A quick taxi-ride later and Sherlock arrived back at 221B Baker Street, frustrated and more bored than before. He threw his coat and scarf over the back of John's chair and took a seat in his own before picking up his violin. He played for a while, still wondering why Molly had begun to cry.
She wasn't the strongest of people, Sherlock realised this, and him walking out on a party that she'd obviously put effort into must have annoyed her. But why would it have upset her? They hardly knew each other anyway, Sherlock reminded himself. So they worked together a bit at Barts, so what? That was the extent of their relationship and neither of them had the desire to bring it any further.
Or did they?
Sherlock placed the violin is his lap and began tapping the bow on the arm of his chair. Actually, when he thought about it, there were quite a lot of times that had suggested Molly had wanted to take their relationship beyond that of work associates. She offered him coffee regularly, attempted to make conversation about trivial things, worked late hours just to help him out... And there was that time last Christmas!
Sherlock sighed and dropped the bow on the violin in his lap. How had he been so stupid? He was getting rusty. Not realising the surprise party straight away, now this. What was up with him today? Sherlock stood and placed his instrument in his seat. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He typed a quick messaage and his thumb hovered over the send button. He couldn't quite believe he was doing this. He couldn't believe that he, Sherlock Holmes, was about apologise for leaving a party. Sighing to himself again in a 'what-the-hell' manner, he pressed send.
Even if he didn't see Molly the way she saw him, Sherlock had grown accostomed to having certain people around him and in a way he knew he didn't want to lose her. In a way, he knew he needed her.