prompt from theresadunn on tumblr: #29, "It must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line."
Sherlock was, needless to say, awkward around Molly after Sherrinford, though she never gave him reason to be. He had told her the whole story and she had comforted him, never mind her. They were still friends; best friends, to be perfectly honest. John Watson had the privilege to witness each mess Sherlock made of himself. It was rather amusing.
"Molly, can you pass me that slide please?" he asked as he wrote his observations.
"Here you are," she replied, offering the slide to him. He looked up at Molly in her bright yellow blouse and lab coat with her hair braided and pinned like a crown on her head. "Sherlock?" John stood by as his best friend entered 'buffering mode.' The reality set in and John finally realized the truth; Sherlock fancied Molly. He loved her and was not exactly well-equipped to deal with it.
"You. Look...sunny," Sherlock managed to force out. His face showed a look of inward mortification over the awful attempt at flirting.
"Umm, thanks I...guess?" Molly told him, slowly backing away from the lab desk. "I'm just gonna get a coffee." And she was out the door in a flash.
"Alright, mate, I won't say that was a disaster but," John paused. "It was a disaster."
"You just said you weren't going to say it," Sherlock huffed.
"Yea," John responded, "I lied."
Sherlock avoided the lab for at least a week after that; only coming into the morgue once for a case. Here he was, once more, in the mortuary, not paying attention to Molly whatsoever in an attempt to avoid another mess. Greg stood by John as the consulting detective examined the body with his favourite pathologist.
"Lacerations covering his palms," Molly muttered, "indicates that he tried defending himself against the murderer's weapon; most likely to be metal, like a pipe or-"
"This isn't Cluedo, Molly," Sherlock sighed.
"But it's still a possibility, Professor Plum," Molly teased, gesturing to the aubergine shirt he wore.
"Oh? And what does that make you? Miss Scarlet?" he remarked with a chuckle. John was surprised that the teasing had seemed to improve. Then, their eyes locked intensely. A little too much.
"Eh, do you know what's going on with them?" Greg spoke quietly. John only raised a finger to his own lips, telling Greg to keep quiet. They looked on as the never-ending gaze continued. The detective inspector took out his phone, ready to film what would happen next.
"Y-your eyes are...a preferable shade of brown...like...chocolate," Sherlock stumbled out.
"Ooh," Greg sympathized, "that's gonna hurt in the morning."
"I-I mean your-I could-"
"Sherlock," Molly laughed, "it must be hard with your sense of direction, never being able to find your way to a decent pickup line." She continued laughing as Sherlock gaped at her offending him. "Just ask me out already, you numpty."
"I love you," he blurted out much to his embarrassment.
"I know," Molly told him. "I've known for a while now." She cupped his cheek with her gloved hand. "I love you too." Sherlock's shoulders seemed to sag with relief that the nightmare of a day was over. Applause was heard from behind them; John, Greg and now Mike stood there clapping.
"It's about time," Mike laughed. "I had to watch years of this."
"Join the club," John remarked.