His Best Friends Girl
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just adore them. Please don't sue – I promise I am not worth it.
All comments, suggestions and corrections are very welcome. It's pure fluff, and doesn't really have a massive plot line.
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John's taxi eventually pulled up outside a cinema near to Trafalgar Square. Sherlock's taxi pulled up a little way down the road. "Just a moment," said Sherlock to the cabbie. He didn't want to exit the cab in view of John.
Sherlock watched as John adjusted his collar and hair in a window's reflection, and entered the cinema.
Sherlock then paid his cab driver, and exited the vehicle. What am I doing, spying on my best friend with his girlfriend? Because this is John "Three Continents" Watson, who almost certainly will be taking Molly to bed after a third date, if he hasn't done so already? Is this their third date? Molly said they were taking it slowly. It could be more than their third. I just want to see if Molly is happy. Or do I just want to see Molly?
Sherlock carefully approached the glass doors, and saw John standing with his back to the door, purchasing tickets and drinks. I can't see Molly. Perhaps she hasn't arrived yet.
Suddenly John turned to speak to the young woman standing next to him, and passed her a small tub of popcorn. Sherlock was stunned. That's not Molly. Where's Molly? John lied about meeting his work colleagues. He would only lie if he was hiding something. He wouldn't hide the fact he was meeting his sister, therefore this is not his sister. John is seeing another woman, behind Molly's back. Sherlock was fuming. How could he embrace Molly this morning, and then see this woman this evening?
He watched carefully as John and the mystery woman headed off towards the screens, John gently placing his hand on the woman's back to guide her. Sherlock fumed some more, then entered the cinema. Taking a note of the door number for the screen that John had entered, Sherlock joined the queue for a ticket.
"Screen 4" he said to the spotty youth behind the counter, placing a £10 note on the counter.
"One for the Hobbit?" the assistant clarified.
"What the film is, is irrelevant – just give me a ticket for screen 4."
Deciding that Sherlock wasn't worth arguing with the assistant passed Sherlock a ticket and some change.
The film hadn't started, but the lights were already dimmed when Sherlock entered the screening room. Fortunately in this cinema you entered from the rear of the auditorium, so Sherlock could stand at the back and scan the rows of seats for sight of John.
Finally he spotted him seated roughly half way down and slightly to the left of the main block of seats. The woman was laughing happily at something and eating the popcorn that John was feeding her. The two timing little cheat.
John leaned in gently, and the woman rested her head on his shoulder. Sherlock wasn't impressed. Oh good lord, get a room.
John turned to whisper something in the woman's ear, and she nodded. John then readjusted his position, ending up with his arm around her.
Sherlock had seen enough. How could John behave like this when he was supposed to be dating Molly? I would never have taken John for someone so untrustworthy. Molly is worth a thousand of this woman.
Sherlock turned and walked out the cinema. It would break Molly's heart that someone she trusted would be unfaithful. I would never do that her.
Despondently Sherlock walked along the pavement. John and Molly can't have been going out together for very long. Therefore it is probably not that serious. It can't be serious if John is seeing someone else behind her back? But Molly doesn't do frivolous. She would never have a relationship with John, if she didn't think he was serious about his intentions. If I tell her that John was seeing someone else, she would be upset, but it would be for the best. It will hurt, but better to find out now than later.
Decision made, Sherlock hailed a taxi.
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Molly had decided that her entire plan for the evening involved a cup of hot chocolate, an electric blanket on the sofa and another rewatch (for the 1000th time) of the last episode of Wives and Daughters.
The story had just reached the part where the hero, Roger Hamley, had realized his feelings for the main character, Molly Gibson. Molly sighed. Wouldn't be wonderful if real life could be like that. The hero realizing at the last minute that he had been blind to the true love waiting for him.
The suddenness of the door bell ringing made her jump. If this is Mrs Johnson from upstairs coming to complain about Toby digging in her garden again, I might just scream. Molly reluctantly tore herself away from her warm spot on the sofa, and made her way to the front door.
Her 'good evening Mrs Johnson' rehearsed speech died on her lips as she opened the door to see Sherlock standing there.
"Good evening Molly," Sherlock said, and paused awaiting her response.
Molly stood there gaping at him for a moment. What the hell? "Sherlock? Are you OK? What's wrong? Is John with you?"
"I came alone," said Sherlock. "I wanted to speak to you."
Molly was confused. He never speaks to me. He speaks to me as little as possible, and only then to insult me.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Molly blinked. Am I going to invite him in? Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, let loose in my flat. "Of course, sorry. Please come through."
Molly made her way into her lounge, Sherlock following. He loosened his scarf and unbuttoned his coat. Sherlock took in the room at a glance. Not as chaotic as I thought it might be. Lots of books, lots of pictures – original water colours from the looks of it. Medical certificate on the wall. Family photos. Organised and homely. Very Molly.
Say something then, thought Molly as she waited for Sherlock to finish his inspection. A sudden noise made her glance at the TV set, still playing in the corner, and she dived for the remote, muting the sound. "Er sorry." She turned to face him. "It's not that it's not nice to see you. I mean, of course it's nice to see you. But what are you doing here?"
Sherlock looked at her. "Molly, do I still have any chance with you?"
Molly stood dumbfounded for a moment staring open mouthed at him. I've heard that line before. A wave of relief passed over her, as she realized Sherlock was quoting from the scene currently mutely playing on the TV. She laughed. "Clever. I didn't know you knew this show."
It was now Sherlock's turn to look confused at her laughing. "What show?"
Molly indicated the TV. "Wives and Daughters."
Sherlock pushed his fingers through his hair. This isn't going like I thought it would. "I don't know what show you are referring to." He took a step closer towards her. "I was asking if I was too late?"
"For what?" asked Molly thoroughly confused.
"For this." In one swift and smooth movement, Sherlock closed the gap between them, brought his hands up to hold her face and kissed her.
For Molly the world suddenly stopped turning. The kiss was firm, but tender. Inside her a sudden aching need appeared, and she felt as though her legs were going to give way. She could feel him holding her face and the pressure of his lips on hers. Then just as suddenly the pressure was gone. He paused still holding her, resting his forehead on hers, he was slightly breathless. Molly felt oxygen deprived.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Molly couldn't speak. SHERLOCK JUST KISSED ME. Molly's brain shut down. She was standing in her lounge with Sherlock holding on to her for dear life, and he just apologized. Oh please don't let this be a dream.
Molly's brain finally reestablished contact with her body, and she slid her arms gently under his coat to hold him. "Don't be," she said and gently lifted herself up onto tiptoe to kiss him.
This time Sherlock moaned as she deepened the kiss. He lowered his tall frame to better accommodate her petite height, and allow her to stand safely back down.
Sherlock finally released her and looked into her dark brown eyes. "No regrets?"
Molly stared back calmly. "No."
"You will need to break it off with John," said Sherlock firmly.
Molly did a double take, and shook her head as though she had misheard. "What?"
"I won't share you with someone else," said Sherlock. "He doesn't deserve you anyway."
Molly stepped back confused. "What are you talking about?"
"You and John of course?" said Sherlock. "I don't know how long you two have been dating, but I believe I was in your affections first."
"But I'm not dating John!" she said incredulously. "What could possibly have given you that idea?"
"I heard you. The other night, talking to your mother."
Molly sat down in the chair, and put her head in her hands. "You heard that?"
"I was working in the lab and I hear you perfectly clearly say you were seeing John," said Sherlock confused.
"Sherlock, I was talking to my mother. Of course I lied!" exclaimed Molly. "She keeps trying to set me up with various people from her bridge club. I spoke to John about it weeks ago, and he said I could use him as a get out of jail card. I am not dating John."
Sherlock sat down on the sofa, "but the love letter this morning?"
"Love letter?"
"Pink notepaper, given to John this morning."
"That was the name and phone number of my good friend Mary, who John saw me having lunch with the other day, and asked her for her details. Not a love letter. Not from me anyway. Mary told me she and John were seeing each other this evening."
Sherlock's brain kicked in. All my deductions were wrong. Molly is not dating John. The woman with John was Mary. Mary is Molly's friend. John is not cheating on Molly, because Molly is not dating John.
Molly could see that Sherlock was processing a lot of information.
"I was jealous," said Sherlock quietly. "And my jealousy clouded my judgment." He looked at her. "I can't make that mistake again."
Oh no, here it comes. The brush off. I'm not dating John, therefore no need to worry. The kiss was a mistake, one he won't repeat. Molly closed her eyes and steeled herself for Sherlock's next words.
"Are those my eyes on the shelf?"
Not what I expected. Oh crap - the jar of eyes. Molly opened her eyes, Sherlock was looking at the jar that was sitting on her book shelf. He looked at her quizzically.
"I thought it was an interesting experiment, and as you were throwing them out, I thought I would keep them," explained Molly.
Sherlock stared at them. "I cleaned the kitchen at Baker Street for you." He cleared his throat. "I didn't think you would like them in the kitchen, if you came round to see John. So I got rid of the experiments."
Molly twisted her hands together. "I have a confession. I didn't throw them out. Your experiments - I kept them all."
Sherlock looked at her in surprise. "Really?"
"I found some of them quite fascinating," said Molly blushing.
"I love you."
Molly froze. Did he really just say I love you? Sherlock Holmes, says he loves me? No trumpets, no fanfare, no hero on white horse. But Sherlock would never say something he didn't mean.
Sherlock moved to kneel on the floor in front of her, and took her hands in his. "I never understood why you put up with me, I am just grateful you did." He said. "I will make mistakes, and I will annoy you, but I will try to …"
The rest of Sherlock's sentence was silenced as Molly kissed him. "I'm here Sherlock. I always have been, and always will be."
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Warned you it was all fluff.
Thank you to everyone who reviewed. You guys are simply amazing. To the reviewer James Moriarty – you made me laugh out loud! Brilliant.
Well done to everyone who guessed right about Molly lying to her mother.
BTW: I was half tempted to have Sherlock tip popcorn over John's head. But thought that might be going a little too far.
There may be a short epilogue – not sure yet – need to see if inspiration strikes.