Molly's POV
Molly was beginning to loathe the way Sherlock flounced into her lab and latched onto her equipment with little more than a quick query of permission. There was no pretend formality; the detective simply barged in and stole her time, her patience, her sanity...
Regrettably, it was not a habit that would cease with love, be it Molly's or John's or anyone's.
"I read the blog," he began, detached tone laced with petulance. "I don't see what you found so positive in his drivel."
"Yes, you did," she replied without looking at Sherlock. "You just want me to confirm your findings."
"I am in need of-"
"Yes, yes, I get it; you need another opinion. Well, mine's invalid, considering I am emotionally involved. If you really want to know what's going on, why don't you just address the issue directly?"
The pathologist turned away from her upgraded computer to direct her attention fully on Sherlock. She froze when she beheld his distraught expression, the complete opposite of the icy mask she knew. Perhaps their conversation wouldn't be as difficult as she anticipated.
"I'm not good with emotions, you know," he chided.
"Then try. Learn. Very few people are adept with emotions naturally, especially in situations like this." Molly didn't know how to help him, didn't know how to advise Sherlock about feelings when she'd harbored them on him for years, and her scant relationships meant little to her in comparison with her feelings for him. Unless... "Here," she offered, "practice with me. Pretend I'm John; it might help."
Sherlock hesitated uneasily. "Wouldn't that be... not good?"
"I'll be fine."
"No, not at all. You're lying."
"Look, I know my feelings are unrequited. I'm getting over you, just in my own way. Yes, this will hurt, but your happiness is more important. Besides, I have a date tonight." Guilt twisted her stomach at the thought of using Jim, but she ignored it. Molly wasn't doing anything wrong. Besides, Jim certainly wasn't in love with her, not yet. They'd only just met, after all.
"My happiness isn't guaranteed. This could be entirely futile," Sherlock grumbled.
"Not helping, Sherlock."
"Neither would practicing. There's nothing I have to say on the matter, nothing that needs saying, nor would it ever be said if it did," Sherlock refused, his hands shaking lightly as they fiddled with a pen.
"Just trying to help," Molly replied. "I thought maybe that's what you wanted."
Sherlock's gaze softened. "You've already been helpful, Molly. More than you know."
Their eyes locked for a moment before Molly tore herself away, shaking slightly.
She couldn't understand how John couldn't fall in love with Sherlock, if this was the man he saw.