Apologies for the long delay on this, I've not been in the best of health for writing. Hope you enjoy this one, and prompts are always welcome. Thank you all very much for your support on this, I'll endeavour to update as soon as I can.
K is for Kale and Kickboxing
Molly looked at her lunch, a quinoa salad with kale crisps and some low-fat yoghurt with sunflower seeds and honey, and sighed to herself in a dejected manner. Tom had taken it upon himself to put them both on a health kick, eating vegan twice a week and going to exercise classes. Molly hadn't been keen on either thing until she learned that the exercise classes were kickboxing. She ignored the nagging thoughts about how the reason she relented was related to the aggression channelling she could do when sparring. What she was significantly less keen on was Tom's idea of a balanced diet for said health kick. She had nothing against healthy food, vegan food or gluten free food for that matter, it was more the planning and preparation of the substandard meals she was now eating for lunch and dinner. In short, Molly was hungry. She had been sneaking packets of crisps and chocolate (both banned by Tom) during work hours because she knew the probability of him turning up there was fairly slim. She had also been trying to avoid the confrontation with a certain consulting detective that she anticipated would come of him knowing about her current diet. In line with her general bad luck, she looked up to see said detective stood in the doorway of her office. He said nothing, she said nothing, he knew what she was doing and why, she knew exactly what he'd say about it. He knew what she'd say about what he was going to say, and so they didn't bother arguing about such things anymore. Sherlock stood in the doorway glaring at Molly, and Molly sat in her chair, glaring at Sherlock and eating her kale crisps. After about 5 minutes of silence, John joined them. He looked at Sherlock, then at Molly, then at Sherlock again, and against his better judgement broke the silence.
"One of you must have won the staring contest by now, come on, we've got work to do," John said, frustrated by the now very awkward silence. Sherlock turned on his heel, and with a swoosh of his coat was gone out of sight without a word. Molly rolled her eyes and held up her crisps for John to look at.
"He's taken offence to my lunch. I'm fine, he thinks it's out of balance and I can't function to his standards. He'll be back later, he has no will power when it comes to his curiosity." Molly said dismissively, for a man who claimed eating slowed him down, he was strangely obsessed with making sure she ate enough, it was one of his more irritating hypocrisies.
"Should have guessed. Well, I'll see you later then," John muttered, shaking his head.
Molly waved John off and returned to forcing down the measly portion of lettuce with a few grains of quinoa that Tom called a salad. She immediately felt guilty, he'd gone to the effort of making her lunch every day and planning dinners, doing most of the food shopping, organising the kickboxing, and here she was sulking like a child. She'd often said she wanted to be healthier, a little fitter, but her working hours were not conducive to such things, and he'd stepped in to help her. She finished the rest of her lunch and set about finishing the work Sherlock would undoubtedly return for in a couple of hours.
John decided it would be better not to question Sherlock as to his dislike of Molly's diet, and was left to his own devices in Baker Street as Sherlock spent the next two hours firmly embedded in his mind palace. He played some solitaire, plants v zombies, texted Mary, caught up on some paperwork from the surgery, tidied the kitchen a little (for Mrs Hudson's benefit) and had a nap whilst he waited for the epiphany moment that would take them to Bart's. It was only when his stomach growled that Sherlock decided to whisk them off chasing evidence and data for another few hours. John swore his best friend did these things deliberately. Eventually they ended up at Bart's and John left Sherlock at the microscope to go home for some dinner, with someone who would actually speak to him in sentences, like a conventional human.
Molly was not surprised to find Sherlock on his own in the lab, now John had Mary to go home to, he didn't feel the need to hang around the lab, and often left the detective to his experiments. She was quite pleased by this slight change in dynamic, it meant there was less scope for awkward small talk between her and John. Despite him being a doctor, they rarely had that much to talk about, as their specialities lay at opposite ends of the medical spectrum. It wasn't that Molly disliked John, but she felt a little shunned by his isolation during Sherlock's absence. It was this absence that led to her going out with other friends, and eventually meeting Tom, but the two definitely weren't connected. Definitely. She shook her head and looked up from her paperwork, searching for something to distract her from her thoughts. The first thing she noticed was the smell of chips, the second was the lack of Sherlock. Molly stood up and decided to go and get some dreadful coffee from upstairs to help her finish the rest of her paperwork, so she could get home to her cat, and fiancé.
Upon returning to her desk, awful coffee in hand, she found a parcel that smelt strongly of vinegar next to her paperwork. Someone had left her fish and chips. Sherlock had left her fish and chips. She suddenly realised why Tom wanted to take up kickboxing so badly – to put Sherlock Holmes in his place. An image of Tom trying to take on Sherlock passed through her head, and it kept a smile on her face the whole way home.