"There are very few who have heart enough to be really in love without encouragement"
Xxx
You lost the game.
Mycroft's words haunted Sherlock's every breath, regardless how many times he attempted to delete their conversation. No matter what he did, the harsh statement continued to penetrate his brain, invading his every thought like a bloody parasite.
What did Mycroft really know anyways? Sure, he practically was the British government, but he was certainly in no position to discuss feelings and friendship. His closest relationship was his mobile. As frequently as he discussed sentiment, he knew nothing about it, since he avoided it like the plague. Hence his conditioning of Sherlock early on.
All of this still didn't explain why Sherlock was standing in front of a trendy, new Indian restaurant in Soho, approximately two blocks from George's flat. He looked into George's new address for the sake of Molly's safety, and determining their next date spot wasn't difficult after deducing their shared availability, food preferences, the forecasted rain, and George's painful shin splints.
Thus, he knew he would find the couple inside, seated for their 7pm reservation. He even called ahead.
And then changed the reservation to three.
Sherlock ruffled his curly locks before strutting into the restaurant, his Belstaff billowing in the chilly London breeze, the light rain drops misting across his determined form. He made his way towards the back of the restaurant and spotted the couple. George laughed at something Molly said before filling her wine glass with the red liquid.
Sherlock scoffed. Molly preferred white.
Anyhow, he continued his movements, before quickly dropping into the booth, whipping his jacket off in the process. Molly, who was in the middle of discussing her day with George, stopped at the sight of Sherlock. Her mouth dropped open.
"Sherlock?" she practically squeaked out, "What are you doing here?"
Sherlock shrugged and grabbed the menu from George's hands, quickly scanning his eyes over the overpriced options.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm hungry."
Molly blinked and cleared her throat, shuffling in her seat. "Sherlock. We're on a date."
"Obviously," was all he offered before shutting the menu. He looked between her and George.
No lipstick. Sale blouse, loose trousers. She's comfortable with him.
Molly took a gulp of her wine and cursed. "You can't just plop yourself down here and interrupt our date."
Sherlock shrugged and turned his attention towards George.
"Hello, George. Did you happen to pay off your parking ticket from your trip to Manchester in 2014?"
George blinked and scratched his neck. "Uh… I didn't know I had one."
"You do. Stopped in a no parking zone in front of a Tesco. I reckon you should pay that."
"Right… Thanks."
Molly glared at Sherlock. "Sherlock. I think you should go."
Sherlock rolled his eyes and pulled out his mobile, quickly typing away. "Now, now, Molly. Settle down. I just want a quick bite."
"Sherlock, this is not—"
George put his hand on hers, giving her a soft smile. "Hey, let him stay. We'll have a nice dinner, the three of us, and then I'll bring you out for breakfast on Saturday," he offered with a small, teasing grin.
At his words, Molly flushed and sipped her wine, seemingly satisfied. Sherlock watched the interaction, his eyes narrowing and shifting between the other two people at the table. He shoved his mobile back into his pocket, suddenly feeling rather sick.
"So. George. How have you managed to go thirty-seven years without a wife? Do you have some debilitating illness we should know about? I hear super gonorrhea has made its way here."
Molly practically spit out her wine, but George just smiled softly at the man from his spot. He let out a soft chuckle and shook his head, giving Molly's hand another squeeze. Sherlock immediately settled his focus on their intertwined limps.
"I assure you, there's no super gonorrhea to worry about. But to answer your question, I just haven't settled down because I hadn't found the right one," George replied, his eyes locked on Molly's blushing form.
"However, I'm hoping to change that, should things go well," he added with an easy smile.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes and continued to shift his gaze between the couple, who seemed contently communicating solely with smiles and soft hand caresses. Sherlock nearly growled and grabbed Molly's wine glass, taking a hefty gulp for himself.
"Right. Wonderful. Any secret children we should know about?"
"None that I know of," George responded, holding back laughter.
"Your aunt was involved in a drug cartel. Did you participate? Any past use? Illegal dealings? Warrants for your arrest in other countries?"
George laughed again. "My Aunt was right. You sure are a funny bloke. While she was off in the States with her ex-husband, I was a little tyke over in Bristol. And no drug use. What an awful habit."
"You attended—"
Molly glared at Sherlock. "You are not going to interrogate my boyfriend over dinner. What are you getting at Sherlock?"
George laughed and brought her hand to his lips, earning a scowl from Sherlock. "It's alright, Molly. I'm happy to answer any of his questions. I reckon he's just doing some detective work," he added with a wink.
Sherlock took another sip from the wine, his leg twitching nervously under the table. "You left Liverpool because? Most people don't arbitrarily decide to find a new job in a new city."
"Well, the Liverpool office didn't have room to promote me. So, if I wanted the promotion, I had to move to London. I enjoyed my visits to the city so… Seemed like an interesting move to make and the right time."
Sherlock glared at the man, irritated by his logical answers and his lack of drama. He finished Molly's wine and quickly refilled the glass.
"I disagree. I reckon you had just broken up with a longtime girlfriend, most certainly younger than you," he paused and looked George over once more, "my guess if she didn't want to settle down and have children while you did. Then, you actively sought out a change in scenery."
George cleared his throat and sipped his wine, nodding slowly. "Yes. That would be right."
Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. He looked over to Molly, expecting to see her upset or confused, but instead found her smiling softly at George. He practically broke the glass in his hands.
"George told me all about his ex, Rebecca. I told him about Tom. It was nice swapping stories," Molly added with a laugh.
"Certainly. But, at least Tom didn't toss out all your clothes when you dumped him," George joked.
"How you lasted six months with that woman is beyond me! She sounded mad!"
"Oh, she most certainly was. But I was lonely. So, I settled. I won't need to do that anymore," George whispered softly, again rubbing Molly's hand with his thumb.
Sherlock watched the couple continue to chat, laughing and exchanging stories of the week, ranging from the cadaver that had a tattoo of Shrek on their shoulder, to George discovering money laundering from the company's CFO.
The detective sat in silence, eating only naan, afraid anything else would come up if he opened his mouth. He took a gulp of wine, his eyes continuing to shift between the couple, trying to figure out what the hell he had been thinking when he showed up here.
Most of all, you're losing.
Xxx
Sherlock trailed behind the couple, ignoring the irritating rain drops hitting his curly hair and jacket. Molly and George walked ahead of him, hand and hand, discussing what to see at the cinema over the weekend.
As they neared Molly's building, Sherlock sped up, meeting their pace.
"Your presence will no longer be needed George. I have some work to do with Molly."
Molly looked over at Sherlock with a glare. "Work? I don't recall—"
George smiled and shook his head. "It's fine, Molly. I know how much you help him with his cases. Don't worry about me."
Molly frowned slightly, looking between the two men. George stood with soft eyes and a genuine smile, Sherlock with a blank look on his face.
"Perfect. Goodnight," the detective replied, his responses forever short and sweet.
With that, Sherlock marched up the stairs towards her flat, leaving the couple in the entryway to the building. He stopped after the first flight of stairs, quickly peering down at the couple, who currently were sharing a kiss. He scowled and continued to move up to Molly's floor.
Molly pulled away and grinned at her boyfriend, her hands moving to play with his collar. However, her smile quickly turned into a frown. "I'm sorry. Sherlock can be so—"
George shook his head and smiled softly. "Don't worry about it. I've heard loads about him from you, my aunt, and even your friend John. It's quite alright. Help him with his case and I'll see you on Thursday."
Molly nodded and gave him another soft kiss. "Thank you. You're amazing."
"No, Molly Hooper, that would be you."
Upstairs, Sherlock had hung up his jacket, and now sat on the sofa, mindlessly petting Toby, who seemed content on his lap. He couldn't exactly explain why, but he felt rather ill. His stomach felt like it at any moment would empty itself, and he couldn't stop jerking his legs.
His attention was drawn from the lazy cat to the front door when Molly hurried inside, quickly discarding her shoes and jacket. When her gaze met Sherlock's, he was surprised to see the anger in her eyes.
"What the fuck was that about?" She asked, her cheeks already red from anger, not the wind from their walk home.
Sherlock resumed his petting and avoided her gaze. "I told you. I was hungry."
"Don't treat me like I'm stupid Sherlock! You showed up uninvited, barely touched your food, and interrogated my boyfriend."
"I just wanted to make sure he was trustworthy. People rarely are these days."
"No! Friends don't just barge in on dates and ask if someone has bloody gonorrhea!"
Sherlock shrugged and finally met her gaze, surprised to see her eyes welling up in tears. He gulped, suddenly wondering if he had made a grave mistake.
"You have terrible taste in men. I just wanted to confirm that he was not planning on destroying the state," He replied, holding his head up high.
"That isn't your bloody job! You are not my father or my fucking keeper, Sherlock!" She practically yelled, a single tear falling down her cheek.
Sherlock stood up, his eyes still locked on Molly. "I really don't see the problem. I needed to make sure he was safe. You admitted it yourself. You tend to be attracted to sociopaths."
"Like yourself?" She shot out bitterly, her hands wrapping around her petite form.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, taking a few steps toward Molly. "Oh? Yes, last time I checked, you were rather attracted to me. So, I admit it. I'm quite confused how you ended up in a relationship with such a bloody idiot."
Molly shook her head, more tears pouring down her face. "An idiot? What makes him a fucking idiot? His incredible work with numbers, or his employment with one of the biggest companies in the world, or his ability to recreate recipes after tasting a dish one time?"
Sherlock scoffed. "He's an idiot for a variety of reasons, but mainly because he's nothing like me."
Molly let out a cold, shrill laugh. "What makes him so great is that he is nothing like you!"
Sherlock stopped his movements and stared at Molly, his blue eyes turning to ice as he gazed into her brown orbs. His entire body tensed before continuing to move towards her.
"Is that so?" he practically hissed out, his eyes as angry as her own.
"Yes!" Molly shot back, the hatred evident in her voice.
Sherlock moved against her, his body quickly approaching hers, his demanding height gazing down at her small form. He narrowed his eyes and continued to look into her chocolate gaze, their bodies only centimeters apart.
"Is that why you're so bored? Why you're already back to wearing work trousers to your dates? Why you haven't stopped using your vibrator even after sleeping with him?" He spat out, no longer caring what words hurt her.
He barely inhaled again before Molly's hand met his cheek in an angry slap. He grabbed her wrist and pinned her into the wall, quickly capturing her lips with his own.
His kiss was inexperienced yet demanding, and his hands were quick to move up and cup her damp cheeks. He didn't let Molly awaken from her own shock and respond before jerking himself away from her, momentarily stunned by his own actions. He swallowed and took a step back, shaking his head.
"I only do the things I do because I care about you Molly. I just want to protect you," He managed to force out, before grabbing his jacket and disappearing out the door.
Molly stood against the wall, stunned. She didn't flinch as the door slammed shut. Instead, she tentatively brought her hand to her lips and touched them, wondering if Sherlock had really kissed or if she had imagined the entire thing.
She shook her head and promised herself she'd forget the entire evening and focus on her upcoming dates with George. George was her boyfriend. Sherlock, no matter how unpredictable, was her friend, and nothing more. If she could even consider a man who continuously insulted and hurt her a friend.
Besides, I don't need Darcy when I have Mr. Collins.
She dropped onto her bed and shook her head, wiping fresh tears from her eyes.
As if anyone believed that.
