Chapter 7
'All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his'
Oscar Wilde
Molly Hooper's attention rapidly switched between the unfathomable man and her mother who was clearly out of sorts herself. Sherlock straightened his upturned coat collar. How was she ever supposed to solve her problem when he showed up in her flat looking all mysterious? More importantly what was the protocol for when a self-proclaimed high functioning sociopath showed up in your flat only to be met with the over the top fussing of your mother? Molly had nothing. She could turn back into the kitchen; pretend that it was a dream- a horrible tormenting dream- and hope that her problem went away of its own accord. "Evening Molly," Sherlock greeted calmly. Bugger, Molly cursed to herself.
"H-hello," Molly stuttered, "I'll just put the kettle on." Molly plummeted into blind panic. She could flee to the kitchen to make tea and her mother and Sherlock could go to war- problem solved.
"You don't need to do that Molly, get your coat. We're going out for dinner," Sherlock spoke in a voice as clear as crystal so there was no mistaking his intentions. It held that tone that used to send Molly swooning in the lab.
Molly's mouth opened and closed like a fish before she could properly formulate a response without voicing the colourful curses resonating in her mind like a broken record. She looked at Sherlock; the bastard was enjoying himself at her expense. "Mum and I were going to have a night in with a takeaway," there, Molly hoped that would serve as a suitable excuse.
"Nonsense you go Molly, this lovely young man wants to take you to dinner," Molly felt like a child again as her mother scolded her.
The pathologist could see no easy way out of it. It left her no choice in the matter. Her mother had traitorously left her to her fate. "O-okay, j-just give me a few minutes," in a daze Molly walked into her bedroom to get ready. Was she really going out to dinner with Sherlock? If it weren't for the fact he was physically there in the flesh then she would think this was all a cruel joke. Sherlock Holmes didn't take women out to dinner. He took John and it was always for a case. Maybe John was busy. Yes, Molly would go with that. John was busy and Sherlock was putting on his charm to extract her from an evening of Coronation Street and Chinese food so that he had an assistant for the night.
It was pure fear that had Molly putting on a bit of lipstick at lightning speed. Fear that her mother would mortify her and Sherlock would reduce her mother to tears. There was no telling what her mother or even Sherlock would say when left alone together. As she opened the door Molly's her worst fears were confirmed.
-x-
Sherlock was out of his depth and berating himself for making such a stupid decision driven out of jealousy towards an incompetent moron Molly was more than likely never going to meet on a dating site. The consultant detective was left alone with a woman he had absolutely no interest in talking to whilst at the same time being forced to engage in what was sure to be a stimulating conversation so that he could be on Molly's good side was ridiculous. In fact, this whole scheme was ridiculous. He didn't do dates so why on earth was he at his pathologists with every intention of going on one. The consultant detective was married to his work yet there he was about to do the dirty on it. Sherlock had concluded, through sound reasoning and deductions, that if he invited her to dinner he would ensure a result that he had previous failed at achieving but more importantly, it would allow Molly to see how serious he was about her. She counted and always had he'd just been too disinterested to see it.
Having had time to reflect but more importantly listen to John berate him for being an idiot he'd concluded that the last time he tried to embark on some kind of relationship with the pathologist it hadn't been one of his finer moments. Dinner was simple and something even an emotionally stunted consultant detective could master- they had been John's words.
"I'm glad Molly has found herself a nice young man," Molly's mother at least had the decency to wait until Molly closed the bedroom floor before she began an interrogation that would give the most adept detective inspector a run for his money. Sherlock held back a groan. Why did Molly have to leave him there? She really didn't need to make any effort to improve her image.
"Well Molly is a lovely woman," Sherlock started to speak but stopped himself. The pointless niceties felt alien as they spilled from his mouth but wasn't that what every mother wanted to hear? He could feel his body betraying him as his palms began to sweat. His traitorous transport was allowing his inner turmoil to surface. Give him Moriarty any day of the week. He glanced towards Molly's room in the hope of seeing her leave it even though she'd only been gone less than a minute. It seemed it was every mothers prerogative (his own included) to make a complete fool of themselves.
Unlucky for Sherlock Molly's mother really only had one thing on her mind, "You are already treating her a lot better than the last man she took an interest in. Unrequited of course, what was his name? It began with an S. Sherman? Sheldon? It was a weird one. Poor Molly, she never has much luck. She tried, bless her, someone she worked with but he turned out to be gay." Sherlock very wisely stayed quiet. Anyone in their right mind could see that her mother had been on more than her fair share of failed dates recently judging by the wear and tear on her diary left on the coffee table with a torn out lonely hearts page poking out from the top of the closed book. It didn't take a genius to see that the indentation of her wedding band had long since faded indicating that it had come off a while ago, a year after her husband's death. Sherlock took one look at the over the top make-up clarted onto Molly's mothers face and decide that he'd seen enough to calm his nerves and block out the rest of Mrs Hooper's incessant ramblings.
"Mum!" Sherlock was thanking whatever entity was out there for Molly's well-timed interruption. "We should be going," Molly snatched up her bag and bolted for the front door to hide her embarrassment from the man that saw everything. Sherlock was hot on her trail equally keen to escape her mother's pointless drivel. "Help yourself to anything!" Molly called back.
"Wait a second! Sorry, I didn't get your name?" Molly's mother joined them at the door preventing any further escape.
Sherlock glanced between the two women seeing the same expectant look on their faces. Clearly, from her earlier comments, Molly's mother had a very low opinion of him not that she knew who he was and he was more than willing to put her in her place but there was Molly, he couldn't do that to her. It would ruin the whole evening. With what Molly was sure, was a mischievous glint in his eye Sherlock straightened up and held out his hand for Molly's mum to shake, "Sherlock Holmes." They left Molly's mother speechless on the threshold to Molly's flat with the revelation that this was the man who tormented her daughter's feelings for years.
-x-
Molly and Sherlock didn't speak to each other as they journeyed in a taxi to the West End. How could Molly say anything that would make up her for her mother's blatant lack of tact and subtlety? Molly swore to herself that she would never ever be like that. She liked to think that she was safe especially with family and friends saying she was so much like her dad.
Sherlock paid the fair before Molly had chance to offer to go halves. They walked down several main streets weaving between other people. Out of the corner of her eye Molly kept peeking at Sherlock, she was too afraid to turn her head and be caught looking at him. She was trying to figure him out. Molly pushed him away when he'd turned up her flat following his return yet there he was even after her mother had accosted him. It was as if to look at him would undo all the work she'd put into moving on from her biggest problem. If she were being reasonable, she'd see that hard work had long since unravelled from the moment Sherlock rang the buzzer to her flat.
When Molly finally plucked up enough courage and turned to look, she came face to face with his glacial eyes. He had been looking at her! Molly's inner self was doing cartwheels real Molly could only dream of being able to do. At being, caught looking Sherlock turned his head and focussed on the footpath ahead.
Subconsciously the pair gravitated towards each other until Molly's arm brushed against his that sent heat radiating up their arms as if a white-hot heat had scolded them. Sherlock couldn't bare the silence any longer, "Your mother is a fool. Stop allowing her to occupy your valued mind." Of course, Sherlock could tell what she was thinking and of course, there was a well-placed insult in there. Molly didn't mind she knew who he was and knew what to expect and besides after the embarrassment her mother just put her through a 'fool' was putting it mildly. What struck Molly as odd was the compliment delivered with the insult that was so typically Sherlock. "You are surprised?"
"I, w-well, you…" What was she trying to say? All Molly managed to achieve was a floundering muttering instead of what should have been a simple answer.
"Don't be. I've told you before. You've always counted," he cut across her rambling response.
"Thanks," Molly squeaked out unable to express how surprised by the whole situation.
Sherlock placed a hand gently on her elbow to steer her into a crooked side street. Molly felt a little apprehensive and started to once again think that this was all for a case. Why else would he lead her into such a place? "I thought we could have Greek food," Molly looked up at the dark brick of the building. It didn't look like much but as they stepped inside exquisite aromas and rich colours of authentic decorations bombarded their senses. Only Sherlock could know of such a gem in the whole of London.
Molly let out a delighted gasp, "This is beautiful." Sherlock inclined his head and held his arm out for her to take the lead and follow the waiter to their table where Sherlock was the very epitome of a gentleman and pulled Molly's chair out.
"So, what's going on?" Once seated Molly cut to the chase without opening her menu.
Sherlock tilted his head to the side thinking he had made himself perfectly clear about what the evening was. "Sorry?"
"With the case," Molly prompted. It really was the only logical explanation of all the facts. Sherlock should be proud of her deduction.
"There is no case," he answered her, "just dinner."
Sherlock watched as Molly's brow furrowed slightly, "just dinner," she repeated under breath.
Wow! Thank you all so much for all the lovely reviews :D I honestly didn't expect to get so many, you guys are amazing! Hope you enjoy this chapter.
