Molly Misses An Opportunity (but it turns out okay)
Court hearings always made Molly feel a bit jittery, like she was the one who was going to be judged. She'd managed to overcome her nerves enough though, today, to make a good job of it. She'd kept her answers clear and useful, she'd been able to put things into layman's terms for the jury without sounding condescending, and ultimately her evidence had helped to put away a murderer for life. All in all, a good day.
She never hung around the court afterwards of course, or not usually. This time though, she had a good reason to, and so she was standing in the big, echoing hall, watching the various legal staff, the journalists and what-have-you, milling about. She'd spotted a man she thought she recognised as a forensic scientist nearby, and that silver-haired police inspector as well, who had given her a very pleasant smile from across the hall.
The main reason she was waiting around, however, was for one John Watson. John had been asked to give evidence regarding what had happened as he'd chased the accused through a park, while the accused was running from the police. John had cornered her, rather cleverly, in a little yard, penned in with greenhouses, and thus had had the murderer trapped and considerably less energetic by the time the police turned up to officially arrest her. Sherlock had been in the lab having only just finished working out his evidence at that point, so he hadn't been called for the trail (an unusual decision, but then again, he did have a bit of a rubbish reputation for things like this) so he wasn't around at all.
Thus John was here, somewhere, on his own. And Molly was going to ask him out.
She was starting to wonder if he could have slipped out before she'd got to the hall, and was beginning to feel downhearted, when she spotted him making his way through the crowd towards the doors and, incidentally, her. God he looked good in a suit! Molly reached out to tap his shoulder as he drew near to her, and he turned to her with a smile.
"Alright Molly, how are you?"
"I'm fine, thanks John!" she replied, and cringed inwardly at how stupidly perky her voice had sounded. "Um, how are you?"
"Fine, yeah. Nice job in court. You've got the better of your nerves now, I see."
"Yeah, thanks," Molly said, blushing. A few months ago she'd had the jitters so badly that she'd gone and thrown up while the court was adjourned, and Sherlock had deduced this and announced it in front of John when she returned from the bathroom. He was such a dick. John seemed to have realised that he'd touched a nerve, and gave her a sympathetic smile.
"You did a really good job of it today, anyway. Nice and clear."
"Thanks John, you too." She took a deep breath, determined not to make a mess of it this time. She could feel that her face was still red, but hopefully John would blame it on the vomit blushing, rather than a new wave. Every time she looked at him, little voice in her head kept pointing out to her 'bits of this man's body have been inside your body and it felt really good!' It was very distracting.
"Um, John, I wonder if-"
"Oi, Watson! Is the Freak about?" demanded a strident voice from close at hand.
Damn it! Molly thought. It was starting to feel like the whole bloody universe was against her.
That police sergeant that Sherlock was always arguing with was striding towards them, sure footed and graceful on her toweringly high heels. Molly felt a pang of jealousy; she'd never been able to balance on those things.
"What do you want him for?" John asked, and the sergeant pulled a face.
"I don't want him for anything. Lestrade says he needs to ask him about a cold case that happened last year. Thinks he might have taken a 'souvenir' from the evidence."
John sighed, then started slightly. "Uh, Donovan, you know Molly, right? Molly Hooper, Sergeant Sally Donovan." He gestured between them awkwardly, and they both nodded at one another. They'd met a couple of times, actually, but usually with Sherlock around, so they would both have been distracted for one reason or another. She'd never really talked with Donovan or anything.
John continued; "I'm not sure where he is, but if I get him on the phone, can we avoid another-" he was cut off by the chime of his phone in his jacket pocket, a bit of music that sounded like...was that Phantom of the Opera?
John glanced apologetically at her and Donovan before answering. "Hello Sherlock, I...yes I know, but...hang on." He took the phone away from his ear and put his hand over the microphone. "I'm going to go and pass him to Greg now. 'Scuse me."
He raised the phone back to his ear and headed off into the crowd, face tense, in the direction of the police inspector. And really Molly should have remembered that his name was Greg Lestrade, stupid of her to forget, but she'd only met him a couple of times and only during the period that she'd been...well, mooning over Sherlock. She sighed, then became aware that Sergeant Donovan was looking at her quite closely. Oh god. Had she just stared after John in a lovelorn manner while in a crowded public place? Um...yes. Yes she had.
She turned and met Sergeant Donovan's eyes with trepidation.
"I thought you liked the Freak," Donovan said, pulling no punches.
"Well, yes. I mean, I did, but not any more," Molly replied, trying to sound like a woman of the world and, she was sure, failing.
Donovan cocked her head to one side. "Why? What did he do? And why Watson?" She turned and glanced at Watson who was now across the room, heads-together with Lestrade, listening to the phone. She didn't seem to find him particularly interesting to look at, which showed that at least some of Sherlock's criticisms about Lestrade's team's observation skills were accurate, Molly thought.
"Well, it's more that he didn't do...anything. And then John saved me the night that the hospital was robbed, you remember? Then he and I...um..." She groped for a way to finish that sentence that didn't imply frantic shagging, but after far far too many seconds passed, she realised that her silence was sort of implying it anyway. At least it was if the wide eyed expression growing on Donovan's face was anything to go by.
"No!" Donovan hissed in a stage whisper. "Seriously? With him?" She indicated John with a jerk of her head, and Molly couldn't help but glance in his direction. He now appeared to be holding in laughter, as Lestrade argued agitatedly with Sherlock over the phone.
"Yep," Molly replied.
"Well," Donovan sighed, folding her arms. "I never would have thought you'd be the type. Who'd have known you had it in you!"
There was a pause while they both considered the wording of that statement, then they simultaneously broke into giggles, pressing their hands over their mouths to shield their mirth from the thinning crowd in the hall.
"Well then," Donovan began, shaking off her laughter. "Tell me; any good?"
Molly turned bright red. She should have been mortified, she really should, and she was for an instant. But only for an instant. Because, if she was honest, she'd always been a bit in awe of women like Sally Donovan. Since she was a teenager, all through uni, and now even as an adult, Molly had always been apart from those cool girls, the stylish ones, the confident, demanding ones. And now here she was, with one of them, talking about sex like a proper grown up. Maybe it was childish, but she actually felt...cool.
She managed a grin at Donovan, and a slightly too energetic nod, and Donovan's eyes widened further. "Really?" she asked. "God, always the bloody quiet ones."
"I know," Molly replied. "We were both a bit shaken up because of the shooting, so he told me I could consider it a one-off if I wanted to. But I don't want to, so I'm trying to get up the nerve to ask him out." God it felt good to say that out loud, even if it was to the wrong person.
"Shit, did I interrupt you? Sorry," Donovan said.
"No, no, you couldn't have known."
"Wait; you said after the shooting...I thought they took you straight to the other hospital."
"Um, well not straight there..." Molly replied, blushing again.
Donovan's mouth fell open. "Did you shag Watson in your office or something?" she asked, sounding astonished and no small part impressed.
Molly shook her head. "No, there was this little courtyard in the garden and we, um...the wall..." she tailed off, but could tell by Donovan's expression that she got the gist of it.
"Against a wall? Seriously?"
"Um, yes. He's...well, he's stronger than he looks."
Donovan's eyebrows were almost in her hair by now, and Molly was actually starting to feel some form of bond with her, which was a bit weird. Until recently all she'd known of the woman was that she hated Sherlock, which had classed her as an enemy. Lately though, she'd begun to accept that maybe whatever enmity they shared was justified.
"Well, I think I've underestimated you a bit, haven't' I!" Donovan said, in a jokey way. Molly chuckled a bit and looked over at John again, only to see him and Lestrade setting off out of the building. Oh no, she'd missed him completely!
Donovan followed her gaze and frowned. "Damn, sorry," she said.
"It's okay," Molly sighed. "I'll get another chance soon, I'm sure. Don't you have to follow them?"
Donovan glanced at her watch and shook her head. "Nah, I'm off the clock, officially. Lestrade's off chasing up loose ends, I just followed him in case he needed somebody to give the Freak a smack in the mouth on his behalf.
"Has that ever happened?" Molly asked.
"No, no it hasn't," Donovan sighed. "But I live in hope."
They both glanced around suddenly, abruptly aware of the fact that they were now almost alone in the huge hall. Molly suddenly felt very awkward.
"Well," Donovan said. "I can't be arsed sticking around here. You want to go get a coffee and bitch about the Freak a bit?"
"I'd love to," Molly replied, and off she went to hang out with a cool girl.
::
I'm enjoying writing Molly so much! Can you tell?
I've always thought that Donovan wouldn't have gotten far in the police if she was that much of a bitch to people she just had personality clashes with, so I reckon that Sherlock did something quite serious and specific to deserve her ire and that she's actually not that bad when not around him. And damn it, there aren't that many non-criminal women in Sherlock, so it sort of makes sense that these two might gravitate to each other for hanging out and bitching purposes! Yes! That's what I think!
