Molly sat alone in the restaurant, sipping her tea and leaving the plate of food untouched before her. A smile twitched at her lips as a memory resurfaced in her mind. This was the restaurant she went to with her date a while back, the date during which Sherlock stormed and ruined by making rude deductions about the man Molly was with.
She sighed wistfully. That was the day it all started, the day Cam came into her life. Molly drummed her fingers onto the table. Now, wasn't that day a little less than a year ago?
A familiar detective suddenly appeared before her and sat opposite of her. "Ten months and sixteen days. That's how long ago since you went to this restaurant with that fool," he said as if reading her mind.
Molly rolled her eyes at his comment. Her date wasn't that bad, but she would never admit to being slightly glad that Sherlock had come in and interrupted their date, otherwise she would have had to listen to her date drone on and on about his job, being a weatherman, and his mother, who he adored just a little too much for a grown man.
Sherlock picked up a fork and slid Molly's plate of uneaten food towards him. He had already plopped in a few bites into his mouth before asking if it were okay if he had some, to which Molly absentmindedly nodded.
It had been a few weeks since Molly had enlisted Sherlock and John's help in dealing with her blackmailer. And between Molly and Sherlock, it had been an unspoken agreement that their relationship would be on hiatus. So Sherlock had mainly been treating her like a distant friend and client, and Molly had not complained, she didn't want Sherlock's personal questions about her dilemma and secret. But with less interaction between the two lately, Sherlock didn't see the pain Molly felt about the whole situation or the guilt she had over not being able to tell him everything, and Molly didn't see Sherlock's hurt over her not trusting or confiding in him. Sherlock was never an expert at relationships or significant others, but wasn't that what they were supposed to do? Trust and confide in one another?
Sherlock didn't contact Molly much to update her on the information he acquired about her case, and when she was rarely updated, it was usually John who told her. The detective and John agreed that Molly should only know what was absolutely necessary to keep her safe from the threat of danger. Molly was told that tremendous progress had been made regarding the case, but she wasn't told who her blackmailer was, and Sherlock certainly did not even tell her or John about the plan he had in mind.
Molly's gaze was still looking out the window at the many people passing by. Her stare flickered every once in a while to the ravenous detective forking down her dinner, and no doubt he knew even without looking when her eyes were upon him.
Sherlock finally looked up from his plate of food and met Molly's eyes. He raised an eyebrow. "Penny for your thoughts?"
Molly crinkled her eyes in frustration and then downcast her eyes. Still looking down, she asked, "What's going to happen to us?"
Sherlock leaned forward on his hands and elbows and regarded her carefully. His heart was a whirlpool of different emotions. Despite all they had gone through, from him hurting her to her hurting him, he still couldn't imagine a life without her. Well scratch that, he indeed could imagine a life without her, but he wouldn't want a life without her. And in that moment, Sherlock decided that he didn't care about what Molly's secret was. He didn't care how bad a person she claimed to be. Her past was her past, and the Molly that Sherlock knew for the past few months, the past few years, that was the Molly that was near and dear to him, and if anyone threatened the Molly he knew and loved, Sherlock would make sure that all hell would rain down. He let out a deep sigh, all the bitterness and hurt inside him leaving with the breath.
Sherlock reached out and placed a hand on Molly's. She looked up and saw that love and familiarity still remained in his eyes, even though his words and facial expression told a different tune, which was one of neutrality and sternness. "Let's discuss that after this case is over," he replied.
Molly gave a small smile; she could tell that Sherlock had something up his sleeve when he said so surely that the case would be over. She glanced at the antique clock on the wall. "Alright," Molly said, "I have to go now." She rose and bid him farewell. She stepped out of the restaurant with a mood much different than that of several months ago. Then, she had been infuriated at Sherlock and unsure of the world and her future. Now, she was confident and trusting in Sherlock's abilities, sure that he would make everything okay again.
Molly walked down the street, the weight on her chest lighter than it had felt in years.