Excerpt from the blog of John H. Watson:

I used to believe that Sherlock Holmes was more akin to a machine than a man. Certainly one of the ways that he proved this best was his relationship with one of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital's pathologists, Miss Molly Hooper. He used to seem absolutely unaffected by what even I could deduce: Molly Hooper was in love with him; Totally and completely...

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"I can't let you do that Sherlock," Molly said demurely whilst staring at the floor of the lab, "The paper work has already been run for those bodies." Molly stood facing him while he bent over his microscope in the unused lab at Bart's.

Sherlock inhaled sharply, and pursed his lips tightly for a moment, "You...refreshed your lipstick, didn't you? Your mouth doesn't look so small now," he stated while looking into her eyes.

Molly blushed crimson. For a few seconds she believed that Sherlock Holmes was actually flirting with her. Well, in his own, strange way. But, of course, he was just attempting to get her to let him examine the bodies. He'd pulled that trick plenty of times to be sure.

"Sherl-" She started angrily, before glancing over Sherlock's shoulder. Sherlock followed her gaze to the approaching figure of Doctor Watson.

"Oh, John, so glad you could finally join me," he said curtly, before returning to his microscope, "Graham is so desperate for me to do his job today." Sherlock took his attention off the microscope, and stood up to straighten his coat.

John sighed, "It's Greg, Sherlock. How many times is it going to take you to get that? Just put it in your bloody mind palace!" John stomped angrily over towards Doctor Hooper, "Good morning, Molly. I apologize in advance for anything Sherlock has said to you in my absence."

"Someone certainly isn't enjoying domesticated life," Sherlock muttered under his breath while rocking back and forth on his heels. John let out an exasperated sigh, and ran his hand through his short hair.

"Good morning, Doctor Watson," she said with a smile, and gave John a hug, which surprised both him and Sherlock. It only lasted a few seconds, but the amusement that John got from the shocked look on Sherlock's face lasted much longer than that. "You looked like you needed that." John smiled appreciatively, and shifted slightly to face Sherlock.

"Now what could you possibly need me so much for that would cause you to text me ninety-three times?"

His brows furrowed and he stared ahead blankly with his hands piqued beneath his chin.

"Hmm..." He mumbled. Without any further warning, he walked across the room and out the door, staring ahead the entire time.

"Well that was...strange. He's been waiting for you at least an hour. Why should he just leave like that?"

John smiled.

"I think it's my turn to go deduce him, for once."

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John arrived by cab at 221B Baker Street shortly after the scene at Bart's. He walked up the steps, and put the key into the lock.

"Mrs. Hudson!"

His shouting was immediately followed by the crashing sound of a pan, and the scream of his landlady. She came out the door and looked frustratedly at John.

"I'm sorry for all the racket, John. Sherlock's gotten me a bit worked up today."

"Worked up? How?"

Mrs. Hudson came closer to John, and, presumably so Sherlock couldn't overhear, whispered,

"Well, he came into here about twenty minutes ago, shoutin' and screamin' like nothing I ever heard. Then a few minutes ago I heard a gunshot,"

The shooting did not surprise John. The shouting, however, did surprise him.

"Did you happen to hear what he was shouting about, Mrs. Hudson?"

"Of course, dear. I think everyone on Baker Street heard him," she chuckled.

"What did he say, then"

"Well, between his mumblin', he was shoutin' 'Molly Hooper,' and 'Bart's,' and 'sentiment,' over and over again."

John grinned widely, and giggled, "Well, well, well, was he now?"

"Sherlock?" John shouted from the doorway, "Are you in here?" He kept shouting until he realized that Sherlock would not answer him even if he was inside the flat.

After a brief search, John found him curled up in a ball on the sofa.

"Sherlock? What are you doing? Do you realize how much trouble I could have gotten into for leaving the office today? You just abandoned me!" Sherlock rolled over and mumbled something inaudible. John took the seat opposite of him and sighed.

"Alright, Sherlock, I think I know what your problem is," Sherlock rolled his eyes, "You're jealous because Molly was showing me affection."

"I am not jealous, John!" He shouted in reply, "Sentiment-"

"Is a defect found in the losing side. Yes, I know."

Sherlock groaned. He did not have feelings for the pathologist. Of course he didn't. He was Sherlock Holmes.

"Look, Sherlock, after your...'death..'" John shifted, slightly uncomfortable, "You spent time with her, didn't you? At her flat?"

Sherlock sat up straight on the sofa. He had not even bothered to remove his coat. He looked at John, somewhat irritated, and very much uncomfortable with their present conversation.

'Yes, John," He spat out, "I did. I was with her in her flat until Mycroft relocated me to take down Moriarty's network. Happy?" He threw himself back on the sofa and curled into a ball.

"Lord, Sherlock, stop being such a baby! It's not the end of the world to love somebody."

"I do not...love...her." The words came very strangely out of his mouth.

"But you do care about her, don't you? She told me all about the day you two spent together solving crimes."

Sherlock moaned again.

"Alright. Just keep being like that, Sherlock. That woman has been in love with you for years. God knows why she broke off her engagement, but maybe, just maybe, there was a reason for that."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

John stood up, "I'm going back to my office. Maybe you should think about what I said." He walked out the room and slammed the door.

Sherlock sat up. There was absolutely nothing for him to think about. He was, by his own admission, a sociopath, and had been reliably informed of his lack of feelings. But he had told Molly how much she meant to him. And just what would have happened that day had she not been engaged?