Give His Heart a Break.
Authors Note: All the responses I'm getting, they are just wonderful. I love reading how everyone feels about what I'm doing. It's just amazing. I am so glad to hear that you all like it even if you're getting frustrated with how it is right now. It's all up and down, isn't it? Well, it's pretty much going to flow now. The next two chapters are going to be emotional ones. We're going to see Sherlock and Molly going over their thoughts on their situation. Then it's the finale; so, only three more chapters left for you! This one is going to be Sherlock's chapter. We're just going to see his thoughts and we're going to see some development in his character. I'm hoping to be proud of the person Sherlock grows in to throughout this chapter. I hope you feel the same. :) Enough of my rambling and on with the story!
Disclaimer: I still do not own. Must I keepstating this? ;D
Chapter Seventeen: Acceptance of the Basic.
Sherlock had abandoned his plan after the day in the bridal shop.
The realisation had been one that had shocked him.
He'd accepted it pretty swiftly though.
He knew what he had to do.
He had to distance himself from Molly.
He was making it worse, for the both of them.
He'd thrown himself in to the cases he had been neglecting.
It had been three months since that day.
He'd only caught glimpses of Molly since.
Three times when he had needed to see a certain body in the morgue, and twice at 221B.
Molly didn't come to the flat often.
Sherlock had once asked John why.
He had a feeling he knew why though.
He hadn't been wrong.
John said that Molly preferred them being at her place; she didn't have a roommate.
More like she didn't have to see him if they were at hers.
He wasn't complaining.
The five times he had seen her, he'd felt distracted.
He could feel her presence around him.
It bothered him.
He couldn't think clearly and hadn't got any further in the case he was on while she was still around.
But now, the cases were finished and Scotland Yard didn't need him.
He was left to amuse himself in the comfort of 221B.
He was failing miserably.
He couldn't even pick up his gun and shoot the wall.
His mind wouldn't leave the Molly situation alone.
He sighed.
It was about time he analysed exactly what had happened that day.
He would have to face her soon – the wedding was only a month away.
He needed to be able to concentrate that day.
So, he made himself comfortable in his chair.
His knees were pressed to his chin and his palms flat against one another, fingers drumming a rhythm together.
What had happened?
His mind zipped back to being in Molly's changing room.
That was when it had started.
She was gorgeous.
He couldn't even tell her how beautiful she looked without stumbling over his words.
Sherlock never stumbled.
He hadn't been able to think.
His mind raced back to the moments before that.
He sucked in a breath as the memory of her skin against his fingers came to mind.
He could practically feel her on the tips now.
He didn't know what it was about that moment.
There was just something.
It was as if he'd realised he could happily stand with his fingers tracing her back forever.
He'd just known he could be beside her forever.
As he'd been staring at her reflection in the mirror, it had all come to him at once.
He was ruining everything she was trying to do.
She wanted to forget her feelings for him.
He understood that.
He even agreed with her doing that.
They would never be together.
He didn't want to be with her.
But he was trying to ruin it all because he knew her and John would never work out.
He still knew they wouldn't work out.
But perhaps, if she did marry John and later on they separated… maybe she wouldn't have feelings for him anymore.
Wasn't that why she was doing this?
He was sure of it.
Inside his gut twisted.
Why did it do that?
There was a niggling thought at the corner of his mind.
It had been there the entire time.
He had tried to push it away.
But now, he let it slip slowly across his mind path.
Was there a bigger reason as to why he was doing this?
Was that why his gut had just hurt at the thought of Molly moving on?
What was the bigger reason?
He'd already discovered that he cared for her.
He'd then realised that he didn't just care for her, that he felt something more for her.
But what was that something more?
He proclaimed it not to be love.
What if it had been?
He stiffened.
That wasn't possible.
He couldn't love!
He knew that.
He'd always known that.
But it was all right there.
It was the logical reason as to why his gut had twisted.
It was the more logical reason as to why he had done everything he could to try and separate John and Molly.
He scoffed at himself.
Since when did feelings become logical?
He sighed and ran his hands over his face.
His mind had made them logical.
He hadn't even had to truly think for those thoughts to slip in to his vision.
Wasn't that what logic was?
The things that were the most simple.
The things that came to you without effort.
Love wasn't logical.
It wasn't something you could explain.
It wasn't something he believed existed.
So why had the thoughts of love come to him so quickly?
Was it because of the situation?
Molly and John claiming to be in love?
The wedding?
He sighed.
When he thought of those now, the only thought that came in to his head was the word: 'sham.'
Obviously not that.
A thought flashed past his vision.
What was that?
He frowned.
Could it have possibly come to mind because of his subconscious?
Without realising it, had he begun to love?
…
Was this what love felt like?
It was nothing special.
It was quite irritating really.
Chest tightening, jealousy, erratic heartbeat, shallow breathing, losing all track of thought, stumbling through sentences…
There were so many other things he could think of but he just couldn't believe it.
Perhaps this was what normal people called love?
This was why they did crazy things.
It was… pathetic.
Was he really in love with Molly Hooper?
His chest tightened at the thought and he swore he could feel his heart getting ready to rip free of his chest.
Inside his head was the whisper of the word '.
Was he really in love with Molly Hooper?
His chest tightened at the thought and he swore he could feel his heart getting ready to rip free of his chest.
Inside his head was the whisper of the word 'yes.'
He couldn't quite believe it.
He had done all this because he had fallen for Molly?
How on earth had he even fallen for Molly?
He thought about it.
He'd spent so long with her in her flat after his 'death.'
He'd grown accustomed to her.
He'd never admit it to her, but he'd enjoyed spending time with her.
He'd missed John but he was quite content living with Molly.
That was until she had announced her date with John.
Everything changed for him then.
Why?
He'd been afraid of losing her.
His mind nudged the thought to him.
Could it be true?
It seemed true.
He let his knees drop to the floor and he sat up straight.
He was losing her.
He had lost her.
Strangely, he was OK with losing her.
Why was he OK with losing her?
That wasn't the way people described losing someone you loved.
They did everything they could to get them back.
But then again, he had done that, hadn't he?
Was he giving up?
He didn't think so.
He hadn't even realised he'd been fighting.
He pursed his lips as he fell deeper in to the depths of his mind palace.
He was accepting it.
He was accepting the fact Molly was going to marry John.
Why was he accepting it?
…
He wanted her to be happy.
She would never be happy as long as she had feelings for him.
They could never be together.
He felt like he wanted to be with her.
He frowned.
How could he want to be in a relationship?
He felt disgusted at the thought.
Somehow though, he did.
But it was dangerous.
He'd never put her through that.
John was her way out.
He wanted to help her get out.
That was why he had agreed to walk her down the aisle.
He was helping her take that step.
He was letting her go.
He'd been holding on to her.
He hadn't even noticed that.
He sighed once more and stood up.
He took cautious steps towards the window of 221B and looked down on the people walking the street.
He wasn't much different from them.
He could feel.
He could be just as petty.
He got hungry.
He needed to sleep.
He liked things.
He hated things.
He was exactly like them; he just had a smarter way of looking at the world.
His eyebrows knotted together.
It was strange really.
This wasn't anything special.
But this was love.
This was what kept so many people going.
This was what kept Molly going.
This was why some people did ridiculous things.
And now, he felt it.
He turned from the window and leant against it.
The day of the wedding, he knew exactly what he would do.
He'd be the perfect best man.
He'd walk Molly down the aisle and have a smile on his face the entire time he did.
He wouldn't be one of those people who did stupid things.
But, he wouldn't forget what he had learnt today, he'd simply ignore it.
Why?
Because he knew she was more important than this.
He may be in love with her and perhaps, she was even in love with him.
But, what was the point in loving if the one you loved were dead?
He was certain that was what this would come to if he turned stupid.
Authors Note: Hm, I'm not quite sure if I like how this turned out. Sherlock's changing now. He's realised that he isn't some tin man and that he is in fact quite like everyone else in the world. He still has all the basic things people have; he was just blessed with seeing things in a different light. Anyways, I hope I haven't disappointed anyone with this chapter. It was very tricky to write. Trying to write Sherlock realising he can love while trying to keep him in character is very difficult. But, that's the type of character I want him to be. He still doesn't like love though. As I said, he feels disgusted at the thought of everything. So, please, let me know your thoughts on it. I hope I haven't ruined this story for you lovely readers.
Petal.