You guys, I need more loove. Also thanks for the favorites, and follows and reviews! The best one where you told me you could see this happening. Ta, sweet. You are tré cool, magicstrikes.
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Confused.
John was confused. Sherlock had a case yesterday. Just yesterday. And he said it himself it was at least a 7. Surely the after effects of the working fit hasn't left him so early. A seven usually warranted maybe a couple more days of wriggling in his chair and giggling over the brilliance of it all. But no.
It was early evening, the sun still up, but you wouldn't know it with the curtains drawn tight. Just the tiniest bit of sunlight.
And it also helped his suspicion that the man himself was seated as his wont. His fingertips weren't together so okay, no new case then. No violin near, so okay not some great depression nor some great mystery. The telly wasn't on, so he didn't need a distraction.
He was just sitting there.
Well okay, this was new.
And with great care the good doctor made his presence known. By slamming the door loudly behind him. Immature of him but like totes whatevar.
"Oh, please. I knew you were there the moment you were on the stair," he tsked, turning his head slightly to see John behind him, "Your boots aren't all that quiet, did you know?" was his usual git-like greeting.
He scrunched up his face, "Also you breathe funny."
Ha-ha. Brilliant.
"Well, you seem peachy. What's the matter this time?"
"Nothing's the matter, John," he replied in a too affected posh manner methinks.
"Right, so you're sulking then?"
"I do not sulk."
"Hmm noo, of course not."
After a bit of a (mature) glaring match. John broke first. He rocked on the balls of his feet meaning to look nonchalant but really? In the presence of this great detective that was damn near impossible.
"Molly called me earlier."
"Oh?" not facing John but keeping him in his peripheral.
"Yea, she asked me if I could do the errand Mrs. H asked her. I'm meant to pick up the cooler tomorrow after her shift."
"Okay," his gazed flicked to John for a moment but he said no more.
Sometimes John felt more like a father scolding his son when dealing with Sherlock Holmes.
But this was John, he was used to Sherlock's impossibilities. The key was to be unrelenting. And so, he did just that.
He crossed his arms in defiance and tapped his (not quiet) boot impatiently.
And Sherlock responded in kind. With a great show of rolling his eyes and a great big huff.
"And I'm meant to deduce that you're here to ask what I did to her," his snobbish reply.
"Yes, yes."
A bit more (mature) glaring. More eye rolling.
"Irene Adler."
John Watson was more than unnerved with that reply. He wasn't expecting it and that was right of him. Because Irene Adler was more than a sore spot and Sherlock never elected to speak of her at all. But John knew she was always the woman to Sherlock. And well they've established that she was in America under witness program. But John Watson was sure she's dead.
And long since, so he reluctantly passed this on.
"Uhm, S-sherlock... she's dead."
"Wrong."
"Uh, right," he scratched his scruffy chin, "helped her then?"
"Yes, but that's beside the point. Molly walked in while the woman was here."
And with that John Watson was unnerved some more.
"Oh, this is bad Sherlock. Very bad," not for his friend but for himself. Imagine Mary badgering him for more details later on. And some tea and toast with Mrs. H gossiping over it. Ah, what a nightmare. Another time he would be giggling over Sherlock having lady problems but he has a wife now. Who would love to see Sherlock and Molly crack on. And gossip. And butt in. Mary was quite passionate about the pair.
Right and true nightmare. Ah me, he needed a sit.
Right he was suppose to be the supportive friend here. He cleared his throat a bit after sitting on his armchair opposite the man.
"Tea?"
Good parenting skills, he reminded himself. Good parenting skills.
The plan was to get in and get out. And maybe light banter with Sherlock. Because she likes the man, she's allowed to want things. And it's okay he doesn't feel the things she feels. But they are friends and they're allowed to talk and enjoy each other's company.
Dear me, Molly. Where's your head?
She hasn't been overly deluding herself to believe they would be anything more but somehow The Incident seemed to be the final nail on the cross. The straw that breaks the camel's back.
They're okay. They'll be okay.
They've been through worse things. More awkward things. And they'll go through some more but this one.
This one was hell beyond different. She's messed it up, she's sure. Her reaction. He saw it. And god he was trying his best to assuage it too.
Mmmm, dear me.
He knows, always has known.
But through the years they've manage to tip toe around it. Her feelings. They've both elected to ignore it. And the ignorance is right and truly bliss. Because they've their cues and they've grown. And Molly is safe in the knowledge that he wouldn't mock her for it.
He's been a little good to her too.
But there's somethings that always always back tracks them. Be it cutting remarks or missed cues. Always.
This she hopes wouldn't bring them all the way back to square one. Anything but square one, please.
They could ignore this one too. Tempting. She'll turn that idea over later.
After fumbling out 221B feeling more than restless, she decided to walk home instead of taking the tube or taxi. There was something she had to do. Right, call John.
"H-hi, John! It's me, are you busy tomorrow? No? Could you maybe pick a cooler at Bart's tomorrow. What for? For the dead things in Sherlock's fridge. Mrs. Hudson asked me today and I was on my way but something came up. I'm leaving the day after tomorrow and today was really the only time I had. You can? Great! Thanks, come after my shift yea? Say hullo to Mary for me. Bye."
Molly stopped walking and pressed the hand holding her mobile to her forehead. God, she needed a sit.
They'll be okay. Just another awkward thing to ignore, really. They'll be fine.
More soon.
Also don't forget... banana me. So I know you liked it.