I don't want to feel this way

Song fic: I can't hear 'I don't wanna love somebody else' by A Great Big World and not see season 3 sherlolly all over it. That deceptively simple phrase... And because of this, I wrote is a nice g rated angst fic. It only took me 18 months too.

Dinner was going fine. It was. The food, their service, the wine and the company was all wonderful. Tom was laughing and telling her a story about a client that held worked with that day with his arms waving animatedly and the imitation he gave of this Mr Price, a Ninety-five year old pensioner who was making funny vines with his friends in their old age. Molly was smiling as she ate her fish and drank her wine over the candleIt dinner listening to his story, quite content. At least she was until the thought struck her seemingly out of no where.

God, I wish I loved him.

It was so easy to pretend that she did. Tom had swept into her life when she was at her lowest point in the two years Sherlock was dead. They'd met at a pub and he's invited her to the cinema the following Friday. And in all the Friday's that followed they were together. Doing. Going. Being together.

It was like Molly had inserted herself as part of his life and clicked right into place. Like a puzzle of a grander picture, they fit and it seemed like it was all coming together. Soon his world was hers as well and life finally made sense. To Molly, it felt like the stars were finally in her favor.

Except for the fact that while she liked Tom it wasn't love. Not the type that counted at least? How could she love him when her heart who already belonged to a dead man. A dead man who had showed up bout of the blue in her locker room right before she came to dinner tonight for the first time in two years.

"Molly, you okay?" Tom asked holding her hand concern written on his face. He's such a great guy, she thought forlornly.

"I'm fine! Fine!" Molly spoke to fast. "Just something on my mind that came up last minute at work. It's fine." She waved her head dismissively.

"If you're sure." Tom murmured unconvinced.

Molly smiled half-heartedly. She was anything but.

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The chance was there. Right in front of him.

Molly Hooper had stood a breath away, listing the merits of her fiancé which only served to amplify his already painfully obvious wrongness that Molly couldn't seem to see. He could have easily pointed them out to her and yet he hadn't. When had that tactic ever worked in his favor?

Besides, she looked settled. The fact that this Molly in front of him wasn't a stuttering mess spoke volumes to her growth in his absence. How could he rob her of the confidence she'd gained? No, he'd ignore his own desires, just this once and do the honorable thing.

Yes, the chance had been there, and he had tried to do the right thing and tell her he hoped she'd be very happy and kissed her on the corner of her mouth. As close to those lips be long for as he dared before he turned to leave her once more.

As he walked away he went to his mind palace and decided to bury those longings, the needs. With practice he would forget that they'd even existed in the first place. If Molly could move on then surely he could too.

It took less than a week and meeting Tom in the flesh for him to realize just how big of an error he'd made. Tom was, if Sherlock were honest with himself, the worst possible option she could have chosen. Why was an intelligent woman like Molly Hooper unable to see that her fiancé was at best a cheap knock off of Sherlock Holmes? Out of the millions of options she picked someone he could have used as a body double. Why?

Because she still loves you! Beneath his floorboards of his mind palace his buried self admission of feeling shook as the versions of a happy couple shouted, screamed, demanding their freedom. Do something! Tell her. Try! Just tell her what you want and you'll see. Don't give up on her. Fight man, man for her.

No. No. She made her choice, Sherlock reminded himself. She had made the choice long before he had returned and there was nothing he was going to do about it. There was to be no happy ending for him, that was never an option for a man such as he. Molly hooper however had her chance and he would not take that from her.

The intervening months were a constant struggle to be around her. Beautiful, confident and sure as she was... And clearly she still cared for him. True, the nature of her showing it came from her awareness and desire to watch out for him. But the confirmation was all that his traitorous mind seemed to need to torture him. Sherlock knew about her secretive phone calls after all John declared him (him?) best man. The thought that she seemed more invested in his participation in he Watson-Morstan nuptials than her own shook him.

But no. He wouldn't even allow himself to hope. It was too dangerous to allow such a thing to live.

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A distraction... He needed a distraction. Each time he closed his eyes a certain pair of brown eyes glowed at him. A vision of her smiling with pride, biting her lip in such a way that he was reminded of the way his mother looked at his father when he had done something particularly endearing... It was the look Molly have him and the association made it nearly unbearable to make the tender comparison.

And now, standing here in the middle of the dance floor as Mary and John rapped Their arms around each other an their minds around the news of their conception he needed a distraction most of all. Something to help him weather the turbulent thoughts and...ugh feelings he was experiencing.

Searching the crowd she found Janine happily dancing with a newly single wedding guest. Her goal of finding a partner to have a fling with nearly met. And then he decided to chance it.

Molly...

Molly who had moved back to Tom and was happily moving. A smile nearly permanently fixed on her face and her teeth softly resting on that lip as she looked at her fiancé. As she should, his mind answered, as she should.

Suddenly his desire to find a person to distract him vanished leaving a new old familiar longing in its place. Alone was what he wanted. What protected him. He had wanted to be alone and now he was. Quietly he went for his coat and slipped out while the song still played.

No one noticed his departure. No one came after him.

He was free. But this freedom felt nothing but oppressing.

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There was a moment right there during the best mans speech when Molly realized fully that she's been trying to make Tom into someone he could never be. In one moment of absolute clarity and an idiotic attempt at solving a crime that Sherlock Holmes himself hadn't solved it hit her. She couldn't marry him.

Seeing the two of them, virtually side by side...Hearing Sherlock's rare words of affection for his best friend and saving a life... Feeling the way her heart burst with joy when John hugged his and Mary cried ... She was just so moved by and for him. Molly knew she had done nothing to earn it but she was so proud of him. God but he was fantastic!

After the three main players had bolted from the reception the party had moved outside to the garden and Tom was chatting with some guy about... Who knew really. But she sat on a bench beside Mrs. Hudson who was rambling on and on about her own wedding, something about a friend making a fuss, and all Molly could think about is how she was going to end it with the man she was engaged to marry. This isn't what she wanted. She wanted to have her happily ever after. She wanted Tom to be the greatest thing in her life... but he wasn't. He never could be.

Just then Tom looked over at her across the garden and smiled so brightly that her heart squeezed... Not in affection but in guilt. Such a good man. Steady, reliable and charming man. Tomorrow. She'd tell him tomorrow. But for now, for now she'd enjoy being with him for one more night. Wouldn't do to leave a wedding early anyway.

Molly excused herself from Mrs Hudson and smiled at him as she walked to him, wishing all the way that she could love him rather than Sherlock.

I'd love to know your thoughts. Want more song fics? Loathe them? Help a girl out.