A/N: all right, you asked for it, you got it. "Squee Factor" 9 for this bit. Thank you, enjoy and please review!
Molly emerged from her bedroom with a smile. "Sorry to keep you waiting. I just, ah, needed to take care of something."
He inclined his head and moved towards the kitchen. "Would you like coffee, or tea?"
"Oh, you don't have to-"
He turned and stared at her. "I know I don't. So which would you prefer?"
"Tea, please," Molly said, watching him go with wide eyes. No, right now she definitely did not need extra caffeine. Sherlock being in her flat and making her something to drink was all her nerves could handle.
She sat on the sofa, hands twisting absently in her lap until she caught herself doing it and stopped. She missed Toby. He would curl up in her lap, purr, and make her forget everything. OK, no one could do that. But he would help. Her old neighbor Diane had been keeping him and would bring him back tomorrow. Until then she was all alone.
"Here you are, Molly," Sherlock's deep voice announced, standing beside her and handing her a cup. OK, not alone, exactly. But sometimes being with Sherlock was pretty close to it.
They drank their tea in silence: Sherlock looking pensive and Molly wondering. Why was he still here? Why had he done anything he'd done the past few days? Boredom? No. Not even Sherlock was that cold. Then what? It was almost as if he…
Get that stupid, stupid thought out of your head right now, Molly Hooper, she commanded herself. Sherlock Holmes is about as interested in you as he is a melon. Which is-
"I didn't know you play piano, Molly," Sherlock said.
Which is… a little?
She blinked. "Oh. Yes. I, ah, studied music when I was younger. I sing, too," she added, and immediately wanted to kick herself. Great. Now he's got even more ammunition to put in that big gun of his…
"Sing for me, Molly."
She jerked shocked eyes up to meet his. "Wha-sorry, what?"
"Sing for me," he repeated, and his voice made her want to wrap up in a blanket to keep from shivering.
She swallowed hard. How could she possibly do it? She got tongue-tied half the time just talking to him! "Sherlock, I don't-"
"Please," he said softly, and something she couldn't define in his eyes stole her breath. "Please, Molly."
Oh, God.
Apparently, Sherlock Holmes liked melon after all.
He wanted her to sing for him. He. Sherlock Holmes. Wanted her, Molly Hooper, to sing for him.
Even as she cowered inside, another part of her whispered: go on. Show him. Show him you're more than just a stammering nitwit. Even if he think it's rubbish, you can say you tried.
She nerves felt like frayed cotton, but she nodded. "All right. Any requests?"
"No, choose what you like," he said.
She nodded again and walked to the keyboard as if in slow motion. She sat down, flexing her fingers, trying desperately to think of what would impress him. In the end, she decided just to be true to herself. And then she knew at once what to sing.
She took a deep breath and poised her fingers. She summoned all the courage she had, met his eyes, and struck the first notes.
I know I can't take one more step towards you
cause all that's waiting is regret
don't you know I'm not your ghost anymore
you lost the love I loved the most
I learned to live, half alive
and now you want me one more time
And who do you think you are?
running 'round leaving scars
collecting your jar of hearts
tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
from the ice inside your soul
so don't come back for me
who do you think you are?
She closed her eyes and let the music, the words, claim her.
I hear you're asking all around
if I am anywhere to be found
but I have grown too strong
to ever fall back in your arms
I've learned to live, half alive
and now you want me one more time
And who do you think you are?
running 'round leaving scars
collecting your jar of hearts
and tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
from the ice inside your soul
so don't come back for me
who do you think you are?
There was no stopping her now. Gone was tongue-tied Molly Hooper, replaced by the other part of her, the part who was fearless and powerful when she sang. She opened her eyes again and looked at him.
It took so long just to feel alright
remember how to put back the light in my eyes
I wish I had missed the first time that we kissed
Cause you broke all your promises
and now you're back
you don't get to get me back
It was too much, too intense, and she closed her eyes again, fingers blindly floating over the notes from practice and skill.
And who do you think you are?
running around leaving scars
collecting your jar of hearts
and tearing love apart
You're gonna catch a cold
from the ice inside your soul
so don't come back for me
don't come back at all
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you are?
Who do you think you… are…
She took a deep breath as she played the final notes and slowly opened her eyes to look at him again.
Sherlock was staring at her with the expression he usually only wore when he worked on a particularly fascinating case.
She couldn't tear her eyes away from his.
He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from hers.
After a few more seconds, he cleared his throat. "Molly… that… was amazing."
She quashed the urge to ramble and simply smiled. "Thank you."
He was still staring at her.
She desperately wanted him to stop.
She desperately wanted him to never stop.
He cleared his throat again and finally glanced down as if steadying himself for something. Then he slowly rose and moved to stand beside her, pulling her up to her feet. His eyes locked with hers and suddenly there didn't seem to be enough air in her flat to breathe.
"Molly… there's something I want to ask you."
"Jar of Hearts" by Christina Perri, copyright 2010.