CHAPTER THREE

Molly sat casually at the Holmes's breakfast bar, her feet dangling off the edge of the chair as she dunked her ginger nut biscuit into the tea Mrs Holmes had made for her.
Sherlock had run away from his mother to the "bathroom" (which Molly suspected was code for hiding in embarrassment from one's parents) and hadn't been seen for twenty minutes, and Molly was finding that Mrs Holmes was surprisingly good company. The kitchen was a part of the house Molly had yet to see, as Sherlock lacked the social graces to ever offer her a full tour of the house.

'He's quite chatty with you', she observed casually, placing the milk back in the fridge.

Molly swallowed hard, wondering how much of the conversation had been seen and heard.

'Really? I feel like he doesn't say much. Not just to me, I suppose, he's always been a little reserved. From what I know of him. Not that I know him well, just as children, I mean.'

Mrs Holmes waved her hand as If to dismiss Molly's concern. 'He is. But I think he's always liked you. He used to come home from school when he was little and talk about how all the other kids were stupid except for you. You've grown so much since the last time I saw you! Sherly doesn't like us coming to school events anymore so we barely get to see any of his classmates'.

Molly blushed, both at this piece of news that Sherlock did in fact know she existed before the dreaded Molly Holmes Notebook Incident, and at the nickname his mother gave him. She diverted her attention to a photo of John and Sherlock framed on the kitchen counter, John beaming with a rugby trophy and Sherlock standing proudly beside him while refusing to smile for the camera. 'Those two must be quite chatty', Molly remarked, begging to change the subject away from herself.

Mrs Holmes nodded. 'John saved him,' she said with complete sincerity. 'It sounds silly to say, but truly I don't know where he'd be without him. I'm sure people think they're an odd pair, and I suppose they are, but they're just so good for each other.'

Molly leaned forward subconsciously, eager to hear more about the friendship she could never quite understand.

'Sherlock didn't really have any friends at all, but I don't think it really bothered him until he was 13 or 14. You know that age, puberty hormones are kicking in and suddenly everything feels terrible, and kids just get mean. I think it's the first time he really felt bothered by being alone but he wouldn't admit it. No one made an effort with him. He's not a bad kid but he's always struggled to connect with people, I think he just gets overwhelmed at the thought of people not caring for him in return so he pretends he doesn't care at all. Anyway one day this P.E teacher had enough of him telling him that his wife was cheating on him or something and forced him to join in. Every boy he'd ever pissed off was on the field and they were physically stronger than him, just pushing him down repeatedly until he didn't even bother getting back up. Then John appeared, got down on the ground with him so they were both equally covered in mud, helped him up and told all the boys that if they had a problem with Sherlock Holmes, they'd have to go through him first, and that that was his friend.'

Molly looked up to Mrs Holmes, now gazing out the kitchen window, deep in thought and emotionally touched by the memory. 'He likes saving people, John, and the boys they all listen to him and respect him. And he's true to his word, that boy. Never misses a birthday, is always round here playing whatever insane game Sherlock has come up with, and checks on him at school all the time. Sherlock might avoid them because he can't stand other people half the time but he knows he always has a place at their table.' Mrs Holmes laughed to herself in an attempt to lighten the mood, realising she had probably been speaking for slightly too long. 'Lovely girlfriend he has too, that Mary, sometimes I get the feeling she'd be even better in a fight than John!'

Molly reached out across the kitchen counter and placed a comforting hand on top of Mrs Holmes. It was a bold move for a shy girl like Molly, with a woman she had only just met, but she understood all too well recently how badly sometimes people needed to let things off their chest, and how easy it was to feel embarrassed by your own emotions. 'Thank you for telling me', she said with a small but genuine smile, reciprocated by Mrs Holmes. 'I'm glad Sherlock has someone he can open up to'. There was an unpleasant stirring feeling in the pit of Molly's stomach. Not jealousy, she refused to accept that, that would be completely silly to feel jealous towards the platonic friendship of a boy she hardly knew and only interacted with once a week in a forced academic arrangement.

'Don't sell yourself short sweetheart', said Mrs Holmes. 'If he didn't want you to be here, you wouldn't. John sees through him, knows he has a heart under all that arrogance but Sherlock still won't admit it to him. I get the feeling he might feel safe to admit it to you, though. That's a special thing, for people to know they can trust you. Don't take that for granted'.

'Right, Mother, that's quite enough, don't you think?' Sherlock appeared from around the corner, pulling his coat on over his clothes, now changed out of his uniform and dressed in smart casual attire. Molly instinctively stood and gathered her things, sensing this was their cue to leave together and tried to hide the obvious shiver that run up her spine as Sherlock placed his hand on the small of her back, giving her a firm push towards the door.

'And where do you think you're going?'

'Taking Molly to the bus stop, it's getting late and she really needs to be getting home.'

Molly stumbled out the front door, twisting to wave goodbye to Mrs Holmes. 'Thank you for having me!' She managed to call out before Sherlock closed the door behind them. They walked in silence for a moment, Sherlock keeping a very maintained distance of 3 feet between them, his hands shoved in the pockets of his coat and avoiding eye contact with his study partner. 'Your mum is so…', said Molly, breaking the silence between them.

'Annoying? Invasive? Simple?'

'Normal! I was expecting a world famous mathematician or something'.

'She is. Unfortunately it has not made her immune to being an insufferable maternal beast sometimes.' Sherlock was engaging as minimally as possible with her, pulling out his phone and texting as he spoke.

She frowned to herself, he seemed to switch so seamlessly between the Sherlock who was happy to get close to her and talk about her dad and this Sherlock, stroppy and standing so far from her as if she was diseased. She let it go, sensing she had struck a nerve she wasn't aware of. 'So where are we really going?' She teased, 'Can I at least change as well?

'The bus stop.'

Molly's heart sank.

'Oh. I thought…you're dressed, is all.'

'I'm going out. You're going home.'

Molly opened her mouth to speak again, and Sherlock made eye contact with her for the first time since they had left the house as if he had been able to read her mind. 'My mother both overestimates and underestimates me. I suppose she's correct that John and I are what most people would consider "friends", but the truth is I have no need for that type of sentimental attachment. One is more than enough. All it does is slow me down and in the end all that emotion' he said, spitting the word out with contempt, 'well it's no good for anyone, is it?' Sherlock stopped walking, gesturing to the bus stop which Molly hadn't even realised they had reached. 'In any case, you and I are both aware this arrangement is unnecessary. The idea that I would need a tutor is laughable but I understand your unwillingness to lie to a teacher so we can keep doing this until you've signed off on them at the end of term. Strictly an educational pursuit.' He was no longer looking at her, more interested again by whatever was going on on his phone.

Molly was too stunned to speak. She felt stupid. Hurt. Unwanted. How had she gone from believing that his moment of tenderness and change of clothes meant that she was being taken on a surprise date to being friend zoned? Worse, friend zoned before she'd even made a move. Even worse, she thought, I wasn't even friend zoned. I was I-don't-have-friends-because-I'm-Sherlock-Holmes-and-I-don't-believe-in-human-connection-so-please-don't-even-bother-speaking-to-me-zoned. Was he really so repulsed by her?

She nodded, over-eager to appear unfazed by his rejection. 'Of course! Completely, yes, strictly professional.' Her voice came out squeakier than usual, and she was embarrassed by her own lack of conviction. No wonder he doesn't like you, she thought to herself. She silently thanked every god from every religion as her bus approached in an offer of sweet escape, stepping on so quickly she tripped in front of the driver. She couldn't bear to wave goodbye or to sneak a glance at him through the window, and she told herself it was simply her eyes stinging from the cold as tears streamed down her cheeks on the way home, trying not to think about wherever it was Sherlock Holmes was going tonight without her.