"It sometimes is a disadvantage to be so very guarded."
Xxx
"A dinner party?" Molly asked, clearly surprised by his comment.
"Yes! I think it would be a wonderful opportunity for us. You can get used to my flat, and it will give our friends and colleagues a chance to get to know each other," George replied, before placing a soft kiss on her hand.
The couple was currently taking a walk about the city, after having lunch at a fancy salad place that George's nutritionist had recommended. Although lunch wasn't exactly filling, Molly was pleased by the weather and the attention of her boyfriend.
She thought over his words before turning back to him. "I've never thrown a party like that before. I'm not a terribly good cook."
He laughed. "Oh, darling, we'd hire caterers. Please, I think it would be a perfect opportunity as we prepare for our future."
Molly blushed and focused on her boyfriend. He gave her a soft smile and squeezed her hand. "Our future?" She asked, rather unsure of his meaning.
George grinned. "We have a lot to plan for, wouldn't you say?"
Molly gulped and nodded. "Yes. Of course."
"So, shall we have one?"
She nodded and smiled. "Yes. I think it's a lovely idea."
They continued their walk, George rattling off names of people he wanted to invite, as Molly considered her own, much smaller guest list.
The thought of Sherlock at a fancy dinner party almost had her snorting aloud. But she would invite him.
He's my friend.
Xxx
Sherlock dug his chin into his hand, his eyes practically drilling a hole into the chess board. He let out an angry snarl, not bothering to look at his opponent.
Mycroft rolled his eyes and moved one of his pieces, his eyes watching his younger brother, rather amused. "Dearest Sherlock, perhaps if you'd focus on your own strategy instead of trying to deduce mine, you may actually have a chance at winning a game."
His younger brother growled and turned away from the board, indicating his abandonment of the game. He crossed his arms, ever like a petulant child.
Mycroft sighed and stood up, moving to pour himself a fresh cup of tea. "So, how would you say our afternoon of bonding is fairing?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes and finally looked at Mycroft. "Bonding? I thought you were testing a new form of torture for your criminals of the state."
Mycroft forced a pleasant smile. "No, brother mine, we were catching up. I thought we could discuss our lives. I would be happy to start. Anthea is going to move in with me. She has decided to renovate, and just found a lovely antique tub to put in the—"
Sherlock made a noise, as if being strangled, and began to hit his head against the wall. "STOP! What did I do to deserve this?"
Mycroft sighed and shook his head. "Must you always act like a child? Did it ever occur to you that I might be interested in your life? That maybe I'd like to speak to you outside of getting you out of trouble?"
Sherlock mumbled to himself and looked back over at his brother. He dropped his shoulders and simply nodded. "If you must know, you may ask."
"Very well. You and the Doctor? Have you two entered a relationship?"
Sherlock made a face of disgust. "Are you asking if I'm dating Watson?"
Mycroft sighed and rubbed at his temples. "No, you blithering idiot, Dr. Hooper. Have you made any strides?"
Sherlock crossed his arms and collapsed into his chair, purposely looking away from his brother. "Define making strides."
"Are you romantically involved?"
"Not quite."
"I thought you had, as so eloquently put, 'a plan'?"
"I do."
Mycroft groaned. "Which is what, exactly?"
Sherlock sat up and glared at his brother. "If you must know, my plan is simple. I'm going to make her happy. I will accept any role I can in her life, whether that is as a friend or a lover," he sighed and considered his words, before adding, "I don't deserve her. And I know that. So, can I truly push to have her return my feelings? It isn't just."
He rose to his feet and looked back at Mycroft. "Yes, it will hurt me dearly if I cannot be with her. But it would hurt me more to see her unhappy. So, at the present, as long as I can spend time with a happy Molly, then I can be in good spirits."
Mycroft grabbed his umbrella and gave Sherlock a soft smile. "Why, brother, that may be the most mature and insightful comment I've ever heard you say."
"Oh, piss off Mycroft. You mustn't carry an umbrella around with you all the time."
Mycroft nodded and went towards the door. "Oh, Sherlock, you will pay for that."
He scoffed. "Your threats are empty, dear brother."
"I wouldn't be so confident if I were you, Sherlock. I happen to know two people who are waiting patiently to see you."
Sherlock paled. "You wouldn't."
"Oh, I must certainly would."
With that, Mycroft offered his brother one final smirk before disappearing out the door, leaving Sherlock to fume.
Xxx
It had been almost a fortnight since the babysitting incident, and John had seen Sherlock sparingly since then. Finally, now stopping by, he sat in his old chair, munching away on a bag of M&Ms, flipping through the newspaper. Across from him, Sherlock studied his friend, his fingers framing his nose, his thumbs resting under his chin. John noticed the attention on him and looked away from the newspaper, giving Sherlock a curious look.
"What? Did you want some?"
Sherlock dropped his hands and sat up. "You had intercourse yesterday evening."
John coughed on the candies in his mouth, before taking a desperate sip of water. "Jesus, Sherlock, you mind?"
He shrugged. "Do I mind that you had intercourse? No. On the contrary, it appears that you're in better spirits, so I support the endeavor. Assuming you don't give me another godchild. I do like Rosie, but I can't guarantee that I would like another one of your offspring."
John narrowed his eyes. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
"So. Was this the girl you went on a date with?"
John actually blushed. "No, uh, it wasn't. Emma was wonderful but we just didn't… click."
"Then who did you have intercourse with?"
"Can you not call it that, Sherlock?"
"Fine. Who did you engage in coitus with?"
John threw a handful of candies at his friend. The two men stared at each other as the hard pieces hit the wooden floor.
"I met her…" He groaned and blushed again, "This may sound awful but… She's Rosie's pediatrician. Her name is Jane."
Sherlock picked an M&M that had landed in his lap and ate it. He looked at John. "That's a relief. Presumably she'll be better with birth control then. No additional spawn for you."
John scowled. "And no spawn for you, ever, you git."
Sherlock stroked his chin and considered the implication. "You know, recently the prospect of having a child in the future has become more… Appealing."
John nearly choked on his water. "Come again? You want a kid?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "That's not what I said. In the past, I would have never considered having offspring. But, now… I don't know. It may be a possibility in the future."
"And why is that?"
"Well, I shouldn't let my superior genetics go to waste, should I?"
John gave him a dirty look. Sherlock sighed.
"Admittedly, the prospect of Molly mothering my child seems… tempting."
John watched Sherlock, not as surprised by as his friend's words as he expected to be. He gave Sherlock a small smile. "That's actually… Sweet. I didn't know you could be sweet."
"My mummy called me Sweetie until I turned 13."
John rolled his eyes. "How are you and Molly?"
Sherlock cleared his throat and considered the question. "I am salvaging my friendship with her."
"And then?"
Sherlock smiled sadly. "I hope for the best. I cannot make someone fall in love with me, can I?"
John sighed and patted his friends shoulder. "No, Sherlock, you can't. But I've seen you do the impossible. Solve unsolvable crimes, take down a criminal mastermind, cheat death…" He smiled and squeezed Sherlock's shoulder, "but perhaps the most remarkable thing about you is that you don't know that the Earth circles the sun."
Sherlock growled and shoved John, leading to a very childish altercation with M&Ms and Rosie's discarded teething toys.
And Mycroft talks about my maturity!
Xxx
Molly glanced at her mobile once more, verifying that she wasn't receiving an onslaught of text messages from Sherlock asking about her delayed presence. That morning, completely out of the blue, Sherlock had texted her inviting her over to Baker Street for tea, later that afternoon. His context was to catch up with Mrs. Hudson, but she figured that he wanted assistance with either a case or an experiment.
While she normally would have jumped at the opportunity to not only see Sherlock, but also the friendly landlord, she already had plans for coffee with George after getting off work. But, instead of doing the intelligent thing and declining the offer, she agreed, instead running from one side of town to the other.
Coffee with George was pleasant, and yet another reminder of how amazing her boyfriend was, especially when he gifted her a beautiful pair of diamond earrings. He told her that the sparkling pair would look lovely on the night of their dinner party, and Molly certainly agreed.
And oh, the dinner party! Its planning had absolutely consumed the past two weeks, and now, its date was only a week away, leaving Molly on a mad dash to find a dress, and calm herself down. Of course, George had thrown and been to gatherings like this, and was much more attuned to hiring staff.
Caters, bartenders, waiters… What is this?
Yet, all the preparation seemed to be the easy part. Now, Molly had the task of inviting the last person on her list. Mr. Sherlock Holmes of 221b Baker Street.
She had posted everyone else's invitations a week ago, on lovely, quite fancy (and expensive) card stock, promising an evening of wonderful conversation, delicious food, and loads of fun. But Sherlock… She felt compelled to hand deliver the invitation, and to almost talk the man through it.
A part of her feared that he wouldn't go. She had specifically asked John, Greg, and even Mrs. Hudson to refrain from mentioning the event, but tonight would finally be the evening that she would breach the topic.
So, with a deep breath, she knocked on the door, holding a takeaway bag with a tiny Victoria Sponge cake for Sherlock within. It took only a moment for Sherlock to open the door and move back into the flat, his eyes on Molly as she entered.
"You're late." He put plainly, his hands on his hips, showing his irritation.
Molly rolled her eyes and slipped out of her jacket. "I had a date with George," she handed him the bag with a smile, "But consider this my apology."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow but opened the bag, displaying what appeared to be almost a smile when he discovered the cake. He put it to the side and looked at Molly.
"Thank you. That was kind of you."
Molly nodded and took a deep breath, before pulling the envelope out of her handbag. She held it out for Sherlock, nibbling on her lip.
"This is also for you."
Sherlock looked at the invitation and sat down, leaving it in her hand. He began to unpackage the cake.
"I presume that is an invitation for your dinner party."
Molly practically squeaked. "How…?"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "How any of you think that you could hide something from me is humorous. I saw the catering quotes on your desk at work. I was forced to help John find a new tux since his is now too small. I'm also aware that he had to seek out a third-party babysitter on the night of the 25th, which is clearly bizarre given how many friends he has who could watch the child."
Sherlock took a bite of the cake and continued to watch Molly. "Clearly it isn't a funeral, given the time taken in advance, and it is also not a wedding, as you're not wearing a ring. It could be a birthday party, but since both yours and George's has passed, the most likely event is a dinner party."
Molly just sighed and dropped the envelope beside him, before sitting in John's chair. She watched him, both annoyed yet amused.
"Well, you figured it out Mr. Consulting Detective. But weren't you curious why you weren't invited?"
That got him to look up. He took another bite, watching Molly carefully.
"Not particularly. I just assumed that I wasn't invited because you didn't want me there. Either because of my normal behavior at social gatherings or because of what has… transpired between us in the past."
Molly frowned and wrapped her arms around herself. She shook her head. "You're my friend, Sherlock. I want you to come."
"Do you really now?" he asked with a laugh, "because at most parties I tend to be… unbecoming."
Molly sighed and gave him a look. "That's not entirely true."
He practically smirked. "My Christmas party? John's wedding? Rosie's first birthday? Shall I continue?"
She rubbed her temples. "Okay. So, your record isn't fantastic but… This is more your speed, I reckon. Wine, classical music…"
"Perhaps, but a room full of exquisitely dressed tossers are not."
She frowned and gave him a look. "It would mean a lot to me if you'd come. George and I are really excited for all of our friends to meet."
Sherlock crossed his arms and stared forward, knowing that a fight would be futile as John would obviously make him go. Nonetheless, he could admit that he enjoyed Molly's insistence, knowing that she did in fact want him there.
Because for a while, he truly believed she didn't.
I wouldn't want me there.
He sighed and nodded. "Fine. I will give it ample consideration."
She groaned. "Sherlock! You're coming and that's final."
He cursed and rose to his feet. "We're through with this conversation. Now, please follow me into the kitchen. I need you to look at the eyeballs you gave me a week ago."
She groaned and shook her head.
I knew it. Always an ulterior motive.
But as usual, she followed him, never able to tell the man no.
Except you have.
You told him no.
But you always forget that, don't you, Molly?
Why?
