A/N: Posting early tonight, lots to do later and tomorrow. I doubt anyone minds.
I want to say again how much all your reviewing and reading and favoriting mean to me. A storyteller is nothing without an audience. So far I have over 200 people with this on alert and over 100 who have favorited it. Thank each and every one of you!
Next week is another moment many of you have been waiting for: the picnic! Next part goes up Monday. Meanwhile, please enjoy this informational interlude.
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After he had the chocolates, Sherlock got a text from Moriarty.
Good boy. You really should eat some every morning. Soooo delicious and pleasurable!
Sherlock snorted. Moriarty would have been a perfect spokesman for See's Candy. He still wasn't sure what effect the chocolate would have on him, if any, but he could always analyze it at the lab at Bart's. He knew his poisons (well, there had been that one time, but it hadn't been his fault) and Moriarty was definitely not poisoning him.
A few minutes later, he got a text from Molly.
You've seen it?
Yes, he answered. Does it bother you?
Only that she's an absolute bitch, was Molly's reply, and one corner of his mouth quirked up. Bitch Kitty Riley.
Agreed. I'll see you at 7?
Yes. I'm looking forward to it.
As am I. Until then. SH
Sherlock sat down at John's laptop with the Sherlock & Molly: Official Soundtrack CD. He put it in and opened John's CD player, scanning the song titles.
Most of them he was already familiar with. There were two, however, that he was not. "It's Love" by King's X, and "Charlotte Sometimes" by the Cure. He hit play for "It's Love" and sat back with eyes closed to listen.
I,
I sit in a chairreflecting back upon my life
And I have so much yet to learn
And so much yet to see and do
It's love
That holds it all together
I just had to let you know
That it's love
That's holding back the weather
And the same will let it go
I,
I sit on the beach
Feeling the wind
Feeling your hand
In all
There's a ship on the ocean
And I can't decide
If I like it
It's love
That holds it all together
I just had to let you know
That it's love
That's holding back the weather
And the same will let it go
LoveLoveLove
Well. That one was easy to figure out. It was an assurance and a warning. "It's love that's holding back the weather, and the same will let it go?" Right. His falling in love with Molly was what was keeping the bombs from going off: would keep them from going off.
"I get it, already," he barked at his phone. He played the other song.
He frowned. He'd never had much interest in the Cure: too much wailing, too emo for his tastes. He'd never heard this song before, and he couldn't understand the significance of all of the lyrics. Molly was Charlotte Sometimes: he got that bit. But was she the dreamer or one of the dancers? Was he supposed to call her his "scared princess?" It did fit in a way. "She was crying, crying for a girl, who died so many years before…" who was this girl? And what did that mean, "dreams a wall around herself?" Molly didn't have any walls when it came to him. She was as transparent most of the time as glass.
Glass sealed and pretty…
"I don't particularly like the Cure," he said loudly.
A text. Molly does. And she's…
"She's what counts in this relationship, yes, I know," Sherlock snapped.
And then it clicked.
She's what counts in this relationship.
You're wrong, you know. You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you.
Damn.
"You knew," he said hollowly. "You've known all this time, haven't you."
Another text. Atta boy. Daddy is so proud of you.
"It's me you want," Sherlock continued. "Can't you just leave her?"
You know the answer to that. But it's sweet of you to offer. See? I told you love would be easy.
"I am NOT in love!" Sherlock shouted, jumping to his feet. "I am not, and will never be, in love! STOP THIS NOW!"
He barely stopped himself from hurling the phone as hard as he could towards a wall. He staggered back, breathing heavily, clutching the phone in an iron grip.
Honey. Relax. You're getting all worked up for nothing. Tomorrow I'll give you another clue to find me. So get a hold of yourself and chill out. You've got a date tonight, remember?
"As if I could forget," Sherlock snarled.
Easy, now, big fella. You've got a picture perfect picnic to plan.
"GO AWAY!" Sherlock screamed.
The phone went silent.
He sat back down in the chair, folding his fingers up, commanding his body to calm itself. After a few minutes he felt better. He removed the CD and put it in his room. Then he began to think.
He needed to phone Lestrade before he showed up again.
He needed to plan the date. What they would eat for the picnic, what he would wear. He needed to get a picnic basket. He had an appropriate blanket and John had a small portable CD player.
He needed to get the movie.
He needed to eat. For some reason he was hungry. Probably because he'd eaten next to nothing for days.
He had a list now. Getting angry wasn't going to solve anything, even though it had made him feel better. It was time to get to work.
By the time John returned, Sherlock had accomplished all his objectives and was at the end of the movie. He hit the stop button and looked up at his best friend.
"Long lunch."
John shrugged. "We went for a walk and sat outside after. Her shift was over."
Sherlock nodded. "All right?"
John nodded. "Yeah. Sorry. This whole Moriarty situation has me on edge a bit."
"Why? He's not after you."
"No…he's just after my best friend and another friend is all. Could you, just once, stop being so bloody thick?"
Sherlock sighed. "I do so envy you, John."
John sat down and sighed as well. "Why is it this time? My ordinary little mind again?"
"No one expects things from you all the time. No one is disappointed in you, angry with you, wants you to do things, be things that you're not. You have no expectations to live up to: no one making demands, pressuring you to fit into some mold they've created."
John stared. "Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about Molly?"
"No, I'm not. Molly loves me as I am, but I still upset her like I upset everyone else. I have a gift, John: a singular gift for making people grit their teeth and want to get away from me." He looked John in the eye. "Except for you, Molly, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. And even all of you do sometimes. But you come back. Thank you for that."
John looked gobsmacked. He cleared his throat, tried to speak and failed, tried again. "Yeah, well, you're welcome. Now what the hell have you done with Sherlock Holmes, because he doesn't talk like this."
Sherlock only laughed. "How was lunch with Mary?"
"Good. It was… really good."
"Definitely smitten," Sherlock smirked.
"Yeah, I think… I could be. And it feels fantastic." John smiled. "I want you to meet her soon. Maybe we could double?"
Sherlock barely managed not to roll his eyes and spout off about doubling and romance and sentiment. Instead he said: "I'm sure Molly would like that."
"Meant to ask, how is she? Has she seen the paper yet?"
"Yes. She doesn't care. Called Kitty Riley "an absolute bitch," actually."
"Well Molly's a smart girl," John grinned. "Doctor? Oxford? Plays piano and sings? What else don't we know about her?"
Sherlock drew a deep contemplative breath. "What, indeed."
"It's Love," by King's X, copyright 1990. "Charlotte Sometimes" by the Cure, copyright 1981.