Now You See Me

Chapter 3

Molly drummed the table with her fingers, her eyes glancing at her watch every few minutes to gather the time. She downed her third glass of red wine, wiping her mouth hastily, for fear that he might show up at that exact moment. Checking her watch once again, it read 7:43pm. She had been sitting at the table for over an hour and she effectively knew she had been stood up.

"Can I get you another glass, ma'am?" the young waitress asked nicely. She had a kind smile, but Molly could see through her crystal blue eyes just what she was thinking. She probably felt sorry for her, her eyes a clear reflection of Molly's complete loser status.

Molly shook her head quickly, knowing that she needed to stop before she was unable to get herself home.

"Will you be ordering soon or..." the waitress began to say, and Molly cut her off, too embarrassed to hear her ask again about Molly's "supposed" dinner date.

"Not yet, just a few more minutes please. I'm sure he'll be here soon." The waitress nodded her head, her eyes again compassionate, but all too knowing. Molly wanted to call or text Andrew, but when she arrived at the restaurant, she realized she had left it in her other bag at work, along with her keys. She grimaced at the small handbag laying on the table. She had bought it just for this occasion, and it was too small to hold much more than some cash and her lipstick. "Good going, Molly." She folded her arms, trying to not feel like everyone in the room was staring at her, pitying her, knowing that she was being stood up.

Fifteen minutes passed before the waitress chanced another trip to Molly's table. "I'm sorry ma'am, but my manager will no longer let you hold the table. You can order, or I'll have to ask you to leave."

Molly didn't look up, or rather, she couldn't. She swallowed the tears that threatened to fall, and grabbed her bag. "Just the check, please. I'm sorry for taking up the table. Won't happen again," Molly uttered. The waitress took off, and Molly was sure she was probably laughing at her in the back room along with her fellow waiters. Her cheeks were red, her feet terribly uncomfortable, and her heart slightly more broken than it was when she arrived that evening.

The waitress laid the check on the table, but didn't depart right away. She interlocked her hands, giving Molly a warm smile. "Just for the record, he was probably a real dick anyway," she said. Molly smirked back.

"Thank you," Molly said before signing the bill (leaving a much larger tip than she originally intended), grabbing her small, unusable bag, and coat, and heading out the door.

Shrugging on her jacket, she flagged down a taxi, intending to go home, when she realized she had to go back to St. Bart's to get her bag. All Molly wanted to do was curl up on her couch at home and cry into a nice cup of tea. The last thing she wanted was to go back to Bart's where there was a chance she could run into a colleague, or even worse: the genius detective.

Molly rolled her eyes, telling the driver to head to St. Bart's. She hoped that Sherlock had already gone home for the night. She would slip in, grab her bag, and slip out, avoiding everyone.

The taxi rolled up in front of the hospital. Molly told him to wait, she would only be a moment, and took off for the door. It was starting to rain, and Molly pulled her coat on a little tighter.

She made it to the morgue without anyone spotting her. She saw the doors to the lab and took a deep breath. She looked in the small window, glancing around for any sign of Sherlock. She didn't see any movement, so she slipped inside. Looking around, she didn't see anyone. She let out a breath and made her way to her office. She grabbed her bag, and was turning around to lock her office door when she felt someone watching her.

She spun around and her heart stopped. There stood Sherlock, a coffee at his lips, as his eyes scanned over her. He didn't stare for long, and moved over toward his regular seat. "Back so soon?" he said, and Molly prepared herself for any harsh remarks.

"Didn't feel to well, so I called it a night." Molly made a beeline for the door, hoping to escape without any more words having to be exchanged, but Molly wasn't so lucky.

"Don't try to lie, Molly, you're not any good at it," Sherlock muttered, and Molly shook her head.

"It's nothing, really. I'm just tired, so I'll be going then." Molly grabbed the handle, but Sherlock's voice stopped her once more.

"That much of a bore, huh?"

Why the hell is he so chatty today, when he usually ignores me? "Actually, I was stood up," Molly admitted, looking to the floor instantly. She couldn't meet Sherlock's eyes. She didn't want to see pity in them, or worse, nothing at all.

"I told you to steer away from relationships, Molly. They're really not your area," Sherlock commented and Molly felt her heart break a little more. Pity was one thing, anger another, but complete indifference was something Molly wasn't ready for.

She just had one of the worst nights of her life; a night that help solidify the fact that she would probably end up alone for the rest of her life. She just wanted to be home, with Toby, to cry as much as she wanted. She wanted to yell at Sherlock. To ask why he always hurt her, but she couldn't. The fire inside of her was slowly disappearing. She had no strength left to even stick up for herself, and at the moment she didn't care. She looked up, aware of the tears that dripped down her face, and nodded her head. Her eyes found Sherlock's, and she was surprised to see them filled with some sort of emotion. "I know." Molly didn't waste any more time, before she slipped out the door and made her way back outside as fast as she could muster.

When Molly exited the hospital, she wasn't shocked to see that the taxi had left. The rain poured from above, and Molly shivered from the cold. She thought about ringing another taxi, but decided against it. She felt like walking, in the rain, as a mirror to her mood. "When it rains, it pours," Molly said aloud, turning down the street and making her way home.


The kettle whistled from the kitchen, and Molly hurried to shut it off. Pouring her a steaming cup of tea, Molly made her way back to the living room. The lights were off, her hair was up, and she curled herself on the couch, with Toby right beside her.

When she had gotten home, she was completely soaked. She changed quickly and opted for a hot shower, where she cried her heart out. Her phone was completely dead, and she let it charge.

Maybe he was busy and sent me a message. Maybe he tried to call me, but since I didn't answer decided to assume he was being stood up. All sorts of excuses were running through Molly's head to make herself feel better. She didn't know the whole story, so she needed to wait until her phone was charged to understand exactly what happened.

And now, she waited, with her tea. The tears had stopped, but the heartache lingered. She rubbed Toby around the face, happy that at least he was there to comfort her. She would love to have a friend, but she was scarce in that department. She regretted spending so much time on her studies, and no time on her social life. She was so concerned about getting the highest marks, so dedicated to graduating early, that Molly neglected making those special connections most people had.

Sure, she had Mary, John, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson. And even Sherlock when he was in the right mood, but she wasn't close enough with them to let them see this side of her. This vulnerable, heart-wide-open, part of herself that she kept locked away. It had been locked for so long, she had effectively lost the key, and maybe that was for the best.

Her phone began to beep, rendering the thoughts loose from her mind, and she reached over to it.

She checked her voicemails, and nothing. She sighed when she realized she was probably being stupid hoping for the best, but then her text messages blinked and Molly stared at the 1 on the screen. She opened it quickly, but her face fell when she didn't recognize the number. The message was just a series of numbers, and Molly rolled her eyes. Of course it would be spam.

Molly was about to throw her phone across the room, when there was a knock at her door. Molly steeled, her heart thundering in her chest. Who could be at her door now?

She pried herself away from Toby, the cat not happy being woken from his sleep, and walked to the door.

She stood up on her toes, looking through the peep hole and gasped. Sherlock stood in front of her door. Hands behind his back, he was looking around the hallway, and Molly knew he was already aware of her looking at him.

Molly turned her back toward the door. Why was he here? What was going on? Maybe he got locked out of the lab again?

Molly brushed back her hair, and closed her robe, before undoing the locks and opening the door.

"Evening, Molly," Sherlock said and Molly just stared.

"What are you doing here, Sherlock?"

Sherlock just peered around her, looking into her apartment, and she internally winced at the deductions that were already flooding his mind. He didn't mention anything, just said, "It's usually customary for you to invite me in."

"Oh yes, of course," Molly said, not thinking. She stepped aside, and he strode by. Molly could smell him and she tried to slow down her heart. When he turned, his face illuminated by the moon flooding into the room, she realized just how truly handsome he was. His angled face and full-lips, caused her pulse to race and she had to look away for fear that he would see her admiration. She brushed some hair behind her ears, and grabbed her empty tea cup. She headed toward the kitchen, and started another kettle. "What did you need? If you want into the lab again, can it wait until morning? I've had a rough night."

"Actually, that's why I'm here," Sherlock began, and Molly looked up from the stove to notice he had taken a seat on the couch. Toby jumped up and curled in his lap. When he had faked his death, Toby had taken a liking to Sherlock, even though he was only there for a brief time. Sherlock looked at Toby, before turning and facing her. "I wanted to apologize."

The cups Molly was holding almost shattered on the floor, as she stumbled to the sink. Her mind was reeling. Sherlock had come here to apologize? "Wait...what?"

"I was harsh tonight in my verbalization with you. I did not mean to make your night even worse," Sherlock said.

Molly brought over the cups of tea, handing it to Sherlock, and hoping her hand wasn't shaking too much. He took it, and began to sip the hot liquid.

"I...," Molly began, not sure what to say. "You didn't make it any worse."

"I don't know who this guy was, but he was foolish to stand you up," Sherlock said and Molly smiled at his attempt to console her.

"I'm not...," Molly began, when her phone beeped again. Molly picked it up and noticed another text message. It was from the same number as before. This time it was actual words. It just read: Yelled Idiom.

What was that supposed to mean? Molly ignored it and turned back to Sherlock.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked, and Molly just shook her head.

"Nothing, just some dumb spam messages."

"Probably got them from that dating site you signed up for," Sherlock said and Molly rolled her eyes.

They sat in silence for a while, until Sherlock finished his tea. He sat the cup down and stood up. "I guess it's time to take my leave." Sherlock threw on his coat, and Molly stood up beside him. He turned to look at her. "Thank you for the tea."

Molly nodded, walking toward the door and opening it. Sherlock swished through. He stopped outside her door, before looking over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Dr. Hopper." He was gone with a wave and Molly couldn't wipe the smile off her face.

She had needed a friend tonight, and while Sherlock was no where close to how a friend usually behaved, he was trying, and that was enough. The sharp pain in her chest was back, and Molly rubbed it for relief.

Earlier she had considered calling out the next day. She hardly ever took personal days, and she didn't think anyone would miss her or even notice she was gone, but maybe she was wrong. Maybe Sherlock would notice, and it was worth going in to find out.