It was a drizzly Sunday morning in London. Water was coming down in feather-light sprinkles as scattered rays of sunlight managed to squeeze through the tiny irregular crevices between the dark clouds that quilted the sky.

Sherlock sits in his chair with a cup of tea, as ever, gazing out the window absently. His mind had wandered far, far away and it's only the sound of John's voice, muffled at first, which slowly draws him back to reality.

"Sherlock! Are you listening? Have you heard a single word I've said?"

"Hmm?" the detective mutters distractedly. "No, of course I wasn't listening. I was thinking. Now, what is it that you wanted?"

"The wedding, Sherlock. We need to leave in half an hour and you haven't so much as showered."

"Oh that? I'm not going," Sherlock informs him matter-of-factly, setting his cup and saucer down on the table beside him.

John's jaw drops open in disbelief. "I'm sorry, what?!" he exclaims, rejecting the statement outright. "No, Sherlock. This is not the time for you to be brooding and moody. Today is Molly's big day, and we are going to be there for her, just as she is always there for us. Now get your deplorable arse in the shower and get changed. We're leaving in thirty minutes."

Sherlock uncrosses his legs and furrows his brow, rising from the chair and popping into the kitchen for a biscuit. "I just told you I'm not going."

"What reason could there possibly be for you not to attend this wedding? You're impossible you know that? You can't just-" John is at a loss for words, his frustration with Sherlock reaching a peak. He sighs and looks his friend dead in the eyes. "If you don't go, Molly will be heartbroken. You know that right?"

"Wrong," Sherlock states calmly. "Molly will, in fact, be much more at ease without my presence."

"Oh, is that a fact?" John asks sarcastically.

"Yes, it is," Sherlock replies, blinking obliviously in response to John's mocking tone.

"Molly invited us, Sherlock. She wants us there," Doctor Watson insists. "Now I don't know what's going on in that bloody ridiculous head of yours, but don't pin this on her. Now stop being stupid and get ready."

"Isn't it you who's always reminding me to be kinder to Molly? Always pointing out my insensitivity toward her?"

"What's your point?"

"My point is- the greatest gift I could impart on Molly today is my absence. She doesn't want me there," Sherlock reiterates once more for his stubborn friend.

"And why is that?"

"Because she's in love with me!" Sherlock announces as if it were breaking news.

John's eyes widen with pity and realization. "Are you just getting that now?" He asks with a stern expression. "The girl drooled over you for years, Sherlock, and received nothing but emotional abuse in return. And now that she's finally moved on, you're going to once again deny her of your friendship?!"

"That's just it- she hasn't moved on, John."

"Of course she has," Watson retorts. "What are you talking about?"

Sherlock rubs his forehead in distress. "I saw Molly at the lab yesterday. She was helping me with a case and she was more flustered and scatter-brained than usual."

John tenses his jaw, resenting the unkind words spoken against their friend. But Sherlock continues to explain.

"I cut myself on a glass slide, and despite my persistent objections, Molly insisted on sterilizing the incision herself. But as soon as her fingers touched my skin, her pulse skyrocketed, her pupils dilated and her speech became almost incoherent. I haven't seen her that way for years. Not to that extent," he muses as his mind drifts back to the feeling of her cool, small fingers against his flesh.

"Could just be…pre-wedding jitters," John suggests, trying his best to rationalize the situation.

Sherlock cocks his head to the side at the absurdity of his comrade. If Molly were nervous about the wedding, she'd have been pacing and rambling incessantly as she always did when she was stressed. There was simply no other reason for her to react to him physically unless she were still attracted to Sherlock.

John just shakes his head. "You can't seriously think that Molly would go through with the wedding if she were still hung up on you…"

"Not only do I think it, I believe it, so for Molly's sake, I will not be attending. And anyway, I don't like weddings..."

"You went to my wedding," John points out with confusion.

"Yes, but that was different," Sherlock sighs with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "I approved of Mary. This Tom fellow, well- let's just say, Molly could've done better."

John Hamish Watson narrows his eyes skeptically. Was it possible? No... Could it be that Sherlock was jealous of Molly's future husband? The way the detective averts his eyes tells John everything he needs to know. "My God…" He mutters accusingly. "You're in love with Molly Hooper. That's what this is all about."