CHAPTER FOUR

Three more weeks had passed since Sherlock and Molly's last encounter, with barely a word spoken between them other than polite greetings and exchanges of schoolwork. The weather was starting to warm up and Molly enjoyed the feeling of the days getting longer, as though she was cheating time as she spent those summer evenings by the telly with her rapidly declining father. She still met Sherlock over summer half-term break as usual. On one uncomfortably hot day she had worn a floral sundress, with Sherlock in chino shorts, and neither moved as their bare knees touched for the entire afternoon they spent cross-legged on his bedroom floor in total charged silence.

It was the beginning of June, and Molly couldn't tell if she felt relief or sadness that her arrangement with Sherlock would be ending by the end of summer term in July. Her head had been all over the place lately, battling with unreciprocated feelings that she thought had been left behind in her childhood, her dad spending nights in the hospital almost once a week now, and the stress of sixth form were proving almost too much to cope on her own. She often found herself dazed and struggling to concentrate, tugging on the roots of her hair to stay alert during class or being hyper-aware of the itchiness and heat of her tartan school skirt.

She felt the full force of a teenage boy smack into her from behind, knocking the breath from her lungs and her schoolbooks to the floor, completely unaware how long she had even been standing in the hallway for.

'S…Sorry,' she managed to stammer as she bent down to clean up the mess, cursing herself for her own lack of awareness.

'Flat chested bitch!'

The blood rushed to Molly's cheeks as the boy and his group of meathead friends howled with laughter and she contemplated yelling back to them, but they were 6ft tall athletes and nothing that came to her mind would have been even remotely threatening. She turned her attention back down to her belongings spread out on the floor, but not before catching the eye of the one person she absolutely did not want to see right now.

No. Not you. Anyone but you and please for the love of God tell me you didn't hear that.

She met Sherlock's gaze, icy blue and calculated. He was walking her way, and Molly instinctively broke eye contact, sparing herself from any more humiliation today. To her surprise, he knelt beside her and placed a calming hand over hers like he'd done the day he kissed her on the cheek. The two sat like that for barely a few seconds but to Molly it felt like minutes, blissfully close and taking in each other's beauty. The hallways were starting to fill with students traveling to their next classes, and the laughs and whispers from their peers seemed to pierce her ears like sirens.

Sherlock stood first, offering out his hand to help her up. He was surprisingly strong, and his grip had caused her to lose her footing, pulling her flush against his chest, close enough that he could smell the sweetness of her shampoo as she looked up to him. It would only take one tiny movement for Sherlock to rest his chin on the top her head they were so close, hands still clasped together as they could feel the other's breath softly on their cheeks. Sherlock pulled away first, a look of horror flashing briefly across his face as he stormed away from her, his hands clenched into tight fists by his side that caused his knuckles to turn white.

Molly was pulled quickly and painfully back to reality, hating the attention from the hordes of students snickering around her. Fantastic, she thought to herself, just what I needed today.

As if she were her guardian angel, Mary appeared from around the corner, breaking free from her pack of friends as she saw Molly in the centre of what appeared to be a group of popular girls and their boyfriends teasing her.

'Molly!' She called out, linking her arm with hers and marching her down the hall. 'Walk me to my next class, will you?' She instead made a beeline for the girls' toilets and practically shoved Molly inside. 'What the hell was that? Do I need to smack someone? Because I absolutely will, make no mistake about that, I don't care if it's a girl or one of the rugby players. Was it one of the lads? Because if it was anyone John hangs out with tell me right now and I'll set them straight-'

Molly held up her hand to cut off Mary's rant, but she couldn't help but smile at the act of solidarity. 'I'm fine, I promise. Just some idiot – not one of John's friends – I was in the way, they were walking behind me, smacked into me and my books fell to the floor. Called me a "flat chested bitch" of all insults,' Molly explained, rolling her eyes at the last part.

'Dickhead. Was that all that happened?' Mary prodded, sensing there was something Molly wasn't telling her.

'Yes,' Molly answered, a little too quickly.

Two girls from fourth form attempted to enter the loo, and Mary swiftly moved to block their entry. 'No, move, sorry, come back later!' she passive aggressively smiled and waved them goodbye, locking the door behind them. She turned promptly back to Molly, cocking her eyebrow and folding her arms across her chest. 'Liar. What happened?'

Molly took a deep breath, realising she was unsure whether Mary even knew about her weekend study sessions with Sherlock. Had he told John? If John knew, was he more loyal to Sherlock to keep it a secret or did he have the type of relationship with Mary where they told each other everything?

'Was it Sherlock?' Mary asked, as if reading her mind. 'John told me you two had been spending some time together. I asked Sherlock about it and he went all red in the face and told me I had lip gloss on my teeth, so I think that means he's a little bit in love with you.'

Now it was Molly's turn to go red in the face.

'No, that's not, no…we…' Molly spluttered, taking a moment to regain composure. 'There's nothing going on, trust me, he made it very clear he was not interested. He just…stopped to help me with my books. That's all.'

'Oh, guess chivalry isn't dead then.'

'We keep having these…moments. Or at least, I think they're moments, and then he goes completely weird and either ignores me and acts like nothing happened or acts like he thinks I'm disgusting.'

'Yeah sorry I'm going to need you to define those "moments", this is the best goss I've heard in ages.'

Mary was grinning from ear to ear, and Molly simultaneously wanted to hide and spill her guts out about everything she'd been longing to tell someone since she was 11. She had no older sibling to coach her through the joys of being a teenager, and if her and her mother had ever had the kind of relationship where they talked about boys, there was no time for anything like that now. She might have had that relationship with her father, in another life where she wasn't constantly wondering which conversation would be their last. Friends were few and far between, if she found someone she liked they quickly jumped ship when they realised Molly's social standing in the school. Mary had always been lovely, but she was also genuinely popular and spread her time across many different groups, and this was the longest conversation the two had had in years.

She took a breath, ready to explain her side of the story.

'We've been spending our Saturdays together for weeks because I've been tutoring him. Obviously he doesn't need it, he was only failing because he's a little shit and not going to class because it was too easy, but I need to sign off on his work until the end of term. And at first it was just that but then…I don't know! He met my dad and then he got all sentimental and kissed me on the cheek and it felt like maybe it would have become something more but we were interrupted. Then later that same night I was convinced he was going to ask me out but he told me he didn't even want to be friends, then we spent a whole day with our knees touching and it felt weirdly… intimate? Then he ignores me at school most days, but just now he helped me and our faces got really close together and then he just stormed off without saying anything like he remembered he hated me or something!'

She paused for breath, realising Mary was standing with her mouth open, completely stunned by the story. 'Oh God, I'm sorry, this is so silly. I don't know why I'm acting like we're dating or anything when all he's done is ignore me and tell me he's not interested. It's stupid.'

'No! It's not stupid, Molly, I promise. I know to any normal human being with a beating heart and a basic knowledge of social cues it would seem like he's totally uninterested, but this is Sherlock we're talking about. John tries to hug him sometimes as a joke and they end up almost in a brawl because he hates being touched so much. Honestly, I know he's being a bit of a twat, but I think he's just…confused? I don't know if he's ever had real feelings for someone before. It sounds like he cares about you, and he doesn't want to mess that up so he's pushing you away. But I think he'll open up if you just give it time.'

'You sound like his mum.'

'Oh my GOD you've met his mum?! Jesus Christ, get married already!'

The girls shared a laugh together, and Mary pulled Molly in for a much needed hug, smoothing down her hair and turning her by the shoulders to face the mirror.

'Right, well, first order of business,' Mary started, now completely pragmatic. 'Let's backtrack a little here. You're not flat chested, or a bitch, you're hot and you're one of the few girls in our year that I would trust to not shave my eyebrows off in my sleep. You are a goddess and you're going to go over there tonight looking amazing and tell him how you feel. And if he's actually that stupid to turn you down then I will personally cut up his favourite coat.'

'Oh no, not the coat, I love the coat.'

'Of course you do.'

Molly smiled at her reflection, filled with a sudden sense of confidence following this much-needed girl talk. I guess we're doing this.