"We need to talk."
She does not elaborate, hesitantly shuffling her feet in the way he finds so endearing. Sherlock closes his eyes at her words, allowing the gentle timbre of her voice to wash over him. The memories he had so carefully deleted come cascading back, and he wonders if he will ever forget her. (You know the answer to that, that part of his mind, Sentiment, counters.) He loses himself for a moment in the sensations of Molly.
When he finally looks at her again, she is staring down at him as though she cannot fully believe the sight before her, the World's Only Consulting Detective reduced to a man brooding around his flat half-naked. Her eyes linger on the dark circles under his, and Sherlock knows inherently that she sees far more in those tiny bruises than a lack of sleep.
He, in turn, observes her dark jeans and fitted jumper. Her long, dark hair flows down her back in waves. Clearly, she has dropped by 221B to check up on him on her way to meet John and Mary at the pub. "John said you were going out tonight. I did not expect to see you here."
"Oh, well, I might meet up with Mary and him later." She opens her mouth to continue speaking, before stopping herself and striding towards the kitchen instead. "I'll just make us some tea!" she calls into the sitting room. He hears clanking as she prepares the beverage but does not offer assistance, understanding that she needs a moment alone before confronting him with whatever she has come to say.
Molly finally returns, placing a tray laden with a kettle and two mugs on the table in front of him and taking a seat in John's armchair. She takes several deep breaths before starting. "We need to discuss what happened the other night."
"I have no idea to what you are referring," he petulantly replies, glaring at his hands. He cannot meet her gaze. He has chosen to let her go, and her beautiful brown orbs would only soften his resolve.
Molly sighs quietly. "Fine. This is about John, right?"
He snorts out a bitter laugh. "About –? Of course this is about John! He's my best friend, Molly, and these emotions are hardly appropriate!"
She stands up and takes a step toward him, her small hand hesitantly reaching out to touch his arm, before drawing back at his expression and resuming her position in the chair. "Feelings are nothing to ashamed about, Sherlock! I'm sure John would understand if you just talk to him –"
"I sincerely doubt that, Molly!" he cuts her off. He finally glances up at her and detests the sympathy he sees in her eyes. "He will hate me forever."
"Just explain to him! Even though he doesn't feel the same way about you, I know John would be considerate and listen to what you have to say!"
This last sentence draws him up short. The detective is certain the repetitive opening and closing of his mouth causes him to resemble a fish. He replays her side of the conversation, ice blue eyes narrowing when he finally understands. "Molly, I think you are misinterpreting the depth of my relationship with John."
"But I thought…."
"That I harbor secret, romantic feelings for my flat mate? Really, Molly, you should stop reading those trashy gossip magazines. They are hardly reliable news sources." Sarcasm laces his tone, further emphasized by the roll of his eyes.
She gawks at him for several moments. "But you always tense up when I mention him…. And you turn your head when I so much as kiss John on the cheek. Why would you do that if you weren't in love with him?" He observes her pride in her deduction, and now she is hurt by his blatant rejection of her theory.
"Although I acknowledge I would jump off a building for my best friend if required, my actions have a simpler explanation." He trails off, uncomfortable with where the conversation is going.
"Which is…?" she prompts him.
"Obviously, I am struggling with inappropriate thoughts for his girlfriend."
It is the first time he has admitted out loud the effect of the woman in front of him. He deduces two possible reactions to his confession. In the first, Molly, shocked and completely betrayed, yells at him, saying she never wishes to see him again before storming out of his life forever. In the other, however, she throws herself into his arms and snogs him furiously, before ringing John and ending their relationship. He cannot deny that the second scenario would be far more pleasurable, even as it would terminate his friendship.
Molly, however, has evidently not been educated about the correct responses when confronted by a man confessing feelings for her. Confusion clouds her face before she asks, "Mary?"
"What does Miss Morstan have to do with anything?" Now, both occupants of 221B wear matching expressions of utter befuddlement.
The pair stares off into space for some time, both entranced in their own thoughts, trying to piece the puzzle together. "You're in love with Mary?" she finally replies, a touch of betrayal in her voice.
"Of course not! I was referring to you!" After months of concealing the truth, he blurts it out in anger, clearly irritated with her lack of comprehension.
Her beautiful eyes widen to almost comical proportions, reminding Sherlock of a china doll. "Wait, you thought –? So then –? Oh!" She smiles to herself, a brilliant smile that diminishes his current annoyance. He still has not solved this particular mystery.
"Molly, do you intend to actually finish one of your sentences? My deductive powers are extraordinary, but even I cannot read minds." He turns back to Molly, who is now giggling hysterically. He watches her warily, wondering if the woman has gone insane. If by some chance they can fix whatever has broken between them, he really does not wish to find another pathologist. Romantic feelings aside, she really is one of the best in her field.
She pulls herself together long enough to reply. "We've both been exceptionally blind. I thought you were in love with John, while you thought I was…." She chuckles again. "John is like my older brother, so dating him would be extremely awkward. Besides, he's been crazy about Mary since I introduced them several months ago."
Sherlock feels part of the pain that has clenched around his heart, since that dinner weeks ago, relax. "John is dating… Mary?"
"Yes. From what she has told me, it's getting pretty serious. They really hit it off one night after John walked me home from your flat. That's actually one of the reasons I came here tonight. To give them some time alone. John was complaining about you, and Mary convinced me to come speak with you tonight. At first I thought she was trying to get rid of me. Now, I wonder if she wasn't attempting to push us together." She begins laughing again, and this time Sherlock joins in.
He recalls once noting how Molly disrupts his deductive abilities. Apparently, she has obscured his judgment for far longer than he realized.
He pushes himself off of the sofa and carefully walks to Molly. Her giggles cease when his hand grabs hers and pulls her to her feet, before gliding up her arm to rest on her shoulder. She raises her head to meet his gaze, her pretty eyes now full of hope and something (Longing?) that he cannot quite name.
"Miss Morstan is far more observant than the average woman. I believe she suits John very well." He gathers his nerve for a minute. "So you and John are not…?" he drifts off, hardly daring to trust his interpretation of the situation. He does not believe that his heart can handle another disappointment.
"No, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment." He lets out the sigh that had caught in his chest at her statement and slowly, ever so slowly, slides his right arm up from her shoulder, simultaneously shifting towards her. He senses more than hears her sharp intake of breath as his violinist fingers graze her pulse point. He makes a note of her rapid heart beat, pounding in time with his, before stopping to cup her cheek just beneath her jaw.
She is trembling underneath his touch, and her pupils are blown black, only a thin ring of dark brown visible around the edges. Sherlock wrestles down the sense of masculine pride overwhelming him at the knowledge that he is affecting her this way. Not John. Not some other inconsequential idiot. Me. He supposes she observes the same reactions in him. He leans forward a bit more, stopping just short of pushing his lips to hers, waiting for some sign of acceptance from the shaking woman.
He detects the anticipation in her body before she whispers, "Oh, for heaven's sake!" and moves the final millimeter to press their mouths together. One of her hands reaches up to tangle itself in his dark curls, the other placed lightly on his chest, left bare by his open dressing gown.
At the skin to skin contact, a flip switches inside the detective, and he wraps his free arm around her waist, pulling her closer still. If he was a fanciful man, he might proclaim how perfect her body feels squashed against his, as though they were two puzzle pieces built to fit together. As it is, his mind is currently preoccupied with Molly's thin (but very, very talented) lips, presently attached to his neck.
For perhaps the first time in his life, Sherlock's mind stops racing and allows him to focus exclusively on the woman in his arms. As she finds a particularly sensitive spot below his ear, he briefly reflects that, perhaps, sentiment is not so ghastly after all, before pulling her face back up to his.
Later, they are tangled together on the sofa, Sherlock's hand idly playing with Molly's hair. Their cold tea is still sitting on the table, long forgotten by the couple. They have been exchanging lazy kisses for the past hour, basking contentedly in each other's presence.
Molly's delicate fingers fiddle with the edges of his dressing gown. She is stalling, attempting to muster the courage to articulate something that has bothered her since his confession. "Spit it out Molly. What do you want to say?" he quips, his harsh words contradicted by the pure affection in his tone. She happily pecks him on the cheek before replying.
"You really thought John and I were together?" He nods. "That's why you ran away every time something happened between us? Your loyalty to him is very sweet, but I wonder if I should be offended that you think I'd cheat on my boyfriend." She playfully slaps his chest before he takes her hand and entwines their fingers.
"I knew you wouldn't." He places a kiss on the back of her hand. "That's why I have avoided you. It hurt too much to be near you, knowing you would never be mine, and I was not confident that I could control myself if I saw you again." He accentuates this confession with another kiss, this time on her lovely lips.
She reciprocates unreservedly for a moment before drawing back. "It would never have worked between John and me, anyway. I happen to be infatuated with his flat mate. Surely you noticed how I would flush bright red when you complimented me or smirked in that infuriating way you always do. And don't even pretend like you didn't notice my physical reaction to your purple shirt. You wore it far too often for it to be for anything other than my benefit," she teases him. "How could you not see the way I felt about you?"
"Well, there's always something." He gives her his infuriating smirk before capturing her mouth once more.
Well, there you have it! I was really nervous posting this chapter, because everyone had their own theories about how this would work out. I think I re-wrote this five times. What did you think? The end is almost pure fluff, but I thought they deserved a happy ending after the angst I've put them through the last couple of chapters.
I set out to write a story that I would enjoy reading, and maybe give Molly a little payback for all the stories I've read where she hopelessly pines after Sherlock. Molly is awesome, and I wanted a Sherlock who sees that. I hope you enjoyed reading this even half as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have an idea for a possible epilogue where John and Sherlock finally talk. Let me know if you'd be interested! Once again, thank you to everyone who followed, favorited, and reviewed this silly little story of mine. I would like to give a special shout-out to MorbidbyDefault and SammyKatz who reviewed every chapter!
Thank you again for the support you have given me throughout this process. This is the first time I have written anything like this, and your kind words motivated me to keep going!
