Thanks for your reviews! I'm on quite a roll today!
He wasn't smug, or overly confident, or expecting success. That's what made it so strange, so confusing. Irritating. Absolutely abhorrent.
Molly was reflecting on what had transpired only an hour previous. He walked, not sauntered into the morgue. He had asked to use the lab again. When she said he could, he gave her a small basket, & left for the lab. Molly, out of curiosity only, opened the basket. A container of tea. A small salad. A bag of crisps. Half of a turkey sandwich. What on earth did he mean by it?
The true confusion occurred when he was leaving, about half an hour later.
"Well, Molly. Thank you for allowing me use of the lab."
"Of course. Thanks for lunch."
He smiled at her. "Did you enjoy it?"
"Haven't had my lunch break just yet."
"No..." He appeared to be waiting for her to say something. "Yes. Well. I hope it's to your liking." He hesitated once more. "Molly...I'm rather bad at this sort of thing...however, it is my earnest desire to let you know that I...regard you with warmth. I'm exceedingly sorry for any hurt I've ever caused you. It was never my intent as such. I hope you consider me a...friend." That last word stuck a touch.
Molly stared blankly at him. "A friend?"
"Just so." He nodded affirmation.
"I...no. Not really."
"Pardon?"
"I know what you expect me to say. You expect because you're suddenly being nice, that I'll just melt & say oh Sherlock, of course we're friends. Of course you can continue to abuse my position. Of course I'll forget how you feigned flattery to get what you want. Sure, use me some more. And I will go home to my cat & crap telly & try to forget all of these things, I'll only remember that once you brought me a sandwich which you bought me with, mind. Never mind that for ages & ages I was completely & utterly in love with you. Don't give me that look. You know it's true. And I will remain mousy Molly. Well, I'm not buying it, Sherlock. Take your food. It'll take a touch more & maybe, maybe I'll consider you something marginally more than an acquaintance I'm embarrassed of."
Her speech concluded. Sherlock stood as if struck. "Keep it." And he left.
So. Anger it was. He wasn't surprised, necessarily. But the venom with which she spoke was a bit disconcerting. What should he do about it? He apologized. He can't flatter her. He wasn't about to stoop to such levels as having her kidnapped so he can rescue her (though he played with the idea briefly). He would have to prove himself in other ways, for if he couldn't win her fairly, he didn't want to have her at all. Not really. Well, perhaps a touch. Or two. He would need to prove himself independent of the way he treated her. But how?
He walked right by John Watson. No need to discuss this afternoon's setback. He needed quiet. He needed to reflect & think about who Molly Hooper really was. What would capture her fancy? Or reignite whatever he had j extinguished? Well, perhaps not inadvertently. He really never sought her attention before a few days ago. And so, he began his mental ministrations of one Molly Hooper, capturer of criminals, dissector of cadavers, owner of a cat, &, until quite recently, sweet as you like. Her venom was acute. He needed to sort through his vast arsenal of anecdotes to quell its effect.