Give His Heart a Break.
Authors Note: Ok, so even if I hadn't have got all your splendid reviews I still would have posted this because I just can't resist writing this story now! Anyways, guys I'm so grateful to your reviews! They were amazing and I'm just overjoyed that you are all loving this story. So, here we go with the next chapter!
Disclaimer: I simply own nothing.
Chapter Four: Change and Chicken Tikka.
He paced the entire width of Molly's kitchen.
He rocked on a spot in her bedroom.
He tapped his fist against the living room wall.
And he was close enough to skipping the length of her hallway.
Instead, he found himself claiming the single chair in her living room and bringing his knees up to his chin.
It wasn't quite the same as being home at Baker Street but he had made it make do since he had been living here.
He knew John.
He knew exactly where they would be right now.
At that cheap, little Indian place a couple streets from Baker.
But then again, this was Molly.
Would he really take her there?
She was Molly.
Sherlock scoffed aloud.
Of course John would take her there.
It was only Molly after all.
Molly was more boring than John's previous women.
John had awful taste.
He didn't even choose someone dangerous like Irene Adler.
He was sure Adler would go for him if he wanted.
But no, John prefers idiotic, rambling, boring Pathologists.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed.
He wondered vaguely what Molly would order at the Indian.
In all his time here, he had never once seen Molly eat Indian.
Sherlock's lips twitched.
She didn't like Indian.
Ha!
She wouldn't tell John that though.
She was too kind; she was too sweet.
She'd probably go for the most common choice: Chicken Tikka.
Food poisoning appears to be in Molly's near future.
His stomach did a little drop at the thought.
He didn't quite know why.
He ignored it.
What did Molly see in John anyways?
She had always seemed to like men who were… exciting.
Like himself.
Like James Moriarty.
But John, John was far from exciting when he wasn't around.
Maybe that was it.
Maybe she was choosing John because he was the opposite of himself.
Her last… partner had been Moriarty, after all.
But still… John.
Why John?
He just could not get his head around it.
Sherlock's thoughts slowly began slipping towards John's intentions on this date.
What did John want from Molly?
According to Molly, John hadn't been dating since his 'death.'
Which would mean John hadn't been having sexual intercourse.
Was that why he wanted Molly?
She was someone who he could easily get to go on a date with him.
She was someone who he could easily woo himself in to the folds of her bed sheets.
The idea of such a thing made him want to go upstairs and break Molly's bed.
And he wasn't quite sure why.
But surely, it had to be that!
No one in their right mind would want to go on a date with Molly Hooper just so they could get to know her, talk to her.
It was preposterous!
It made him laugh out loud like a crazed person.
He only stopped when his blazer pocket vibrated.
There was only one person that message could be from.
He pulled out the phone and stared.
John is insistent on coming back to the flat. He's paying right now. Hide in the cupboard under the stairs. –MH
He glowered down at the message.
He placed his phone on the coffee table.
After waiting for an approximant twenty minutes, he went and hid himself under the stairs.
It was a ridiculously small space.
Perhaps, she was trying to punish him for his comments earlier.
Bravo Molly.
He mentally clapped her.
A couple minutes after he had locked himself in the cupboard, the front door opened.
He could hear a rather giggly Molly step through.
Far too much wine she had consumed.
He would scold her for that later.
"No, really! He thought that! It was absolutely hilarious. How anyone could have been so smart and yet so ignorant of basic facts is beyond me!"
John's voice.
It sounded as if he was the topic of discussion.
"Oh believe me! I know!"
He heard their feet shuffling in to living room.
He strained to hear the rest of their conversation.
"I mean just yesterday, he confessed to me he didn't know what kind of animal's zoo's kept. How bloody funny is that?"
Oh, Molly.
"Just yesterday?"
Sherlock could feel the tension building from here.
She was such an idiot.
Why he trusted in the first place, he'd never know.
Desperation?
That was possible.
"Oh… I-I… uh… I mean it felt just like yesterday he was telling me that."
Not a terrible save.
Not a great one either.
But pretty good considering it was Molly Hooper.
"Oh. I know what you mean."
He didn't think John did.
"Anyways, I had a wonderful night tonight, John."
Was that a purr he heard in her tone?
His eyebrows rose upon his forehead.
"So did I, Molly."
He couldn't see them but it didn't take a genius to know they were only inches apart from one another.
Sherlock was fighting with his self-control to stay in the stupid cupboard.
He didn't really know why he was, though.
"I would love to do it again."
More purring?
Sherlock was fuming inside the cupboard.
How could she be talking to his best friend that way when she knew he was only a few steps away from them?
Unless, that was why she was doing it!
Ha!
He'd figured it out.
That's why Molly Hooper was interested in John.
She thought it would get to him!
How pathetically thick could she be?
He was Sherlock Holmes.
He did not feel petty emotions like jealousy.
He especially would not feel them for some pesky, petite pathologist!
"How about Wednesday, eight o'clock, again?"
Sherlock glared at the door.
John was going to kiss her.
"Perfect."
Sherlock scoffed aloud.
She couldn't have chosen a word she could have purred at him anymore, could she?
Could John not see how desperate she was being right now?
It had gone silent.
Sherlock listened closer.
His eye twitched a little.
His chest tightened.
They were kissing.
"I'd offer you something to drink but I have work tomorrow."
Finally, they had stopped kissing.
"Oh, it's fine! I—"
They were interrupted by a buzzing coming from the coffee table.
Sherlock's hand rose to his blazer pocket.
Empty.
Fuck.
"Isn't that Sherlock's phone? Why do you have Sherlock's phone, Molly? Why isn't that phone smashed to pieces on St. Bart's roof?"
A pregnant pause.
"Don't be silly, John! It's an iPhone. So many people have iPhone's."
"You don't have an iPhone. Who's phone is it, Molly?"
"No one's. You need to be going."
She fake yawned.
John didn't move.
Molly gave John a gentle nudge.
He sighed and gave in before moving towards the front door.
He paused on the step outside the flat.
It seemed the mobile phone had already been forgotten.
"I really did have a wonderful time with you tonight, Molly."
"Oh, John. I did too."
She was sighing in that utterly annoying way she had been the day John had asked her out.
Sherlock was sure she had that stupid wistful look covering her face, too.
"Goodnight, Molly Hooper."
A kiss.
"Goodnight, John Watson."
The door was shut.
As soon as Sherlock was sure John had turned the street corner, he barged out of the cupboard.
He moved in to the kitchen.
Molly was making tea; a habit of hers before bed.
She glanced up at Sherlock and sure enough that awful look was there.
This time though, there was an added twinkle in her eyes.
Sherlock's stomach twisted.
"That reeked of desperation, Molly. You realise you were purring at him the entire time he was in this flat. God knows how you behaved at dinner with him. I sure hope there were no children about, your voice alone sounded like a pornstar in a porn film!"
Molly didn't even flinch.
"Do you watch a lot of porn films, Sherlock?"
She continued stirring her tea.
He continued to glare at her.
"Let me guess, John took you to that Indian place near Baker Street. You kindly accepted it, even though you hate Indian. You spoke about your childhood, your families. When it came to John's sister and her alcohol addiction, you took his hand and said you were sorry. When it came to you telling John your father had died, he rubbed that same hand with his thumb. Then I suppose you moved on to the topic of your teenage years and all the things you had wished to be. You both gladly skipped over your university years though; you didn't wish to bring up painful memories of the horrible mistakes you made. Then finally, it all changed to talking about me. The one thing you both have in common. Oh, you both ripped in to me and just before leaving the pair of you got overemotional over the fact I am 'dead.' I'm sure you managed to pull it off by thinking back on the comment I made to you earlier about your appearance. After that, you wished I were dead."
Molly turned around to face him, tea in her hands.
"Am I right?"
She raised the drink to her lips.
"All but one thing."
He waited for her to continue.
"I'd never wish for you to be dead."
She then made her way out of the kitchen.
He frowned a frown that, if she looked, would be unnoticeable by her.
Why wasn't she upset with him?
He had just mocked her entire evening and yet she showed no emotions.
His chest did that aggravating tightening again.
Why did it keep doing that lately?
He watched her walk to the stairs.
What had John done to Molly Hooper?
She was ignoring his every jibe at her.
It was intriguing.
Why hadn't he brought this out in her before?
Why did it have to be John?
Why did he just think John's name the way he would think the word love?
Molly paused before reaching the stairs.
"Sherlock…"
Before she could say another word, the tea dropped to the floor as did Molly.
He knew what was about to happen.
He took the sink bowl and began to walk towards her.
He didn't quite get there in time.
She threw up what appeared to be a poorly made Chicken Tikka.
Told you so.
Authors Note: Chapter four, done! I think Sherlock's thought process was bad at the beginning. I was half asleep writing it. It approves towards the end. I like the ending. I think it's kind of cute how Sherlock was about to go and help Molly while she throws up. Anyways, what are your thoughts? I hope you enjoyed it! I had fun writing it once I got in to it. I'm hoping to write the next chapter tomorrow but I may not be able to. If not, expect it Saturday!