AN-I'm sorry, but I'm a lying liar who lies. This was supposed to be the last chapter, but it got so long I decided to have two more chapters. This one was inspired by the song Tell Her You Love Her by Echosmith
Molly was fuming. Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? Strolling in here like he owned the place, expecting everyone to do as he said. What a complete and utter arse! Did he expect her to willingly follow him wherever and whenever he wanted? Well, she certainly showed him.
"Is everything alright?" Ewan queried. "You've been staring at the doorway for quite some time. Did something happen? Do you want to talk about it?" Concern for her was written on his face.
"It's nothing. It's just that he's so…and he always makes me so…he's such a…gah!" she huffed in frustration. "I don't know."
"What did he do?" her friend asked gently.
"He wanted me to come back so I could be his little lab mouse again," she answered louder than she had intended. "He must have realized how much I did for him, and now he needs me to go back and serve him again. He always did that. He'd tell me to do something, and I'd just do it. And if I refused, he'd pay me a compliment, and I'd end up helping him. He always knew just what to say to get me to do his bidding."
"He seems like a bloody git."
"He is, a right git, but he's also wonderful. He's brilliant and burning. He does so much to help people. He says he does it as an alternative to getting high, but I know, deep down, he likes helping the common folk. He acts cold and indifferent, but I've never seen anyone as passionate as he is. When he sees something that's worth his time, he puts his whole self into it. And he's a genius. He can tell your whole life's story from a speck of lint on your shirt and a crease on your trousers. But he's so clever in one sense, yet he's completely ignorant in another. He's completely clueless when it comes to matters of the heart." Molly hadn't realized it, but her face had taken on a wistful, distant look when talking about Sherlock.
"You love him don't you?" Ewan asked, already knowing the answer.
"I did, but I'm over it now," she answered in less than convincing manner. "Really. I'm here now, and I'm doing things for myself. I'm happy."
"I know you're happy working here because of the way you smile when you come in and how eager you are to help the students who come in. I know you loved him because of the way you talked about him before. You had nothing but good things to say about him even though he has a reputation of being an arsehole. And I know you definitely still love him because of the way your eyes sparkled when you talked about him just now. Molly, you have it bad," Ewan insisted earnestly.
"That's silly," Molly dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Let's not talk about this anymore." With that, she sat down and finally started her experiment.
When she turned away, she missed the way his face fell a bit in disappointment.
Ewan stepped outside to have a smoke. He hadn't had one in years, but today was as good a day as any to fall off the wagon. When he opened the door, he was greeted by a curly haired detective. "What do you want?"
"You've been working with Molly for the past month. How has she been?"
The shorter man gave him a suspicious look. "She's been fine. She loves what she's doing, and she's happy."
"She's adjusted well, then. That's nice. And she's happy. That's a good thing," he said, nodding. "Does she talk about life in London often?"
"She doesn't talk about London very much. She seems quite intent on starting her new life here." Ewan saw Sherlock deflate visibly. "But when she does talk about London, she always tells me about this man that she worked with. She says that he's the most intelligent man she ever knew. She says he's brilliant, and she's never known anyone as wonderful as him. She says that he's hurt her so many times, but she will always forgive him."
Sherlock looked up. "She told you that?" Before he could say anything else, Ewan's fist made contact with Sherlock's jaw. His eyes widened in shock, and he threw a glare at the pathologist. "What was that for?"
"That was for all the times you hurt Molly. You had that coming. Now please, don't ever hurt her again. She loves you, after everything, she loves you so much. And I know you love her too. You didn't just come all this was to inquire about her health. You clearly care about her."
"That's absurd," Sherlock exclaimed. "I'm merely showing concern like any friend would do."
"You and I both know that's not true. You know she loves you; you need to tell her you love her too. If you don't, she's going to slip away, and somebody else is going to swoop in and steal her away."
"And how do you suggest I tell her?" Sherlock questioned, trying to sound irritated.
"Just tell her the truth. Tell her your secrets; tell her how you feel when you're around her. Don't run away from your feelings. As long as it comes from your heart, she'll be able to tell that you're being sincere." Ewan took a moment to let that sink in for the wildly ignorant man before him.
"Thank you very much, Buchanan," was Sherlock's reply after a few moments of silence. The blond man reached his hand out, but before he could react, Sherlock had thrown a right hook that landed squarely on his jaw. "That is for earlier," he said with a grin.
"Good luck, mate!" Ewan called after him, rubbing his jaw. He guessed he hadn't needed that smoke after all. Shaking his head, he made his way back to the lab.
