"You've got to be kidding me," John Watson said as he stared up at Sherlock in disbelief.
His best friend paced around the room looking frustrated. He stopped and looked down at John. "I know! After coming all the way to Bart's, she leaves. Leaving me with no way of re-entry and ruining my plans for the night. I could have been there for at least another three hours!"
John chuckled and shook his head. "You're a big idiot Sherlock. You do realize that right?"
"What? You're not going to tell me I shouldn't have even mentioned the fact that she had overdone it for a clearly less than worthy date. It was painfully obvious John! I was simply trying to make the point that there was nothing she was missing by instead spending a couple hours on important and productive business in the lab with me!"
"I'm surprised you lived to tell the tale to be honest. She's a saint for simply showing you the door! Sherlock...you know how she feels about you."
Sherlock flopped down on his couch and lay down on his back, positioning his hands in the normal steeple position against his mouth.
"If you're referring to that silly infatuation, John, do catch up. That was years ago! And besides, any emotional fragility would more likely be connected to her failed engagement with that ridiculous Tom fellow."
"Well you'd better apologize tomorrow if you hope to be allowed back into that lab ever again in your lifetime. I knew Molly would crack one of these days. You drove the poor girl round the bend!"
John got up and put on his coat.
"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, with a wounded tone to his voice.
"Got to get home to Mary. She's home from work now. Glad I stopped by to hear your sorry tale though. Hopefully you can weasel your way back into Molly's good graces tomorrow...God only knows how you always seem to find a way."
"Mmm," Sherlock responded flatly as he closed his eyes, trying to relax.
"Good night, Sherlock!" John called as he went through the door.
"Good night, John." He sat up once John had left.
He began to go over all the Molly data in his head that he could dig up. He went over the 3 years he had known her before his supposed death, and then the past six months being back from the dead. But there was really only so much actual data. Much of Molly was...emotional, and that was harder to deduce. Clearly she had been upset tonight, but there were lots of things she seemed to hide, perhaps unconsciously, underneath awkward and nervous behaviors. Those thing made actual feelings more difficult to see. Was she hiding fears, secrets, romantic attachment, or something totally different? He was irritated to admit that it was hard to tell.
He remembered coming to her for help that fateful day six months ago. She had been, and would always remain, his savior. Sherlock normally preferred to believe he was not dependent on many people. But that was an instance that he would never forget. And he would never be ashamed to say that Molly Hooper was the key means of preserving his life that day.
And all she had wanted to know was "what do you need?" He remembered how she looked up at him, and she didn't even question. Didn't ask first what was going on, or ask why he needed her. She just wanted to give him whatever it was he needed. It was a rare moment when there were no nerves in Molly's eyes. She looked determined to help and to be there for him. And in that moment, she was the stronger and braver of the two of them.
Sherlock's eyes squeezed shut suddenly and he pursed his lips. He hated dwelling on...sentiment. He got up from his seat and literally shook his head to rid these thoughts from his head. Enough of that! But he realized the damage had already been done. He'd begun to feel a little...bad. He remembered how he felt while Molly was helping him on the day of "the fall," and he recalled thinking that he'd never allow anything to happen to this woman. He'd forever be in her debt. Of course in Sherlock's mind at the time, that conjured images of taking a bullet for someone, or making sure they were never strapped with explosive,s or caught up in a terrorist plot. He struggled to imagine what else he could do to repay this heavy debt. But he had a feeling he knew what John would say if he were still there.
"What do you need?" He heard again in his head. The innocent sweet voice speaking it.
He decided he couldn't think any more about Molly Hooper tonight and had to get some rest. He'd have to deal with it in the morning. He threw himself back on the couch and pulled the throw that lay on the arm on top of him. He let out a frustrated sigh as he tried to go to sleep.
He had hoped to get ever so much more done by this hour tonight.