Thanks to the-keeper-of-the-key for beta-ing!
Also, thank you so much to those that read, reviewed, favorited, kudos-ed, etc! I am so happy that you guys are enjoying the ride! Please continue to let me know what you think, I appreciate the time you guys take out to read and write reviews. I hope you continue to enjoy the story! This is a short chapter but I thought it would be better to split the chapter to keep it from getting clunky. Things should pick up much more after this. Hopefully, I'll be able to update faster.
"Last night I held Aladdin's lamp and I so wished that I could stay before the thing could answer me, someone came and took the lamp away! I looked all around, a lousy candle's all I found!"
Sherlock growled in annoyance as he buttoned up his shirt. Again John was singing that blasted song. At least he finally learned the rest of the lyrics and he didn't have suffer through a course of la la las. If Sherlock found himself humming the refrain one more time he would have to take drastic measures. Possibly hide his condoms in the biscuit tin again. If timed correctly, John won't notice until Mrs. Hudson dropped off more biscuits, thus submitting him to a soliloquy on how happy she was the John was being responsible with his parade of girlfriends and how things were like in her day. Sherlock made a mental note to be out of the flat before Mrs. Hudson retold the story of how she lost her virginity. Once was quite enough, thank you very much. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't delete that uncomfortable teatime. The only shining spot was that Mycroft and John had to suffer also.
"I like to dream!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes as he banged on the door. "If you must subject the neighborhood to your caterwauling could you at least vary your repertoire?"
At last. Silence. Why on earth would one want to sing in the shower was beyond him. Especially when one sounded like a cat in heat.
Sherlock shrugged on his suit jacket when he heard John start up again. "She said she'd take me anywhere, she'd take me anywhere as long as she stays with me! Kiss, kiss Molly's lips! Kiss, kiss Molly's lips!"
John never was one for subtly. He was of the break down the door school of thought rather than the more delicate one of pick the lock. It was with no regret that Sherlock flicked off the lights in the bathroom before leaving. He deserved it after all.
Meena: How's it going?
Molly took a sip of her flat white before answering. She had arrived at their Costa well before the appointed time. Nerves, probably, she thought. That and the increased likelihood of getting a seat. She hadn't been this nervous around Sherlock in ages. Once one live with someone on and off for several years, one tended to lose most nerves. Molly took a deep, calming breath and tried to still her rapidly tapping foot. It was truly ridiculous on how anxious she was feeling about this meeting. It should be no different then giving any one of her other friends advice, she told herself.
Except none of her other friends had the social skills of a five year old.
Molly tapped out a reply: Not here yet
Well into her second drink, Molly realized that not only was it possible that she might actually have a caffeine problem but also that Sherlock was now ten minutes late. Which wasn't uncommon for him. She just hoped that he would remember to text this time if a case or experiment came up so she wasn't stuck in the coffee shop alone, pretending to act casual and unconcerned as she waited for him.
Her phone buzzed.
Meena: Emphasize timeliness.
Molly rolled her eyes. Meena was enjoying this way too much. She had already told Molly that she was coming over that night to hear all about it.
Duly noted. Get back to work!
She shifted in her seat trying to get comfortable. She was tempted to kick off her shoes and sit on her feet but there was something about putting her bare feet on a chair that was probably last cleaned when Thatcher was prime minister that gave her pause.
Molly caught sight of an older man passing her carrying a toastie on a tray out of the corner of her eye. Molly followed him with her eyes as he made his way to a table. Maybe she should get something to eat while she was waiting. Saliva filled her mouth as she thought about the toastie. She could almost taste the crisp toasted bread against her tongue as she bit into it. The soft, hot cheese. The salty ham. She forgot to eat breakfast this morning in her rush to get out of the flat and now she was starting to feel the effects. Oh yes, a toastie seemed like a brilliant idea right now. As soon as Sherlock showed up she was going to indulge.
"Looks good doesn't it?" came a voice from behind her.
Molly jumped. She turned around, just barely avoiding upsetting the rest of her drink.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!" The man grinned at her, his hazel eyes twinkling. He gestured at the chair next to her where she had thrown her handbag and coat. "Is this seat taken?"
"No. I mean yes! My friend is coming, he's just late." Molly's mind raced. Did she want to chat with this man? He looked nice. But Jim also looked nice. Was he real nice or fake I'm going to kill your friends nice? She just couldn't tell anymore. Though what were the chances? Probably low. What if she told him to leave and Sherlock never showed and she lost her chance with a potentially nice man?
Molly grabbed her belonging and pulled them onto her lap. "Have a seat. If you want, I mean."
"Name's Doug," he said with a smile.
"Molly."
Sherlock hopped out of his cab a block from his destination. The traffic was obscene and there was no way he was going to stay in a cab when he could get there faster by walking. Maybe there was something to be said about taking the tube when he decided to journey out to Clapham to visit Molly, especially at this time. It was clearly Molly's fault for living so far away and taking her days off not on the weekend like normal people but on Thursday and Friday,
Sherlock bounced on his toes at the street corner, waiting for the crosswalk signal to change. Usually he disregarded such mundane pedestrian crossings but the road was too busy to attempt a mad dash. Molly, not to mention John and Mrs. Hudson, would be quite cross if he was struck by a lorry. Sometimes it was better to just humor society and follow the pedestrian signals.
After a light that was red for far too long, he had to wonder if Mycroft maybe had something to do with it, Sherlock dashed across the street, nearly knocking people out of the way. He was just a few shops from his goal. He disliked tardiness without a valid reason. Cases were valid reasons; experiments were valid reasons; idiotic drivers were not.
He slowed to a walk right before the Costa that has been designated as 'theirs.' It was a place that Molly had patroned quite frequently amount after abandoning the Starbucks several blocks away. It made an ideal meeting place for her and one of Mycroft's lackeys during the time he was dismantling Moriarty's network. It worked so nicely that he started using it as a meeting point for when he would drop back into London. Molly's building security, while no where near insurmountable, was quite annoying to deal with subtly, especially when he was tired. It was easier to just meet Molly on her way home or to work to pick up her security fob to let him in.
He paused to straighten his coat before entering the shop. No need to let Molly know that he was rushing. Privately, he wasn't entirely sure she would notice. She, like John, had a habit of missing the obvious though, unlike John, she also had a tendency to see right through him at the most inopportune times.
He stopped in his tracks. Molly was chatting, no flirting, with some bloke. His eyes narrowed as he took in her companion. Thirty-nine years old. Slightly hunched position suggests computer work. A programmer by the marks on his palms. He spent a lot of time clenching his fists when his code failed. His shoes though were those commonly worn by hospital employees. A programmer in a hospital? How mind numbingly dull.
Molly looked up at his approach, her eyes lighting up as she smiled. "Sherlock!"
"Traffic was a mess," he greeted, completely ignoring Molly's companion. "Ended up walking the last block instead of listening to the cabbie's idea of music."
Molly rolled her eyes at his sneer. "You think most music composed after the 19th century is horrible."
"I can't help being right all the time," he paused for a second. "Even if I wanted to." The man had begun to shift uncomfortably the moment he appeared on the scene. Perfect. "Oh, I didn't notice your companion." Sherlock smiled insincerely at the man, his eyes cold.
"Oh, I-I was just leaving. Nice to uh meet you Molly." He gathered up his coat and scurried away. Sherlock rolled his eyes. No wonder the man was still single with a penchant for lesbian pornography if this was his tactic at courting.
No matter, it was exactly what he wanted to accomplish though he had to admit, he was hoping for a little more of a challenge.
Sherlock flopped down in the chair, taking in Molly's amused expression.
"Good job scaring him away," she remarked drily, finishing off her flat white. A flat white this early in the morning meant she already had ristretto. She was quite possibly the only person he knew that drank as much caffeine as he did. "I didn't even get his number."
"Problem?"
Molly shrugged, setting her empty mug down. "Not really. He seemed sort of bland to be honest. But most biostatisticians I know are. I think it's all the software."
"A biostatistician? Not a programmer?"
"That's what he said. Works for King's."
Sherlock pursed his lips in annoyance. Always something.
"I was going to get you something to drink but since you have a tendency to be late…well, I didn't. By the way, don't be late on dates. Especially first ones, it's not good for anyone involved."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. Obvious. If this was the type of advice she was going to be dispensing he might as well put a stop to the whole thing and ask her out again. No use wasting his time.
Molly sighed as she stood from her chair.
"Where are you going?" Was she leaving? He wasn't that late and she didn't seem too put out about the departure of the biostatistician.
"I'm hungry. Want anything?"
"Just coffee. Here," he said, shifting to pull his wallet out. "Use my card."
"I can get it," she protested as he held out his card for her to grab
"Think of it as an apology for being late." He held her gaze.
After a minute or so, Molly sighed. "Fine. It's best just to humor you sometimes, you want anything else?"
"No." He picked up his mobile to check his e-mail. Hopefully one of his orders would have shipped by now, he needed another 40x objective.
"Oh, did you already have breakfast?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"Are you on a case?"
Sherlock looked up from his phone and blinked at her. "Of course not. I'm here, aren't I?" If he had a case he would have cancelled. Molly knew that, why was she asking?
"Working on an experiment?" She persisted.
"Not presently." He was still waiting for an appropriate donor pancreas to continue his insulin experiment.
"Right, I'm getting you a Panini."
"I'm not-"
"Don't complain or I'm throwing in a muffin for you to eat also," she said over her shoulder as she made her way to the till.
Sherlock glowered at her ineffectively. "You're not my landlady," he called after her.
Molly waved her hand to shush him as she placed her order.
He was starting to regret this decision.