Chapter 7

"Are you serious?" she asked him sharply. Sherlock's brows rose, then lowered in a frown, "Dead serious. What am I supposed to think? You just pack up and go away for a whole week end with a man no one knows anything about…The most obvious deduction is that you have a romantic interest in him".

The look she shot him was full of disbelief. Who did he think she was? Someone capable of turning their feelings on and off on command, as they were a switch? Weren't her failed attempts to move on, persuaded she got over him, proof enough she would only ever love him?

Molly felt hurt. Did he really know her so little? It was possible that he alone didn't realize that no one, no one could take Sherlock Holmes' place in Molly Hooper's heart and mind. Even a little girl like their goddaughter knew this.

"I'm in love with you, you stupid idiot! And, God help me, I always will be" was the answer that came naturally to her lips but the words died in her throat. Oh no, she wasn't about to admit her love for him out loud, not again.

"If that's your deduction, then you're starting to falter, my dear Consulting Detective. Not that your past deductions about my love life were spot on, by the way" she couldn't help but point out with a weary sigh as she turned away from him.

She didn't want have this conversation with Sherlock, here or now. Water's drops slid from her wet hair along her face and her clothes were so clung to her body they felt like a second skin. If it hadn't been winter but summer clothes, she would have been practically naked in front of him at that moment. So all she needed was to lock herself in her room and take a hot, relaxing shower.

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and made a snort "Fair enough" he said grasping quickly what Molly was referring to. His hasty and unsuccessful deductions about her alleged lover during that dreadful Christmas in Baker Street, but also to Jim from IT and that dorky Tom/Meat Dagger. "Enlighten me, then".

When she didn't turn around, Sherlock panicked. He couldn't let her go without first knowing the truth about how she felt about this man. His whole future depended on her answer.

"We're not done, Molly" she gasped as he moved lightning-quick, reaching out to grasp her by the wrist and turn her to him, "Is there something between you and Edwin Jones? It's not difficult to answer. Either is yes or it is no. Why are you being so stubborn about not telling me?".

Molly, who had given a strong tug to free herself from his grip, went utterly still when she met his eyes. They were darkening, with irritation surely, but there was something else…pain, sorrow, dread. Or that's what her heart thought it saw.

"Because there's not much to say, Sherlock. I'm not in love with him. I've known him for a short time, about three weeks. We spoke mostly on Face time.". Sherlock breathed a sigh of relief he hadn't realized he was holding as he finally released her wrist. Thank God! There was nothing to worry about, then. Not at all. He could relax. Talk to her. Tell her everything he should have told her a long time before.

It was Sherlock's heart speaking. But then that small logical part of his brain kicked in, whispering to him that, closely considered, something was not quite right. That she wasn't in love with him still didn't explain why she went to him in Scotland. What was really going on?

His heart tried to silence his brain. His brain tried to silence his heart. But in the end, that silent war was won by his jealousy. His mind concocted images of Molly and a faceless man passionately entangled with each other. And words just came out of him, "So why did you rush over to him? Is it just a sex thing?".

Molly's eyes shot darts at him. Now she had enough! How dare he? And what was that? A jealousy act? If that where the case, she would have even been flattered by his overreaction, but Sherlock seemed more annoyed that she might have fallen in love with a man he hadn't had a chance to deduce, than she, generally speaking, had fallen in love with someone.

Her back straightened and her chin lifted staring defiantly at him. She was sick and tired of his inquiring questions. All the pile-up frustration and unhappiness of the last few weeks took hold of her. "First, I didn't rush over to him. Second, it isn't a sex thing, but even if it was, you have no right to ask me such personal questions! We're friends, just friends" at every statement she poked his chest.

Both remained silent for a few moments, holding each other's gaze. Molly, acutely aware her heart was pounding and being out of breath. Sherlock, strongly upset by her harsh but truthful words. She was right. He was nobody to question her. Nonetheless, he went straight on asking "Why, then?".

"Oh, dear God! You really are a dog with a bone!" Molly rolled her eyes in frustration as she shivered and hugged her arms to herself. "Okay, I'll tell you" she whispered with a sigh. She gazed at him, her expression uncomfortable. That wasn't how she wanted to tell him about Edwin and the job opportunity in Scotland. But he wasn't giving her a choice, was he?

Molly took a deep, steadying breath before speaking again. Her voice just a broken whisper as she rattled off the clarification Sherlock was so eager to know, "Edwin is Stamford's best man's son. He…he offered me a position on behalf of the Edinburgh University Medical School". "You already have a job" Sherlock interrupted bluntly.

Molly bit her lip and looked down at her clad-woollen-socks feet. This was the hardest part to deal with. How could she make him understand the need she had for a change of scenery without revealing that he was the cause of that need?

"Yeah, I know. But…" she sucked in a breath closing her eyes, "I…Lately I feel like I'm running in circles and never getting anywhere. It's the same as when they bring you a new case. You always hope it's an 8, or better a 10, don't you? Because it would be a challenge, you would feel adrenaline pumping through your veins…It would be something that makes you feel alive".

She paused for a moment, her hands in the pockets of her overalls, waiting for Sherlock to say something. But he just stood there with an inscrutable frown, "I went to take a look around, to see if I could fit in".

He blinked several times then opened his mouth as if he was going to speak and closed it again. Another blink. Out of the blue his eyes widened in a perfect expression of fully understanding. The penny had dropped.

"You will leave" he growled. His voice a bundle of astonishment, disbelief and regret. "Actually, I haven't made a final decision yet" she hastened to point out in her own defence, "But there's high chance you'll accept" he stated, his voice laced with detachment.

"Sherlock…I'm really sorry I let it out like that. It was not my intention…".

"Oh, and what was your intention?" he interrupted her, staring intently into her brown eyes, "Sneak out and tell me on the phone you moved?".

"You're being unfair, now!" she dissented vibrantly, her eyes never leaving his. Sherlock let out a short sardonic laugh, "Am I the unfair one? That just takes the biscuits!" was all he replied before heading for his bedroom.

"Sherlock…" she said his name like a prayer, reaching out for his arm but he was faster than her and disappeared into his room closing the door loudly behind him. "Sherlock, please…don't be childish!", Molly said rather loudly, knocking vigorously and insistently on his door, "Open me up! Let's talk about it!".

After a few minutes of waiting leaning against the wall beside his door, it was clear to Molly that the only thing left for her to do was wait for Sherlock to cool off. So she went into her room, stripped off her wet clothes and crawled into the shower, hoping for relief under hot water.

–––

Sherlock stormed into his room, frantically looking for something he could punch to. He needed to vent the whirlwind of emotions that Molly's bombshell had stirred inside him. He heard Molly knocking on the door. She was begging him to act like an adult, to open up and talk to her. But Sherlock had no desire to act as a reasonable grown man.

On the contrary, he felt more than ever like a kid grappling with his first romantic turmoil. A kid whose beloved had just told him she was going to a university miles away from him, which is why he had seen his world crumbling around him. He felt as if Molly had stabbed him in the chest. He was annoyed, hurt, furious.

His hands were shaking and he felt his stomach twist whenever he heard her words repeating themselves in his mind, "I went to see if I could fit in". Sherlock wanted to scream in her face that the only places she fit in were London, Bart's, 221b Baker Street, his bed and his arms. No Edinburgh, no medical school, no Edwin Jones.

Why? Why did she make that decision? What had happened to make her look not only for a new job, but one that was also far from London, far from…him?

"That's the entire point, mate! She is walking away from you!" an irritating voice, which sounded like John's scolding one, rumbled in his mind. Sherlock huffed as he entered the bathroom turning on the tap and let the water run into the tub. Maybe a calming bath would help him both drive his best friend's voice out of his head and cool off.

"What are you going to do? Do you let her go like this?", there he is again! Sherlock flicked his eyes to the mirror over the sink, "Please, just shut up, John!" he snapped taking a deep breath trying to steady himself. He looked at his reflection for a long time.

His heartbeats slowly slowed back to normal, his hands stopped shaking and his stomach to writhe. Even his mind had cleared, the water flowing into the tub had acted as a soothing.

Sherlock had made a decision. Now he knew exactly what to do. He turned off the water and left his room.

–––

Molly was just finishing washing her hair, her hands using the water to rinse out what little shampoo was left. If the stream of warmth water had been a cure-all for her chilled body, it hadn't been the same for her mind. Her thoughts kept returning to Sherlock, to the disappointment and anger she'd seen in his eyes. And she couldn't stop wondering how she could fix it.

She sighed, trying to suppress her distress as she let the water run over her face before grasping the body wash. She was just squeezing some in her hand, when she heard a noise. She turned and was taken aback to see the door to the bathroom opening.

Molly was even more surprised to see Sherlock made his way in, bare chested, and intent on taking off his trousers and underwear. She swallowed heavily as her eyes lingered over his gorgeous, semi-naked body, "W-what are you doing?" she managed to stammer, instinctively pressing an arm against her breasts and a hand against her crotch.

By the time their eyes met he was completely naked and was opening the shower door. She stepped back in the small cubicle, "Sherlock!" she scolded him as he, with a flirtatious smirk, entered. "Sherlock, what…" whatever she meant, he cut her off "Fuck! I swear I won't let you go, not this time, Molly Hooper".

That said he pressed his very naked body against hers and took her head in his hands and kissed her.