Love is not that easy
You´re the lonely
One and only
Body in the world
Who can make me
Who can break me
Down into a young girl
You say the love is not that easy
And that´s the lesson that you teach me
Hypocrates-Marina and the Diamond
______________________________________________________________________
As Molly woke up she blinked with her eyes and then turned around to see at the normally left free part of her bed. She was lying next to Sherlock who was- eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face- fast asleep. She smiled as she remembered what happened yesterday evening- or night, to be exactly.
After they had played a few rounds of chess of which Molly had lost every single one, they had both gone to bed. She had just changed into her sleeping-clothes when Sherlock had come out of her bedroom wearing nothing but his dark undershorts.
“You can´t sleep on the sofa, Molly. You will sleep in your bed this night”, he said rather enthusiastically.
“But Sherlock”, she replied. “The sofa is definitely too small for you.”
“I know. But I don´t get why you should deny your bed if there is clearly enough space for both of us. So, come now, I can´t stand to be so cruel to you to forbid you to sleep in your bed.”
“You´ve forbidden me nothing.”
“Don´t complain, Molly!” And with these words he gripped her arm and pulled her away from the sofa into the sleeping-room.
The next thing she noticed was a fury, fluffy thing that had placed itself in the small space between her body and Sherlock´s: her cat.
“Jealous, hmm?”, Molly asked and lied one arm around Toby, pulling him onto her chest and avoiding him of scratching the naked skin of her new ‘bed-mate’. It had always been like that when Molly had brought one of her boyfriends to the flat. Until now Toby had never been able to accept one of the dates of the pathologist. She hoped this would be different with Sherlock even if he was not her boyfriend or her date or something like that.
She let her fingers run through the fur of her cat while she was thinking about the man that lied next to her, breathing deeply, a gentle smile spread over his face. He seemed to dream and Molly started to wonder what about.
It was hard to imagine what was going on in his mind when he was awake and even harder to think about anything that he could deal with in his dreams. She had always suffered when he had been around. However, she had never stopped wishing to be part of his life. Now she was nearly everything that he had got left and it broke her heart to see Sherlock in the condition this situation put him into. It was really hard for her to lie to John every time they saw each other, to say nothing about the consulting detective being alive, to see his heart die, every day without his best friend a bit more.
She sighed and got herself out of the bed, her cat complained with a moan and then made her way back under Molly´s blanket. She went into the kitchen and shut the door behind her. Molly really tried not to think about the man in her bed. Even if she concentrated on preparing breakfast Sherlock slipped into her mind every time she made twice the amount of something she would have in the morning.
Molly had just started to brew some coffee when she heard how the door to her sleeping-room was opened. She turned around just to see Sherlock dressed up in her own bathrobe.
“I am sorry, Molly, but this was the only thing I could find to cover my body. I thought you wouldn´t be pleased to see me running around half-naked in your flat. Thank God it is oversized.”
Her eyes were locked to his appearance, the bathrobe ended right under his knees, belt was bent loose around his waist, the v-neck was showing his chest. Molly could not tell when she had last seen something that was so sexy and cute at the same time. She closed her eyes and then turned away, back to the coffee-machine.
Sherlock yawned a late “good morning” and then placed himself on the seat, Molly was used to sit on but she did not complain. She did not even raise her eyebrow.
15 Minutes later they were sitting together at Molly´s kitchen-table, eating eggs up-side-down and toast with marmalade and drinking coffee. Molly with milk, Sherlock black with two sugars- just as always.
“You were wrong, you know”, Molly grinned between two nips from her cup.
“Excuse me?”, Sherlock replied with a confused expression on his face.
“You deduced something wrong, yesterday. I don´t speak German. I just think Goethe is a really interesting person to read about.”
The detective smiled. “See? I do not know everything about you by looking in your face for only one second. That is what you were wrong about. This is what I like about you. I can always discover something new. You are a bit of a riddle to me. Every time I think I really know you now you surprise me and prove me wrong.”
She blushed immediately but knew to cover this by taking one more nip from her cup of coffee. She had ever been susceptible to compliments made by good-looking men- which girl was not?- but everything changed its intensity when it came to Sherlock Holmes and his usually so sociopathic behaviour. She could hardly handle her feelings, when she was in the morgue with him and then she could at least hide behind her professionalism and her working-routine but having him in her flat, sitting in her kitchen-table was something completely different.
When she had first met him she had been impressed by his intelligence but also skeptical concerning his loss of social abilities. Then he had started to ask her for favours such as letting him into the morgue in the middle of the night to use her lab equipment or have a look at some of the corpses. The longer they spent time working together the more she fell for his mind and started to forgive him for all his inadequacies. She fell in love with him slowly, first unnoticed even by herself and when she finally discovered her feelings she had not a single clue how to deal with them. Sherlock had ever been the most untouchable person in the world Molly had ever known. She had tried to make him aware of her as a grown-up woman and not only as a colleague -Molly had to admit that they had been less than that all the time. And then there had been this one day he had come to her in the morgue and had really needed help. Her help.
”I think I am going to die” Molly will never forget how her heart dropped down as if someone had ripped it out of her chest and had thrown it on the floor when these few words had come out of the detectives mouth. Even now Molly was not able to explain how she then helped him to fake his own death. She had been to confused that night, too caught in her a shock to do anything else than the things Sherlock told her to do. Everything she could tell was that she had done a good job. Only but most important proof was Sherlock himself sitting in front of her and drinking coffee. Molly did not really know how to cope with her feelings now that she was one of the only persons he could go to with his problems. Perhaps she could even call herself the only person he could go to because although their relationship had improved Sherlock would not got to Mycroft for help. Molly wondered if he could ever do.
Maybe it would be the best for her to give up hope and to start seeing nothing but a good friend in the man who was now wearing her bathrobe. She would definitely be happier and would perhaps find someone to spend the rest of her life with but in this case a really big part of her life would be missing. She had learned so much working with Sherlock-about her profession, about herself and about tolerance and consideration. Without meeting Sherlock and always trying to gain his appreciation Molly Hooper would not be the same. She owed him so much and that was what made it so hard for her to forget about her feelings. He had helped her to grow up somehow. To compensate all the nasty things he had always said to her she had come up with so many things she liked about herself so he could not destroy her self-esteem.
They finished breakfast in silence, sharing some shy looks. Molly did not want Sherlock to read in her eyes and the black-haired was obviously not really aware of how to act in such a situation. He had never had many people he had to socialize with. All his skills on this field he knew from John.
“Well, then”, said Molly, standing up from the table. “I need to go to Tesco so if you need something just tell me okay? I´m in the bathroom, changing.”
“Mm-Hmm” was the only answer. Sherlock tipped against his lips with the tips of his fingers, hands put against each other. He seemed as if he were somewhere else. Molly looked at him with a silent sigh. She wished she could just look into Sherlock Holmes´ head to see what he was thinking about, to understand him in all his eccentric behaviour. He was so far away, more untouchable than ever before since he faked his own death and said goodbye to literally everything he had always loved.
Molly forced herself to turn away from the sight of this man. It was like the more she had the feeling of not knowing anything about him the more she was attracted to him. Molly went into the sleeping-room first to get her clothes. The moment she opened the door, she could sense Sherlock´s odour in every little part of the air. She nearly forgot to breathe as her whole body tensed up. She could have smelt him before, when they were sitting at the table but it was something totally different to be here, in this room where the most obvious proof of his sleepover in her bed lingered in every little corner.
Molly crossed the room in a hurry, grapping the first clothes she could get hold of out of her wardrobe. It was no real confusion that she felt but a certain loss of confidence she had always felt in her own flat. This had been the place where she could rest and let all the bad things that had happened to her during a hard day just flow away. She had cried over every mean word Sherlock had said to her and had grinned like a teenager on every smile she had received from him in her bed and yesterday she had just let the man that caused most of the trouble in her life take over her last safe place. She knew that he had never planned this and would have never done this on purpose no matter how indifferent he could be sometimes. She had always felt like Sherlock respected her in some way even if he could not show. However, it made her insecure, forced her to take deep breaths and to calm herself down. She was fine, totally fine and there was no real problem. She was not sixteen anymore. She was a grown-up woman who had her self-confidence and her pride. She would not let Sherlock destroy this now.
Molly rushed into the bathroom, trying not to look at Sherlock and it worked. She could keep a clear mind and she was thankful for this. She took of her nightie and dressed properly, brushed her teeth and her hair and then stepped outside again. Sherlock hadn´t moved in any way. Maybe he had changed the newspaper-page but she could not tell it from her position.
Molly slipped into her shoes and her jacket. The moment she grabbed her wallet, life came into Sherlock. "Buy me a toothbrush, Molly."
"A Toothbrush?
"Yes?"
"But...why?"
"I will have to brush my teeth, don´t I? Or do you want me to stay like this the whole day? I can´t leave until it gets dark because it is too dangerous. One of Moriarty´s henchmen could see me and this would mean my detection...and your death. It´s the same if you would just pop into my flat and bring mine so I say that this is the only possibility that´s left. No go shopping, I need to think."
Molly took her keys and then nearly stumbled out of her flat. She closed the door behind her, a bit louder than it had been necessary. Had he just thrown her out of her own flat? She could not believe it but she had given in without even complaining. Now she stood there, facing the wooden pattern of her flat-door and asking herself how much she could acquiesce in. 'Well done, Molly, well done', she thought, shaking her head on herself. 'Strong and confident, pah' She had sworn to herself that she would not let Sherlock put her down on every occasion but now here she was, letting the consulting-detective push her around as he liked. She shrugged her shoulders. She would complain later, now she had things to do and she did not want to just stay here doing nothing but thinking about all the bad things Sherlock had done again unintentionally.
