Chapter 8

'Next to being married, a girl likes to be crossed in love a little now and then'
Jane Austen

Just dinner. Molly repeated to herself as they ordered. Nothing about the evening was just dinner. The restaurant had to be the fanciest that Molly had ever been to. She felt so underdressed but Sherlock in his tailored blazer and expensive shirt fit right in. All of Molly's confidence plummeted leaving her a nervous wreck. She fiddled anxiously with the napkin placed over her lap. "Stop that," Sherlock demanded, "It's distracting."

"Oh," she answered him all other words failing her. Just wonderfully she mentally scolded herself, once again she was a blithering fool.

"You're nervous. Don't be," Sherlock didn't need to check her pulse to know that it was racing.

"Sorry, I-I just, why?" Molly abandoned all attempt at conversation and went for answers instead. The pathologist watched him as he reached for his drink with his usual grace.

The consultant detective quirked an eyebrow and set his drink down, "Isn't it obvious? It should be. John said-"

"John said what?" Molly cut in with a panicked squeak.

"That this was a way to-make-my-intentions-clear," Sherlock rushed his answer so that his words blurred into one long one. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. John made this seem so easy.

Molly sighed and hoped that what she thought Sherlock had said wasn't the case. They'd been through this already. Sherlock didn't need to do anything to thank her for her part; she wasn't a charity case that needed just one night with the enigmatic Adonis. Most women, herself included, probably thought her crazy for turning his offer down in the first place. "Sherlock," Molly decided to let him down gently understanding that he was out of his depth with what he was doing, "You really don't have to do this. It's okay you know, we're friends and friends help each other."

Sherlock stood up abruptly, his chair screeching on the wooden floor of the sophisticated restaurant drawing looks from other customer. "Sherlock! Sit down please!" Molly whispered harshly in attempt to avoid causing a scene or any more of a scene at least.

"What is wrong with you?" his tone was cold and cutting.

Molly blinked in surprise, "Excuse me?"

"You would have jumped at the chance for this before, is it someone else? Have you met someone else?" His scrutinising gaze focused solely on her. She felt his eyes on her as he flicked from head to toe in deduction. Molly shrunk away slightly any remaining confidence evaporating quickly. "No that's not it, no, it's something so much simpler than that. You don't believe me to be sincere. I thought you of all people would have been able to see that. You've always counted to me Molly Hooper but I can see that is no longer the case."

"Sherlock," Molly paused to choose her words carefully, "Sit down, please. You've got it wrong." She was out her depth. Moriarty had knocked her confidence in trusting men but with Sherlock, it was always different. She always trusted him and knew that he trusted her completely.

"Have I Molly?" it was a challenge. Sherlock was always right.

Molly's heart beat in a panic. "Please Sherlock," Molly begged him with a glance around the restaurant. Eyes burnt into the pair. Molly felt as if they were painting her as the villain. They probably thought she'd been having some illicit affair with his best friend when they couldn't be further from the truth. Sherlock sat back down but Molly knew better than to breathe a sigh of relief. "I didn't, I don't want your pity. I'm always mousy Molly-" Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, "Don't please, I'm not stupid I know what people say." Sherlock was quiet. In the past he had manipulated Molly but not now. "You offering me what you did when you returned. It hurt Sherlock." Sherlock listened to Molly. This wasn't how dinner was supposed to go. It was all going horribly wrong. "Be honest with me, do you really feel something for me?"

"Yes," his deep velvety voice portrayed how truthful he really was. It was the same back then, when he needed her help.

"Then let's have dinner, shall we?" Molly tried to hide the desperation in her voice. The consultant detective obliged, "I want to enjoy this," Molly smiled. Sherlock pulled his own lips into an awkward smile.

-x-

Molly discovered very early on in their acquaintance that he was prone to being overdramatic after she accidently destroyed some of his samples so his reaction at dinner shouldn't really be a surprise. Sherlock Holmes and sentiment didn't exactly go together which didn't help matters but he was trying and Molly really appreciated that.

Dinner was a success in the end. Molly really enjoyed herself. They mostly discussed work and John. They kept to familiar territory. For Sherlock it was reassuring. He'd never been on a date that wasn't for a case before and found that it wasn't unpleasant. He even allowed himself to indulge in desert.

Sherlock settled the bill at the end of the evening despite Molly's protests and hailed a taxi to take Molly home. The pathologist requested that the taxi stopped a few streets over. Tentatively Sherlock linked his arm with Molly's as they walked. Molly sensed his reluctance and held tightly to Sherlock's arm with a gentle squeeze of his lower arm. "Thank you for dinner Sherlock."

"You've said that already," he answered her. Molly smiled to herself glad that he hadn't changed himself for her. He wouldn't be her Sherlock if he had changed.

"I really enjoyed myself in the end. You are quite the romantic," she nudged him playfully. He hummed in acknowledgement of her enjoyment.

They walked together silently each pondering their own thoughts. Every now and then, a car would pass them or they would pass beneath a streetlight to be momentarily illuminated. Molly was still trying to believe how lucky she was when in the back of her mind rationality was niggling away that this was all a horrible dream, a trick of the mind and any minute now she would wake up at her desk faced with nothing but paperwork and dead bodies.

Sherlock on the other hand was trying to fathom how he ended up in this position with Molly on his arm. What was more perplexing was that he liked it. He cared for her that much was certain as he attempted to anticipate what his next move would be. The consultant detective had watched enough crap telly and listened to John go on and on about his dates to know that there was a kiss on the doorstep. It was like some unwritten rule that Sherlock wasn't entirely comfortable with. It was pathetic really, when after his fall they'd shared a bed together.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" Molly's gentle voice cut through his musings.

"Tomorrow?" he repeated somewhat dumbstruck at her boldness, "I don't…"

"You've got an unfinished experiment cluttering up my lap," she chastised lightly now at ease with the consultant detective.

He considered what she said for a moment. She wanted him there with her. He joined in with light humour, "That was careless of me."

Molly smiled widely glad that he was going to be in the lab, "I'll have a coffee ready."

-x-

The pair made it back to the door to Molly's building. "T-thank you again for tonight," her stutter returned as she stumbled over a goodbye. Normally she would either give whoever it was a goodnight kiss if the date had been a success or if it hadn't then she would say a swift goodbye and hightail it inside her building. As Molly was deciding how to solve this problem Sherlock was faced with the same conundrum. He hadn't quite figured out how he was supposed to end their date.

"I'll walk you to your door," he opened the door and held it there for Molly to pass through in somewhat of a daze at his chivalry. It was delaying the inevitable really.

Molly stopped outside her door and fiddled in her bag for her keys hoping that her mother hadn't heard them and didn't have her ear pressed against the door. She wouldn't put it past her. Molly tucked a stray hair behind her ear and looked at Sherlock stood with his hands in his pockets. The byzantine consultant detective was watching her every move. Molly swallowed nervously anyone watching them from the outside must be in stitches by now, having a good laugh at their expense. "Goodnight Sherlock," she moved her head to meet his eyes; the stray hair fell into her face again. She reached up to push it back with a slight scowl not realising that Sherlock had the same intent. Their hands collided clumsily. "Oh, umm," Molly clammed up at the surprise.

"I've had a wonderful evening, Molly" Sherlock took a step nearer, a devilish gleam lit up his eyes as he took great effort in pronouncing her name in that special way that always had her falling at his feet and he bloody well knew it. He closed his eyes. Molly panicked internally, oh my god, he wasn't going to kiss her was he? She wanted it, of course she did, what she didn't expect was for him to want to. His lips pressed ever so lightly on her cheek. With his hand he pushed back the stray hair with a feather light touch, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yes," Molly answered automatically as he walked away. She turned around and unlocked her door. There was no sign of her mother even though the lights were on. Taking a moment Molly fell back against her front door and reached up to touch her cheek.

"Oh Molly, you're back. Did you have a nice evening with that man?" Molly nodded and took her jacket off.

Her mother sat herself down and looked her over, "Mark my words Molly Hooper. He will break your heart."

"Mum," Molly warned, she didn't want to listen to her mum complain at the many reasons not to like Sherlock. She was always so desperate for Molly to find herself a man and the moment she does it's the very one her mother doesn't like. Well tough, Molly decided, she doesn't have to like him.

-x-

True to his word Sherlock was in the lab the next day. He sent Molly a text saying he was on his way so she abandoned all her paperwork and went to make him a coffee. Black, two sugars. She set it next to his half-finished experiment and went back to her paperwork unable to concentrate as she listened out for his arrival. She'd been a dream-like state since their dinner that wasn't just dinner.

He arrived within minutes of Molly setting down his coffee. "Hello Molly," he greeted as he took of his coat.

"Hello Sherlock," she answered back reminding herself not to be a babbling mess.

He sat down on the stool placed near his experiment and busied himself with setting up a slide. Molly felt a little disappointed that there was no mention of their dinner night before or his chaste goodbye. "Thank you for the coffee," he picked up the mug of hot liquid and flicked his eyes at Molly.

"Oh, well I said I'd have one ready," she blushed a little at the memory. Sherlock could feel his body betraying him as he observed his pathologist. His heart rate had definitely quickened. A result of increased levels of dopamine, norepinephrine and serotonin. It was the limbic system. Sherlock sat up all night attempting to reason out his body's betrayal whenever he was with Molly. It was happening right now as he catalogued every single one of Molly's delicate features. His eyes travelled to hers and stopped. Molly was looking directly at him catching him staring. Sherlock cleared his throat and returned to his work not seeing the gleeful smile that Molly was wearing.

This is horribly cringe-worthy and for that I apologise.

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