Sararossi requested Sherlolly and Anthea, with Sherlock and Anthea jealous of Molly and Mycroft's friendship. I get to give this my own title so I'm calling it "An Unlikely Pair". Rated K+
"He's your boyfriend, so why is he fawning all over MY girlfriend?" Sherlock groused.
"I think the better question is, why is YOUR girlfriend draped all over MY boyfriend?" Anthea snarked back, managed a quick gulp of her overpriced wine whilst simultaneously continuing to glare at Mycroft and Molly. The pair seemed oblivious to the dirty looks their respective others were casting their way, deep in some private conversation Sherlock couldn't deduce for the life of him.
"She's hardly 'draped over him'," Sherlock scoffed as he took a long sip of his scotch. "They're not cheating on us, after all. They're just…too damned friendly with each other. I think he likes her better than he likes me," he added in a petulant mutter as he downed more of his scotch.
"Well, to be fair, she's a very likable person," Anthea replied, pulling a face as if the admission pained her. "She's nice. Not soft or malleable - at least, not anymore," she added with a sideways glance at her drinking partner. Who gestured irritably for the bartender to top them both up. Stupid boring charity event, why had he allowed Molly to talk him into coming? Oh yes, because, as Anthea had already noted, she was likable. And adorable. And knew just how to get him to do things he would normally never do.
John claimed it must be voodoo. Sherlock knew the awful truth: he was besotted. Utterly, completly, head-over-heels in love with her.
"Well, yes, we all knew that ages before you did," Anthea said.
Sherlock blinked; oh, he'd said that last part aloud. Of course he had, and why shouldn't he? It was no secret, after all. As he focused once more on his girlfriend and his brother, he felt his earlier rancor fading. Anthea was right; Molly was likable. Even Mycroft thought so. And who was he to fault her for one of her best qualities? "A stupid, jealous arse, that's who I am," he said, this time knowing very well that he was saying it aloud.
Anthea sighed. Deeply. "Yeah, me too. I wish I was more likable. People don't like me the way they like her. Oh, they appreciate me because I'm smart and competent, and they want me because I'm beautiful…but they don't like me. Not like they like her." She nodded toward Molly. "You're right; he likes her better than he likes us."
"Well, then, at least we're all in the same club," Sherlock replied with a smirk. Anthea tilted her head inquisitively. "You and I both like her best as well."
She waited three breaths before nodding and raising her glass. "Here's to us, then, fading into Molly Hooper's shadow - where we all belong."
"I'll drink to that," Sherlock said, clinking his glass against hers. Molly glanced over and smiled at him; he smiled back and felt the usual melting sensation he got whenever he realized just what a lucky bastard he was. Mycroft gave Anthea a stiff nod, but the softness in his eyes spoke volumes.
"Aren't we lucky that they both love us best, though?" she said softly.
Sherlock's response was a simple, "Yes."