A/N: Why isn't it longer you ask? Because it couldn't be any longer, I say, and well - it is terribly true. Thank you for still reading, and to those who still comment - thank you very much I appreciate it a lot!
Sherlock told you then? I'm actually coming to London on Friday. If you want to have a coffee that is – B
I'd like that - M
Sherlock pocketed the phone and strode off.
There was the coffee, which Sherlock had always complained about, so when Mary had given John a cup brewed by the so-called expert hands of Molly he'd prevented it entirely, until her blue eyes looked at him astonished.
"Oh – oh – right," she started, before taking a satisfied sip from the cup in her office, as John just looked at his own cup suspiciously. "You do know she gives him the coffee from the cafeteria, then?" Mary added with a small wink, "She's not an idiot you know."
He'd thought for a moment of informing Sherlock about it, but knew he didn't deserve it. John didn't even deserve the good cup of coffee; "Funny that he knows Ben, then," said Mary.
"Yeah - quite," said John with a small nod averting her gaze.
"You know, of all she's told me about him, in the way he's stopped her relationships, more or less you'd almost think-," began Mary who had a quizzical look on her face, before it faded quickly, "No, though – he's – probably –John, what is Sherlock exactly?"
"He's - err – he's - err – I'm not quite sure, actually. There was this thing a while back though, with a woman - Irene was her name, but it didn't work out-," he said inspecting the contents on her desk more thoroughly than needed.
"Why not?" asked Mary in surprise, as she stared at John who kept averting her eyes.
"Moved to America, just," said John quickly looking up at her again.
"Not unexpected exactly. I'm sure most women leave the country when Sherlock Holmes starts flirting with them," she said cheekily drinking up her coffee.
He didn't want to get involved, it wasn't his intention to do what he did, but he knew that if Molly were to hear it from someone else – both of them would be hanged for their acts. He knew that Mary would throttle him if she knew at all, what he'd allowed to happen, but he had protested. He had been against it from the start, but there was just this idea in his head – an idea that grew into a very funny one indeed allowing it to continue.
Sherlock obviously was bored when he started with his "project" - texts done rapidly with an uninterested expression, before he'd slap the nokia on the table unceremoniously, besides attending to his other duties. This boredom slowly evolved into him keeping the phone tucked in his pocket.
"More convenient," Sherlock explained with knitted brows, a smirk plastered on his face, before he'd pocket the phone without a word.
There were moments when John could hear Sherlock making observations to himself, chuckling or picking up the phone when no text had been received. In the end he had to test it, he had to see if there was even the slimmest chance that the man did indeed have any feelings for the brunette.
If they were still texting, Molly wouldn't stop to inform him, and so when the four were seated for dinner he brought his glass up saying, "Here's to us, I do hope we continue this double-dating business," which caused Mary to tell him off, Lestrade to become severely uncomfortable and Molly to choke on her wine.
Except, instead of Sherlock showing up, or doing anything drastic – the evening ended with Molly half-drunk in embarrassment, as Lestrade reminded them all of his "unavailability". It wasn't before John later on got a call from Lestrade that he was pleasantly aware of Sherlock's little slip.
There it was, the tiny evidence, which soon enough had Sherlock fuming while contradicting him. John then waited for Sherlock to appear with a smarting cheek and a broken extra phone. He did appear, phone still intact, and played the violin the rest of the evening without mentioning a word of his accomplishments.
How will I know it's you? – M
I'll be the one with the stupid phone – B
The next morning John entered Baker Street after being at the shops, crashing into a man who soon dashed off, "Sorry," he exclaimed with a huge grin.
John looked after him in surprise, before reaching up the floor, "Do we have a case?" he asked Sherlock who was standing by the window.
Sherlock wheeled around sternly, "No, just a pesky journalist. Asking questions about your blog."
John chuckled, "Really? You sent him off, then?" said John, his head automatically turning towards the steps, as he felt a bit chuffed.
"Obviously," said Sherlock giving a sigh.
That is rather descriptive. Ben, do give me a little more? - M
You'll have to ask more specific questions then - B
"So-," started John seating himself staring at the back of Sherlock's head. Sherlock was still positioned by the window, plucking on the strings of his violin.
"What?" snapped Sherlock glaring at John.
John pursed his lips, "Mary told me that you are going to meet Molly this Friday, or well – Ben is- that is – and that's correct?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Sherlock with no hesitation.
Oh, that's just cruel. Let the mystery continue - M
How can I identify you? - B
John snorted, "You're really going through with it, then? She'll absolutely hate you."
"Probably, but it is a chance I am willing to take," said Sherlock, before sitting down observing John for a moment.
I'll bring something. Myself, perhaps – M
You don't want to describe yourself either then? - B
"It's good though. Good - you're going to tell her – if you hadn't I'd have told her myself-," Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John, before playing a note on his violin. "She might be angry at you for a little while, but it'll pass – I suppose."
I guess Sherlock already told you enough as it were. Certainly not the best description of anyone - M
He told me that I could trust you and you were his friend – B
Molly entered the lab at Bart's carrying files, when she was surprised to find Sherlock standing by the microscope.
"Oh – it's you-," she said, sounding less cross than she was the previous evening, her hand still edging towards the phone in her pocket, "Thank you," she added hurriedly in his silence.
I might have given you the wrong impression – M
I am certain you'll live up to my expectations - B
Sherlock just looked up from his microscope, "What for exactly?" he enquired.
"For telling Ben, he could trust me – that was nice of you," said Molly with a curt little nod, "And I'm sorry - for – you know."
Those kinds of sentences make any girl nervous – M
I do hope so - B
"Molly, don't apologize," he said sharply.
Molly looked at him rather angrily, until he continued with, "I deserved that entirely."
Her mouth was the great shape of "Oh".
"It might surprise you, but our working relationship has not been the best exactly," said Sherlock avoiding her eyes for a moment.
Molly snorted, "No, it's not been."
"I truly am sorry for having been less than savoury," he said with a smirk. "On more than one occasion, perhaps. Throwing me out was probably one of your greater ideas."
"I have done it before you know," she said sheepishly.
He looked at her surprised, "Oh yes, I've thrown you out before. You just didn't listen. You were always too busy with a case - to ever notice that I was standing up to you."
"I've always noticed," he said slightly affronted.
"Yes, if it was to your benefit at the moment, then yes -," said Molly disgruntled clutching her files to her chest. "All of a sudden you'd take note of something, and I'd - let you get away with everything."
He opened his mouth a little, but didn't know entirely what to say.
"I'm better now – so you can just go as you like - as you did. I'll try not to call the security on you, who are perhaps very lax, since you get in here in the first place," said Molly biting her lip looking in the direction of the door.
"He's really a very nice man, isn't he – Ben – that is?" she asked pushing her hair behind her ear, obviously looking for information.
"I thought you didn't want to know," he said furrowing his brows at her.
Molly contemplated him a moment, "Why do you say that then?" she asked. "There's nothing wrong with him - is there?"
Sherlock grimaced at her.
"I don't – I just-," she said giving a nervous laugh, "I'm just – you know- curious," she blurted, halting in her speech, as her hand clasped around her phone, her palm rather sweaty inside her pocket.
"Interested as to what kind of man you'll meet this Friday? I'm sure; but best not ask too many questions, then," he said in a cheery tone, directing his attentions to the microscope.
"Right," said Molly rolling her eyes, before halting at the door, "He – is - nice, right?"
"Yes," said Sherlock exasperated.
Molly just bit her lip, opened her mouth, clearly rethinking her question, before escaping the lab.
Sherlock got a text immediately after her exit.
Our mutual friend tells me you are a ginger and a dwarf – M
I assure you I've got dark hair – B
That's very promising – M
He pocketed the phone, collecting his samples; as it were things were back to normal. There was no issue, there was no problem – his being at Bart's did not give Molly call to throw daggers at him. Snorting he threw his samples in the bin instead, feeling not particularly pleased. He slid on his coat and scarf trying to understand what was irritating him. He had planned everything to the tiniest of details; every thing would be going according to plan, and yet there he was fuming over a man who didn't exist. A man he hated his creation of - fortunately the business would soon take an end to, and he wouldn't need to think of anything in particular, especially not a pair of brown eyes.
Molly tapped her fingernails on the coffee table; she'd been fixating the last ten minutes on how early she'd been, and how silly she was being. Nervous, wasn't a good enough word for it. She'd been through similar situations with blind dates, and whatnot – what if he didn't show up? She shook her head a minute, trying to avoid fidgeting, as her hands went to her cup of coffee, which did not relax her nerves any better. She put the cup down, stared at her watch, before glancing around in the coffee shop crammed with happily naive people. What if he'd already been there, saw her, and then left? Typical Molly Hooper scaring the man off before he'd had a proper chat with her. She frowned at her phone, he'd barely texted her today, and as she thought that – a text came.
She gasped - was this a cancellation, or what was it?
She reached too quickly, spilling her coffee on the table, while muttering curses under her breath. Luckily just keeping her phone out of reach, as someone handed her some napkins. She thanked him profusely, mopping up the coffee landing on her shoes, when she observed that the person hadn't shifted. She gawked at his black shoes, before gaping at the ridiculous looking phone in his palm. Slowly she looked up at a pair of blue eyes and dark curly hair.
Hello – B
A/N: Now I'd love to know what you think happens. Just because I'm curious.