Chapter VI: Coming clean

The remaining three stood in the corridor gaping at each other.

Mary was confused. She thought Molly would respond positively to Sherlock's attention. John's behaviour was also startling – did he not want them to be happy? Perhaps there was more to Molly's innocent remark about John already having a boyfriend…

John was confused. Sherlock was suddenly paying attention to Molly in a new way. He'd never seen him kiss anyone other than Mrs Hudson before – and that had been entirely familial. What the hell was going on?

Sherlock was not confused. He hated to be defeated but perhaps there had been too many lies to balance this evening. He was now trying to decide if it was better to resolve the issue at hand, i.e. John, or chase after Molly, who was clearly very angry, and perplexed. John solved the dilemma by speaking.

"I'm going to take Mary home. I'll see you back at Baker St in an hour or so and we'll talk," said John, not unkindly.

"Fine."

"Sherlock, if you've ever valued any of my opinions: do not go after Molly now. It will be a mistake."

"Fine," he repeated.

John and Mary made their way to the taxi rank and got in. He looked at her sadly.

"I'm sorry this evening has ended so poorly. I really wanted us all to have a fun night."

"We were, for the most part…but John, I have questions and possibly some answers."

The doctor sucked in a breath and nodded.

"When Sherlock came to see me last week, he told me that he had feelings for Molly but that he couldn't act on them straightaway. He said he'd treated her badly in the past – in a work capacity – and so thought that spending time together socially, in a non-threatening larger group, might help. I pointed out that this was unnecessarily complicated but he asked me to trust him."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?" John was astonished, and not quite ready to believe her.

"He said you would tease him."

"What? The manipulative bastard. I wouldn't have teased him, if he were serious about it all but I find that hard to believe."

"Why?"

"You don't know him like I do. He's very committed to his career. I've never seen him in any relationship. There was a fascination with a woman last year but it was more intellectual – she got the better of him in a case, and it bugged him. He didn't actually fancy her."

"That doesn't preclude him fancying other people. John, you're not jealous, are you?"

John reached for Mary's hand.

"No, no, of course not. If you knew how many times I've been forced to deny that Sherlock and I are a couple though…. He's my best friend. I'm very pissed off at him right now but we'll sort it out. I only have eyes for you, and if I didn't think I should put this thing with Molly right, I would come in with you now and prove it. As it is, will you settle for my word and a quick snog?"

It was a testament to the growing feeling between them that Mary was willing to believe him so whole-heartedly. Before long, she was home and John was on his way back to Baker St.

John threw open the door to the sitting room and called out for Sherlock. He was nowhere to be seen but violin music was comingfrom his room. John marched down the corridor and banged on the door. He barged in to find Sherlock staring out the window, violin in hand.

"Sherlock, I'm making some tea. Get your arse out to the living room and leave the Strad here."

Sherlock said nothing but he put the violin down, almost meekly. Following John outside, he sat down in his favourite armchair.

"Alright, talk."

"What would you like to talk about?"

John's face bobbed out of the kitchen to show a pained expression.

"Molly. You. Explain."

"I may have gotten caught up your lessons and the homework."

"What do you mean?"

"Suddenly found myself regretting that I hadn't realised she once asked me out. And that she never tried again."

"Sorry. Not buying it." John returned with tea on a tray.

"Why does no one believe me?"

"Oh I don't know….because we've met you before…because you've never indicated an iota of romantic interest in another human being before…I could go on."

"I get the picture. If I can't make you believe me, I definitely can't make Molly."

"Wait, did you tell her this?"

"Sort of. She was incredulous."

"She still let you kiss her though…"

"Caught up in the moment, no doubt. Anyway, it doesn't matter now."

"What doesn't?"

"The why of it all…clearly, the experiment has failed. John, I've decided to drop out of your lessons."

"Ok, first of all, don't you dare call Molly an experiment! She is a real human person with feelings and god knows why but she has them for you. Second of all, if you are suddenly dropping the Tin Man act, then you owe it to yourself to explore it. I didn't start this so that you could treat women worse than you already did. Thirdly, you don't drop out of my lessons. You get one more and if you succeed, I'll let you graduate."

Sherlock sighed outwardly as if put upon but inside he did a quick basic cha-cha-cha. He might not be able to bend Molly to his will, even if for her own good, but he was a master manipulator of his flatmate.

"What will it entail?"

"Funnily enough, it will start with more apologies. Then some begging. It should be nice and humbling for you. And if you are very lucky, she'll give you another chance." John hesitated before continuing. "Look, Sherlock, are you sure that you have entirely sincere feelings for her, because I don't want you to hurt her anymore than you have….and you've already made me an unwitting accessory to the crime. And my girlfriend, for that matter."

"Is this where I have buy flowers and chocolate and that sort of crap…it's really not me, John."

John smiled, patient now that he was getting a handle on the situation.

"Hmm, well, let's review what we know about Molly Hooper. She's smart, a doctor, a pathologist, so not an ordinary woman. Her blog is full of kittens and hearts but it's obviously just a template. Her apartment is tidy and modern, without much girly clutter. So no. She's not a flowers and choccie type of girl. You'll have to use your considerable brain power and knowledge of the lady to come up with exactly the right apology."

Sherlock looked stumped. In turn, John was frustrated.

"I shouldn't help you at all but I'm pretty sure a genuine apology and honest explanation is all you need here."

"Really? Excellent, I'll go see her tomorrow at work."

"No. Absolutely not."

"Why not?"

"She embarrasses easily. Do you think she wants a confession of love or like or whatever it is in her work place? Besides, tomorrow is Sunday, genius. She won't be at work."

Sherlock visibly deflated.

"What if I suggested meeting in a neutral place?"

"It's risky; she might not come but it's a good start."

"Should I text her now or tomorrow?"

"Text? Again, no. You'll have to summon the courage to make an actual telephone call for this one."

Molly looked at her phone when it rang so late. Seeing it was Sherlock, she pressed ignore. She blew her nose noisily and dabbed the tissue on her tear-stained face. Her lovely dress was flung on the floor. Toby had made himself a cosy bed in it. She was an idiot to think she could pretend anything with Sherlock. After all they'd been through together, how could he use her so? But wait, said her conscience, you don't even know what he was using you for. Maybe it was genuine. Bollocks. That sociopath asshole had some underhand plan that involved making her even more foolishly soppy over him than usual.

"John, she's not answering. Now can I send a text?" Sherlock hung up a third time.

"Voicemail would be better. Here's what to say…"

"I know what to say. Give me some credit."

Sherlock pressed 7. He'd never noticed that he had Molly on speed-dial before. It went through to her overly cheery voicemail.

"Hi. This is Molly Hooper. I'm probably doing an autopsy right now so please leave me a message and I'll call you back when I've washed my hands!"

"Molly. I've had a talk with John and explained everything and I'd like the opportunity to do the same with you. Would you meet me tomorrow? I understand if you don't want to. Please call me back. Or text me. Or email me. Ok, I'm apparently rambling now and this is out of character."

Sherlock was cut off abruptly as John reached over and hit the end call button.

"That was…John searched for an adjective that wasn't long-winded and pathetic…good."

Molly's phone chimed again – this time a voicemail. She listened to it. At the end, the robot voice said "to delete this message, press 5, to save this message, press 4, to listen again, press 3." She pressed 3. And then 4. After she knew it by heart, she sent a text back.

You don't deserve it but I deserve an explanation. 3pm tomorrow at the caf on the corner of my road.

When she finished sending the text, she realised there was one in. The fucker. Oh, it was from Mary.

Molly – I know we don't know each other well but if you feel like a chat. I have wine, ice-cream, things you can hit, whatever.

X

She replied.

Thanks – I'll definitely take you up on the hitting things. I have a nice picture of Sherlock I can tack to something.

Molly

When John got up the next morning, he found Sherlock still lying on the couch, though now wearing his pyjamas and a day's worth of stubble.

"Morning."

Sherlock grunted at him: never a morning person at the best of times.

"I'm making some coffee. If anyone else would like some, then he can follow me into the kitchen."

John busied himself at the coffee machine and as soon as the smell of fresh roasted beans began to waft through the air, Sherlock appeared.

"How are you feeling about your meeting with Molly later on?"

"Fine."

"Know what you're going to say?"

"Not really."

"Want some help?"

Sherlock eyed John suspiciously.

"Last night, you were dead against the idea of any status quo change. What's happened?"

"Oh, let's just say I'm a romantic fool, and it's in my best interests for all my friends to be happy, even if that means being happy together. I'm sure it would be character building for you to have a girlfriend."

"Who said anything about having a girlfriend?!" said Sherlock, outraged.

"Well, one night stands with people you see on a regular basis aren't the done thing, Sherlock. And then there's the fact that Molly genuinely likes you. Or at least she did," he added with a laugh.

"That's not helpful, John."

"No. But the rest of what I have to say is. Listen to me, my friend, I am the teacher, and you are the student. We never did get to the lesson about showing your emotions and now is the time to do it."

"Can it wait until I've showered and shaved?"

"Don't shave."

"Why not?"

"Trust me. Women like stubble. And it'll make you seem more emotionally raw – like you were too upset to make an effort. Since Molly will never have seen you anything other than looking well-turned out, it will appeal to her kinder side."

"You're a bit like a horse-whisperer, only for women, aren't you?" wondered Sherlock.

"Yes, but never repeat that outside this room. Also, wear those jeans you bought and t-shirt. No suits for you today."

"Really?!"

"Honestly, Sherlock, you're like a reverse child, stomping your foot because you can't wear a fancy suit. Do as I tell you. You're trying to show Molly a different side – it'll help if you actually look different."

An hour later, Sherlock emerged from his room wearing tight black jeans, a blue t-shirt and a leather jacket.

That bastard – does he ever look bad? thought John as he inspected the makeover.

"You'll do," he pronounced.

"Now remember, compliments, apologies, beg for another chance, or even a first chance. Get it right and she'll be eating out of your hand."

Sherlock nodded and moved towards the door, then he looked back at his flatmate.

"Thanks, John."

Fuck…thought John, don't make me regret this.

He waited until Sherlock was out on the street hailing a cab, and then he made a phone call.

"Molly, it's John. We need to talk."

At five to 3, Sherlock stepped into the café at the end of Molly's street. It was called Rudy's and looked like a million other greasy spoons up and down the country. It had formica table tops and vile 70s wooden panelling but was at least clean and relatively empty. Sitting down at a corner table, he inspected the menu and ordered a coffee. At 3pm on the dot, Molly arrived. Her hair was loose and wind-tossed. She wore brown cords and an old green v-neck t-shirt. It was a look he hadn't seen on her before and only added to her Molly-ness. She looked perfectly comfortable and entirely opposed to his discomfort at being dressed unusually. Sherlock stood up awkwardly when she approached the table.

"Hi."

She merely nodded and sat down.

"Molly – usual lunch, love?" called out someone, perhaps the eponymous Rudy.

"No, thanks, Chaz, just some tea for now."

Looking back at Sherlock, they both spoke at once.

"You look terrible," she remarked.

"You look gorgeous," he said.

"I thought you were done lying, Sherlock," she snapped.

"That wasn't a lie. Twice this weekend I've seen you look very different to how you dress at work and both are in separate ways alluring."

Molly bit down the harsh comeback she had prepared.

"And thank you, by the way, for telling me I look terrible. I hardly slept at all, if you must know. And the iron is broken, so I had to dress in casual clothes."

Molly laughed in spite of herself.

"Only you would care that your iron is broken. Most men don't even own one. Tell me, is your razor broken too?" she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Sherlock thought privately that this was going quite well.

"I just didn't have the energy to shave. It's Sunday, and so on."

"Actually, I think it's quite sexy," she said, reaching out and stroking his cheek briefly.

The moment was interrupted by "Chaz" with the beverages.

"All right, Mol, introduce us to your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend. He's barely even my friend at the moment…but since you ask, this is Sherlock, Sherlock, this is Chaz."

"You're kidding me? This is 'im? The one?" He turned to address Sherlock.

"I don' know what you done, mate, cos usually she's singing your praises."

"Yes, right, thank you, Chaz, we'll give you a shout if we need anything else," said Molly quickly.

She busied herself with pouring milk into her tea.

"I'm waiting for an apology, Sherlock. And then a lengthy explanation."

Despite all the well-crafted lines he had rehearsed during the sleepless night, his mind went blank now. He took a sip of coffee to cover himself and immediately spat it back out.

"Ugh, that is the worst coffee I've ever had."

Molly smiled wickedly.

"You might have warned me."

"I thought you deserved it. And I'm still waiting…"

"Right, well, the thing is, I'm not, I mean, er, I'm not very good at opening up to people. Blame distant parents and boarding school if you like but the truth is I probably cultivated it a little too. It was easier to pretend to be socially ambivalent."

"And then you met John."

"You make him sound like my saviour."

"Well, isn't he? He's a far better friend than you deserve, Sherlock."

"I know. I don't deserve either of you. But Molly, I want you both. I need my blogger and my pathologist. And like it or not, you both need me."

"We don't need you, Sherlock. John and I would be just fine without you. But you do need us."

"Don't hold back, Molly."

"I wasn't going to. Sherlock, I'm not sure why you did what you did last night but someone clearly has to tell you that it's not ok to toy with my feelings. And since you've obviously gotten to John and bent him back around your little finger, it falls to me again, to call you on your abominable behaviour towards me, again."

"But don't you see…I didn't do anything abominable. I took you out for a lovely evening, we danced, and we kissed. I thought it was a very nice kiss. Wasn't it?" he said, suddenly unsure.

A fleeting far away look in her eyes told Sherlock that she was recalling it.

"I certainly never imagined we'd ever kiss. But the point is Sherlock, that you have repeatedly stated that you are married to your work and not interested in pursuing any kind of love life. So naturally I am forced to conclude that you are using me for some ulterior motive."

"You're wrong though. I changed my mind. And that is down to John too. I see what he has with Mary and I realised that I thought of you in the same way. In my head, we were already in a relationship, it just wasn't physical."

"Oh, Sherlock," said Molly in a disappointed parent voice, "please tell me that you haven't deluded yourself into thinking that a steady course of autopsies and you alternating flattery with insults is a relationship."

"That came out wrong. I meant, I'd see John smile at Mary, and I'd look around for you so we could do the same. Once I realised that, I thought what a dick I've been all this time. So this is me, apologising sincerely for all the times I've hurt you, insulted you, flattered you inappropriately. Please give me a chance. I'm not promising to change into a perfect man but at least let me try."

Molly was stunned at his seemingly sincere tone.

"Sherlock, that's a very pretty speech and I wish could believe you, but I don't. So from now on, there's a new rule. You find yourself a new lab to work at. Find a new tame pathologist. If you're genuinely interested in me, you'll do this. If you're still interested in a few weeks time, then we can discuss it."

She stood up and tossed two pound coins down on the table.

"Bye, Sherlock."

He couldn't believe it. Of all the times for her to grow a spine.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

"Deadly."

She left the café. Sherlock sat there and drank the awful coffee in penance. This was unexpected. Maybe he should call John? No. Too soon. Sherlock found he was actually upset at this turn of events.

Outside on the street, Molly sent a text, then leaned against the wall and waited. After what seemed like ages, Sherlock emerged from the café and walked away from her. Even his walk seemed dejected. Keeping her distance, she quietly followed him for a few minutes and then hurried to catch up.

"You're an idiot, you know."

Sherlock turned around, an incredulous look on his face at the unmistakable sound of her voice.

"You couldn't just be a normal guy, and ask me out. Instead you turned me into a case, meticulously planning what you thought I would like, when all along, all I really wanted was for you to be yourself. Well not exactly yourself, a kinder version of you, who wanted to spend time with me outside the morgue. I was so wrapped up in my unrequited passion that I missed that it was suddenly reciprocated, at least on some nascent level."

She stopped talking and looked up at him, eager to see how he would react now. When he didn't respond, she prompted.

"It was a really nice kiss, Sherlock."

He reached his hand to the back of her neck and drew her close but stopped short of kissing her.

"You and John planned this. As punishment."

"Yes, we did. Not very pleasant is it?"

"Certainly not."

Molly reached up on her tippy toes to kiss him softly. She tightened her arms around his neck so they were on eye level. His arms encircled her frame holding her in place.

"You'll only get one more chance, I mean it."

"So you're saying I better not screw it up? Maybe I should have lessons from John then," said Sherlock, with a smirk, as he bent down to kiss her properly.

A/N: Long discussion with Thinkswithpen. This fic nearly ended with Molly leaving the coffee shop. She really didn't want Sherlock to get the girl this time, and I kinda agreed but felt the happy maybe someday worked. If you prefer, you can imagine that this time he didn't get her. Thanks for reading: I hope you enjoyed it.