Molly normally ate her lunch in the library, partially because it was extra time to study and partially because it seemed less pathetic than being seen eating alone in the courtyard. However, the weather was beautiful and she had been looking extra pale lately, so today she approached the students area with her lunch and a book in hand, wired headphones safely in her ears to avoid the chance of having to communicate with her peers.

She stopped in her tracks as she saw Sherlock ahead of her, donning black Ray-Bans and completely oblivious to her presence as he lay atop a table and gazed at the sky. Her palms began to sweat as she was struck with the memory from the night before, of his hands in her hair and his lips on hers, reminding herself that it wasn't a dream. She pulled herself together, sneaking past him and tucking into a corner table where she could read and eat in peace without having to face her very-much unrequited crush.

'Sherlock? Sherlock!'

John's voice pierced through the dull ringing in Sherlock's ears, causing him to groan in annoyance.

'What do you want? I'm asleep,' he grumbled.

'It's the middle of the school day and you're lying on a table in the middle of the courtyard,' John whispered firmly, trying not to attract any more attention.

Sherlock half opened his eyes, gratefully hidden behind dark sunglasses, and immediately recoiled at the sunlight as Mary approached the pair.

'Big night then, Sherlock?'

John did a double take, realising he had failed to deduce the obvious.

'What? Sherlock are you high?'

Well and truly disturbed from his slumber, he groaned and dramatically pulled off his glasses in an attempt to adjust his eyes to the light.

'No. Not anymore. Someone's killing my buzz,' he seethed at John accusingly.

Molly was really not intending to eavesdrop. She knew it was wrong, it just so happened that she didn't like her music too loud in case she missed the bell and they were close enough that she could hear. If she was only catching glimpses of their conversation and not actively trying to listen then it wasn't really eavesdropping, she decided.

High? She pondered to herself.

Molly didn't quite know how to feel about that piece of information. She was already slightly scandalised that he was smoking, at home of all places, let alone getting high on a school night.

But he was perfectly fine last night?

Molly was no expert on drugs; however, she was top of her class in biology and chemistry. She knew all the signs of a human body affected by drugs and alcohol, and she could say with almost complete certainty that he was sober during their kiss. It was a small relief to know he was at least of sound mind at the time, but she didn't know what to make of the fact that he had then decided he immediately needed to either calm down or perk himself up, depending on what he had taken.

'Sooooo how did it go?' Mary inquired, tucking into her lunch and wiggling her eyebrows at him with obvious innuendo. 'Didn't think Molly was the party type but looks like you too had quite the eventful evening.'

Molly took back everything she had previously decided about the ethics of eavesdropping when she heard her name, pausing her music to listen further. Her heart began to pound, her body becoming instantly clammy with anxiety as she anticipated his response.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at Mary. 'Of course, I should have known you were to blame for this. John, can you please attempt to control your meddlesome woman?'

Mary chuckled to herself and gave him a playful whack across the arm, knowing he was being intentionally sexist to tick her off.

'Sorry, am I missing something here?' John interrupted, his head turning between the two of them like a tennis match.

'Yes, but what's new?'

'Our good friend Sherlock is harbouring feelings for one miss Molly Hooper,' Mary explained. 'She went to his house last night and I need to know immediately if the hot science nerds professed their undying love for each other and made out while listening to the Periodic Table Song.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes as John nodded intently, pursing his lips as he processed this new development. He knew the two had been studying together, and that he had snapped at Mary when she asked about her, but he had never even considered the possibility of his friend having feelings for Molly Hooper.

The entire time they had known each other, Sherlock was adamant that he thought romance to be dull and "not his thing". He had a one-night fling with Irene Adler from upper-fifth at a party John had dragged him to while Sherlock was embarrassingly inebriated, resulting in the promise that he would take her to the upcoming school formal John and Mary had insisted he attend. If he was ever going to change his mind on love, John had figured Irene was just his type. She was fiery, strikingly beautiful and whip-smart, almost an intellectual match for his friend.

Molly, while also extremely intelligent, was a quiet achiever. She was mousy, awkward, and had a heart the size of England.

'Right, well, how'd it go then mate?' John asked encouragingly, his initial shock being overtaken by a need to show his unconditional support.

'It didn't. Don't be ridiculous. I told her I wasn't interested,' Sherlock asserted, conveniently leaving out the part about the kiss he was trying so desperately to not think about.

'What is wrong with you?' Mary exclaimed, flinging a piece of her sandwich at him that bounced comically off his cheek. 'Now I look like a twat because I told her she should go for it!'

'Why would you do that?'

'Because she likes you, you idiot! She's smart, she's kind, she's pretty, and I know you like her too.'

Sherlock's gaze hardened at the accusation, prompting John to mutter a tired "here we go" to himself in quiet annoyance.

'Molly and I are not friends,' he hissed. 'And certainly nothing more than that. Under no circumstance am I currently, nor would I ever be, romantically interested in Molly Hooper.'

Molly's breath caught in her throat as she overheard the words escape his mouth. It was exactly what she'd expected to be true, and despite wishing for him to be honest with her she hadn't expected it to hurt so much to hear the words out loud, especially said with such vitriol. Her top lip quivered as she felt her eyes glass over, blinking the tears away before they could spill over onto her cheek. She picked up her books as quickly as possible and made a beeline for the library, striding straight past Sherlock, John and Mary. There was a small, perhaps childish, part of her that wanted him to know she was upset at what she'd overheard him say so carelessly in public.

The trio watched on in remorse as Molly passed them.

'Not good?' Sherlock turned to John, feigning naivety. He knew it wasn't.

'Bit not good, yeah.'

John may have missed it, but Mary caught the look of regret across Sherlock's face. He stood to follow her, but Mary reached her arm across his chest to stop him.

'Leave her,' she cautioned. 'She'll be embarrassed enough as it is.'

Despite Mary's warning, Sherlock felt a protective pull towards his study partner and couldn't help the need to at least check she was alright. He had already decided the rest of the school day was a write-off and he had her schedule stored away in the back of his mind, collected from assorted conversations of her babbling about her week at school. After lunch she had Further Mathematics, followed by English Literature. He maintained a respectable distance so as to not draw attention to himself, skulking behind lockers and outside classroom windows just to see how she was faring.

Despite knowing he had genuinely hurt her, he was pleasantly surprised to see she was in mostly fine spirits for the remainder of the day. If anything, she seemed perhaps slightly tired and irritable, but not visibly upset to his relief. It was one of the things he admired about Molly, she was sensible and cared for her work deeply, and like himself she was able to compartmentalise her emotions to press on with more important matters.

He had decided shortly before the end of final period that he was suitably satisfied with her mental state, sneaking off to hide behind a bronze statue of the school founder where he would be able to see her leave from her normal exit. Just one final task for the day, he decided, to make sure she got home safe. Nothing more than collecting evidence for a case, the case being Molly Hooper and her happiness. He sat impatiently as he watched his fellow classmates file out, approximating Molly's exit to be about 15-60 seconds based on her usual habits and walking times. He felt a small but firm hand tap him on the shoulder. It was Molly, looking utterly perplexed and moderately annoyed.

'Why are you following me?'

'I'm not following you,' he sputtered.

'Really? Because it feels like you've been following me all afternoon.'
Molly watched on as Sherlock's eyes followed the students passing by, daring him to continue their conversation publicly.
'What? Are you not embarrassed to be seen with me anymore?'

'I never said I was embarrassed to be seen with you,' he insisted, furrowing his brow with confusion.

'You didn't have to.'

She didn't say it with malice. Quite the opposite, in fact, she said it with genuine care and pity. Not just for herself but for him, for being so preoccupied with the perceptions of others and not even being able to admit it to himself.

He had no response. It wasn't true, that he was embarrassed to be seen with her. Everything Mary said about Molly was correct, and if anything, she should be embarrassed to be seen with him. He was regarded as a freak and Molly didn't deserve that, it was his responsibility to steer her away from any course of action that would have the two of them associated to protect her from any insults that would now be shared between the two of them.

'Goodbye, Sherlock,' she said with a half-smile.

'Will I see you on Saturday?' Sherlock managed to ask with a gentle earnestness.

Molly took a deep breath. If she was the sort of person who could cut off contact with someone she cared about to spare her dignity she would say no. But as much as she hated to admit, she was hopelessly enamoured with Sherlock Holmes and she had made a commitment to him.

'Of course,' she said, nodding him a polite farewell before starting on her way home.

'Sherlock!' A young woman's voice called out from behind him, breaking him from his trance as he watched Molly walk away. It was Mary, freeing herself from John's hand as he stayed behind to say goodbye to his rugby mates.

'John thinks I may have overstepped the mark with Molly,' she said gently, taking a seat next to him on the statue.

'Did he now? And what did you say in return?'

'Told him to sod off and that you needed a bit of a kick up the bum sometimes. Then he agreed.'

The two shared a small laugh before Sherlock regained composure, glancing solemnly at Mary and bestowing himself with a sense of detached stoicism.

'I can't be her friend, Mary. You know I can't. I don't do friends. I have John, and that's it. It's just not…in my nature.'

Mary searched the expression on his face, staring wistfully out into the direction his Molly had disappeared to, before laughing to herself in disbelief.

'Sherlock, we're friends.'

He turned to her, his eyes a combination of affection and bewilderment.

'Are we?'

'Course we are,' she said with a smile. It was a rare moment of warm frankness between them, usually playfully stirring each other up or allowing John to lead the conversation between the three of them.

'If John and I broke up, I would still care about you and want to know what you're up to. Now, forgive me if I'm wrong, but I think I would be correct in saying you care about my wellbeing too and would try to help if something was wrong. I also think it's safe to say you feel that way about Molly.' She paused before adding quietly on the end, 'Maybe a little bit more…'

Mary stood to make her way back to John, leaving Sherlock with one parting piece of advice. 'Look, I won't push it if you're not ready to talk about it, but if you like Molly you should give it a go. No one is saying you need to get married tomorrow but I promise you nothing bad will happen if you just try.'

Sherlock nodded in wary agreement, his heart still guarded from being told how horrendous he was as a companion since the age he reached the ability of cognisant thought. He didn't tell Mary about the kiss or confirm whether her suspicions towards his feelings were correct. He wasn't ready for the implications of other people knowing how he felt and opening the two of them up for criticism in that way, but he had a greater sense of clarity of how he felt towards Molly. Perhaps, he thought to himself, it could just be our little secret.