Author's Note:
First of all, thank you for all the great reviews. Keep them coming :)
My replies to comments are at the end of the chapter.
Then just wanted to mention in this fic, Sherlock has said "... a chemical defect." but not "...found in the loosing side." Or maybe he has but just to be mean and he didn't really mean it.
Sherlock woke up to the sound of Molly's soft breathing beside him. He observed her for a second than searched his surroundings for his coat.
Sleep had helped him immensely even if he loathed to admit it. But now... There was nothing.
Molly was still asleep. He didn't want to wake her.
The room was almost completely silence.
He had nothing to do. There were no puzzles, no John around. He couldn't think, that would just lead him back to the memories. Sleep had shushed them a bit. Made all the pain merge into this constant ache bubbling just beneath the surface. It wasn't quite boiling but it would burn if touched nonetheless.
It was just Sherlock and the craving... He didn't want to. What would Molly say? She'd probably slept beside him to guard against this exact possibility.
Sherlock moved to get his coat.
God, he needed the cocaine. He needed the stimulation, that rush of a case. It was useless for numbing the pain, but he still needed to appease his mind. It had been too long without proper stimulation.
He dug around until until he found the secret pocket.
There was nothing there.
Sherlock panicked. His heart raced. A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. She'd found the drugs. He banged his head against the door in frustration.
"Sherlock?" asked a sleepy voice.
Sherlock turned around to see a very sleepy Molly looking at him through half lidded eyes.
And then something sparked in Sherlock's brain. An idea he'd come dangerously close to but hadn't quite managed to pin down.
He wanted Molly. He could have gone anywhere else but he wanted her. He hadn't wanted to dwell and hadn't been ready to admit the reason why until last night.
And he wanted a case, a distraction. He needed to be off the drugs. To go back to John.
So the logical answer was Molly.
Sherlock strode to the bed and crawled over to her.
"The- I- threw them away. I-"
"I don't need them anymore."
"What, just like that? Are you feeling better?"
Sherlock frowned. He willed himself not to think about it.
"No," he answered through gritted teeth.
"I don't understand." Molly sat up a bit against the headboard.
"I kissed you."
"Yes, well," not really...
"And your pulse elevated. Your pupils dilated. You pulled me closer. An indication you were not adverse and will not be adverse if it were to occur again. Am I correct?"
"Yes, but I- Sherlock, what exactly was that? I mean, you've always been so... rude and uninterested."
"So you didn't see me, at least not completely." Sherlock turned his head at an angle and studied her. "How interesting... And you can't see me now."
"See you?"
"I lie Molly. I lied. My face lied. My words lied! I couldn't admit-" Sherlock looked down and growled in frustration. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I've said before that sentiment is a chemical defect. But I lied, or I was wrong- It doesn't matter. Excessive sentiment is dangerous and reduces mental productivity. And if I had given into sentiment, if I had admitted it. It would have grown. Like a parasite. A filthy annoying thought demanding parasite. I've let some sentiments grow excessively. The garden is full of weeds. That house, it planted them all. I never should have gone... I-"
Sherlock grew silent. His eyes stared somewhere off into the distance. Molly waited for him to resume his explanation.
Sherlock tried not to look off into space, not to think. His jaw tensed slightly than with a deep breath he relaxed, toed off his shoes, crawled closer to Molly and sat down cross-legged beside her.
"I now have reason to believe the previous experiments that led to my conclusion concerning sentiment were flawed. I still have reason to believe my hypothesis was partly correct but I should resume my examination of the matter if you would not be adverse."
"You want to be your experiment? To examine if sentiment is a chemical defect?"
Sherlock did not detect the tone of anger that lingered in her voice.
"That would be another way of putting it, yes, but the question is just how much sentiment is dangerous and reduces mental productivity. "
"So what, you want to have sex? You want to experiment with me?"
"No."
"No?"
"I think perhaps we should start by kissing and spending time together. That seems the common route. And then we'll proceed as necessary."
"This is a a joke. This is all just a distraction so you don't have to talk about what happened. I promised I wouldn't ask, isn't that enough?" Molly's eyes were tearing up again. "Is this all I am to you, some experiment, a distraction? You can't distract yourself with me. It's not going to help. I can't fix you Sherlock. You have to fix yourself. I can help, I can listen, or not listen, but I can't do this." Molly got out of bed and slipped on her slippers.
Sherlock lunged forward and grabbed her wrist.
"It's not a joke. I don't see how you interpreted is as one as my delivery did not imply anything funny. I heard your promise quite well. I have no fear now that you won't keep your word. And no you are not an experiment, you will be a test subject-"
"Oh great, now I'm a lab rat."
Molly made to pull her wrist away but Sherlock gripped it tighter and pulled her back to the bed. He drew his eyebrows together and his face hardened.
"Molly Hooper, will you please listen?"
She nodded silently.
"You will be a test subject in an experiment. As for being a distraction that is quite true. You threw my drugs away. I do need to quit though, but I have no cases, I have nothing to keep me busy. The urge to use will go away with a case, a puzzle, or in this case an experiment. If you do not wish to participate than I will have to find other ways of dealing with the issue, but this is the easiest. And no, you are not just both of these things. I thought my thoughts on that matter were clear. You are the reason I'm reconsidering my hypothesis. As for being fixed. I only asked for your help. I don't know what to do Molly. I don't know what to do with not knowing what to do. I don't wish to talk or think about it, not yet, but perhaps later... You seem quite adept at handling emotional issues. The drug issue, well I will fix that tomorrow at the latest. John must be furious."
"And after this is over. After you've come to a conclusion and you get bored with me. What then?"
"Do you know, John is not the only one who keeps a record of our cases. I've long kept a record as many times I have already solved the cases that come to me apart from the odd detail. I also treasure them greatly and the memory of solving them, the memory of the excitement, the rush of deductions, it's quite unlike anything else. But I'm getting away from my point. In my index do you know who is listed under W?" Sherlock smiled wickedly and when Molly gave no guess he continued, "John Watson. I got rid of his limp. Case solved, but has he left Baker Street? Have I become bored with him? Have I changed my conduct with him in any way whatsover?"
"No, except well, you're not as rude, I suppose."
"Than what makes you think I'll change my conduct with you?"
"But what if this hypothesis of yours is wrong, what then? As much as you'd like to believe things will go back to the way they were, they won't, they can't."
"Than I will have to consider how I will cope with the chemical defect and keep it from becoming too excessive. My new hypothesis is that a certain amount might be beneficial. Have I alleviated your doubts?"
"Yes."
"Than you would not mind it if we commenced?"
"I- Umm... what? Now?"
"Yes."
Continued Author's Note:
I'm such a tease. Muahahaha. I did warn you and say eventual Sherlolly. Don't expect smut just 4 chapters in.
Replies:
friend2friend1:
Sorry, but that wasn't my intention at all, from either of them. If you're referring to Molly, this would only be true if she had pushed him away earlier, and why would she, she could hardly hurt him. She's pushing him away now because I think she's smart and she wouldn't let a guy keep hurting her like that forever so she's choosing to keep a cautious distance. She's already been hurt so it's not a matter of preventing it. If you are referring to Sherlock, I hardly think the thought of hurting anyone is going to stop him, I mean look at John. He ran away because he was thrown out, and because he panicked just a bit.
Concerning Sherlock's sexuality. One can never be sure, and it all is very fluid and undefinable. I personally don't like to label my sexuality because even a complex and open label like pansexual or panromantic doesn't quite fit me so I refuse to label myself. I like who I like and I don't see why I need to worry about a label. I think in some ways Sherlock is the same and never quite thinks about it. I'll explore this more later on (Molly is bound to ask).
If you didn't already know, asexuality is usually defined by a lack of sexual attraction (or the lack of interest in sex, but usually it's the first). Many still experience arousal, attraction (romantic or platonic, not sexual) to other people and their romantic orientations can be describe as homoromantic, biromantic, etc. They might or might not like to be in relationships or participate in sex. Sometimes they do it because it pleases their partners or because they want children. Asexuality =/= Celibacy.