Chapter Three
He hadn't seen her since. Hadn't been near her. Had gone to the lab at unsociable hours, when he knew she wouldn't be there. He was ashamed. He couldn't take back what he'd done but he regretted it, it had been a moment of madness, an inexplicable impulse and now he felt confused, embarrassed and WRONG. If he could never have seen her again he would have consented. He felt so unlike himself that it was driving him crazy.
Molly felt desperately sad, desperately and overwhelmingly sad, as if her whole world was crashing in and she couldn't stop it. The tumult of emotions racing through her brain on a daily basis was deafening. Nothing mattered to her, her work was suffering because she couldn't concentrate on anything but him. His face was in front of her wherever she turned, she saw him everywhere and she felt him until she wanted to weep with longing.
It was winter, but it was a beautiful winter. The air was crisp and ice cold but the sun was brilliant, London shone in it. Molly breathed in the cool air and for the first time in six months she felt calm. For the first time she didn't want to scream at the happy multitudes of bodies around her, scream at the injustice of the world, that while they were allowed relationships, marriages, children and happiness, she was forced to cry herself to sleep and see nothing before her but a bleak and lonely future. Today was different. Today she had woken up and decided that she was no longer going to be a slave to Sherlock Holmes, she was not going to be another whim, that she deserved as much happiness as any of these people and she was going to have it.
Sherlock stared out into the brilliant sunshine and groaned. He hated beautiful weather, it made people behave strangely. They smiled more and became…positive. They ignored the realities of their miserable lives and made believe they were happy. Simply because the sun was out. Pathetic. Molly had ceased to be a problem, he had resolved that she would no longer cause him embarrassment. She was merely a whim, a fleeting obsession that had been spent and had passed. He was Sherlock Holmes for God's sake! He would not be reduced to sobbing like a normal human over a woman. Especially not a woman such as Molly Hooper. No, he needed to work during the daytime, he needed the lab, which meant seeing her. He would have to see her. He shrugged. And so see her he would, she hadn't contacted him so he assumed she was over the whole sordid affair. As was he. In a flourish, he leapt from his chair and grabbed his coat. Today was the day. Today he would put the Molly Hooper debacle behind him…