Fifty/Fifty
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Poor John Watson watched his friend sulk in the red damasked chair as Sherlock stared back at the offending ring on his hand. Never something so small ever irked and annoyed the young detective so.
"Bothersome." Sherlock frowned and wiggled the ring a bit from his finger, trying to pry it free.
"Sherlock!" Watson eyed the man and gave him a pointed look. "Don't." That last command set the detective straight and he eased back into his chair. His eyes trailing over various objects residing in John's... apartment. Correction—in Mr. and Mrs. Watson's apartment.
"How is Molly? Is she getting along well?" Watson calmly asked as he poured a cup of tea for the fuming adult-child sitting opposite of him.
"I honestly don't know, John. I could hardly care, really." Sherlock shrugged, took the tea cup, and shifted in his chair. He stared out the window as he began contemplating the next course of action against Mrs. Molly Holmes.
John tiredly rubbed his temples and said matter-of-factly, "You're avoiding her, aren't you?" Of course, he was right and he watched with pure satisfaction as the married man cringed ever so slowly. The small tea cup in Sherlock's hand went forgotten and he tried desperately to think of other things than the ginger haired woman smiling her obnoxious little smile.
"No, John. Whatever would make you think that?" The bitter sarcastic remark didn't phase the army doctor and he rolled his eyes at Sherlock's poignant comment.
"Perhaps, you should think about it from her perspective as well? I mean, who would ever want to marry a Holmes? You're all crazy in one way or another." Sherlock perked up from the hinted insult and he narrowed his eyes at John; trying to figure out his point. "Sure, you Holmes may be rich but your personalities are lacking drastically!" John continue without missing a beat. "If I was a single and attractive young woman with a good career in front of me... why on earth would I marry? Especially to a Holmes?"
"John, are you trying to tell me something? Is it so, that your real gender identity is that of a woman? Perhaps, you even have this attraction for me? If so, then I'll have to respectfully decline the obvious—"
"Sherlock! Stop!"
"Also, you would make one horrendous specimen of the female populace."
"What definition of 'stop' do you not understand?"
"Even more so, I'm married and I don't find myself even remotely attracted to you—"
"That's it Sherlock Holmes! You get out of my flat this moment and go home to your wife or so help me!" John had already gathered Sherlock's wool trench coat and scarf and began to detach him from his relaxed position on the chair. There was a slight struggle of the small male kicking his friend out the door.
Sherlock looked like an abandoned pet as he stared back at John pleadingly.
"Go home, Sherlock! Don't come back here or I'll call your family to bar every exit of that home of yours and if they won't... I WILL!" John shut the door without warning and walked away hoping his friend definitely got the point and made his long trek back home.
On the other-side, the detective huffed, and stared down the wooden door before he ultimately gave up on coercing John to let him stay the night. Fine. If John Watson wouldn't entertain him then he'd just have to go bother someone else then... and he knew perfectly just who to experiment on.
"Molly," A light bulb went off in the dark haired man's head and he began to formulate a plan of action to make good on his promise against his wife.
Thoughts? Comments? Anything you'd like to specifically see happen between Molly and Sherlock? Feedback would be greatly appreciated :D