After Sherlock's behavior, Lestrade put him on 'temporary leave' from working with Scotland Yard. Frustrated, Sherlock decided he would use the punishment as an opportunity to solve the mystery of his wife full-time. But she was adamant about remaining distant from him.
When he would ask her to join him for breakfast, she would take it in her room. When he offered to accompany her on a ride, she claimed to not want to go out (a lie, his eyes caught the twitch of her nose as she said it) and desired to lay down as she had a headache. Whenever he would enter a room, she would find an excuse to leave. The maids and servants were divided, some helping hide Lady Holmes, others scheming to lock the couple in a room together in order to end the tension and have peace reign once more.
Angry, confused, and wondering about the clenching feeling in his gut, Sherlock was grateful when Lestrade lifted his ban.
Gathering Doctor Watson from his (utterly inconvenient) regular work, the duo rushed to solve a triple murder. Within the day, Sherlock determined the culprit to be a well-bred banker whose two mistresses had discovered his marriage. Desperate to prevent scandal, he had killed the two women (prostitutes, honestly, the man should have had better taste in lovers) and the homeless man who had been an unfortunate witness to the deed.
While Lestrade and his colleagues made the arrest at the banker's home and comforted the unfortunate wife, Sherlock stood back and noticed his companion had disappeared. Leaving the drawing room, Sherlock wandered into the front hall where he saw Watson approach one of the house guests (a young, blonde woman from Kent, visiting her cousin, the murderer's wife).
Sherlock watched as Doctor Watson greeted the upset woman, a faint blush alighting her cheeks. Ever the gentleman, Watson took her hand and bowed in a gallant fashion, not failing to place a soft kiss to her gloved knuckles. A silent conversation seemed to pass between the two, their eyes locked and hands clasped together. Identical smiles of a smitten nature graced their faces and a pang of something echoed in Sherlock's chest.
Eager to end the spectacle, Sherlock rudely intruded, 'Doctor Watson, if you are quite finished with your appalling display, we should be leaving.'
Fully expecting Watson to chastise him briefly, then accompany him outside, Sherlock was surprised when Watson merely nodded, not taking his eyes from the woman. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, eliciting a small giggle from her unpainted lips, dispersing her earlier distress, and earning him a gentle kiss on the cheek.
'Good-bye, Doctor Watson, Mister Holmes' she curtsied to the two men and left the room. A happily-dazed Watson blindly followed a confused Sherlock out onto the bustling London street.
After walking for several minutes, Sherlock conceded defeat and halted in his steps, causing an oblivious Watson to crash into him. Mumbling some plethora of curses, Watson glared at the taller man.
Sherlock merely wrinkled his brow and narrowed his eyes. 'I do not understand. She is not your relation, for your actions with her were far too friendly. She is not a friend, either, for the same reason. But she is a new acquaintance, seeing as she is still shy around you. I would assume lovers, but you are recently engaged to another woman. Explain.'
Watson rolled his eyes, 'I'm not engaged to another woman, Holmes. I'm engaged to her.'
Sherlock blinked. Oh.
'Her name is Mary Morstan. I became acquainted with her at a social last month while visiting my sister in Kent, where Mary was formally introduced to society. Knowing that a woman of her breeding and appearance would be quickly betrothed, I simply jumped ahead of the queue and made an offer before any other imbecile was able.' With a satisfied smile, Watson's eyes glazed over. 'Best decision I ever made.'
Confused, Sherlock asked, 'But she is your betrothed, now. Why do you continue to play the part of a smitten suitor?'
Watson snapped out of his daze and rolled his eyes, 'Because I'm still a smitten suitor, you great bloody idiot. She is promised to me, yes, but that does not mean I do not intend to continue pursuing her.'
Sherlock tilted his head in thought.
Watson pulled him out of the way of foot traffic, into a nearby alcove. 'Sherlock, is this about Molly? I thought the situation had improved between the two of you since she returned.'
A heavy sigh accompanied an agitated hand through his curls as Sherlock confessed, 'As it happens, I have not seen my wife for more than a ten-minute span since she moved back a fortnight ago. She is endeavoring to avoid me.' A pained look crossed his face. 'And succeeding.'
Watson felt his heart ache for the look of utter helplessness on his best friend's face. 'I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'd say she needs time, but from what I witnessed at the Lestrade residence, time is not the answer.'
'Then what is?' Sherlock snapped.
'Answer me this first, Sherlock. Do you love her?'
Silence stretched between them as Sherlock delved into his Mind Palace. Having never felt love for anyone aside from parental fondness of his mother and father and an abiding tolerance for Mycroft, he did not know what it was he felt for his wife. Her room in his mind was a mystery, a conglomeration of everything he thought she had been and the little he knew of her now. Books now lay scattered about, his case notes spread open upon a mahogany desk where his mind's version of Molly sat, with spectacles upon her dainty nose, perusing the notes with her lip caught in her teeth and a fountain pen dangling from her fingertips.
She looked up at him and smiled, eyes crinkling from the depth of her happiness, light from the open window reflected in them. It was a smile he had not seen her wear for more than a year.
Something in his chest grew, a sort of expanding that threatened to overwhelm him. Instead of panic, he felt joyful, as though he had solved the most complicated case. He felt his own face mirroring her smile, stiff from neglect, but a wonderful stretch nonetheless.
Watson watched as his friend closed his eyes and left reality to wander his Mind Palace. Patiently, the doctor stood and waited. Several minutes passed and Sherlock's blank expression began to morph. Watson watched in shocked amusement as the detective smiled widely, straight teeth threatening to split his face, his eyes still closed but somehow still a part of his grin.
I guess that more than answers that question.
Leaving his thoughts, Sherlock opened his eyes to see a smirking Doctor Watson. He opened his mouth to deny it, but Watson merely shook his head and beamed at him.
'Don't even say it. You love her. And I will tell you how to win her back.'
