A word finally escaped John's already parted lips.
"Wow." He breathed, if the flat hadn't been held in a crisp silence Molly would have missed that simple word that snapped her back to reality, a little flustered at the compliment. Molly borrowed some of the bolstered cheek commonly found in Meena's tone not usually her own, or at least she tried. "Wow yourself, Doctor Watson."
She spun 360 degrees, that's what they do in films, right? "Not too much for Angelo's is it? I thought you deserved the best I could do."
A rabbit in headlights. That was certainly an accurate description of John, his mouth was dry, palms clammy, and he was pretty convinced that he had reverted back to the awkward spotty teenager he had once been, swapping him for 'Three Continents Watson' and again to the man he was proud to be today was difficult enough, he really, really, didn't want to go through that again. "Ummm... Wow." Dammit, if that the only coherent thing I can say, I'll never forgive myself. Or those jeans... I will never forgive those jeans. His eyes veered to the soft curve of Molly's backside, he was a man after all.
A soft cough matched by a equally soft smile from the woman in question brought them both back to the room, fully aware, of the time, or the circumstances, the people, everything. Painfully aware of how wonderfully brilliant this moment was.
John regained himself from his stupor. "You look stunning, Molls. I mean you look amazing in PJs, but wow. I think I'm going to have to work out why you said yes, to me, of all people. I may also need to just stare a you just a little longer."
"I could say the same."
"Anyway, how did you know we were going to Angelo's?"
Molly giggled. "I see and I observe John Watson. It's been your date restaurant since I've met you, what was it you said 'it balances subtle beauty, simple and tasty food, and a good price through Sherlock's influence', even if the occasional date gets asked if she's your sister."
"Observation, Molly Hooper a woman after my own heart, although I would like to just clarify that I am straight, and any woman or Sherlock for that matter would not, could not, hold a candle to you."
"You don't have to sweet talk me, I'm already going on a date with you." She smiled.
With the conclusion that they easily found each other, for lack of a better word, 'wow-able', John turned his eyes to the clock, it was only ten past, but the table was booked for half past, and it was always best to leave sooner rather than later. "Care to join me then?" John extended his hand to her, clasped it as they moved to the door, walked down the outdoor steps and out onto the street. The weather and short walk it was from Molly's apartment to Angelo's allowed them the comfort of a short walk in each others presence, skin still numbly buzzing from the few nerves that remained, but hands connected and an upward curve to their lips mirrored.
As they approached the large windows that fronted Angelo's, John, trying his darnedest to be a gentleman, trying his darnedest to stop shaking (even if unnoticeably), opened the door and let Molly enter the restaurant first. Once he had joined her inside, his eyes adjusted to the dim glow that is only ever bestowed on the evening restaurant crowd. John wasn't shocked by their warm welcome, and thankfully because of the stories she had heard, from John and even Sherlock on one occasion when he was terribly bored; Molly was also not astounded by the reception the received.
"Doctor Watson. Doctor Watson!" A strong Italian called from behind the bar. A broad man, with a thick beard and white half-apron, bounded up to the pair, glancing over to John's present company giving her an appraising look, turning to John and raising an eyebrow and giving a appreciative nod. It was flattering really, and Molly took it in her stride, extending her hand to the restaurant owner.
"You must be Angelo, I've heard so much about this place from John and Sherlock."
Her mention of Sherlock didn't somber the mood as it would have done some months ago, instead it gained a pushed away hand and a breath eliminating hug for the both of them. Slapping them on their shoulders as he moved away Angelo spoke. "Oh. That boy. Such a shame, but he was never a fraud. Saved me from life in your retched English prisons." The laughed peacefully as Angelo lead the couple to a secluded candle lit table, away from the other diners, and clearly Angelo's doing. Not that they didn't appreciate it, being detached from the rest if the world, a little romance, never hurt anyone.
Both Molly and John had breathed sighs of relief throughout the evening, letting go of air they were unaware they were holding. From the moment they sat conversation was easy and comfortable; they could talk about work, of which Molly was thankful.
Every other first date in which Molly had divulged her profession had ended abruptly and in much the same way, with a sickened look, the 'You cut up dead people?' whisper and a 'check please!' shouted to the waiter, she rarely got to desert. John's background in the medical profession, and that they had technically met in the morgue itself, meant she was not waiting for him to blot out the door, he engaged in conversation, asked questions and listened with rapt attention, he even reached across the table and reassuringly gripped her hand as she talked about the body of a young boy that had been brought in just the day before, the thought of which she had been trying to push from her mind, but with the relief and comfort of John's presence she let the thoughts flow.
John had found himself in a constant state of contentment, the dinner was running smoothly, and it felt like a date, a real date. It was a little shocking, really, he'd been a little convinced it would feel just like any other Saturday night dinner, but it was far from it. She wasn't grossed out or disappointed by his repetitive stories of clinic life, and soon the conversation turned new and interesting, they find out things they had not yet told each other, and it was strange and truly lovely.
The enchantment that surrounded them was only marginally broken as John went slightly off topic, a question that had been niggling at his mind, but it was always a bad time to ask it (he ignored that this would be the worst.)
"What did you see in him? Sorry, uh, I mean, I know that he really missed something, looking past you and your love all those years. But what does someone so amazing, see in someone that only tells you the opposite?"
Molly was only slightly caught off guard, it was always a matter of time before Sherlock would pop up in conversation, they hadn't talked about him for at least a week, it was all in due course. Most men, she realised, wouldn't delve into such a complex topic on the first date, then again, this wasn't much like any first date, and John wasn't most men.
Her answer did shock him somewhat.
"I didn't love him, not really, not romantically. It was a silly crush, every woman is still an awkward teenage girl with awkward teenage crushes at heart. Hero worship they tend to call it, I liked the idea of him. He never really intimidated me, I was never really infatuated, even if my stuttering tried to tell a different story. I suppose like so many women, you see a striking man, handsome and aloof, mysterious and with no emotional outlet and you think you can change him, be the one who release the humanity you're convinced is there. Turns out that was your job anyway. He was a friend, no matter how much he wanted not to be." There she ended with a wine fuelled giggle, shocked that she could have pulled such a coherent response together, she wasn't drunk, not by any means, but even sober her thoughts never seemed to align so cohesively.
Again the evening continued to move smoothly, Molly talked about her love of writing, and John couldn't help but be amazed. He had enjoyed writing his blog, more so than he would have ever admitted to his therapist, but to tell the story, recreate the adventure, was a buzz in of itself. Molly's writing was different though, she still wrote of adventure, she'd even based it upon stories she'd overheard from himself, Greg or Mike on the more exciting days 'down in the dungeons of St. Bart's', but they were children's fiction.
"They're not very good, but I've read them when babysitting from time to time, and the kids liked them. I'm a bit more painfully honest with most of the kids, but they thrive on that."
"We'll, aren't you full of hidden talent." John commented.
"You haven't read them!" They both fell about laughing heartily, as she took the last bite of her rich chocolate dessert. The meal had passed so quickly, it felt like minutes since they had sat down. In reality, as the two turned simultaneously and almost comically to stare at the clock, after realising the pleasant silence around them was due to the emptiness of the restaurant, it was nearing midnight.
"Damn. When did it get so late? When did everyone else leave?" John asked.
"I'm not too sure." Molly glanced over at Angelo, snoozing behind the bar, hands sitting comfortably on his chest and a soft snoring rumbled from his lips. "We should probably get going. I should probably wake him."
Molly stood, gathering her things and slipping on her jacket. Their hands untangled, and it wasn't until now she noticed they had been connected this whole time. She walked over to Angelo and gently shook him awake, thanking him for his perfect hospitality and letting him hug her one final time. John had slipped on his ageing coat over his well cut jacket leaving a more than healthy tip on the table, he walked over to Molly, grasped her wrist and near pulled her through the restaurant door, the little bell chiming to signify their departure. The sign in the window had been turned to 'Closed' for quite some time.
Slipping his hand into hers John decided he wasn't ready for this date to end, practically planning the next one in his head as they shared a the walk back to Molly's, his, their apartment. That was the strangest thing about it, coming home from a first date, hand in hand, and then simply walking into your own shared home. No awkward doorstep chats, no wondering if she'll ask him if in for coffee, no goodnight kiss?
As they entered the door, Molly kicked of her heels, (screw it, I'll put them away in the morning) and hung up her jacket. John almost mirrored her actions as he placed his jacket over a dining room chair and left his shoes next to the door, (they can wait).
Was this it then? It was late, but tomorrow was Sunday, no work and enough time to catch up on the sleep they may miss now. John wanted to talk to Molly more, pick her brain, and share her thoughts. Molly wanted much the same, though, if she were honest she could quite happily just sit and stare at him for another few hours. And if John were honest he wanted much the same.
Molly started to walk over to the kitchen, in need of water. But John couldn't miss his chance, the longer they left it, the more trepidation it would take. It was like ripping off a plaster, fast and painless, although hopefully far more enjoyable.
Before she could walk past him John had grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close to him. Reflexively, and she would say for the purposes of balance even if it were the overwhelming curiosity, Molly's hands slid to the back of his neck, playing with the short flicks of hair there that were always so soft. Someone pulled someone in further, there breath was mingling and hearts racing and then they were kissing slowly and almost innocently. Eyes closed and every sense heightened, all the clichés were coming true, Molly could see fireworks in her closed vision, John's legs had turned to jelly, and both got lost in one another. When they parted it was all too soon. Their smiles were almost goofy, and Molly truly understood how he'd charmed so many women to achieve his nickname (no matter how much he'd denied it as barrack banter).
A word finally escaped Molly's already parted lips.
"Wow." She breathed.
Hello notsocreepyguest. I hope you enjoyed the date :) I know, it really is finally! Thank you!
(Also Amber. I hope you're happy now.)
Love to you all :D