It's a strange thing, having your heart know something that hasn't even crossed your mind.
Weeks had followed John and Greg's meeting peacefully, amongst predictable routine, with unpredictable surprises. Nights out with Meena could never fit a schedule, could never fit properly in the lives of those above the age of thirty, but they lacked the mundane and filled a restful week with hints of reckless abandon. After John had told Greg of his heart's taken fancy, Meena astute as ever was the next to figure it out. Okay, so she didn't spot it, yet, in the eyes' of the army doctor; but Molly had always been her book to read. Meena had let it slid, for three nights out and four lunches, just her and Molly, knowing full well the almost hopeless woman in front of her, with the wistful looks and brilliant mind, hadn't yet caught on to the subtle notion in her heart.
And it was hard to catch on, Molly had certainly reasoned that the comfort she felt around John, the pulse that flew between them from a simple touch had been no more than the shared grief of two lost souls. And, of course, many times it had been, a few times it still was, but electricity needs a source and energy should never simply appear from nowhere, and sometimes, just too look at him could be that spark that tried to start a fire. Denying it was also all well and good, but the man practically lived in her pocket and her in his, it was hard not to. Molly wasn't going to break the social habit of a lifetime and venture outside when not heavily pushed by Meena, and John had returned from the army with few friends and only dotted acquaintances, now after loosing the thing that got him racing out the door, Molly and, on a few Friday night pub occasions, Greg were all he had.
It was at a poorly thought through 60's night, at the awfully cramped club that lay on the street of Meena's apartment block, that Molly's heart and mind conferred and came to some form of agreement. And in the second Meena saw it cross Molly's eyes, the second she saw something solid in her gaze towards the handsome doctor in the rather flattering Beatles costume, (even if his sandy blonde hair didn't meet the description), she dragged Molly onto the dance floor where the noise and commotion would provide them with a moments privacy, as she pulled her through to the ladies loo.
"You're telling me everything." Meena shouted over the loud treble of 'All My Lovin''.
As they entered the bright room filled with sinks and woman reapplying various degrees of make-up, the door swinging closed behind them and muffling the overwhelming sounds of the club, Molly answered Meena's request. "What do you mean, Mee? There's no everything to tell you about, the hospitals a little low on gossip."
"There most certainly is an everything, Molly Anne Hooper!" As her voice rose it cleared the few remaining stragglers from the room, certain these two women were in need of privacy, or something was sure to kick off. "You fancy John Watson, more than that. You're falling for him!"
"I do not know what you're talking about Meena Grace Shawnsy. John's my friend, just because you jumped to the wrong conclusion the first time you meet him, doesn't mean anything's happened. He's my flat mate, there's nothing else there." Molly held a confidence in her voice it was a practiced lie, she had told herself it enough times that she believed it true, her eyes, on the other hand, betrayed her.
"Wrong. C'mon, you can't deny it. He's handsome, he's kind, he understands how you could tolerate the company of a man like Sherlock Holmes, he's perfect." A smugness exuded from every pore.
"Yes, a perfect friend, like you." Even now, she seemed blind to her own economical truth.
"Well, Molly dear, if you don't like him in that way, I could certainly see myself asking out Doctor Handsome." At this Molly flushed a bright and distinctively 'Molly likes a boy' red, with certain amounts of anger, jealousy and embarrassment flooding through her veins.
"NO! – I mean no, no, you wouldn't want to do that, because of – because of so many reasons and ummm…" she trailed off as her muddled and panicked mind scrambled around for reasons Meena and John could never be 'Meena and John', she came up with none.
"Fine –fine- fine- fine- FINE! I like him. A- a lot. But please for the love of all that is good in the world, don't tell him; Sherlock's only been umm… gone for 2 and a bit months and we're – he's still working through a lot of stuff." She hadn't exactly expected such a blunt truth to be released to the world in the brightly lit toilets of a shoddy 60's disco, but there it was. The first time she had admitted it to anyone, including herself.
"Okay, a word shall not pass my lips. But Molly, Molls, I've seen the way he looks at you; I mean who could resist those big brown doe eyes, that nervous giggle, or your choice to slice open dead people for a living. You're the perfect package." She added jokingly." But seriously you're both as bad as each other, have you really not realised the way his eyes follow you, and only you."
"I noticed him chatting up those girls at the bar, Mee." Molly looked deflated, emotional relief at her admittance was a distant memory, now comes the 'unrequited love' crap, she thought to herself.
"Seriously, you must be deaf, he was not chatting them up. Unless, that is, 'me and Molls have been living together since we lost our friend, she, I mean her and Meena are the only reason I go out at all' is some new pick up line I've not heard before. And Molly, darling, I've heard them all." She rolled her eyes as she remembered all the times she'd been asked if 'it hurt when she fell from heaven' or how many potential alphabet rearrangements had been proposed to her by some foolishly drunk men.
"I get it Meena, you are the one all the guys fall in love with. And I'm the shoulder they cry on when you get bored and move on." Molly remembered a lot more, 'thanks Molls, you're like a sister to me' than the cheesy chat up lines of admirers.
"But Molls, you'll get this one, the guy that means something. If you just talk to him... or snog him, I have no preference."
Molly started to look like the faint memory of the timid teenager she had once been, she walked through the swinging door, shouting behind her friend she had left behind in her rush. "You know that I can't do that. It's too soon."
Finding John and explaining where her and Meena had disappeared to, but not alluding to why, she left him again as Meena caught up, wandering over to the bar, and ordering the first stiff drink she had had since her Uni days.
To the lovely guest reviewer: Thank you and I hope you have enjoyed this.
Also I would like to thank you all for your continued support, and Icebabe59 for reviewing so much and being lovely.
You're all brilliant!