NOTE:
Hello! Happy to see you still reading! I just wanted to remind everyone that Sherlock is still Sherlock. He's rash, resorts to hurting others when he doesn't get what he wants (mostly subconsciously), manipulative (again subconsciously) and overall lacks some of the social niceties that you and I do. While that has improved over the seasons, he is not perfect. So, as you read, and he occasionally (or pretty much always) is an asshole, I urge you to remember that Sherlock is not the protagonist in a romance novel. He is Sherlock Holmes, and he's a bit not okay. He is still a good person and will always redeem himself. Additionally, some of you have mentioned that you're starting to root for George. GOOD. That's the point. Because that's what Molly is beginning to go through.
And friendly reminder: Sherlock is taking notes from Mr. Darcy. He wasn't exactly the nicest guy when he confesses to Elizabeth the first time, now was he? Keep that in mind in the upcoming few chapters. Like Darcy, Sherlock will have his redemption.
With this said, please read and enjoy! Hopefully this chapter allows you to see what the characters are thinking.
Xxx
"Vanity, not love, has been my folly."
Xxx
A few days later, Molly sipped a deliciously spicy chai latte, seated during her lunch hour at a quiet little café a few blocks from St. Bart's. She rarely left the hospital during the workday, but George was insistent on her getting out occasionally. So, her wonderful boyfriend took the tube across town to meet her, and sat across from her in a dashing suit, and a lovely purple button down.
It's a tad lighter than Sherlock's.
She shook her head.
You are not to think about that irritating, manipulative prat. Not now and not ever again.
Molly bit into her chicken sandwich and smiled at George, laughing as he dabbed away some salad dressing from the edge of his mouth. As usual, he gave her a dashing grin.
"So, we discussed getting away for the weekend, yeah? Well, I decided to surprise you," George began, pausing to take a few bites of his salad.
Molly couldn't help but beam from across the table. "We're going somewhere for the weekend?" She practically squealed.
Where will we go? Scotland? Ireland? To the continent?
She gasped.
The city of love? Will we take a stroll along the streets of Paris? Or perhaps to Rome, and feast on pasta and history?
"Yes! We have an 8am train to Liverpool on Saturday morning. We're gonna catch a match too. I invited your mate John," George smiled and continued eating.
Molly couldn't help but frown, but managed to disguise her disappointment by taking a sip of her latte. She cleared her throat and gave George a smile.
"Oh… That sounds lovely!"
"We'll catch a match, have a drink or two with my mates, maybe go for a jog. You know, do some real fun stuff."
Molly just nodded and took another bite of her sandwich. "That sounds perfect. Thank you for putting everything together."
"Of course! I wanted to plan something that I knew we'd both love." He added with a charming grin.
Molly gave him a soft smile and nodded. "You're so sweet."
"Hey, don't mention it!"
The couple continued to eat, discussing George's huge project that was due the following evening, and Molly's autopsy on a woman who had eight toes on one foot.
All the while, she couldn't think past their upcoming weekend.
Liverpool and a football match? This is almost as bad as a trip to Hyde Park and a bottle of Scotch.
As she peered out the window, she wondered for the millionth time if all blokes were morons, or if her expectations were just too high.
Xxx
Across town, John strolled into 221b Baker Street, a bag of takeaway in his hands, in a pleasant mood from the lovely weather and a much-needed day off. He dropped the bag on the table and shrugged out of his jacket, not paying any notice to Sherlock.
"I dropped Rosie off with Mrs. Hudson. She's teething and in constant pain. I feel so bad for her but there's only so much I can do. Not to mention, she won't shut up," John announced, quickly digging into the bag to pull out two Styrofoam containers. "She hates the bloody toys too. Tried rubbing her gums. Nothing works and she won't stop wailing."
John yawned and sat down, shoving a fresh chip into his mouth. Finally realizing that Sherlock had yet to respond to his complaining, he looked across the sitting room to find the detective sprawled across the sofa, holding his violin to his chest with his eyes shut.
"Uh… Sherlock… Are you sleeping?"
"Of course not. I just had nothing to add to your long-winded story about a growing pain that all infants experience."
"Right. Is there a reason you're hugging your violin like that?"
Sherlock finally opened his eyes, surprised by his own position. He cleared his throat and set his violin back in its rightful place, before running his hands through his messy curls.
From across the room, John watched the behavior of his friend, doing a bit of his own deducing.
Messy hair, unshaven, pyjamas on.
"My god Sherlock, you're not high, are you?"
Sherlock scoffed and rose to his feet, moving towards his mate. He dropped in the seat beside him and opened one of the containers, shoving a chip in his mouth.
"No. If I were high, I'd be in a better mood."
John let out a relieved breath and shook his head. "Right. What's crawled up your arse then? What's with the getup?"
Sherlock ignored his question and cut into his fish fillet, enjoying his first taste of food in four days, aside from Mrs. Hudson's twice daily tea and biscuit delivery. He never counted that.
John sighed and ate another chip, his eyes never leaving Sherlock. "Is there a reason you look so… unkempt?"
"Trying a new style."
John just blinked. "Sherlock. I haven't heard from you in five days."
"I was busy."
"With what?"
Sherlock growled and slammed his hands on the table. "Does it matter with what? Since when has my life been any of your business?"
John frowned and crossed his arms. "We're mates, Sherlock. Sorry I care enough to show some concern. It hasn't exactly been an easy few months for me. I'm just trying to do what others did for me."
At his friend's words, Sherlock frowned and shifted his gaze to the ground. He sighed and again ran his hands through his unwashed hair. "Right. I'm… sorry."
John just nodded and continued to eat, satisfied with the very Sherlock apology. He continued to watch the detective, intrigued by the state of disarray and seemingly distracted nature of his friend.
"But really, Sherlock, what's going on? You're not dressed in the middle of the afternoon. You clearly haven't shaved or showered in days. Mrs. Hudson said she doesn't think you've left the flat in four days."
Sherlock cleared his throat and ate another chip. John sighed.
"This is what friends are for. We talk through problems. And you've been barking mad these past few months. I know why but I reckon you don't."
That got Sherlock's attention. He shifted his gaze from the ground over to John. "Is that so? Indulge me."
John took a deep breath, racking his brain for the perfect words to break the likely devastating news to Sherlock. As John contemplated his next move, Sherlock scoffed and ate another chip.
"Exactly. Leave the observational skills to me, John."
"Alright, you git. You have feelings for Molly. Romantic feelings." John clarified before sipping his drink.
Sherlock blinked as the words hit his brain. He merely scoffed in response and crossed his arms. "What a ridiculous statement. I'm the detective. You're a sleep-deprived father of a one-year-old. I'm the only one who should be making deductions about behavior."
John practically snorted. "Oh, come off it Sherlock! You're in such a shit mood because you're jealous of her relationship with George. And per usual, when you're in a piss mood, you act like more of a dick than you normally are."
Sherlock growled and got up, quickly moving towards the window. He glanced out the freshly cleaned glass (courtesy of Mrs. Hudson), before looking back at John. He scowled again and resumed his pretend fascination with the bustle of Baker Street.
"We can talk about it," John offered softly, unsure of how to treat the detective in his current state.
"There's nothing to talk about," Sherlock corrected, his voice raspy. He turned back to John and resumed his position on the sofa.
John sighed and gave Sherlock a disappointed look. "There's nothing wrong with how you're feeling. But I promise you, if you bury this, deny its existence, you're going to hate yourself forever. Because that George bloke? He's genuine. And I can see that relationship blossoming into something more," he paused to watch Sherlock drop his head to his hands before continuing, "Becoming something permanent."
At that final word, Sherlock looked back at John, his impenetrable mask for once fading to show his concern, his confusion, but most of all, his fear. It disappeared after a moment, once again concealed by Sherlock's perfected look of indifference.
Sherlock cleared his throat and took a deep breath, wondering if speaking to John about whatever he was feeling was confirming it. Surely this was all some big misunderstanding. It had to be.
"I don't know what I'm feeling," he answered honestly.
From across the room, John's eyes lit up, shocked by Sherlock actually admitting that something unordinary was going on. He cleared his throat and gave his friend a sad smile.
"Well, I can tell you what I've observed. And while I may be no Sherlock Holmes, I sure know a lot more about human feelings and relationships than you do."
John paused, expecting Sherlock to issue some snarky retort, but instead, the detective remained staring ahead, his eyes glassy, his head clearly somewhere else. Once John opened his mouth to speak again, Sherlock focused his attention on the other man.
"You actually care about what Molly thinks about you. You open up to her more than anyone else. You've always investigated her dates and made her relationships incredibly difficult, but your research into George has been borderline obsessive. You've also been lashing out ever since she started seeing him, so much as throwing a hissy fit and hiding in Rosie's nursery when the two were flirting at Rosie's party."
Sherlock swallowed and looked down at his hands. "I don't know what I'm feeling," he repeated.
John sighed. "Right. And that's all well and good, Sherlock. But clearly, you're feeling something past the friendly care for her. You'd have to be a blind fool not to notice that."
Sherlock cursed and shook his head. "I did something stupid, John. Very stupid. Like something an average idiot would do. Think of your own behavior."
John rolled his eyes, deciding to ignore the jab. "I'm listening."
"I may or may not have infiltrated Molly's most recent date with George, and then prevented him from going home with her. Then, I may or may not have kissed her."
John blinked and opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it. His mouth moved open and closed a few more times before his brain finally processed Sherlock's words.
"Wait… Let me get this straight… You, Sherlock Holmes, kissed Molly?"
Sherlock sighed and crossed his arms. "Precisely. That's exactly what I said, John."
"Kiss? You know what a kiss is, right?"
Sherlock scowled. "Of course I know what a bloody kiss is."
"Right. So. Lips on lips. Just to confirm, you willingly, for solely personal reasons and not for any sort of case advancement, pressed your lips to Molly's?"
Sherlock gave him a nasty glare. John shook his head, seemingly coming to.
"Sorry. I just… it's so hard to wrap my head around. You kissing someone? I never thought I'd see the day."
John just laughed softly, imagining the scene in his head. He shook off the thoughts and looked to Sherlock, surprised by the lost look on his friend's face. He sighed.
"Alright. So, you kissed her. After ruining her date. And while she has a boyfriend. How did she respond?"
Sherlock cleared his throat. "I… I don't know. Once the kiss ended, I left immediately."
John groaned. "You two haven't talked about it?"
"Of course not. Why would I willingly enter a conversation about something that makes me uncomfortable?"
"Because, you stupid git! Molly probably has no idea that you have feelings for her. What if she is only dating George to get over you? Don't you realize that you could be with her?
Sherlock tensed and looked back out the window. "I don't have feelings for her. Again, I don't know what exactly I'm feeling."
John threw his hands up in exasperation. "Of course you have feelings for her! You kissed her!"
Sherlock scowled and shook his head. "Lapse of judgement… Muscles twitching… There's always an explanation for the unexplainable."
Finished with dealing with the in-denial detective, John rose to his feet and headed towards the door. "Right, well, when you finally decide to admit your feelings and want to figure out how to admit your love, I'll be here."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Yes, because before Mary you were certainly the ladies man. You couldn't hold a girlfriend to save your life."
John glared at him. "Right. Also, it might serve you to know that I'm heading to Liverpool this weekend. Mrs. Hudson will have Rosie. I'm catching a match with George, and then he's taking me and Molly to see the city."
Sherlock's eyes darted back to John, narrowing in disgust. He rose to his feet, a new feeling of bile rising in his stomach.
"Get out."
John couldn't help but laugh. "Exactly my point! You're livid that I'm going off with them. Just admit what's going on Sherlock."
Sherlock picked up a stack of mail from the table and tossed it at the wall, before reaching for a discarded tea tray and doing the same. John watched with wide eyes.
"I said get out! You're a bloody traitor!"
"Oh? Because you wouldn't fucking care if I were spending the weekend with Lestrade and his new girlfriend. Somehow, I'm betraying you by hanging with Molly and George. What's different?"
John opened the door and shook his head, giving Sherlock one final, poignant look.
"That should be all the evidence you need."
John left, slamming the door shut, leaving Sherlock to wallow in his own thoughts.
Sherlock, in the meantime, began to grab whatever he could get his hands on, and slammed the various decorations, books, plates and loose items against the patterned wall.
Something permanent.
