Thanks, M Sherlock for beta'ing.
Sherlock looked closely at Molly, as she entered. He could see clear evidence of tear stains on her face, and her eyes were slightly red-rimmed.
"Cup of tea?" he suggested, walking into the kitchen to put the kettle on without even waiting for her response. He set the folder down on the kitchen table - there was no need to look at it, for now.
He was very aware of the fact that this was the first time Molly had been in his flat since the day she had introduced Tom to everyone. On the one occasion, when he had texted her with a request for eyeballs to experiment with, she had not come up to the flat, but dropped them off with Mrs. Hudson, much to the elderly woman's chagrin.
As he began readying their cups for tea, Molly stood hesitantly at the entrance to the kitchen. He glanced at her, then stated the obvious.
"You've been crying."
"I was hoping you wouldn't notice, or, would at least pretend you didn't notice," she responded with a wry smile, absently rubbing her face, as if the tears were still falling.
"I notice everything about you, Molly," he said glancing her way once more. "Care to enlighten me as to why you've been crying?"
"Not really," was her quick, defensive response.
She backed away from the kitchen entrance, as if to make certain he would not question her further.
Sherlock noted the gesture and shrugged to himself.
They didn't speak again until the tea was fully prepared.
He walked into the sitting room with the cups and gestured for Molly to sit on the sofa, which she did, perching rather nervously on the edge of it, as if she might take flight at any moment. Instead of sitting in his usual chair, Sherlock decided to sit beside her, after setting their cups on the coffee table.
He noted that Molly appeared apprehensive at his nearness, as she said, not quite meeting his eyes, "Thank you for the tea, Sherlock." She picked up her cup and took a sip, keeping her eyes fixed anywhere but on him.
Sherlock could feel the awkwardness between them. He didn't like it at all. They had always worked so well together in the past, and this feeling of tension between them was rather uncomfortable.
As Molly set her cup back onto the coffee table, Sherlock noticed something he hadn't seen before. That explained the tears, obviously.
She was no longer wearing her engagement ring. Should he address the elephant in the room?
No time like the present, he decided. At least it would no longer be necessary for him to show her his list to help her realize Tom was not the man for her.
Trying for a casual tone, he said, "Sorry your engagement's over, although I'm fairly grateful for the lack of a ring."
Molly's gaze jerked upwards, as she looked at him for the first time since he had brought in the tea. She gave him a rather perplexed stare.
"What difference does it make to you, really? Do you think it will mean I have more time to find you body parts for your experiments?"
She seriously thinks she's nothing more to me than a means to an end?
Sure, he had taken advantage of her generosity on occasion years earlier, but not since he had come back to London - well, unless you counted today, but that was because he had a specific purpose in mind.
"Molly, surely you are aware that you mean more to me than that? You're my friend. Will you tell me what happened?"
He paused, searching her face for a negative reaction. Seeing none, he pushed on. "What caused you to break off your engagement?"
Molly squared her shoulders in a defensive posture. "If you really must know, it was what you said to me earlier. It got me thinking, and I realized that I wasn't being fair to Tom in not setting a date for our wedding. So I broke it off."
You went to see him, then?" He kept his tone casual, trying not to seem too interested in her answer.
Molly frowned at him, as if the question was an insult. "Sherlock, we were engaged for eight months. It would hardly have been fair to break up over text. Of course I went to see him!"
She sounded exasperated, and he tried to calm her. "I apologize, Molly. I have no idea on the protocol of such things. I, myself, have never been in a situation such as yours."
He attempted to keep his tone light, matter-of-fact. "And his reaction?"
Molly gave him a suspicious look. He had obviously failed in his attempt at easy familiarity. "Why are you asking me all these questions? How is it any of your business?" she snapped.
Sherlock searched his mind palace for an appropriate response that would placate her. "I told you, you're my friend. Don't friends share things with one another?"
Molly folded her arms and looked at him accusingly. "You sure haven't acted like a friend over the past few months." Her response was more hostile than he had anticipated, and Sherlock felt his heart sink. Was she really that angry with him?
He attempted to keep his tone even. "I explained that to you once already. I told you I kept my distance because I knew you needed space," he responded.
"So, are you saying that now I've broken off my engagement, you want things with us to go back to the way they were before?" Molly look directly at him, challenging him.
"Not really." Unthinkingly, he echoed her earlier words.
He caught the hurt and confused expression immediately in her eyes as she abruptly stood.
"Well, I think we're done here. Thanks for the tea." Her voice wobbled slightly, and Sherlock could hear the pain in it as she said the words, a pain that matched her expression.
He looked up at her, instinctively grasping her wrist to prevent her departure. "Molly, please. That was...a poor choice of words. You misunderstood me." He had to do something to stop her from leaving. The list, he decided, I'll show her the list.
She glanced from her wrist to his face. "It seems pretty clear to me. You don't want things to go back to the way they were before, that's fine. This isn't my idea of friendship, it's my idea of casual...acquaintances."
He rose from the sofa. "Wait," he said hastily. "I have something I need to show you." He released her wrist and walked over to his desk, where he'd left the list.
He picked it up and approached Molly once again, thrusting it at her almost aggressively. "Read this," he urged.
Molly took the list from him, and he noticed her expression change as she read it, from one of hurt to one of bemusement.
"Why did you write this?" she asked carefully, glancing at him uncertainly.
Instead of answering her, he responded with his own question. "Don't you know why?"
"No, I don't know why."
Oh, you want to play things out that way, do you?
"Of course you do, Molly."
He saw a light in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "Tell me anyway." Her voice was suddenly confident, sure of herself.
Sherlock snatched the paper away from her and tossed it on the floor haphazardly. Stubborn woman. he grumbled mentally. He knew if he wanted this chance - his only chance with her, he was going to have to confess how he felt about her verbally, rather than in vague gestures and suspicious actions.
Without much thought at all, he reached to take both of her hands in his, then took a deep breath, preparing to express his innermost feelings for her for the first time.
"I wrote it, Molly Hooper, because I love you, dammit. Because I've missed being with you, and our spending time together."
There, it was out. He'd said it. He took another breath, a sharp intake this time and asked quickly, "Are you happy now?"
Molly pulled her hands free with a tug, and at first, he thought in despair that he'd lost, that she was going to leave. But instead, she reached up to clasp her hands behind his neck, and she pulled him down, to her level.
Her voice was soft, and it held a caressing note in it as her lips curved upwards in a gentle smile."Yes, very happy."
Then her face erupted into the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen on her. "I love you too, Sherlock."
Feeling a sense of wonder, he put his arms around her and closed his eyes as he moved in to kiss her, but bumped noses with her instead. Of course, he had no idea how to kiss a woman, having never done so.
He drew back, flushing with embarrassment as Molly wrinkled her nose in amusement at his botched attempt.
Fortunately, she was not in the least put off, and proved herself to be willing to give him some instruction. "You tilt your head one way and I'll do the same on my end," she said with an encouraging smile. "You just have to decide if we are going to tilt left or right - which way do you think?"
He appreciated the fact that she was giving him some control. He pondered a moment.
"Right, I think," he decided finally, and she nodded.
He followed through with his decision, and this time, their lips met in a kiss so infinitely sweet he wished he had tried it with her much earlier than this moment. He followed her lead, opening his mouth when she did so, experiencing and savouring her for the first time.
His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and when their lips parted, he noticed immediately that they were both panting slightly.
He rested his forehead against hers and declared, unable to keep the euphoria from his voice, "Bloody hell, that was 'fantastic!"
Molly gave a delighted giggle. "You really never kissed a woman before?" she asked, in a tone of wonder and almost disbelief.
Apparently my kiss wasn't complete rubbish, he thought, rather smugly.
He shook his head. "I never wanted to, until you came along."
She seemed a little surprised at his confession. Then she asked, rather hesitantly, "You really love me? Truly?"
Why is she so insecure? Haven't I expressed myself clearly in both words and actions?
He felt a little hurt that she might think he was doing this for some ulterior motive. Then again, hadn't he manipulated her in the distant past? She could be forgiven for being anxious about his sincerity. Obviously, Molly needed reassurance, which he was prepared to give her.
He tightened his arms around her. "Would I be letting you teach me how to kiss if I didn't?" he asked with a reassuring smile. Then he added, "I suppose at some point, I will require your assistance with the other aspects of our relationship as well, not that I'm ready for that kind of thing just yet. For now, I am quite content just being with you and kissing you, working on my technique."
Molly's face suddenly registered embarrassment, as she pulled away slightly from him. "Uh, Sherlock, if you are referring to what I think you are referring to, I...well, I can't teach you anything about that, because I, as you would say, lack the practical experience."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow in genuine amazement at her admission. "Molly Hooper, are you meaning to tell me you lied to me earlier today about your and Tom's, er, quite frequent sexual activities?" He didn't like to pry about something so personal, but now he felt compelled to discover the truth, once and for all.
He had suspected she had been lying earlier, but not necessarily that she had never been intimate with her fiancé. That seemed rather unusual, given his limited experience with viewing relationships as an outsider. John had certainly had several partners, and he was now already living with Mary. So the concept of sexual intimacy without the benefit of marriage was not foreign to him. Mycroft himself made no secret of the fact that he had had several liaisons over the years as well.
Molly blushed, her cheeks turning what he thought was a delightful shade of pink. "I know I shouldn't have lied, but I was hoping for some kind of reaction from you. Of course, I should've known better, seeing as you never reveal your innermost thoughts."
"Except for now." Sherlock released his hold on Molly, then grasped her hand and led her back to the sofa so they could sit once again.
He turned slightly to face her, his knee brushing hers, and worded his question carefully. "Would you mind my asking why you've not been intimate with anyone? It's not like you've led an emotionally repressed life the way I have."
She didn't look at him, choosing instead to focus on their still joined hands. "Guess I'm old-fashioned that way. I'd like a ring on my finger first."
Sherlock was surprised, but not unpleasantly so. It certainly seemed a rare occurrence to find anyone these days who conformed to the values of the distant past.
He stared down at her hand, now without the ring. "Well, you did have a ring on your finger not so long ago," he pointed out reasonably.
She glanced up shyly. "I mean a wedding ring. Besides, I didn't feel any need to rush into anything with Tom. I was happy to wait."
Most unusual, Sherlock observed silently. Perhaps the idea of sex alarms her?
"And he felt the same way?"
Molly bit her lip, then admitted, "Not exactly. But he didn't pressure me too much."
Sherlock frowned at that. "I would hope he would not have pressured you at all. Isn't mutual consent a key aspect for indulging in such an intimate activity?"
She nodded. "Of course, but most people don't wait as long as Tom did for me, and to be honest, I feel quite guilty about that."
Sherlock gently reached his free hand to tilt her chin upwards so she was looking directly into his eyes. "I suppose I can understand his desire to be with you. I might find such a long wait rather inconvenient, but I would never attempt to bend you to my will, if I were ready to take our relationship further and you were not,. I hope you know that, Molly." He was still holding her other hand, and now he squeezed it gently.
"I do know that, Sherlock, and I...well, I don't think I'd find it so easy to wait that long to be with you that way." She blushed at her own admission.
Does that mean she might conceivably be interested in sexual intimacy with me in the near future?
It was both an interesting and alarming notion. All this discussion about sex was making Sherlock feel vaguely uncomfortable. This was not a conversation they needed to have right now, anyway. He barely knew how to kiss, let alone think about those other things.
"So..." he said hesitantly, trying not to think about what it would feel like to experience 'that' with Molly, "now that you find yourself no longer promised to another man, do you think you would be ready to strike up a new relationship of a romantic nature - with me?"
For the first time since she had entered the flat, Molly chuckled, and it was a most welcome sound to Sherlock. "I love your quaint turns of phrase, Sherlock. It would hardly be fitting to refuse your request, seeing as we've already declared our love and sealed it with a kiss. So yes, to put it in everyday terms - I'll be your girlfriend."
She leaned towards him. "Why don't we seal the deal with another kiss -or two - or three?"
Sherlock willingly closed the last few inches between them and kissed her, feeling warmth spread through his body, the first flickers of a heretofore unknown desire making itself known. He was definitely looking forward to exploring this new, romantic aspect of his relationship with the woman who had captured his heart when he wasn't expecting it.
Author's note: I guess I could end it here...
Would you like to see where this leads?
Were you clever enough to detect the canon I inserted? Did you enjoy seeing Sherlock's complete inexperience when it came to kissing?
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