AN: Thank you all for such lovely reviews! I'm glad you are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing it! Thank you all for your patience, hopefully this makes up for some of the shorter updates!
Molly walked in the direction of Baker Street, her thoughts running a mile a minute. Sherlock had kissed her...and wanted to kiss her...but why?
He already knew she would help him, he would gain nothing from using a kiss to manipulate her...unless...No that wasn't possible...surely he couldn't...but could he...She shook her head in an effort to gain some clarity.
Could it be that Sherlock Holmes had feelings for her? She smiled slowly, soon turning into a full-fledged grin. She felt like skipping, and singing...it was entirely possible that the man she had been in love with for years might in fact have feelings beyond friendship for her!
She wanted to tell somebody...anybody...and then she remembered, no one else knew he was alive...the grin slid from her face instantly.
"Well, shit..." she muttered aloud, "couldn't like the normal blokes could you Molly"
A passerby gave her an odd glance and a wide berth.
Molly rolled her eyes and sighed. Right, she would deal with this when she got home, see what he had to say for himself. For now she had to help John, she needed to stay focused on the task at hand. She straightened her shoulders and continued her trek with a strong step, John would need her to be the strong one.
He shuffled through the images in his mind, in the room marked "Molly," trying to make sense of the jumble. He had filed away every single bit of information he knew about her in this room, nothing about her was ever deleted, just pushed to the back of his mind. Just like her he supposed, it was always there, never leaving, waiting patiently there for the moment it could be of use.
He remembered their first encounter vividly.
He was seated at the microscope examining some clothing fibers for a case when the door to the morgue opened.
Without looking up he noted, "You must be the new pathologist, Dr. Molly Hooper."
He heard a gasp, "How did...you're not supposed to...who exactly are you?"
"Mike Stamford mentioned that they had just hired a pathologist, and since the morgue isn't exactly the area for social visits, I deduced it was you. As for your name, you'll notice it's written on the door to your office just over there, and since the lettering is fresh it could only be you Dr. Molly Hooper, Bart's newest pathologist." Not once looking up to see her face, he continued to inspect the samples as though she wasn't even there.
"Okay...that was impressive."
He looked up, "Do you really think so?"
The doctor was a petite, brunette young woman, with frankly appalling fashion sense, unmarried, living alone with a cat, and despite her friendly smile there was a touch of sadness in her eyes. He looked into her eyes, searching for any clues to the sadness there but found none. He gave her a slight smile noticing a slight hitch in her breathing, flush on her cheeks and a slight dilation of her pupils.
Interesting.
"Ummm, well yes. Most people wouldn't notice those things."
"Yes, well I'm not most people," he stated. "Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."
"Consulting detective?"
"It means whenever the police are out of their depth - which is always - they consult me."*
"Oh, right," she smiled slightly. "So you're here pretty often then?"
"Quite. I'm here on a case at the moment, though when I'm not I do have several experiments I like to run."
She raised her eyebrows at the word experiments, but smiled nevertheless. "Right, well if you need anything, let me know, anything...anything at all..." she nervously rambled.
He turned back to the microscope, aha there was the link. He whipped out his phone and texted Lestrade, "It was the daughter-in-law, same braiding in the fibers found on the victim as on her cloak."
Grabbing his coat off the table he brushed past her on his way out, he turned back as he reached the door and smiled, "Pleasure to meet you Molly. Be seeing you."
He heard what sounded like a muffled squeak as the door swung shut behind him.
Molly had more than proved her worth to him over the years, she had meant it when she had told him if he needed anything. He of course had noticed her attraction to him, and on more than one occasion he had exploited it for assistance in a case.
Pushing further through the room he searched deeper, trying to pinpoint exactly when he had begun to feel differently towards her. He supposed it had begun when she first brought around "Jim" from I.T., who of course was Moriarty, and was only using her to get close to him. But that night after "Jim" had left and he lay out all his deductions for her regarding him, the look of pain in her eyes cut him to the quick.
She always had appalling taste in men, and had thought that by pointing out his flaws he could save her the inevitable heartbreak that he knew was inevitable. But instead she looked at him with such hurt that he had to keep himself from running after her and explaining himself.
Then there was that bloody awful Christmas party, he cringed at the memory of that night. He hated that John had bullied him into having that party, he didn't do sentiment, or social, but John wouldn't let up so he reluctantly agreed. He was already in a terrible mood by the time she showed up so he was bound to say something terrible.
She had made quite the effort that night with her appearance, her dress proving that she did indeed have a figure underneath the baggy pants and awful sweaters, even John and Lestrade noticed. He thought she looked quite nice, and presumed that she was heading to another party later thus the dress, shoes and hair.
But for all his knowledge he could be splendidly ignorant, as John pointed out later that night. He knew she was attracted to him, he just hadn't realized how deep that attraction ran. For the first time in a long time he felt ashamed and unworthy of such attention.
"I am sorry...forgive me. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper,"** he felt a slight tingle when he kissed her cheek. He saw John's jaw drop out of the corner of his eye, whether it was for the apology or the kiss he had no idea as both were unusual behavior from him.
And then that blasted phone went off, ruining the moment. A distraction, a puzzle to be solved, and once it was solved, it no longer had its intrigue. Yes he had saved The Woman from certain death, it was not sentiment that motivated him though. He would have been a fool to miss the chance to have her in his debt, it could prove to be quite useful in the future.
Then there was the other day, when she helped him die, at considerable risk to her profession and herself. She didn't hesitate, not once, and never asked for anything in return, she would do anything for him, and in that moment he knew she would be his saving grace.
He pulled himself from his mind palace, puzzling over his findings. It would seem that his feelings for Molly had grown over time, that he found himself in the middle before he knew he'd begun.+
References
*A Study in Pink
**A Scandal in Belgravia
attributed to Pride & Prejudice Jane Austen ``I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.'' (chapter 60)
