Here's chapter two! Many thanks to MizJoely for betaing this! And thank you all for following and reviewing this little story!
I own nothing, including the bits of lines I borrowed from BBC's Sherlock. (Don't worry, I asked Mark he said it was fine ; ) Enjoy. ~Lil~
Chapter 2: The Date
After an interminable amount of well wishes from of her friends, Molly and Sherlock had finally made their way out of the pub and were walking down the pavement.
Now what?
True, he had faked dating on more than one occasion, but this wasn't fake... this was Molly Hooper. And that kiss certainly wasn't fake. No, that was... what the hell was that? And how had everyone else known before he had? Was it possible that he missed something this big? This, good God, obvious when everyone else seemed to be well aware of it. Wait! He stopped walking and pulled out his mobile.
"What's wrong?" Molly asked.
"What? Oh, nothing. I just need to check something."
He typed out a text.
Do I have an unresolved sentimental attachment for Dr. Molly Hooper? And if so how many people are aware of this?
He looked up at Molly as he waited for the response. "So, do you know where you'd like to eat?" he asked, attempting to pass the time while he waited for a response.
She smiled sweetly and nodded just as the reply pinged. He looked down at the screen.
Yes, of course you do. And my intel suggests that you and the lovely Miss Hooper are the only ones to yet acknowledge this fact.- MH
Sherlock growled.
Were you never going to tell me?
"Is it a case?" Molly inquired.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, it's my brother," he said with a sigh. "Ah... family... issues." A moment later his phone pinged again.
I thought, for once, that you should be allowed to come to your own conclusions. Also, Mummy wouldn't allow me to interfere. Although, I do believe she was planning something herself. It involved a locked room and nicotine deprivation.-MH
Sherlock shoved his mobile back into his pocket. He put his hand on the small of Molly's back. "Shall we?"
They started walking once again. It suddenly dawned on him that he should have perhaps asked Mycroft to get him reservations at the Dorchester or Hibiscus, considering it was Molly's birthday and surely she'd want to celebrate somewhere elegant. Especially since she looked so lovely.
"So, where will we be dining this evening Miss Hooper?"
"Um, do you suppose the chip shop you told me about is still open?"
He stopped walking once again, gaping at her. "You want fish and chips? But Molly, it's your birthday and you look..." He raked his eyes down her body taking in the sapphire blue dress hugging her shapely hips, then flaring out and ending just before her knees. It showed off less cleavage than the one from that awful Christmas, but... are her breasts larger? he wondered. That's when he realised he was staring and hadn't finished his sentence. "It's just that, you're a bit over dressed for a chippy, wouldn't you say?" he finished in a rush.
Molly looked down at herself. "Oh, I didn't... I could run home and change first."
"NO!" he practically shouted. Get a hold of yourself! He took a steadying breath. "It's late and they might be closed by the time... so we should probably hurry." He stepped to the curb and hailed a cab.
As it turned out, the chip shop was closing by the time they arrived, but Sherlock talked the owner into making them a fresh batch, though they'd have to take it to go.
Sherlock could be a gentleman when he put his mind to it and that meant not letting a beautiful young woman eat greasy chips whilst standing on a street corner. So he suggested taking them back to Baker Street, since it was closer than Molly's flat and no one liked cold, soggy chips. Molly got a curious look on her face, but agreed, nonetheless.
When they arrived, he busied himself clearing off the coffee table and settee so they could eat their dinner.
"Should I make tea?" Molly asked.
"Ah, no. I'll do it." He knew the state of the kitchen was just this side of frightening. Any other time he wouldn't give a thought to Molly seeing such a sight, but suddenly he wanted to impress her. How did John go through this over and over again? he wondered. As he put the kettle on and started to clean some mugs a thought occurred to him. He went back into the sitting room.
"Would you prefer some wine, Molly?"
She looked surprised once again. "You have wine?"
"Well, I wouldn't have offered if I didn't," he snapped.
She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow.
Bugger. Right, that was... He sighed. Must remember that this is a date. "I apologize. Wine?" This is maddening.
"That'd be nice, thank you," she replied.
He nodded and went back to the kitchen to find the wine he was sure he had. After a bit of searching he found a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc that a client had given him after he'd successfully uncovered the sommelier who'd been filching the restaurant owners most expensive vintages. It had been a slow week.
He returned with the wine and a couple of glasses. "Here we are."
"Thank you, Sherlock. This is... lovely," Molly said as she handed Sherlock his chips.
They set about eating, Molly commenting on how good the food was and that she'd never had such expensive wine before. Sherlock regaled her with the story of the sticky fingered sommelier, dazzling her with his deductions.
They finished the chips and Molly excused herself to the loo while Sherlock cleaned up their mess and poured them each another glass of wine. He sat back down and took a deep breath, trying to decide where he wanted the evening to lead.
It seemed that everyone in England was aware of his evident feelings for Molly Hooper, and now so was he. So, what next? He didn't know how to be in a relationship. Did he want to be in one? Before tonight he would have answered with an unequivocal no! But now, now he wasn't so sure. Then a thought struck him. He could ask Molly. She was always so patient with him, so calming and understanding. Mycroft had said that she was also unaware of his feelings, perhaps he should explain and asked what they should do about it. She'd be surprised at first, but then... she'd be her helpful self. He hated being out of his element, but if he was going to allow sentiment into his life, there was no better person than the only woman he'd ever actually trusted, completely.
She wasn't like The Woman. No. To Molly, love wasn't a weapon, it was a gift. And she'd been giving it to him for years, asking nothing in return. Molly wasn't like Janine either. She knew Sherlock, she saw him. Though in fairness to Janine, he had only let her see what he had wanted her to see. But Molly had seen him at his worst. His scathing deductions, his blatant advantage taking, his vulnerable rawness. She'd seen him high, she'd seen him hurtful, she'd seen everything... yet she was still here. Oh, where is she, he thought as he came out of his musings.
He looked around to find Molly seated on the edge of the settee, her bag in hand smiling at him. "What are you doing?"
"I had a lovely time..."
That sounded familiar, and he didn't like it.
"But it's late and I'm sure..." she started.
"Don't go. I need to talk to you."
"Oh, all right." Molly put her bag on the floor by her feet and turned to face him.
Sherlock's mouth felt dry once again. He grabbed his wine and drank half of the glass. "Ah, so we kissed earlier..."
"You kissed me," she interrupted.
Sherlock looked around. "Sure... okay. But it happened, nevertheless. And I, apparently, have f-f-f..."
Molly put her hand on Sherlock's arm. "You can't even say the word," she said with a smile. "You're not ready. It's okay."
Sherlock felt the knot that had been in his stomach most of the evening, tighten even further. "Of course... you know."
"Yeah, I do."
"When?"
Molly looked thoughtful for a moment. "It's hard to explain, really." She picked up her wine and took a drink. "I think it was just something I noticed... gradually."
Suddenly Sherlock was mad, no, furious. It was bad enough everyone thinking they knew him and knew his feelings. Everyone thinking they'd deduced his... his... heart. But Molly was keeping this from him as well? Molly whom he trusted. Molly, dear sweet Molly. She wasn't supposed to keep things from him, especially about...
Oh... The rush of memories flooded his mind as if a dam had broken. His multiple rejections. His manipulations. Hopeful smiles morphing into sad brown eyes. Painted red lips. Disappointment. Hurt.
Always... Always...
...it's really not your area - Don't make jokes Molly - …you've put on three pounds since I last saw you. - ...you're mouth's too small without it. - But what could I need from you? -...the size of your mouth and breasts -
Always... Always...
He suddenly found himself on the other side of the room, near the hearth. Molly was standing by his chair, a sad smile on her face.
"I'm sorry, Sherlock. How was I supposed to tell you what was in your own heart?"
Her voice was strong but he heard it starting to break, ever so slightly.
"I would have... I would have hurt you, again."
Molly nodded.
They stood silently, Molly looking down at her hands, Sherlock staring at her, trying to understand how she could still love him after all he'd done to her. Especially now that he knew how it felt. He had to know... he had to ask.
"Why do you love me, Molly?"
She looked up. "Sherlock..."
"Please, I'm trying to understand. Because from my point of view, I've given you no cause."
Sherlock counted as the first six tears fell down Molly's face. They felt like they were searing his chest.
"I just do," she said, barely above a whisper.
He approached her slowly and as he did he felt himself becoming lighter, he felt the knot unfurling. "Then answer me this. What kind of man falls in love with a woman without even realising it?" He was holding her face between his hands by the end of his question.
Molly smiled through her tears and said, "Sherlock Holmes."
He stared into her eyes for the longest of moments. As he did he felt all the years come crashing down upon him. All the hurt, all the fears, all the longing that he hadn't even realised he had been experiencing. He had always loved this woman and had repressed every single moment of it. How? How had his mind done it? Exceptional as it was, he had to consciously move memories or delete them.
Molly, stood patiently waiting for him to speak as he held her.
"There has to be an answer, Molly."
She reached up and took his hands form her face, holding them to her chest. "Not always." She took a deep breath. "You didn't want to feel this, so you didn't. Plain and simple."
"I didn't want a friend, but I have John. I didn't want another mother but I have Mrs Hudson. I certainly didn't want another brother but I have Greg."
Molly laughed. "You remembered his name."
"Of course I remembered his name, I do it to annoy him. Just like I send Mycroft cakes three times a month to ruin his diet."
She laughed even harder.
"Why did my mind fight this even harder than everything else?" he asked, gripping her hands tightly.
"Because it wasn't your big brain fighting this time. It was your enormous heart. It's a precious thing, to give your heart to someone. I know from experience. It feels... blissfully freeing and tortuously painful at the same time."
And there it was. Molly always making everything seem so simple.
Alone protects me.
He wasn't talking about friendship when he said that... he was protecting his fragile heart.
He leant forward until his forehead was touching hers. "Forgive me Molly."
She placed her hands on his chest, the slowly brought them up until her fingers play with the hairs on the nape of his neck. "Of course I forgive you, you beautiful idiot, on one condition."
"Name it."
She smiled and even in the dim lights of Baker Street, Molly Hooper seemed to glow. "Kiss me again."
He suddenly felt this sort of giddy anticipation that he couldn't ever remember feeling before. It seemed knowing that he could freely kiss Molly whenever he chose was incredibly empowering. At that moment, he realised, that kissing would never be enough...
Oh, and thank you MrsMCrieff for informing me that NO Chippy would put chips in a styrofoam container. (Sorry, my local pizza shop always puts our 'french fries' in styrofoam. Bloody savages!) Had to put that thanks at the end didn't want to give anything away.!
Hope you enjoyed this little two-shot! Please let me know! ~Lil~