It's been about a month since Molly last saw Sherlock. She heard that he escaped a week after he was brought in. A few of Mycroft's agents came by and asked if she knew where he might have gone off to, but all she could come up with was her flat. Mary and John found him and brought him back a few hours later. He almost passed out, apparently, because of internal bleeding… idiot.
There were a few times when she could have gone to visit him, but thought it better to just keep some space. Every now and then, that conversation in the stairwell would play over in her head. It hurt. It hurt knowing that all those times she's spent with Sherlock wasn't really what she thought it was. It was her own fault. She let her emotions get the better of her, and read too much into things.
He's texted her a few times, to which she replied. Nothing of importance, but it was evident that he was bored and wanted something to distract him.
Lestrade comes by fairly often. Said he saw you a few days ago. Busy at work? - S
Yeah. Mike's out on holiday. I'm covering for him. - M
And then a few days later..
Been working on anything interesting? - S
No, not really. - M
You should stop by. Bring some work. Mrs. Hudson is coming by later with biscuits. - S
I'll try but I'm busy. And you should be resting. - M
And then a few days after that..
John's here everyday. He says he might see you later for lunch? - S
Yes. Greg wanted him to have a look at a body so the both of them are coming around later. - M
Who's Greg? And why does he need to be there? - S
Lestrade. - M
Oh yes. - S
A few minutes pass and then..
Do you think afterwards you could come by? - S
Bring some pictures of the body. John might miss something. - S
I can't Sherlock. I have to stay late today and then tomorrow I have an early meeting. - M
She wasn't lying, she really was staying late and had a meeting in the morning. It was just a coincidence that she was trying to avoid him. He stopped texting after that. A week passed and now she's here with Greg. Apparently, Sherlock can go home soon.
"He's been complaining about some parts that he's got from you a while back going to waste. So I'm sure he'll be back in here as soon as he's out," he says chuckling. "Why haven't you seen him by the way?"
"Busy. Covering for Mike and all. Plus I'm sure if I went he'd want me to bring him a lung to look at or something."
"You're probably right," says Lestrade. Just then his phone rings. He checks it. "Well, what do you know? He's out."
Greg walks over to Molly and shows her a video that John just sent him. It's Sherlock arguing with the hospital staff over the fact that he doesn't need to be escorted out in a wheelchair. Suddenly, John's face is occupying the screen.
"What a dickhead," John says and shakes his head in disapproval. The video stops and Lestrade pockets his phone.
"Good luck, Molly. Might be best to have a spleen ready or something", Greg suggests, laughing and walking out.
"Great," says Molly, looking at the door as it swings shut.
Honestly, she thought he was going to come by that very same day. She wasn't able to calm down after that. Every time someone walked in, she thought it might be Sherlock. She wasn't sure how she was going to feel. She just didn't want to have to see him. At all. For the foreseeable future. So when two days passed without a word from him, she was finally able to calm down and not be so jumpy. The thing is, once you've let your guard down, that's always when things happen. As such, it was a Thursday when Sherlock decided he was going to stop by Bart's.
"Molly!" he says loudly, walking in as if he owned not just the lab, but all of Bart's.
She looks up from her clipboard, there he is grinning at her, and of course, there it is again. That feeling she always gets when she sees him. At least now she knows she isn't really angry with him anymore. Maybe a bit sad, but she'll get over it.
"Hi Sherlock." she says, gives a small smile and then goes back to her clipboard. She's checking on one of her projects and taking notes.
His smile fades a bit. But he shakes his head and walks over to her once he realizes that Molly isn't planning on looking up anytime soon.
"What are you working on?", he says, once he's closer to her and can see all the petrie dishes in front of her.
"Just analyzing some lung tissue." she replies, not taking her eyes away from the microscope.
"Oh." Sherlock is looking at her but she's not meeting his gaze. "Anything interesting?"
"Not yet. Did you want something?"
He shakes his head, "Nothing specific. Just wanted to see if there were any extra body parts laying around." He smiles at her now that she's finally looking up at him.
"I'm a bit busy right now. But I'll have a look later."
"No rush, would't want to disturb you from your work," he says, still smiling at her.
She looks back down at the microscope, shakes her head and mutters, "Yeah right." Okay, maybe she's still a little bit mad at him.
"Sorry?"
She clears her throat, "Nothing."
They both stop talking and Sherlock takes a seat on a stool near her station. He's not saying anything but he's looking at her. She can feel it.
"What is it Sherlock?", she sighs, not looking up from her microscope.
He doesn't say anything, so she looks up. Sherlock is staring at her.
"Sherlock?", she says, a bit louder.
Something in him registers that she's talking because he shakes his head and his eyes seem to focus.
"Huh?", he asks, genuinely confused.
"Why are you looking at me?" she questions him, brows furrowed together.
"It's nothing.. I, uh,.. you.. look…" he clears his throat, "..well."
Molly sighs, shakes her head and goes back to her work.
"You don't have to do that you know?" she says to him, looking down and she writes down some of her findings.
"I'm sorry?"
"You can stop it."
He pouts and and his forehead wrinkles trying to understand what she's on about.
"I'm sorry, Molly. You'll have to enlighten me. I have no idea what you're-"
"I heard you before," she says, looking up at him, her voice stronger than she feels. "I heard what you said to Janine. In the stairwell." All that pain she thought was gone begins to rise up, threatening to spill out of her.
"Molly, I-" he tries to say something but Molly cuts him off.
"I get it, Sherlock. Okay. I know you want some parts, but I can't look right now because I have to finish this. I'll have a look later," she's angry and sad, and if this was three years ago, she might be crying right now.
"I didn't mean to rush you. I, I, uh,-" Sherlock says, stuttering.
"Just don't worry about it anymore. It was my own fault. I thought we were close and you telling me that I mattered made me think that we were friends. But I get it. I help you and that's why I count. It was my own fault for reading too much into it. But you can stop now. You can stop pretending. If you want something, just ask me for it and if I can, I'll give it to you. But don't feel like you have to flirt with me, or give me a compliment just to get me to shut up and help you. I'll always help you Sherlock, but just do me a favor and stop lying."
Sherlock just sits there, not really knowing what to say. But he tries.
"Molly, I.. uh, I didn't mean to-"
She shakes her head and breathes in. She's still sad, but she can feel some of her anger slip away.
"Sentiment," she says, shrugging her shoulders. Her phone rings, she has a text. She reads it. "I have to go," she says, sniffing. "If I find any extra parts I'll let you know."
And with that Molly leaves, the door closing with a resounding click.
