Chapter 10: The Leap

Almost a day after John's big reveal, the pathologist had decided to avoid Sherlock altogether, thus escaping any deductions that would surely result in her spilling the metaphorical beans. Molly had promised not to tell a soul about John's engagement proposal, but she was finding it incredibly difficult to refrain from just picking up the phone and calling Sherlock to tell him everything. And probably break his heart in the process. That's when she wondered whether it was worth it. Would the detective even want to know it? Should she break one of her best friend's trust for -what exactly?

She really did not know what she should do. The situation had been running through her thoughts ever since John decided to thrust the unwanted secret on her. After hours of pondering the morality of her predicament she concluded she wouldn't tell the detective. It doesn't matter what he would admit: it would only hurt him; also definitely damage the friendship between the three of them irreparably, the friendship she had tried so hard to build after lying about the death of his best friend to one, and finally getting over her crush on the other. She had made a decision, but still she was really unprepared when she saw Sherlock himself stride inside the lab at Bart's, muttering something about his 'stupid brother' and 'his stupid dubious case'. Talking to himself until he fully entered.

"Hello, Molly." He said, taking a few steps to where she was standing, unwinding his scarf and setting to work. However, something on her face must have shown her hesitancy, since the detective stopped completely and watched her carefully. After a moment, with confusion on his face, he asked. "What's wrong?"

"Uhm..." Molly was at a loss, she did not know what she could possibly say in order to derail the detective away from the truth.

"Molly?" The man rose from his seat slowly, and asked her in suspicion.

"I just-" She attempted to answer, but managed to drop everything in her hands in the process. Nervousness was definitely not helping her case, but she was helpless under her friend's calculating gaze. The pathologist knew he would gather any tidbit of information if she did not act soon.

"Molly?" He repeated, but this time in anxiousness. The grey-eyed probably noticed his friend's unresponsiveness didn't come from embarrassment, but from sympathy. She couldn't take a second longer of that lost expression he was portraying, looking like he expected terrible news that would tear the world he knew apart. She supposed he wouldn't be wrong.

She was unable to keep hiding it from him. Not even knowing how distressing it would be to hear it. In a fit of impulsiveness, she blurted: "John is getting engaged!" To the surprise of both of them. After taking a deep breath, she explained. Figuring she needed to, now that she had already let the cat out of the bag. "John is getting engaged to Alex." The baffled face of the world's only consulting detective was too much for Molly to take, so she averted her gaze before continuing. "He asked me to keep it a secret, but I thought you deserved to know. In case you wanted to do something about it." She fidgeted with her files and waited, but Sherlock seemed in some sort of shocked trance. "Sherlock?" She questioned, starting to get a bit worried. When no answer was forthcoming she tried again. "Are you okay?"

The boffin blinked, and timidly asked. "So... John is..." Molly officially felt like the worst person on the planet for causing her friend that much misery as she saw him stutter and struggle for words.

"What do you want to do?" She inquired, hoping to bring action back into the situation; maybe a plan would stir her friend into breathing again.

It appeared to have worked. However, the brunet girl was not exactly sure she preferred the challenging eyes she got from the boffin once it did. "Do?" He asked. "Molly, I appreciate what you are attempting, but I am not going after John." The fire in his voice would pass as nothing but disdain to the casual listener, but to the pathologist was a hoarse sound asking for help. "I decided I am done being irrational about the whole of it. I mean, why would anyone want to thrust themselves back into that bottomless pit?"

'And that's the heart of it, isn't it?' Thought the girl. She knew how the genius often wrapped himself in ice and aloofness whenever he found the emotions at hand too demanding. And by the looks of it, he had at least already stopped denying the feelings to himself, although he will probably not acknowledge them, or even admit them, altogether. "Because you love him." She stated, and then worried about Sherlock getting whiplash from how swiftly he turned to look at her.

"No, I don't." He denied adamantly.

Molly sighed and snatched away the pen Sherlock was clicking in anguish. "So, you don't care that John Watson is going to propose to someone at the top of this building?" Demanded the smaller girl. "Someone who's not you?"

The curly-haired man was about to disagree when he seemed to halt himself to ask. "Wait, here? Why here?" He said, and the way his hand was clutching the blue cashmere scarf told Molly all she needed to know about the detective's feelings.

"He says he wants to replace a bad memory with a good one." She said quickly. With an air of efficiency that recalled the swift motion of pulling out a bandaid. It was supposed to hurt less, but the wounded expression she got in return spoke volumes of her tactic's inefficiency.

"Good to know I'm not the only thing he will be replacing." The other muttered under his breath, and the girl was sure she could hear glass breaking into tiny pieces somewhere in the distance for the way those words were expelled. "Sherlock..." She tried, but could not get past that. What could she possibly say to fix the circumstances?

"No, no." The detective held up a hand to stop her awkward attempt at comforting him. "Maybe that... hurts, a bit." He admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm in love with him."

"But you are!" She screamed, losing all her patience. "And don't you dare deny it. You once told me that I saw you. Really saw you. And this is the only certain thing I've seen since the first time you brought him along." She insisted.

The detective fiddled with the beakers in front of him, not even able to face her after such revelation. "I hope it goes well for him." He declares, as she saw moisture gather in his eyes. "I really do." Molly wanted to do something, but as soon as she took a step closer, her friend whirled around and confronted her with his barriers up once more. "Can we-" He paused to clear his throat, the only clue of his earlier display of weakness present, and continued. "So, the case?"

"No, you-" Molly tired, but got frantically interrupted before she could say more. "Please?" He asked and she had never been good at denying him something.

"Alright."

-o-O-o-

While working, Molly often took tiny breaks to look at her friend, and watch as he was persistently trying to keep the pieces of himself together in public; probably holding off until he was alone to really despair about what had been said to him. She needed to do something to ensure that did not happen.

After a few minutes of dead ends, they both agreed Sherlock would not find an answer to the case there, so they took the lift together. Once inside, the smaller girl waited a few seconds and then pushed the emergency button to halt their descent. Then, she pressed the option to the roof and blocked the way so Sherlock couldn't get to the controls.

"Molly, what are you-" He said, but once he felt the lift go up he quickly understood. "Step aside." He demanded, trying to push the buttons behind her. His friend stubbornly stayed rooted to the spot. She knew he would not use force to move her.

"No." She replied as the elevator was coming to a halt on the final floor. "I'm not moving until you get out of these doors." The pathologist stared at him defiantly, trying to encourage him to just do what he wanted to do. "Go get him." She said, and the pained expression the other gave her was starting to get frustrating.

"I told you I'm done chasing after him." He argues and completely looks over the fact that he just admitted -aloud no less- that's what he had been trying to do. "Just move, for God's sake!"

"Sherlock, do you want to spend your entire life watching John married to somebody else, wondering what would have happened if you had just taken that chance," She asked. "Or do you want to try? To actually do something?"

"Why do you keep insisting over this?" He inquired. His left hand started absent-mindedly scratching his forearm, and that fact was all the motivation Molly needed to not crumble in her resolve. She needed to make him at least try.

"Because you love him." She explained. "You love him and you are scared, and you'll loose him if you don't decide right now." The brunet stated, while the detective looked at her with so much emotion on his face.

"What do you want me to do, Molly?" The detective asked truthfully. "He made his position on the matter quite clear." She sighed. 'he thinks he would be playing a game his is destined to loose' Molly thought. 'He's so wrong.' "You want me to get out there, knock the ring off his hand and say 'Sorry to interrupt but I'm the only you should marry'?" He asked with a hint of irony in his voice. Not at all believing it would lead to anything good.

Molly thought she was actually making a bit of progress, if she kept trying maybe he would concede. "Is that what you think?" She goaded him, knowing fully well that the detective was aware of everything she was doing and was letting her get away with it. Telling him about this has been a good decision, she thinks. Sherlock clearly just needed someone to give him a little push.

"Obviously not." He replied. "He's everything! and this," Sherlock waves his hand at himself and the situation he's in. "It's not enough, and I'm tired of making a fool of myself."

The girl took a deep breathe and prepared herself for more honesty than she was probably allowed, but if she was going to convince this man to follow his heart she needed a blunt instrument. "I know you may not be used to feeling like an idiot, Sherlock; But I am, and let me tell you it's not as bad as you believe." She said with an air of finality. "Ever since the day we met, I made such an idiot of myself flirting with you. And I did so many times over for a few years. But it was worth it, because it made us become friends. It led to me helping you when you really needed it, and now I'm going to help you again by saying this: If you truly meant it that night when you thought you were going to die and I do count. If you really trust and value my opinion in any way. Then, Sherlock, for the love of God, get the hell out of this lift!"

Sherlock was really not expecting that. Much less from his normally shy friend, but at the end of the day he should've seen it coming, she could be truly straightforward when she needed. "But, Molly..." He made a final attempt, knowing he had lost the battle.

"Just jump." She said, and after a moment of hesitation, he nodded as a silent thanks and stepped out. Not really knowing what he would find there. About to make an even more difficult leap than the one he made off that very same rooftop years ago.

Molly watched him, and just let him go -in more ways than one. And she couldn't have been more glad about it.

-o-O-o-

Author's note: What do you think will happen on that rooftop?