A/N: Surprise! Another update. Please enjoy "Mutual Pining With a Side of Denial" and be sure to let me know what you think! Your comments have been wonderful so far.


One Month Later

"It was only a kiss, you ninny, why can't you stop thinking about it? It's not like you haven't been kissed before!"

Molly Hooper regarded her reflection in her dresser mirror and sighed. Yes, it had only been a kiss - her first real kiss from Sherlock, not just a perfunctory peck on the lips - and yes, she'd been kissed before. But not like that. Not with so much…passion. It had taken her a few minutes to catch both her breath and her scattered wits after that kiss! For all that Sherlock was only pretending to be in love with her, it had certainly felt very, very real.

If only…

She sighed again. If only pigs had wings, they'd fly, she silently scolded herself. Get a grip, girl, and stop mooning over a man you'll never have. Eye on the prize, isn't that what he always advises?

Molly carefully adjusted her bright yellow cloche so that it dipped coquettishly over one eye, then studied the effect. Yes, it was just as Mary Morstan had said: just the slightest change in angle made all the difference.

She smiled at the thought of John's fiancée-cum-nurse. She and Molly had become rather good chums over the past few months, and it was so nice having someone to ease the tedium of shopping and to meet up with for luncheon, as they were doing today. Someone she could have a good gossip with, who found the antics of the upper classes just as confounding and amusing as Molly often did.

It would be even nicer if she could unburden herself to her, but that wasn't in the cards. Not now, not ever. Still, a girl could wish, couldn't she? Wish that she had someone she could talk to, someone who knew what was really going on? Someone other than Sherlock. Because how could she talk to him about her feelings, knowing that he didn't - couldn't - wouldn't? - feel the same about her?

When, she wondered as she stared down at her ring-bedecked third finger of her left hand, had she fallen in love with the wretched man?

"Molly Hooper, you're a silly girl!" she declared before snatching up her clutch and heading into the parlour, determined to put him out of her mind for at least the next few hours. She called out a farewell to her mother, who was getting Harry and Henry ready for their own afternoon out - luncheon and a visit to the cinema to see The Prince and the Pauper. Molly rather wished she could join them, but she'd already made her plans with Mary, and afterwards they were to join John and Sherlock for dinner with Sherlock's parents.

Parents who had assigned a room in their mansion exclusively for Molly's use. Parents who continued to be kind and lovely and supportive of her. Who had already welcomed her into the family with loving arms…

Huffing in annoyance at the way her conscience continued to tweak her, Molly pulled on her coat and gloves and marched out of the flat, careful not to slam the door behind her.

A little shopping might cheer her up. Of course, it never had before, but perhaps this time it would. Certainly Mary's company was bound to do so!

oOo

Mary propped her chin on her hand and watched Molly carefully applying lipstick before she spoke up. "So I've been dying to ask, what's the deal with you and Sherlock?"

Molly glanced at her sidelong, carefully finishing applying her lipstick and blotting her lips with a handkerchief before turning and smiling brightly at the other woman. "Why, whatever do you mean, Mary? We're engaged to be married!"

Unlike you and John, however, we have no plans to actually wed. Although if Sherlock asked me for real…

She doused the thought with brutal efficiency, wishing yet again that she could just tell Mary the truth. Especially now that they'd become actual friends, which fact had pleased John no end and even met with Sherlock's approval. Despite his belief ('deduction, Molly, I never guess or rely on something as inaccurate as a 'belief') that she had something dodgy in her past, he seemed to genuinely like Mary. Or was it because of that deduction-not-belief?

Mary, who had been lying across the beautiful flowered duvet on the equally beautiful cherry-wood four-poster in Molly's 'Holmes Bedroom', sat up and crossed her legs in a decidedly unladylike manner. "Bushwa," she said crisply. "I've been watching you two, and something funny's definitely going on - and I don't mean funny ha-ha. So spill."

Molly's stomach dropped; her heart began pounding in her chest and her palms went all clammy and she was sure her face had gone white, but she did her best to work past the panic. With a small, artificial laugh she turned back to the dresser and opened a drawer at random, pretending to rummage through her belongings in search of something. "Oh Mary, you're such a scream! Don't tease me like that, you'll make me wonder if Sherlock actually wants to marry me!"

She heard Mary give a sigh, and the sound of the bedclothes rustling told her her friend was sliding off the side of the bed. Sure enough within seconds Mary had placed an arm around her shoulder with an affectionate squeeze. "Oh Molly, there's no question about it - he's absolutely over the moon for you, and you are for him. Which is why I don't understand this whole fake engagement nonsense." She gently turned a shaken Molly to face her. Taking both Molly's hands in her own, she said earnestly, "Please, it's all right, I'm fantastic at keeping secrets. And I can tell you desperately need someone to confide in."

oOo

"So, er, Sherlock, there's something I've been meaning to say - that is, Mary has this idea…" John gave an apologetic half-laugh, half-cough. "You know how women are, once they get an idea in their heads, there's no dislodging it, at least, not until they're forced to see the actual facts of the matter, and.."

Sherlock huffed in annoyance. "Whatever it is, John, just spit it out!" He grimaced and frowned at his reflection as he wrestled with the knot on his tie. God, he hated wearing the beastly things, and privately vowed never to do so again once he'd gained his financial freedom. Molly certainly wouldn't mind; he'd seen her ogling his neck the few times they'd gone sailing and he'd been able to unbutton his shirt and roll up his sleeves. It might be worthwhile putting his hands on a sailboat of their own, once they were…

Once we're what? he thought with a sneer. Once we're married? As if she'd actually want to marry a wrong number like himself! She deserved so much better than him, even if his treacherous heart seemed to have taken over for his head where she was concerned. Sentiment was just as deadly as Mycroft had always warned him, and he cursed himself for falling prey to it even in so limited a fashion as he had. Alone kept him safe, when had he forgotten that simple truth?

Molly Hooper deserved the world. She deserved a man who would lavish her with love, and that man couldn't be him. He just wasn't capable of such a thing. Besides, he'd promised to find her just such a man, and that was who she was going to marry, not -

"I'm sorry, what?"

John gave him a shrewd look. "Thought that might get your attention. Yeah, Mary seems to think there's something fishy about your engagement. That you're - well, to be frank, that you're putting it on for some reason. That's not true, is it?" As Sherlock continued to stare at him, utterly confounded by the fact that Mary had sussed them out, John's expression turned grim. "Christ, man, it is true?! What the hell are you playing at? Does Molly know you're just stringing her along, or is she in on it as well?"

"Molly and I are in complete agreement," Sherlock snapped, realizing too late that he'd inadvertently confirmed John's - or rather, Mary's - suspicions. "That is to say, I'm not stringing her along, we're engaged to be married, and there's nothing fishy about it at all! Whatever gave her that idea?"

"Do you love her?"

The unexpected question drew Sherlock up short; he stared at John, fingers frozen in the act of retying the knot at his throat. "You know how I feel about love, John," he finally said. "Just because I'm engaged to be married doesn't mean I've changed my mind."

"So you're saying you don't love her, yet you intend to marry her? Does she know how you feel - or rather, how you don't feel?" Sherlock nodded; John shook his head. "And she's willing to marry you anyway? Why?"

He sounded honestly bewildered. Sherlock shrugged. "Because it's in our mutual interest," he said after a brief hesitation while he considered how best to answer his friend. A carefully edited version of the truth seemed the best way to proceed. "Molly and I find one another's company pleasant; she's not some vapid young deb who'll go all clingy and demanding after we're married. No, she'll be able to continue her interrupted medical studies, her family will gain the financial stability that was lost when her father died, and she gets along quite well with my entire family, including - rather surprisingly - Mycroft."

"And you get your family off your back," John concluded with a nod. "Still, it seems a bit rum. I can see why Mary thought you must be faking the whole thing. And what about your detection work, eh? Does Molly approve of you running all over London assisting the police?"

"She finds my cases fascinating," Sherlock truthfully admitted. "So no, I don't foresee her making demands that I give it up after we're married."

Nor would she, that troublesome inner voice whispered. Which is another reason you wish this engagement was real. "Bah!" he said aloud, causing John to jump a little. "Enough of this ridiculous interrogation," he said, pretending his exclamation had been out of annoyance at John rather than himself. "We're due at dinner, probably overdue by now. Have I satisfied Mary's suspicions, or do you need me to make love to Molly in front of the pair of you?"

"No need to be vulgar," John said mildly. "I told Mary I'd ask, so I did. And you answered - still not sure you're doing the right thing, marrying a woman you don't love - but knowing you, well, I suppose this is as close as you'll ever get. As long as Molly's going into this with her eyes open, then it's nobody's business but yours - and I'll be sure to tell Mary that." He stuck out his hand. "Still friends?"

"Still friends," Sherlock confirmed, shaking John's hand firmly.

But as they descended the stairs, he couldn't help but wonder how Molly would feel if she'd heard his little speech. Surely she already understood that he could never love her, never make her happy, the way she deserved? She'd never once so much as intimated a desire to remain engaged to him, to actually marry him - and why should she? He'd made it more than plain that he had no interest in marrying anyone.

Not even a sweet-natured, intelligent, pretty little pocket Venus who was everything he ever wanted in a woman but hadn't known until he met her.

oOo

"Sherlock's hardly over the moon for me."

If Molly could have taken those impulsive words back, she would have. "What I mean is, he's not the type to be over the moon for me, or, or for anyone!" she babbled in an attempt to clarify. "My goodness, we both know he barely tolerates sentiment!" More sure of herself now, she rushed on. "He's fond of me, of course, and I'm fond of him and we have just loads of things in common so naturally we decided to get married." She gave a decisive nod. "Yes, it's not as romantic as we've been pretending, but we're…we're a good match and we get on well and we'll be happy together. Even if we're not both - even if he isn't…"

Mary gave her a pitying look, squeezed her hands once more, then released her and stepped back. "It's all right, Molly, I think I understand. And I'm sorry I got you so upset, it really was very rude of me to even ask in the first place." She gave a sad smile. "I'm afraid I don't have a lot of experience in being a friend, and I'm rather mucking things up."

"No, I understand, truly I do," Molly said, conjuring up a wan smile of her own. "I don't have a lot of girlfriends, never have - been a bit too bookish and interested in things like anatomy and physiology instead of, I dunno, shopping and fashion and all that. So I'm bound to make mistakes as well. We'll just have to try to forgive each other, if we can, when it happens."

Would Mary be able to forgive her for her lies, when all this was over, or would she lose this new friendship? Selfishly she hoped not; she really did like Mary, but the practical side of her understood that even if Mary did forgive her, she would still be married to Sherlock's best friend. And she and Sherlock were likely never to see each other once he'd broken the engagement and she was married to some other man

She wished, oh how she wished she could just blurt out the full truth to Mary, she truly did, but it wasn't her truth to tell. She'd have to talk to Sherlock about all this, though, and see what he thought. Would he approve of how she'd handled things, or would he be cross that she (and he!) had apparently done something to arouse Mary's suspicions?

She longed to see him - and not only for those reasons.

No, the simple truth was that she just wanted to be with him, to spend as much time as she could with him before the inevitable parting of the ways. Because no matter what she told Mary, she and Sherlock didn't actually want the same things.

And oh, how her heart ached at that truth!