This little scene sprung from a headcanon I have about Sherlock and Tom. It takes someplace between S3E1 and E2. I just found Tom really adorable and wished we had learned more about his character! This could be considered more Sherlolly friendship, with a healthy dose of Protective!Sherlock and a pinch of Jealous!Sherlock thrown in for good measure. Let me know what you think!

P.S. This was supposed to be a short, funny drabble. I got a bit carried away.


He hears footsteps approaching and straightens his back, raising the collar of his Belstaff just before the door opens. Any intelligent person would have glanced through the peephole before answering, but the man before him is not one of great intellect. Some days, Sherlock thinks he's actually incredibly dim.

Assuming an air of practiced coolness, Sherlock gazes upon the man before him, his dark curls ruffled from sleep. He blinks to wake himself up and stifles a yawn. "C-can I h-help you?" he stammers, voice deep and scratchy. Sherlock sees the exact moment the man recognizes him. "Sh-sherlock H-holmes?"

"Tom, is it? Might I come in?" Sherlock asks, even as he is pushing past the other man into the flat. He quickly unwraps the dark blue scarf from around his neck (a gift from Molly when he'd gotten out of rehab the third time) and sits down on the sofa. Tom still stands by the door, staring at the space previously occupied by Sherlock. His mouth hangs open for another 23 seconds before he closes the door and turns to his uninvited guest.

"M-molly isn't here at the moment." He moves closer, but stays far enough away that Sherlock can see the hesitance in his actions. Sherlock is used to causing this reaction in others; in fact, only a select few people don't respond to him in such a manner. Sherlock adds banality to his growing list of ways this man is unfit to marry his pathologist.

"Obviously. I've come to speak with you." Sherlock dons a fake smile, the one usually reserved for questioning suspects and witnesses alike in his investigations. Tom, always a trusting fellow, doesn't doubt Sherlock's sincerity and visibly relaxes. Sherlock only just refrains from rolling his eyes at the young man's naiveté.

"Oh! Really?! Well, great! I haven't spent much time with my Molly's friends, but you're always welcome here!" Sherlock can't stop the way his jaw clenches at Tom's use of the possessive pronoun in regards to his pathologist, but, fortunately, Tom doesn't notice anything amiss and continues. "Even if it is rather late…. No matter, would you like some tea?" Sherlock simply shakes his head and gestures to the chair across from him. If Tom is bothered by Sherlock treating him like a guest in his own home, he hides it well.

"You're the... consulting detective, right? Molly talks about you so much, I couldn't help but check out your blog!" Chuckling at himself, he clasps his hands together. "Most of it went straight over my head, to be perfectly honest, but then, I don't understand half of what Molly tells me either!" Tom has a stupid grin on his face, as though he can't help himself from beaming when he talks about Molly. He goes up just a smidgeon in Sherlock's esteem.

"So what did you want to talk about? I doubt you came all this way just to listen to me babble about my fiancé! You'd better speak up now! I could go on all night!" Tom is practically bouncing in his chair, gesticulating widely as he chatters on. Sherlock fights back a smile at the younger man's antics. Now is really not the time to be amused.

"Molly, actually." Tom's smile dims ever-so-slightly, and Sherlock swallows down an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of his stomach. Guilt is a rare emotion for him, and he almost doesn't recognize it.

"Oh? What about her? I know she… well, she fancied you before you died…. I mean, before she killed you…. I mean!" Tom takes a deep breath. "Before she helped you fake your death! Goodness, Tom! Use your words!" he quietly chastised himself.

Sherlock took pity on the man and interrupted his verbal tirade. "It's nothing like that! While I am aware that Molly was… fond of me previously, she's engaged to you, Tom. Don't forget that little detail."

"Yes, I know, but I'm just simple Tom Jones. I realize I'm not exactly the smartest man in the world. Why would Molly choose me if she had you vying for her affections?" Tom hangs his head sadly, his eyes welling up with tears. Sherlock shifts uncomfortably in his seat. This is not how he had expected this conversation to go. They are fast approaching emotional territory, and, as much as Sherlock despises sentiment, something about the man before him compels him onward.

"There is nothing romantic between Molly Hooper and myself." Sherlock ignores the twinge in his gut at the truth of that statement. "Molly loves you, Tom. And, as someone who cares greatly about her, I wanted to make my position very clear." Tom's eyes widen as he anticipates Sherlock's next words. "However, it would appear that you are much more suited to Molly than I realized. You clearly love her very much."

"More than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life!" he exclaims loudly, nodding his head emphatically in agreement.

"Yes, I can see that," Sherlock replies slowly, trying to pacify the man's enthusiasm. While they are both wide awake, Tom's neighbors most certainly are not. "Molly Hooper deserves to be with someone who can love her unconditionally. Someone who can put her needs above anything else. Someone who won't break her heart. I believe you might be that man, Tom Jones." The other man beams at him, reaching over the table between them to embrace Sherlock in an awkward hug. Sherlock pats him on the back before pulling back. Sensing his discomfort, Tom releases him and sits back down.

"But know this," Sherlock continues, staring straight into Tom's eyes. "There are very few people for whom I would do absolutely anything. Molly Hooper is one of them. If you ever hurt her, I will come after you. Any secrets you thought had completely disappeared, any mistakes made years ago, will return to wreak havoc in your unassuming little existence. Nowhere will be safe from my wrath. Do I make myself clear?"

Tom gulps and nods his head before realization registers on his face. "You love her too, don't you? And n-not like a friend or a sibling. Like I love her."

Sherlock gives him a tight-lipped smile in lieu of an answer. He claps his hands against his knees and stands up. "Well, I think that's everything, then." Sherlock holds out a hand, which Tom gratefully accepts. The men shake hands, a silent understanding passing between them.

Just then, the sound of keys unlocking the front door reaches their ears. The subject of their conversation walks into the flat, stopping in surprise when she sees the two men standing there. "Sherlock? What are you doing here? Did you need to see me?" She tilts her head, gazing at him questioningly.

"No, I believe I'm done here. Tom and I just had a few details to discuss." Before Molly can reply, Sherlock gives Tom another nod and strides to the door. He squeezes Molly's shoulder before turning back to her fiancé one more time. "Tom?"

"Hmm?"

"You are a very lucky man."

Tom grins widely, wrapping an arm around Molly. "Don't I know it, Sherlock. Don't I know it."