"Your defect is a propensity to hate everybody."
"And yours," he replied with a smile, "is wilfully to misunderstand them."
Xxx
Unlike most Saturday mornings, Molly did not allow herself to sleep past 9am and laze about until her chores became unavoidable. She woke up only an hour past her normal 7am alarm (she was still only human) and proceeded to get on with the day. Before 10am had even crossed the clock, she had done her laundry, run to the shop for groceries and that special cat nip Toby loved, and even gone for a jog.
A jog! She was practically a new person. At any rate, she was in wonderful spirits as she walked down the busy street, holding her jacket to her petite form as the windy London air bit at her face. She had penciled shopping into her schedule to purchase Rosie a birthday gift, but somehow couldn't stop moving in and out of stores, her eyes drawn to the gorgeous dresses and shoes and fashionable ensembles that she had never had the guts to wear.
But after trying on a lovely red dress and an equally as gorgeous pair of black booties, she realized that she needed a change. Why was she so conservative with her fashion choices?
I'm not going to be young forever.
As she watched the cashier bag the outfit (along with a handful of additional items Molly had picked up), she knew she was doing the right thing.
She wasn't making a change or forcing herself to be someone she was not. She wasn't going out and wearing skin tight ensembles or fuck-me-pumps. She was simply dressing how she had always wanted to dress.
She would be smart. Elegant. Classically beautiful.
The new Molly Hopper was on the road to her debut. 33 years and 7 months in the making.
But the brunette still couldn't resist running into Primark, clearance section and all.
Xxx
Sherlock cradled the sleeping child to his chest, his eyes glued to the telly, intrigued by the football match playing. John sauntered into the room, two cups of tea in his hands. He sat across the Sherlock, looking between the telly and his friend.
"Ahh. Finally interested in football?"
Sherlock practically snorted. "No. But the child is asleep so I'm rather bored."
John rolled his eyes and sipped his tea. His eyes dropped down to his sleeping daughter, and couldn't help but smile softly.
"I appreciate you coming by tomorrow. I know you aren't exactly a fan of… people. There won't be too many," John's voice quieted, "especially with Harry still off the wagon and…" He shook his head.
Sherlock nodded, his eyes locked on the sleeping child's form. "The less, the better."
The two men sat in silence, only the noises of the telly and Rosie's occasion whimper filling the air.
The detective studied his friend, causing John to send him a curious look.
"Yes, Sherlock? Are you preparing to throw a deduction at me?"
"Would you like me to?"
John scowled. "Let's hear it then."
Sherlock chuckled. "You wanked last evening. Took a while too. Messed with your wrist. Hence why you're using your left hand to lift your cup. And of course, you're well rested but have a baby, so there's only one thing that could possibly put you to sleep."
John shifted uncomfortably in his chair, before meeting Sherlock's gaze. A moment passed before the men broke into a fit of laughter.
Sherlock offered him a genuine smile before returning to his emotionless exterior. "May I ask you something?"
John sipped his drink and watched his friend. "You'll ask me regardless."
Sherlock just nodded, moving his gaze back down to Rosie. He ran his thumb over her chubby cheek, surprised by how adorable he found the child to be.
"Do you believe in soul mates?"
John lifted his tea back to his lips, frowning as he sipped the amber liquid. His eyes fell to his silver wedding band, still sitting on his left hand. Swallowing a croak in his throat, he offered a quiet, "I do."
Sherlock just nodded, his eyes still glued to Rosie. "Do you believe everyone has one?"
John set the cup down and settled into the chair. "I do. What's this about, Sherlock?"
The detective shook his head and finally looked back towards his friend. "Nothing, I suppose. I was just thinking about something Molly said to me."
"And that was?"
Sherlock shifted uncomfortably, struggling to keep from waking up the child. "She said she wanted to be with her soul mate."
"Wouldn't you?" John asked, his eyes lingering on his best friend.
"What an absurd question. They don't exist."
John smiled softly. "Alright, Sherlock. But humor me. Say they did. Wouldn't you want to meet yours? To be with them?"
Sherlock looked back at Rosie and then to John. "What would be the point? People are unfairly taken from the world every day. Why would I spend my time getting to know someone only for them to disappear without notice?"
John gazed back at his wedding ring. "That's some backwards logic for a smart bloke."
Sherlock tensed. "How so?" He frowned and watched the child coo in her sleep. "When you die… it's not you who'll miss your life."
The doctor shook his head. "You can't live in fear of the inevitable. Besides…" John grasped his wedding band, twisting the smooth metal on his finger, "I rather experience true love and happiness even for it to end in heartbreak than to never experience it at all."
Sherlock blinked, clearly incapable of digesting John's words. "I don't understand."
John just chuckled and rose from his chair, moving towards Sherlock. He took his sleeping daughter and brought her to his chest, his fingers playing in her soft, blonde locks.
"I don't expect you too. Not really your niche, I reckon."
Sherlock pouted, his reaction ever like a petulant child. "It's nonsense. You, Molly, and Mrs. Hudson? How can you all believe such a ludicrous concept?"
John kissed Rosie's head before giving Sherlock a smile. "I dunno, Sherlock. Maybe it's only so absurd. Maybe you're the one thinking nonsense if the rest of the world believes in it."
Sherlock scowled. "Unlikely. You're all idiots."
"Idiots who know that the Earth circles the sun." John smirked and moved out of the room, leaving Sherlock to fume.
Xxx
Sherlock glanced at the clock, suddenly regretting his agreement to attend Rosie's birthday party. John's sitting room was filled with people he had no interest in seeing. A few of John's co-workers, the lady who babysat Rosie during the week, Lestrade and his newest girlfriend of the week, Anderson…
Why in God's name is Anderson here?
Sherlock shook his head and sipped from the party cup, the sickeningly sweet juice hitting his tongue. His gaze locked on the cup, staring at the anthropomorphic pink pig in a dress staring back at him. He scowled before looking around.
John was chatting up some unknown brunette, who by the looks of her handbag was a single mother with a child similar in age to Rosie, and Lestrade, who seemed rather lost after his date went off after the loo.
So, Sherlock was quite relieved when Mrs. Hudson strolled in, a large white box in her hands. She offered the guests a polite hello as she strolled into the kitchen. Behind her, a younger man followed, his arms bogged down with two gift bags.
Mrs. Hudson looked at Sherlock and grinned. "Sherlock! I'm so glad you came. Are you enjoying yourself?"
Sherlock offered her one of his famous two-second smiles and took another sip of the saccharine juice. "Loads."
The older woman nodded excitedly, before turning to the man behind her and grabbing the gift bags. She deposited them by the window on a table filled with other gifts from party guests.
"Splendid! Here, come meet my nephew!" The older lady smiled and waved over the younger man, who strolled over to Sherlock, offering him a polite smile.
Sherlock looked to the man, his eyes examining every inch of the stranger.
Between 35 and 37. Makes more than 80 thousand pounds a year. Desk job. Accountant?
He sipped his juice.
Avid runner. Suffering from shin splints. Never married. Not from London.
Sherlock took one last look at the man.
Enjoys cooking. Hopeless romantic.
He finished his juice and jumped to his feet.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"The name is George Wick. Pleasure!" George smiled and stuck out his hand, only for Sherlock to skirt around the gesture and move to refill his drink.
Mrs. Hudson gave George a soft smile, silently ensuring him that Sherlock's behavior was normal. She turned her gaze back to Sherlock.
"George is visiting from Liverpool. He just accepted a job up here, so he was looking at flats. I was helping," Mrs. Hudson gave her nephew a proud smile before looking back to Sherlock. "I'm so excited to have him around. He's a lovely cook."
George laughed. "I learned from the best, especially with you and mum there to teach me."
Mrs. Hudson let out a giggle and waved her hands. "Oh, nonsense George."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked around, already bored.
Where is Molly? At least she'd have stories of death to share.
George looked at Sherlock. "So, my aunt says you're a detective? That's wicked."
Sherlock shrugged. "I suppose."
The well-dressed man made a face, clearly taken aback by Sherlock's shortness. "I've always been a big fan of detective stories myself. Nothing like a good murder mystery to pass the time, am I right?"
Sherlock sipped his newly filled cup. "Not for enjoyment, no. Do you enjoy people being murdered?"
George swallowed and shook his head. "No, I just meant—"
"I do enjoy solving murders, but I'm being proactive. I'm ridding the world of evil." Sherlock gave the man a look. "But you? By the looks of it, you're overly familiar with a balance sheet and your trusty calculator. So, no, you may not enjoy a murder mystery to pass your time."
Mrs. Hudson's nephew pulled at his collar, his cheeks now flushed red. The older lady met Sherlock's gaze and gave him a disappointed, knowing look.
Sherlock sighed and looked at George, before morphing his face into another creepy smile. He forced a laugh. "I'm just kidding. Pulling your leg. Murder is great."
George swallowed and then laughed, his shoulders relaxing. "Right, yeah, okay."
Sherlock was drawn away from Mrs. Hudson and the accountant by the opening of the door, and Lestrade's booming voice.
"Molly! You made it! You're looking fit!"
From the doorway, Molly strolled in, holding a perfectly wrapped present—the wrap adorned with that blasted pink pig. His eyes dashed across her body.
New dress. New shoes. New lipstick.
"Thank you, Greg," Molly said, her cheeks turning pink as she neared the gift table, quickly setting the box down. She exchanged hugs with Lestrade and John before catching Sherlock's eye. She smiled and began to walk over to him.
Sherlock evidently wasn't the only one to take notice, as George shifted next to the detective.
"Who is that? She's a stunner." George smiled and looked to Sherlock. "You know her?"
Sherlock scowled and sipped his drink, his eyes stuck on Molly's nearing form. "Nope. I've never seen that woman in my life."
Molly settled in front of the Sherlock and smiled. "Hi Sherlock. I'm glad you came." Her eyes drifted over to George and she offered the stranger a pleasant smile.
All the while, George glanced back over to Sherlock before turning to Molly. Sherlock rolled his eyes.
"Hello Molly. Again, I'm here for Rosie. That's all."
Molly smiled and nodded. "I can't wait to see her. I hope she loves my gift."
Mrs. Hudson scurried over, her hands covering in her mouth in momentary shock. "My, my, Molly! Don't you look darling!" She looked over at George and gave him a look. "George, this is Molly Hooper." She looked at Molly. "Molly, this is my nephew."
Molly smiled and held her hand out, her brown eyes connecting with George's friendly, hazel orbs. "Hello. It's a pleasure. Your Aunt is wonderful."
George laughed and shook her hand, his gaze locked on the brown-haired beauty. "That she is. I'm George Wick by the way."
The couple exchanged smiles and continued to shake hands. Sherlock's eyes crossed their faces and settled on their hands, determining that the four seconds of connection was longer than the socially acceptable period.
Molly blushed and dropped her hand, quickly bringing it up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you visiting for long?"
Mrs. Hudson grinned. "My Georgie just accepted a job in London. He'll be packing up his stuff in Liverpool and here within the month!"
George laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, offering Molly a soft smile. "You heard the woman. I'm here until Tuesday, but I'll be packing up and back in about a fortnight."
Molly smiled and bit her lip. "That's wonderful. Congratulations on the new job."
"Thank you. But I could really use someone to show me around the city."
Mrs. Hudson gave the couple a knowing grin. "What a coincidence! Molly happens to know quite a lot about London. Isn't that so, Molly?"
The brunette blushed and nodded. "Well, sure, I suppose. I've lived here all my life." She laughed and settled her gaze on the man in front of her. "I'd love to show you around."
As the three babbled about logistics, Sherlock stared at Molly, momentarily taken aback by what was occurring in front of him. Since when did Molly flush in the presence of other men? And since when did she engage in a conversation in front of Sherlock and not direct all her attention on him?
Sherlock looked from the accountant, who now devoutly put her number into his mobile, to Molly, who stood with her gaze on George, clear as day filled with attraction and admiration.
The detective blinked and immediately settled his eyes back on George, determined to find something off-putting about the man.
Doesn't smoke. Doesn't drink. No debt. No illicit affairs. No secret children.
Sherlock crushed the stupid pig cup in his hands, causing the remaining sticky blue juice to cover his hand. Molly looked away from her mobile, where she had been committed to typing in George's number.
"Sherlock? Are you okay?"
Sherlock met her gaze, suddenly feeling ill at the sight of her soft, chocolate eyes.
"Splendid. Just unfortunately at a dull party."
With those words, Sherlock tossed the cup into a bin and strode off, determined to keep his attention from Molly Hooper and her newest idiot.
Xxx
It took John thirty minutes to go looking for the detective. After cutting into the cake and filming as much as he could of Rosie shoving the vanilla goodness into her tiny mouth, he noticed Sherlock's absence, specifically by the lack of snarky retorts filling the room.
Knowing Sherlock likely hadn't left, he ventured up the stairs, unsurprised to find Sherlock sitting in Rosie's nursery, his eyes glued to a Peppa Pig storybook.
"I imagined your literary tastes to be more… elaborate."
Sherlock looked up and shut the book. "Indeed. Imagine my surprise when Machiavelli wasn't on your daughter's bookshelf."
John couldn't help but chuckle. "What are you doing up here?"
The detective returned the book back to its rightful place and shrugged. "Needed an escape. I've been told to find other methods outside of getting high."
John gave him a look. "Right. You should come down. Mrs. Hudson's cake is a hit."
Sherlock scowled at the name, which immediately caught John's attention.
"Since when do you not like Mrs. Hudson's cakes? I've seen you go days eating nothing but her lemon drizzle cake."
Sherlock didn't see the need to reply and instead refocused his attention on Rosie's bookshelf, grabbing a Princess storybook. John watched his friend.
"Right. Did you meet her nephew? Nice bloke. Super smart. Said he'd take me to see a football game in Liverpool," John paused and added, "Apparently he's good friends with Klopp." An excited grin etched across his features.
Sherlock slammed the princess book closed and rose to his feet. John watched his friend curiously.
"What's gotten your knickers in a twist Sherlock?"
Sherlock shook his head and moved towards the door. "Nothing John. Absolutely nothing. Now, let's return to the party. I would like to watch Rosie open my gift."
John raised an eyebrow and nodded, his eyes watching Sherlock leave the room. A quick thought crossed his mind before he shook it off with a small laugh.
Please. As if Sherlock would be jealous.
Xxx
Molly couldn't believe how great of a day it had been. Not only had she worn her new outfit and received more compliments than she ever thought possible, but she also met an extremely handsome man.
An extremely handsome man who she was going on a date with.
But most importantly: an extremely handsome man that she was almost positive was not a sociopath.
As she kicked off her new boots, which based on the forming blisters on her feet, did not like her as much as she liked them, she couldn't help but smile. Rosie had loved her gift, John seemed to have genuinely enjoyed himself and Sherlock…
Well he wasn't inebriated so…
That was a start.
Molly stretched her arms to the pesky zipper on her back, her mind per usual, drifting back to Sherlock. She had only spoken a few words to him before he disappeared. She later saw him when Rosie was opening her gifts, but as soon as she gave the stuffed dog a hug, he disappeared again.
The brunette pulled the dress off the ground and hung it up, once again admiring the ensemble. She couldn't help but grin again as she discarded her bra and slipped into her well-loved dressing gown.
George seemed just positively lovely. She had spent the entire afternoon chatting with Mrs. Hudson's nephew, getting to know as much about the man as possible. He was an accountant, an avid runner, and according to the friendly landlord, an excellent chef. He had sparkling hazel eyes, and appeared to be a gentleman in every sense of the word.
Molly squealed and tossed herself back on the bed, thinking about her upcoming date with the man. He was leaving on Tuesday, but they agreed to grab dinner tomorrow night as soon as Molly finished work. Then, assuming things went well, she could look forward to seeing him again in a fortnight, when he would settle in London permanently.
She giggled and skipped into her bathroom, preparing to go through her evening routine, but halted at the ping of her mobile. She quickly grabbed it off her nightstand and positively beamed at the sight of George's name.
Things were looking up.
