A few weeks had passed. And during that period, Sherlock had managed to keep his meetings with both Molly and John short and sweet.

Well, not sweet. The opposite of sweet.

Molly had only seen him a few times, and she knew his visits were strictly because his cases required her assistance. She would lift her head at the sound of the lab doors being shoved open, and before she'd choke out a hello, a literal list of demands would fall on her desk. He would be gone before she blinked.

And that's how they had communicated since her 'relationship' with John began. Even though John declared that everything was working perfectly, Molly wasn't so sure. She wasn't convinced that Sherlock had feelings for her. For all she knew, it was John that had him upset.

Maybe he didn't think Molly was good enough for his best mate. That John deserved more.

She sighed and continued her autopsy. It wasn't worth contemplating her fucked up romantic situation while determining the cause of death on a 42-year-old murder victim. Especially when Sherlock would return in a few hours, grab the results silently, and storm back out. She had never encountered a silent Sherlock. It hurt—

Her thoughts halted as Sherlock stormed back inside, the doors swinging behind him. Molly looked at the body and swallowed, officially realizing that she had been moving far too slowly for Sherlock's liking. She took a deep breath and focused on the man that still took her breath away.

"Sherlock—"

The coldness of his blue eyes sent shivers down her spine.

"I've given you four hours to complete the simplest of autopsies. If I had the facilities I could have conducted it myself," He stormed further into the lab, his hands clutching his leather gloves tightly, "Tell me. Are you so enamored with your newfound relationship that you are now incapable of doing your job?"

Molly blinked and narrowed her eyes.

Who does he think he is?

"Sherlock, has it ever occurred to you that I have other work to do? That I can't always stop what I'm doing to tend to your—"

He scowled. "Don't mind me. I'm sure if John had accompanied me, you would have had the body examined three bloody hours ago!"

She crossed her arms. "Oh? Would I have? And where is John, by the way? Why isn't he assisting you?"

"I don't need John's assistance. I'm perfectly capable of solving the case on my own."

Molly frowned. "That shouldn't be why you keep—"

"Enough." His words were harsh and cut through her nerves like a knife, "I did not come here to hear about John."

"He's your best mate," Molly shot back, a pleading look in her eyes, "Why are you acting so—"

He took a step closer, his eyes wild. "My best friend? No, as of right now, John is quite the opposite."

She hugged herself and studied his face. "Then what am I, Sherlock?"

Molly stared at him, her heart hammering in her chest. He stuck his chin up and moved towards the door.

"You're an anomaly, Molly Hooper. One I was stupid enough to think I had figured out."

He disappeared out of the lab, leaving Molly to obsess over his words.

Xxx

"What's crawled up your arse, Sherlock? You've been a right git for the past, what, three weeks?" Lestrade glanced over to Donovan.

She snorted. "Three weeks? More like eight years," Sally rose to her feet and studied Sherlock, who sulked in the corner of Greg's office.

"What's been going on? And where's John been?" Greg pressed on, desperately trying to hide a knowing grin from his face, "Unlike him not to be tagging along."

Sherlock scowled and sipped the coffee that he had demanded Anderson fetch for him. "John has other things to attend to."

"Such as?" Sally asked, beating Lestrade to the question.

He narrowed his eyes and studied Sally with evident disdain. "Such as his newfound relationship."

"That's right!" Lestrade nibbled on his lip, squeezing his knees to remind himself not to grin, "He did mention that he was seeing Molly. They seem to be a good pair, don't you think?"

Sherlock sent daggers at Lestrade. "A good pair? Tell me, Grant, are you—"

Sally's loud laughter cut Sherlock's angry rant off, causing him to glance from Lestrade to her amused face. At his irritated glare, she stifled a laugh and couldn't help but pat the detective's knee, causing him to flinch. She smirked.

"So that's what this is about!" She leaned back in her chair and let out another laugh, "You're jealous!"

Sherlock hissed and glared at her. "For the thousandth time, I am not interested in John!"

She smirked. "You're a moron, Sherlock. Not John. Molly. You're jealous that he's seeing Molly."

Sherlock sputtered and bolted to his feet, his eyes blown wide. Sally watched on, a knowing smirk across her lips.

"Jealous?" He spat out, the words like venom on his lips, "I have no interest in the personal affairs of John or Molly. Why is that—"

Sally yawned and glanced over at Greg, whose shoulders were shaking in silent laughter. She looked back to Sherlock and smirked.

"Right. So, you don't care that they're going on romantic dates? Splitting Thai takeaway and snuggling on her sofa?" She asked, studying the erratic man.

Sherlock growled. "I don't care."

"Mhm. What about that John gets to hear about all her autopsies? That John gets to run through his day with Molly, sharing medical horror stories?"

He narrowed his eyes further. "I don't—"

"And then there's the snogging. Surely, they're in the honeymoon phase now. You don't care that he gets to kiss her lips, feel her skin, smell her perfume?"

Sherlock tensed and looked away, his hands shaking ever so slightly. Sally smirked and continued.

"Let's not forget the making love, shall we? You don't care that he's going to be the one to hold her close at night, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, reaching that breathless peek with her? That John is going to taste Molly's skin, smell her hair, whisper that he loves her?"

Sherlock swallowed and flinched. He began to shake his head vigorously. "Stop it, Sal—"

"Oh, then the family! More kids will come eventually, that's for sure. Do you think you'll be John's best man again? The god father of his children with Molly?" She glanced to Lestrade, who was no longer amused, but instead studied his friend with a frown, "They'll have John's blue eyes and Molly's nose, I'd think."

Sherlock silently studied his expensive shoes, his lanky frame shaking ever so softly. Greg sighed and stood up.

"I think he gets it, Sally. Let him be."

Sally rolled her eyes. "No, he doesn't. I'm waiting for him to hit me with some extremely rude deductions about how I haven't had sex in months or I'm placing my absurdly high expectations for love on his romantic life."

Lestrade looked over to Sherlock expectantly. The detective looked up from the ground and met his friend's concerned gaze. The penetrating, lost blue orbs had Greg staggering back.

"No, Sally, I'm not going to do that," Sherlock began, his voice surprisingly steady given the circumstances, "But I need you to answer a question for me."

Sally sighed and crossed her arms, mentally preparing herself for whatever he'd toss her way. "Right. Go on then. But if you ask about my sex life, or my lack thereof, I will call you a pervert and get you banned from here."

He just shook his head and looked to her, his eyes pleading. "No. Not that. What do I do?"

The look on her face was so priceless that Lestrade regretted not having his mobile out. Sally glanced at her boss, her mouth agape. Greg gave Sherlock a sad smile and rubbed his back.

"We'll get you through this, yeah? You just gotta let us know what you want." Greg explained, glancing between Sally's bewildered expression and Sherlock's pleading eyes.

"I… I want Molly. With me." Sherlock looked back towards Sally and swallowed, "I have no intention of ever seeing offspring between Molly and John. If she's going to be reproducing with anyone, it's going to be me."

Sally continued to stare at him. "So, you admit it, then? You admit that you're jealous? That you fancy Molly?"

Sherlock forced himself to stand up straight and gave the woman a curt nod. "Dr. Hooper is the only female I've ever encountered who is worthy of my affections. Should I desire companionship and offspring, she is the best and only option."

She blinked a few times. "Is that you saying you love her?"

The word love had Sherlock flinching. "How quickly do women fall in love? She couldn't already be in love with John, could she?"

Lestrade groaned and threw his head back. He muttered softly to himself before focusing back on Sherlock. "Look, mate, I think they're just testing the waters. I'd reckon you still have a good chance."

Sherlock swallowed and ran a hair through his curls. "How am I supposed to steal her away? I… I don't want to lose John too."

Greg bit his lip. "Grab a pint with me tonight and we'll talk it through, alright? You could use some liquor in you."

"Very well." Sherlock moved to the door and glanced back at Sally. "Sally…"

She made a face. "Save it, Sherlock. Don't remind me that I need a man."

"I was going to say thank you. And you don't need a man. You're quite capable on your own."

Sherlock gave the pair a curt nod before disappearing out the door. Sally couldn't hide the smile at Sherlock's words. Meanwhile, Greg let out a noise of disbelief. She glanced at her boss and quirked an eyebrow.

"Something funny? You think I need a man?"

Greg rolled his eyes. "No. He actually admitted that he fancies her!"

Sally nodded. "Sad though, isn't it? I know Molly used to fancy the psycho, but she'd have to be bloody stupid to leave a nice bloke like John for Sherlock. I don't know what the freak is going to do."

Greg smirked. "About that. John and Molly aren't actually dating."

"Come again?"

He couldn't help but laugh. "They got set up together on a blind date. They tried it out and it just didn't work. Somehow, Sherlock found out and was being a hardcore jealous git. So, John thought faking it might teach Sherlock a lesson and force him to acknowledge his feelings for Molly."

Sally crossed her arms. "You know, as much as I love the idea of messing with Sherlock, the poor freak is falling apart here!"

Greg sighed and nodded. "Look, maybe the methods weren't the best, but it's finally getting him to realize that he cares for her deeply. Now, I just need to get him to act on those feelings."

"Right. What's the plan then?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. I'm hoping liquor will do the trick."

She rolled her eyes. "Is that for him or for you?"

Greg smirked and went back to his desk. "Get back to work, Donovan."

Xxx

Molly watched John add more sugar to his coffee and sighed. They were sitting at a nice café a few blocks from the Yard's go-to pub, sharing dinner before what would surely be a tumultuous evening. She nibbled on the salad in front of her and sighed.

I shouldn't have ordered food. I'm not going to keep this down.

John sipped his coffee and looked back to his date. "You good, Molls? You're turning green."

She swallowed and sipped her water. "I'm just…" She took a shuddering breath and hugged herself. "What if you're wrong, John? What if he's being a prat because… I don't know! He doesn't think I'm good enough for you, or he's just jealous of being left out!"

John laughed softly and gave Molly's hand a comforting squeeze from across the table. "Believe me, Molly, he's jealous because it's me with you. Not him."

She frowned and shook her head. "He's never cared about me before! Do you know how many times I gave him chances? How many times I asked him to dinner, to coffee, to god knows what? And all I got were demands to fetch him a cuppa or half-hearted compliments in exchange for favors."

He leaned back in his chair and studied his friend. "I know. He's been a git. But… You know Sherlock. You're one of the only people that do. He's an odd bloke. He's not going to express admiration that same way you or I do."

"Exactly," She whispered, her eyes focused on the condensation dripping down her water glass, "so maybe we have this all wrong."

John sighed and shook his head. "I'd reckon that we don't, but if we don't make any progress in the next few weeks, we can call it quits, alright?"

She frowned and nodded. "But I want to break up with you then."

He snorted. "Alright Molly. As you wish."

Xxx

Sherlock and Lestrade sat in the familiar pub, tucked away in a corner table. Two pints sat between them, as well as a bowl of questionable peanuts that Lestrade kept dipping his hand into. Upon swallowing the last of his current handful, he focused his attention on Sherlock.

"Drink up. Nothing soothes a broken heart like a round," Lestrade offered, bringing his glass to his lips, "Only thing that got me through my divorce."

Sherlock sighed and sipped his own glass. "I'm thankful you didn't bring any of the morons you work with. Like Anderson."

Greg laughed. "Yeah, well, Sally did want to tag along, but I figured just us would be best."

Sherlock nodded and focused on the amber liquid in front of him. He shifted in his seat before glancing back at the man across from him.

"I thought by removing myself from their presence, I'd be able to get over this silly infatuation I have," Sherlock began, his voice tired, "As it turns out, it just made my longing worse."

He sighed again and ran a hand through his unruly curls. "Truthfully, I'm scared. I don't want to lose my friendship with either Molly or John. I value their presence more than I ever thought possible," He swallowed and looked back to his glass, "But I'm unable to imagine a scenario where I could be around them, should they continue their relationship. It's too… Painful."

Greg smiled sadly and watched his friend, amazed by the emotional vulnerability of the detective. He had never see the man so passionate or open. It was certainly panning out to be a much different evening that his usual nights with the curly-haired detective.

"Well, then I reckon you've got nothing to lose, Sherlock. Just tell her how you feel."

He shook his head and studied the scratched-up wood of the table. "Do I have any right to do that? Sure, I… care about Molly, but any person with half a brain can see that John is a much better match for her. And John… He deserves happiness too."

Greg sighed and sipped his beer. "Sherlock, now is not the time to be selfless. Now is the time to fight for what you want. John will bounce back and find someone else. And Molly? If she cares about you, as she has in the past, then she would be extremely happy with you."

Sherlock sulked. "Do you think they've shagged?"

That caused Greg to choke on his mouthful. "Uh, well, I wouldn't be able to say."

"I hope not. That would be unfortunate," Sherlock whispered, as if only to himself.

Lestrade managed to distract Sherlock for about a half hour, regaling the detective with stories of past criminals, Donovan's lashings at other co-workers, and Anderson's general stupidity. He was waiting for the ball to drop, knowing that soon John and Molly would stroll in, and the evening would take a turn for the uncomfortable.

He had been in the middle of discussing Sally's verbal take down of a district attorney a week prior when John and Molly strolled in, hand in hand. Sherlock immediately tensed when his eyes landed on the couple. He glanced back over to Lestrade, his gaze murderous.

"Did you invite them?" He spat out, his eyes frantically shifting from the Greg to the couple.

Greg opened his mouth to respond but was thankful for Molly's polite voice instead. He hadn't figured out whether he was going to lie—thankfully Molly's interruption saved him from making the hard choice.

"Hello, Greg. How are you?" She asked, her voice soft and unsure. She handed her jacket to John and watched him dutifully go to hang it up. She sat down, across from Sherlock, and studied the detective with curious eyes.

"Good! Tired. Thankful for the weekend," Greg explained, a laugh escaping his lips. He sipped his beer and glanced over to Sherlock, who was busy on his mobile. He nudged him.

Sherlock gave him a lethal glare before looking across the table. When his eyes landed on Molly, taking in her form-fitting dressed and red lips, he clutched the table.

"So, you just couldn't resist flaunting your relationship to the world, could you?" He asked, his tone harsh, "You're at a pub, Molly. Not a casino in Macau."

John dropped into his seat beside Molly and set Sherlock a look. "Hey mate, that's no way to talk to my girlfriend. You mind?"

"Your girlfriend?" Sherlock laughed and sipped his drink, "Is that what we're calling this? Surely by now you two are engaged to be married. Why wait when you both clearly have the end game in mind?"

Molly crossed her arms and pursed her lips. "Marriage? That's a wonderful idea, Sherlock." She glanced over to John and stuck her hand out, "Honey, I think a nice, big ring would look good, don't you think?" She couldn't help looking back over to Sherlock.

John grabbed her hand and nodded vigorously. "I agree. Imagine the wedding. Where would we get married? Somewhere exotic, I reckon. And then there's the wedding party!"

Sherlock tensed and clutched his glass, watching his friends with wide eyes. "Oh, is that so? Why even wait for a big wedding? Why not drop by a courthouse?"

Molly stuck her nose up and moved closer to John, although her eyes maintained focus on the detective.

"Well, since I'm so bloody infatuated with John and making sure everyone knows it, I can't imagine not having a huge wedding and inviting everyone in the city," Molly explained, her eyes never leaving Sherlock's face, "Doesn't that sound splendid, honey?"

The doctor nodded. "Oh, of course! We'd make it romantic. Say, mate, would you be interested in being my best man again?" John asked, studying Sherlock's face.

Sherlock took a gulp from his glass and glanced between the couple, bits of beer coating his arm from his shaking hands. He forced out a laugh and settled his attention on Molly.

"So that's it, then? You lot are just taking the easy way out? Even a moron could spot the lack of chemistry and sexual interest you have in one another. How you could want to get—"

Molly grabbed John's tie and pulled the man towards her, catching his lips in a surprising kiss. While startled at first, John immediately responded. Taking cues from some of her favorite films, Molly made sure to pull at his perfectly combed hair, and desperately hoped that she'd stain his lips red.

Sherlock jumped to his feet, the table wobbling as his body was freed. His half-empty pint fell to the floor, although he paid little attention to the shattered glass. Instead, he watched with furious eyes as Molly snogged his best friend. From beside him, Greg sighed and sipped his beer, preparing for the inevitable.

Satisfied with her display, Molly pulled back, smoothing John's shirt in the process. She glanced over to Sherlock and rose to her feet to match his movements. She cleared her throat and made a show of primping her hair.

"Believe me, Sherlock," She began, her voice hoarse, "John and I have plenty of… sexual chemistry."

Sherlock glanced over to his best friend, his eyes shifting from the disheveled hair, to his red stained lips, to his wrinkled shirt and tie. He looked back to Molly and narrowed his eyes.

"He has a bad knee, a toddler, and a stressful job. As if he'd be able to fulfill your sexual appetite."

Molly crossed her arms and glared. "And you know so much about my sexual needs?"

"More than you'd think."

"Whatever John can't do, I can do myself."

"I would beg to differ. John can't give you orders and bend you over the kitchen counter without laughing and wanting to clean the surface."

Molly slammed her chair into the table and put her hands at her hips. "Relationships aren't just about sex, Sherlock."

"Wrong again. Relationships that begin with bad sex end on average sixty percent faster than those with healthy levels of intimacy."

John scowled and crossed his arms. "What makes you think we're having bad sex?"

Sherlock laughed and ruffled his curls. "I think? No, I know. It's evident in the tension in Molly's shoulders, your reaction to her snog, and the dress that she's wearing. Either the sex is awful or it's simply not happening."

John and Molly exchanged a look. As expected, Sherlock picked up on the exchange and stood up straighter. He cleared his throat.

"I see. Waiting until the wedding then? How… Pure." He rolled his eyes and took his mobile back out, "Oh how I envy you," He spat out, his voice filled with contempt.

John rose to his feet and nodded. "Yeah, Sherlock, you do. Would you like to know what it's like snogging Molly?"

He scowled and glared at his best mate. "Shut up, John."

"No thanks. She has these really soft lips. Meant for kissing, really. And she knows exactly how to use her tongue. It's like having your thoughts sucked out by angel lips and—"

"I suggest you stop speaking, John."

But Dr. Watson wasn't swayed. "Not to mention, holding her close. Her laugh just tickles your insides and makes you want to keep her forever. And of course—"

"This is your last warning, John."

He smirked and continued. "I just know once we shag, it's going to be the most bloody marvelous thing in the world—"

And then, Greg and Molly watched, one in horror, the other in thinly veiled desire, as Sherlock tackled his best mate to the ground. The pub erupted in cheers, men rushing to watch the pair wrestle on the ground. Molly watched with wide eyes and a hand over her mouth. Greg sipped his beer and figured he'd give the pair a few moments before breaking them up.

"Are you fucking mad?" John screamed, trying to hold off the rabid detective.

Sherlock growled and attempted to pin John to the ground, his eyes wild. "Am I mad? How about you? How could you do this?"

John tried to shove at the much stronger man. "Do what?"

"You know what!"

"No! Not until you bloody admit what this is about! You've been an absolute wanker, getting angry about some sort of betrayal when you can't even admit why you're upset!"

Sherlock growled and shoved the smaller man against the dirty wood floor of the pub. He let out a desperate breath. "Is this some sort of pathetic revenge? A way to show me after my relapse and what happened with—"

Sensing what was happening next, Greg hurried over to the men and ripped Sherlock away, allowing John to sit up. The two continued to glare at each other as the crowd dispersed, murmuring about the pathetic brawl. Greg gave the men each a look.

"You're going to talk this through like adults. Not bloody children," Greg shook his head and went to the bar, joining Molly to collect water for the pair.

Sherlock continued to glare at John. "You—"

John growled. "Shut it, Sherlock. You've misread this entire fucking situation. And I refuse to make things clear until you can admit what your heart wants and why you bloody attacked me!"

He shook his head and started to walk towards the bar. He stopped and gave Sherlock one final look.

"You're my best mate. You have to know that I'd never do anything to intentionally hurt you. With that in mind, I know you're smart enough to figure this one out."

He shook his head and met Molly at the bar. Sherlock watched the pair exchange a few words, before John led her to the door. As they slipped into the coats, Molly looked over at the detective and frowned, before they disappeared through the doors.

Sherlock swallowed and sat back down. He glanced up at Greg, who approached the table, two new pints in his hands. He shook his head and yawned.

"Is it possible for you to have a drink without causing a scene?" Greg asked, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid.

"He said I've misread the situation. How could I have misread the situation?" Sherlock asked aloud, although presumably to only himself. Greg snorted.

"Sometimes the most confusing questions have the most obvious answers."

Sherlock blinked a few times, considering Lestrade's words. He sipped his beer and faced the man. "What was your wife's pet name for you?"

Greg snorted. "She called me 'stud' until the marriage fell apart. Then I was relegated to a passive aggressive 'honey'," He explained, "that's when I moved from 'love' to 'cheating bitch'."

Sherlock bolted to his feet. "Of course! It all makes sense!"

"Am I missing something?"

"Always, Lestrade, always. Thanks for the company. I have a woman to steal."

Sherlock hurried off with a delighted "Cheers!" before disappearing through the doors. Lestrade took a gulp of beer and sighed.

How pathetic has my social life become when I can't even get Sherlock to stay for drinks on a Friday night?

To be continued…