This is a companion piece to the oneshot I posted the other day, titled "Hello". I would suggest reading that one first, or the last scene of this won't make much sense. It turned into more of a 2500 word Molly Hooper character study, and I quite like it. I hope you do as well!
Molly has always been amazed that a man so brilliant in certain areas could be so blind in others.
XXXXX
He doesn't notice that she is interested in him romantically.
She gathers all of her courage and invites him out for coffee, only to be dismissed in the most oblivious manner possible. She reminds herself that he doesn't do relationships, and tries to convince herself that his disinterest is not personal, but because he is not interested in anyone in that way.
(It doesn't help ease the pain much.)
XXXXX
He doesn't see the way her shoulders slump after he flirts in order to gain access to the morgue.
It is obvious, even to her, that he only says such things so she will agree to his requests. So that she will do anything he asks.
(He neglects to see that she will do anything for him regardless.)
XXXXX
She meets Jim from IT, and thinks that, maybe, she is moving on. Finally, she has found someone who could replace the maddening (dazzling) consulting detective in her heart. They watch Glee, snuggled together on her sofa, and Molly wonders if she could be happy again.
Sherlock doesn't see the way her heart breaks when he so callously dismisses her relationship, revealing Jim's sexuality in so painful a fashion. The worst part is that he doesn't even realize how cruel his deduction of Jim is.
She tells herself that his assessment is strictly objective, that he couldn't possibly be jealous of her association with the other man. She can't quite make herself believe it.
(Hope hurts worse than outright rejection.)
XXXXX
Later, she learns from John Watson that her sweet, kind boyfriend is actually a criminal mastermind hell-bent on destroying the man she loves. She cries herself to sleep that night.
XXXXX
He doesn't realize when her infatuation with him changes to love.
She is surprised when he mentions the Christmas party he and John Watson are hosting at their flat.
Butterflies flitter throughout her stomach as she gets ready. The dress costs well over a month's salary, but the extra money is worth it if she can finally convince Sherlock to notice her. She spends hours carefully curling her hair and applying makeup, determined to make an impression. She gazes at her reflection in the mirror, pleased with the picture staring back at her for once. She grabs the carefully wrapped gift (a book on apiculture she knows he will love) and heads to 221B Baker Street.
As soon as she enters the flat and perceives Sherlock's mood, she realizes this night is not going to end the way she envisioned. He begins deducing her, everything from her lipstick to the presents in her arms, and is astounded by his harsh disregard for her feelings. She had thought them friends, at the very least, but his words plunge through her heart like a knife.
(She imagines this could very well be the moment she stops caring about him for good.)
He falters when he reads his name on the label, gulping as he finally realizes the truth behind his deductions. No one else seems surprised, all gazing at her with pitying expressions on their faces.
(She's always hated being pitied.)
She calls him out, for both past offenses and this latest abuse, and refuses to make eye contact with anyone else in the room. Shame, embarrassment, and disappointment churn together in her gut, replacing the butterflies that resided there earlier.
He starts to turn away, but decides against it and steps closer. So stunned is she by his apology, she barely hears his actual words. The room is silent as he moves closer still. She cannot hold in the gasp as his lips brush her cheek, a light caress that sends her insides tingling.
She encounters him later that evening, after being called in to work the case of a Jane Doe. Her heartbreak returns at the sight of him, swelling even more as he identifies the unknown woman by her naked torso. She overhears his elder brother telling him that caring for others is a disadvantage, and, suddenly, all that she has observed about Sherlock Holmes begins to make sense.
For the first time, she sees Sherlock Holmes not as the egotistical detective that he displays to the world, but as the lonely, isolated man that he truly is.
(She falls for him that night, harder than ever, and starts to question whether her heart will ever be out of his grasp.)
XXXXX
He doesn't see how the situation with Moriarty begins to take its toll on him, but she does.
She watches as he becomes more agitated in his search for answers, as he pushes John Watson away in hopes of keeping the doctor sheltered from the upcoming storm. If John notices how distant Sherlock is becoming, he gives no indication, leaving Molly to wonder if there could really be two men so willfully ignorant of things that matter.
The two men visit the lab, John sitting across the room while she helps Sherlock with forensic tests. He looks so sad, so desperate for John to see, that she cannot stop herself from speaking up. She deduces him the same way he always deduces others, and refuses to give up the topic of conversation when he attempts to brush her off.
("I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."
"You can see me."
"I don't count.")
She offers herself to him, but is still shocked when he comes to her that night as she is finishing her shift. The morgue is dim, draping him in a shroud of darkness that only adds to the aura of mystery that always surrounds him. He asks for her help, and she doesn't even have to think about her answer.
("What do you need?"
"You.")
He outlines his dilemma, and the plan he has concocted to get out of it. Molly spends a sleepless night locating a body that can pass as Sherlock and worrying that, even with their careful preparation, Sherlock still might not survive.
When he leaves her flat the next morning, exhausted and emotionally drained, but alive, he thanks her and gives her a small smile before sliding into the car beside his brother.
(She treasures the memory of that smile for the next two years.)
XXXXX
He doesn't witness John Watson slowly falling apart after the death of his best friend.
Molly wants to help, but she can only be in his presence for so long. Guilt is her constant companion these days, softly murmuring in her ear that she has the power to end the doctor's suffering if she just revealed the truth.
(She could never betray Sherlock's trust like that.)
So she begins declining invitations to go out with Greg and John, isolating herself from her friends so that she can pretend the guilt does not exist.
(She receives an unsigned post card from Bolivia three months after the Fall. The knowledge that he is all right alleviates a little of her anguish.)
XXXXX
Tom is… perfect. Everything her fourteen-year-old self imagined in a future spouse: fun, drama-free, and adored by her mum. And if he vaguely looks like someone else, well, she's always been attracted to tall, dark-haired men. She simply has a type.
He proposes after they've only been together six months. She knows it seems fast, but she agrees anyway because she cannot wait around for stupidly flawless consulting detectives any longer. Her heart can't take it.
(She keeps the postcards she's received in a box under her bed, out of sight but never forgotten.)
XXXXX
He doesn't see how his return rips a hole through the carefully reconstructed lives of those closest to him.
She finishes with her shift and packs up her belongings, preparing herself for the solitary walk back to her flat, when his reflection appears in her mirror.
(She can't stop the grin from lighting up her face, any more than she can stop her pulse from quickening at his proximity.)
John Watson refuses to speak with him after their reunion goes as well as can be expected. Mary keeps her updated on John's mood, and Molly tells her more about Sherlock in return.
When she receives the text asking her to come to Baker Street, she hesitates for only a moment before responding. She has been friends with him long enough to realize that his request likely has no ulterior motives.
(That knowledge doesn't stop her from hoping, though.)
The day is perfect, the pair of them working together in near perfect synchronization, but there is an unspoken strain underlying all of their interactions. He has not mentioned her engagement aloud, but the way he talks to her, as though each exchange will be the last, informs her that he is at least aware of it.
He invites her out to dinner. The piece of her heart that may as well have been permanently stamped with 'Sherlock Holmes' yearns desperately to say yes. She remembers her fiancé (her loving, kind, perfect fiancé), however, and declines the offer. Her resolve shatters throughout his heartfelt thank you and the chaste kiss he presses to her cheek, but he is gone before she has a chance to say anything more.
XXXXX
He doesn't realize that the implosion of her relationship coincides with his best man speech at John and Mary's wedding.
He frequents the morgue during her work hours these days, treating her more like a trusted friend and less like the colleague he had before the Fall. She teases him mercilessly when he visits, and he bears it admirably, his need to make up for past behavior apparent.
(She starts to think that maybe they can stay friends, and maybe she can be happy with that.)
Then he makes that wonderful speech and everything goes to shite.
To his credit, Tom shows no surprise when she returns his grandmother's engagement ring, sitting innocently atop her outstretched palm. He reveals that he has known she would never become his wife ever since he came back to life.
Tom presents her with a sad, understanding smile before donning his coat and walking out of her life forever.
(This is the moment she accepts that she will never stop loving Sherlock Holmes.)
XXXXX
He doesn't notice that the thin layer of rage is hiding a much weightier feeling of disappointment.
In him. In herself. She really isn't sure which anymore.
John brings him in to the lab, drugged and completely out of his wits. She doesn't need to examine the test results to know what they will reveal. So, she lets her anger take control of her body, and slaps him three times before demanding an apology.
(She regrets her actions as soon as her palm hits its mark for the third and final time.)
When he mocks her failure of an engagement, however, she can't quite contain her hurt and sends him off without another word.
(She doesn't cry herself to sleep, but she stays awake well into the morning hours, replaying the image of his jeering expression over and over until she finally drifts off.)
XXXXX
She refuses to meet with him again after that day, but she learns of his shooting from Greg. He disappears from his hospital room, and Mary probes her for information about his possible whereabouts.
She replies that he once stayed in her flat – slept in her bed, even – but that she really has no insight into the mind of Sherlock Holmes.
(She recognizes it as a lie even as it slips off her tongue.)
She follows the Magnussen investigation in the papers, disheartened once more as she studies the articles detailing his dalliance with Mary's bridesmaid. It isn't that she believes the other woman's accusations; it's that she knows he must have really hurt Janine to warrant her retaliation.
He makes no attempt to contact her, and Molly isn't sure whether she is upset or relieved.
She scans the newspapers daily, desperate for any news of him, when she stops short at the announcement of Magnussen's murder. Sherlock's name is left out of the story, but Molly instinctively knows he was involved.
(Moriarty's face appears on her television screen, and she is instantly thrust backwards in time, to three years ago when every mention of the man filled her veins with ice water.)
XXXXX
He doesn't realize how much she misses him.
She argues with herself constantly, debating whether to reply to his texts, or to answer the phone when he calls. She never does, because the painful image of him that day in the lab is still painted on the inside of her eyelids. It haunts her, that such an extraordinary man could be dragged so low.
She sits across from her date, a nice man from St. Bart's psychology department. Matt is cute, with sandy-blonde hair and dimples that light up his face every time he smiles. She laughs at his stories, telling herself that this is what she needs in a significant other.
(Even as she grins at him, she knows this first date will be their last.)
Her skin prickles with the uncomfortable sensation of being watched. She looks around her, trying to find the source, and is shocked to see Sherlock Holmes himself staring at her from the opposite side of the window. In the millisecond their gazes lock, his eyes speak a thousand words, begging her not to hate him anymore.
(He's never understood that she could never hate him. She loves him too much for that.)
She turns back to Matt, not ready to deal with the consulting detective just yet. She will have to confront him eventually, of course. His presence in her life is too vital for their separation to continue much longer.
(He doesn't see her eyes follow him as he walks away.)
She treads home alone, sending Matt off with a final kiss on the cheek, deliberating what to do about Sherlock.
(There is really only one option. She's known that since she saw him again.)
Her fingers tap out a nervous rhythm on her kitchen counter as she gazes at her mobile, his number prominently highlighted on the small screen. She hovers over the call button for several minutes before she throws caution to the wind and hits send.
The phone rings three times before he answers. He doesn't say anything; he has tried to make amends, and now it is her turn to take the next step.
"Hello?" she asks hesitantly. Maybe this was a horrible idea. "Sherlock?"
She breathes into the phone, listening to his exhales on the other end of the line. God, how she's missed him.
"It's me."
I feel like this was pretty repetitive, but I guess that was the point. Please leave a review and tell me what you thought!
