, offered coffee, and tried to convince herself that she was happy. That seeing Sherlock, helping him out and being needed, was enough. That she could live like this for the rest of her life. She tried to move on, she was engaged for God's sake, but that wasn't enough. Who was she fooling? He was a Sherlock substitute, and that was more than apparent when he was back from the dead, and Molly found herself wanting less of Tom and more of Sherlock.

The loneliness was hard to ignore, and she knew it was time to try and move on once more. She needed to get back out there, try going on a few dates or socializing with people that weren't dead or demanding obscene things from her while calling her John.

Her friend had suggested online dating. Molly was completely against it at first. She didn't trust people from those sites, but the pestering didn't lay off, and Molly found herself giving in. It took a few months, but she finally began to chat with this nice man who lived in the city. He was in his mid-thirties, nice-looking, and very friendly. After emailing him for a few weeks, Molly finally agreed to meet him for dinner at a local Italian restaurant, which brings her back to said day.

"Um, Sherlock," Molly began, standing away from the arm. "I don't mean to be a bother, but, when do you think you're going to be done?"

Sherlock didn't look up, too focused on the arm. "Why?" Sherlock asked, giving the arm a nice whack, sending red blood onto Molly's goggles. She used a towel to wipe it away, before stepping aside. She didn't have time to go back to her apartment to change before her date. She needed to stay blood-free, so as to not scare the man away immediately if she had blood stains on her shirt.

"I just...need to be going soon," Molly said. She peered at the clock on the wall. It was half past five, and she was to meet Andrew in an hour.

"I told you to stop watching that crap telly," Sherlock began. Molly opened her mouth to object, but he continued on. "It's better to be here, with me, than sitting on your couch."

Molly would have smiled at the comment at one time, him saying he wanted her to be there, but she knew that wasn't the case. "You mean "for" you."

"Yes, well, what's the difference?" Sherlock said, his hands moving toward the microscope as he analyzed his findings.

"Listen, Sherlock, I don't mind...," Molly started to say, when Sherlock decided to interrupt.

"Hand me that scalpel, John," Sherlock said and Molly's jaw clenched shut. The sudden pain within her chest throbbed, and she began to rub it. It had been a while since he last called her John instead of her name. She had thought they moved past that. She wanted to believe that she was more important to just be a person to Sherlock Holmes. She knew he would never want her romantically, but she at least thought they could be friends. He trusted her, right? Didn't he say she counted? It's times like these he made her feel less than human, completely worthless, and she batted down the tears.

"My name isn't John, it's Molly," Molly said through clenched teeth. Her one hand gripped her chest, while the other turned in on itself, digging nail impressions into her hand. Sometimes Sherlock Holmes was just too much, and she was so close to exploding, she knew she had to get out of there, and fast. Molly walked away, ripping off her lab coat and throwing it into her office, before grabbing her purse. She threw on her coat, and kept her eyes away from Sherlock. She knew if she turned around and looked at him she would lose her composure.

"Oh, if you're going out, I'll take a black coffee, two sugars," Sherlock called after her and Molly felt her entire being begin to break in half. After everything she's done for him, after everything, this is still how he's going to act. She breathed in and out slowly, counting to ten in her head before she whipped around to face the curly-haired bastard.

"You're never going to change, are you, Sherlock Holmes?" Molly asked, her voice so quiet, she wasn't sure if she had spoke aloud, until Sherlock looked up quickly, his eyes finding hers and widening slightly at the sight before him. "I've done so much for you, and you act like I'm nothing...no one. That's how it's been for me my whole life, I'm starting to believe it's true." Sherlock looked like he wanted to say something, but she quieted him with a look. "I'm trying to be there for you, Sherlock, and I don't ask much from you, but a little decency would go a long way."

She turned then, ready to head out the door when Sherlock's voice stopped her. "Enjoy your date," he simply said, and Molly turned to face him.

"You knew?" Molly questioned, then immediately backtracked. Of course he would know.

He stood up, and began to slowly make his way over toward her.

"You're dressed in decent clothes, not your usual sweatshirts and khakis. You've taken the time to fix your hair, straightening in the back, and slightly pinned up, which you only wear that way when your going to be in a social setting. You've put on a hint of makeup, which you never do just for work, and you've changed your bag to something smaller, and lighter, nothing like your messenger bag so as to not ruin your clothes," Sherlock assessed, as he eyed Molly, all the while coming up to her.

Molly stood in stunned silence. She was used to this, Sherlock always did this, but not with her. She figured she wasn't important enough for Sherlock to notice, let alone deduce, but today she was wrong. He noticed her and she felt a blush creep up onto her cheeks.

"I do have a date," Molly said, clasping her hands in her front of her as she nodded her head. "I'm meeting him in an hour."

Sherlock smiled slightly. "I am sorry, Molly Hopper, for making you feel worthless. I often forget my place, and this sentiment everyone is so attached too. You have done so much for me, and I owe you so much more than my petty remarks."

He kissed her check lightly, and Molly began rubbing the ache in her chest once more. "Thank you, Sherlock," Molly said, breathless.

He grabbed her on either side of her arm, giving them a slight squeeze. "If he's nothing like Tom, I'm sure you'll have a great time," Sherlock said and Molly laughed at the mention of her ex-fiance.

"He's not," Molly said. Sherlock let go of her arms, and she immediately missed their warmth.

He turned away and began heading back to his experiment. "If it's alright with you, I'm going to stay here and continue to work on this experiment. I'll lock up when I'm done," Sherlock said and Molly felt her face fall. Was he being nice just so she would let him stay? Probably, Molly thought, but she didn't feel like starting anything again, so she didn't regard him with a response. With a soft click of the lock, she was out the door, and heading toward someone who had some sense on how to interact with other human beings...or at least she hoped.