A/N: Hello, again! I hope you all are enjoying reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it. If you don't speak Spanish, I apologize, the translations will be at the end of the chapter. This gets just a tad angsty here, but nothing to heart wrenching (I hope).
Enjoy my lovelies!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Sherlock. All rights and blah blah blah belong to the BBC, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, And Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
CHAPTER 3
The next day, Molly started the day with Spanish. Luckily, she sat next to John. The two friends grinned at each other.
"Clase, siéntese. Hable con sus compañeros en español, por favor," their professor said, obviously very enthusiastic in her career.
"So, Margarita," John asked, ignoring their teacher's request, though using Molly's Spanish name, "I hear Sherlock took you out."
Molly blushed. "On a case," she replied, also forgoing their teacher's wishes. "It wasn't a big deal!"
John put a hand on Molly's shoulder. "Trust me. With Sherlock, it's a big deal."
"How so?"
John sighed. "He hates for me to tell anyone. He wouldn't speak to me for three weeks after I told Mary."
Molly leaned in closer. "What?"
John pursed his lips. "Okay, but you have to promise to keep it to yourself."
She nodded. "I promise."
John cleared his throat. "It'll be two years next Friday. He was head over heels for this girl, Irene Adler. They'd only been dating for about six months."
"Mary said they'd only reached first base."
John nodded. "Sherlock is actually quite the gentleman. He thought it was true love, or he'd never have entertained the thought of entering an actual relationship. His brother always told him that caring wasn't an advantage, but he loved Irene so much, he ignored his brother's instruction."
Molly gasped. "She broke his heart didn't she?"
"Quite badly too. She was...she was found murdered. It was only after investigating her death that it was discovered that she'd been cheating on Sherlock, and using him for God knows what. Sherlock swore off women, and really all human interaction after that."
Molly bit her lip and nodded.
John laid a hand on her arm. "A warning, tread lightly on the subject."
"¡Juan! ¡Margarita! ¡En español, por favor!"
Molly's next class was English. Greg, Mary, John, and Sherlock were all in the class as well. The boys were seated at the very back of the classroom, the girls at the front.
Molly chewed at her nails, taking in what John had told her.
"Hey." Mary nudged her shoulder. "What's the matter?"
Molly glanced over her shoulder in Sherlock's direction. She turned and looked her friend straight in the eye. "John, he told me about her."
Mary's eyes widened. "Just act like he didn't tell you. I can't deal with another round of silent Sherlock."
Molly nodded, and cast one final glance at Sherlock.
It didn't take a genius to deduce what Mary and Molly were whispering about. Sherlock glared at his best friend, and spat out through gritted teeth, "You told her, didn't you?"
John stumbled over his words, unable to create a cognitive thought.
"Sherlock, please don't give him the silent treatment again," Greg pleaded.
"Stay out of this," Sherlock snarled.
"Sherlock, I'm sorry."
"Don't speak, John. You'll only make it worse."
John nodded soberly. "I'm sorry."
When lunch came around, Molly frantically sought out John.
"Where is he John? Where's Sherlock?"
John sighed. "No offense, but if I can't talk him round, I doubt you can."
"Maybe, but I'd still like to try. Where is he?"
"He's probably under the willow by the athletic shed."
Molly gave John a quick hug. "Thank you."
"Good luck."
Molly found Sherlock exactly where John said he'd be. She sat down next to him, though he didn't appear to notice her.
She cleared her throat. "You shouldn't be mad at John, you know. I made him tell me."
Sherlock didn't look at her, but he finally spoke. "And why would you want to know about my life?"
"Because I'd consider you a friend at this point, and I tend to care about my friends. Actually, most people tend to care about their friends. Sentiment and all."
Sherlock scoffed. "Sentiment. Ha. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. Caring is not an advantage."
It was Molly's turn to scoff. "Did your brother tell you that? He's wrong, you know."
By now Sherlock had tuned her out, and Molly knew she would need to hit a nerve to get Sherlock to open up again. She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. "If it helps, I know exactly how you feel."
"This isn't like losing a pet or a relative, Molly," he replied, a condescending and annoyed tone in his voice.
Molly cleared her throat, which had become thick as a wave of emotion washed over her. "No, I mean my boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, Jim, committed suicide. I never had a clue he was so distressed. I still don't know why he did it."
Sherlock, at long last, turned to face Molly with a pair of turmoiled eyes. A look of understanding passed between the two teens, and Sherlock realized that, in many ways, he'd found a kindred spirit. "I thought she was the one. It never occurred to me that I was just her plaything. That she was toying with my emotions."
Molly nodded. "I thought Jim was my Prince Charming, come to take me home to be his princess."
Sherlock bit his lip, stifling the tears threatening to come. He turned away from Molly. The tears welled in his eyes did not get past Molly's notice. "Sherlock," she asked.
He was quiet for a moment, and then turned back to her. "Do you still love Jim?"
Molly nodded. "What choice do I have? I refuse to hate him, and carry around all that bitterness. It's the funny thing about hate, it really only has a bad effect on the person doing the hating. He was an important part of my life, and at one time, he was all I wanted. So, yes, I still love him, but in the way you love a brother. I'm not in love with him. No matter how much it hurts, they still are a part of you. You must learn to forgive and forget, and move on. Love again."
"How does that work?"
"It starts with listening to your heart. It's your brain keeping you from letting go. It thinks you still owe that person something when you don't. Your heart could want something else."
Sherlock smiled as the tears spilled over. "Thank you, Molly Hooper." He leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "I'll see you later."
"Of course."
Sherlock sauntered off.
Molly grinned at his back, and then muttered to herself, "Eat your heart out, John."
That night, Sherlock waited for John to return.
"John, I'm sorry," he began, when his roommate walked in.
The sandy-haired boy shook his head. "No, I'm sorry. I know how sensitive this topic is for you. I should've let you tell Molly on your own."
The raven-haired boy held up a hand. "No, please. Let me apologize. You're my best friend, and I know you always have my best interest in mind. Also, I have a better understanding of Molly, and I think, a new friend."
John grinned. "Apology accepted. Still friends?" He offered up his hands.
Sherlock took John's hand in his. "Friends."
A/N: The Spanish translations:
Clase, siéntese. Hable con sus compañeros en español, por favor = Class, sit down. Talk with your companion (deskmate) in Spanish, please.
¡Juan! ¡Margarita! ¡En español, por favor! = John! Molly (well, Margaret)! In Spanish, please!
I figure most of you could figure that out, or put it into Google Translate, but I'm putting it here just in case. John and Molly's Spanish teacher is based on my wonderful Spanish teacher in high school, who had a wonderful pizzazz for Spanish and her students...Oh goodness, I looked at the word "spanish" too long, and now it looks funny.
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