high-functioning sociopath   von Queen_Of_Wands
                         (You do count, Molly Hooper)
================================================================================
                        Kapitel 1: I won´t let you fall
                        -------------------------------


You never gonna be alone
From this moment on
If you ever feel like letting it go
I won´t let you fall

Never gonna be alone-Nickelback

____________________________________________________________________________________
How can a person who is so clever just not notice what is going on around him?
How can such a person not be aware of the thrilling tension I feel in every room
that we´re in together? But…well…maybe it is better the way it is now. I
just don´t know how he would react if I just tell him that he is everything I
need, everything it is worth to live for and everything I long for every day and
every night. I love him and I don´t know why. But sometimes even I must ask
myself if he is really able to fell such things as love. If he is really human.

Molly looked confused at the few lines she had written. She had never been the
writing-diary-entries-type of girl but these words had just slipped out of the
pen in her hand without her really realizing. She had not even known that she
could be able to have such…kitschy thoughts.
There was not much time left for any complaining about what was going on in her
mind due to the fact that Sherlock Homes just came rushing in the morgue with a
kind of surprised expression on his face..
“I thought you would be at home yet”, said the man with this gorgeous black,
curled hair instead of a greeting. 
“Um…yes…I just wanted to finish the paperwork for the last body that came
in a few hours ago” The pathologist did not waste any time and rumpled the
paper right in front of her on the lab-table. She did not look at Sherlock but
through the window of the morgue under which the table she had been working on
stood. 
“I am really happy that you are here right now. Otherwise I would have taken
this little journey for nothing. Listen, I need your help”, he said having a
short look on the crunched paper she was throwing in the bin immediately. She
did not want him to notice it but this was Sherlock Holmes and he noticed
everything that happened around him. Molly swallowed as she tried to clear her
throat. She was not sure if she would be able to speak, her voice highly
affected by his words and the way he seemed to be staring right through her. 
“Wait, Sherlock. If you thought, I won´t be here why would you come here to
ask me for help?” she whispered not knowing how she should deal with this
completely new situation. It just was too confusing, being alone with Sherlock
in the middle of the night not having any clue what was going on right now. 
A little smile spread over the lips of the consulting detective as her question
ran through his mind. However, she could not read his face, she could not tell
what was going on behind these cruel beautiful blue-grey eyes that looked down
on her.
“I´ve been asking me this question since I entered the door of this hospital.
I actually could have thought about that earlier, right? That is what you´re
thinking right now. I can see it in your eyes. But I guess I was just too caught
in my”, he hesitated obviously not willing to reveal what was going on in his
mind and Molly started to wonder what is was, what he had wanted to say.
Feelings? Sentiment? Everything she could think of were not even little parts of
what formed Sherlock Holmes´ character.
“In my thoughts”, he then finished his sentence. He had come closer to her
while she was holding her breath. She could not handle with his appearance when
she was able to see every wrinkle in his face, every change in his mimic. She
could not even answer, totally caught in his eyes, her breath trembling with
fear about what he might say next.
Molly could see the doubt in his eyes. She could see that he was not sure if it
was right to tell her about what was going on in his mind.  
“I feel lonely, Molly, and I do not know what to do against it. Can you
imagine that? The great Sherlock Holmes feels lonely. The man who has always
been treated as a machine without feelings”
“What do you want?” interrupted Molly the stream of words that came out of
Sherlock´s mouth. Somehow it frightened her to see the man of her dreams in
this condition. But this would not avoid her from helping him, no matter what he
would ask from her. 
“Company. Your company.”  
Her heart stood still. She felt his warm breath in her face, on her cheekbones
and on her lips. He was close enough for her to just grip his scarf, pull him
down to her and kiss him. But she did neither of the things. Everything she
could do seemed unsuitable to the situation and after all she had never been
extroverted enough to take initiative. 
“I…I don´t understand” she stammered. 
“Oh, I think you understand very well. Come on, Molly. You are smart. You´ve
always been and when I tell you that I need your company it should be obvious
that I…” He paused. Molly just stood there, waiting for him to continue
talking and breathing in the smell of his skin. She had never experienced
Sherlock in a condition in which he got loss of words and she was not sure if
this should frighten her or give her a feeling of being sort of special.  Then
he seemed to catch himself and this unreadable type of smile appeared on his
face. If it had ever been possible for her to look in his mind in some way, now
it was not.
“That I am trying to invite myself into your flat so we can spend some time
together and won´t feel so lonely anymore.”
That he had continued his sentence ripped her out of her thoughts and she needed
some time to get back into reality. Therefore it took her some seconds to
realize what he had actually said. She blushed immediately. Even if he certainly
did not mean what most people would have read in his expression she could not
help imagining how he pushes her against the wall of her flat and kisses her
impulsively. She shook her head to get rid of this picture in her head that
should definitely not be there at the time.
“Is this a `No`?”, Sherlock asked sounding kind of surprised. Molly looked
up to him, into these unbelievable grey-blue eyes that were able to force her to
do everything- no matter if she had wanted to do it or not.             
She began to stammer again. “No, that is not what I wanted to say…I
just…Um, forget it, Sherlock. Of Course you can sleep with me…Um, I
mean…in my flat. We can both sleep in my flat, yes.” Her cheekbones had the
colour of fresh tomatoes by now. She was not even able to look into Sherlock´s
face anymore. This was so embarrassing that she just wanted to hide underneath
one of the morgue-table                         
“Just breath, Molly” was everything Sherlock had as comment to her slip of
the tongue. Then he turned away from her, so suddenly that she did not even
really notice it until he began to talk again. “So you´ve finished here,
haven´t you? Then I guess it is no problem for you to leave the morgue now and
lead me to your flat.”
The pathologist managed to catch her breath again.
“Yes…yes. We can go now.” She tidied up the lab-table, put different
papers together and took them into a casing. “I am ready to go”
She gripped her jacket from the seat and not more than five minutes later they
both walked out of the main-entrance of St. Bartholomew´s Hospital. 

About half an hour later Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper stood in front of her
flat-door while the pathologist caught the keys out of her pocket and unlocked
the door. She needed some time to do it because her hands were shaking with
excitement so much. Why had she invited Sherlock to stay overnight with her? She
had known that this was no good idea but she had not been able to resist the
desire of being near to the man who now entered the room right after her so that
he nearly bumped into her back as she stopped to take off her shoes. Fortunately
he did not. Otherwise he possibly would have pushed her to the floor and what
have followed than would have been more than embarrassing.
“Careful, Sherlock”, Molly said while she took her shoes away and told the
detective to do the same. She felt nervous and exited and tried to deal with
this completely new situation.  Of course she had had boyfriends and was used to
have male persons in her flat but none of them would ever be able to compete
with the great Sherlock Holmes and his mysterious, attracting appearance.
Nothing had ever stopped her from loving this man and nothing could ever do so.

She had always adored him and now it was like an eternal dream that had come
true. Her heart beat twice it´s normal speed and all she could think of was
pretending that everything was alright. 
Sherlock did not seem to notice anything. He took off his coat and his scarf and
stood now in front of her in his suit with the trousers that suited him so well
and underlined the sexiness of his body. Molly started to wonder if brain work
could keep someone that fit. Or how on earth did he work out if he spent so much
time in labs and solving crimes?
Well, actually he did, even if she could not judge this because he still wore
his clothes and she had never seen him even half-naked. Even if she really would
like to, apparently. 
“You can sleep in my bed if you want to. I´ll take the sofa then”, Molly
offered to Sherlock
“Yes, thank you very much, Molly”, he replied.
She would have left him the bed anyway, according to the fact that the sofa
would have been too small for him. However, she had expected him to deny her
offer, to insist on her sleeping in her own bed just to be polite. While he had
been almost scarily different from normally he now was Sherlock Holmes all over
again. She exhaled and looked up to the black-haired. Her cheekbones flushed
with a rose colour. She saw how he looked around in her small flat or actually
in the kitchen which also functioned as living room with a sofa, an
eating-table, three chairs and a kitchenette. It was cozy but only made for one
person living there.
“Nice flat, Molly. Just as I expected it to be”
“Pardon?”
“I said…”
“I understood what you said. But how do you mean it? As you expected it?
“Well, you´re a 33-year-old woman, obviously single at the moment, working as
pathologist. Your flat is small. You love it because it is cozy and you have
lived here for a very long time. You´re romantic, Molly Hooper and so is your
choice of your living-place. 
Nevertheless you are a stuck-to-the-ground-person with an enormous sense of
style, even if yours might not be liked by anyone. You are open-hearted and
caring. You are well educated and eager for knowledge.
 I could go on with this list but I think it´s enough and I don´t want to
bring you into an embarrassing situation, I have apparently did this too many
times before. Anyway, this flat mirrors nearly everything that is part of your
character. Even your admiration for me.”
Silence. Both of them were quiet, Molly once again deeply impressed by
Sherlock´s brainwork, Sherlock looking directly into Molly´s face waiting for
some kind of reaction. She could see so much in his eyes: The desperation to
show off, the need of appreciation and applause and his lusting for
understanding and acceptation. She did him the favor.
“Come on, Sherlock. I know, you want to. So, how did you figure out all these
things?”
A smile spread over the detective´s face that warmed her hearth and touched her
deeply. When he opened his mouth she managed to listen to both, his words and
the soft, dark tone of his voice.
“As I said, your flat is small. Kitchen and living-room together. A bath and a
sleeping-room which is very likely to be small, too. There is no floor. Knowing
what you are working as I can tell that you could afford better. You don´t want
to live somewhere else, but why? Obviously it has sentimental reasons. I just
need to look on your bookshelf. I can see some folders with the emblem of the
university you went to on it. Nobody would keep such things if he is changing a
flat, especially when they look as used as yours. Again, you could afford new
ones if you would like to. So you haven´t moved since you ended your studies. 
Romantic, well. Your bookshelf, again. I can see some detective-stories but also
some love-stories. Actually good ones as I assume by the authors´ names but
nothing you could read if you weren´t romantic. Same thing to prove that
you´re eager of knowledge. There are many medical books, of course, you´re a
doctor yourself. Well educated, too. As I said.  However, I can see some books
that are not concerning your special profession so it´s just out of interest
and curiosity. Hmm, what else do I see? Shakespeare anthology, Stephen Hawking-
a short history of time, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe- biography- interesting,
Molly, I didn´t know you speak German. Of course there is more but I guess you
know your books better than I do so I don´t have to continue this list.”
He paused to take a deep breath. Molly intended to say something but he cut her
off before she opened her mouth.
“So, let´s go on. This is rather fun, Molly, I love you for asking me to
explain my deductions to you.” She turned red all over, he was hardly
noticing.
“You´re stuck-to-the-ground. I just know that because I know you, Molly
Hooper. Then your style. Even if it is some kind of mix-and-match-style all your
clothes do apparently fit together and just because comfortable is more
important to you than sexy doesn´t mean you´re not dressed beautiful. I know,
many men would say so. I. do. not.”
Did he just make her a compliment? Yes, he said, she was dressed beautiful. Her
heart was near to skipping a beat. She could not help but smiled at him. 
“Furthermore, the prospects at the kitchen-table. British Heart Foundation,
cats rescue center, development assistance in South Africa. You do care for the
people and the world around you. You believe in making the world a better place,
don´t you? Where else should you work as a forensic pathologist for?! Obviously
not because you get off on more or less badly injured bodies.  ”
“Sherlock, you are embarrassing me”, Molly interrupted. It was hard for her
to speak, really hard. She wanted to turn away from this man who could deduce
all her feelings, all her heart from one shivering of her body or one changing
of her facial expression but she felt like caught at the spot she was standing
at, unable to move or to say anything that would have made even Sherlock Holmes
shut up. She enjoyed hearing his voice -and seeing his lips moving- too much. 
“Shht, Molly, I am not done by now. There is one thing left. Even if I didn´t
know them before, I would have been able to read your feelings for me in this
room. First you yourself. You are wearing your hair parted on the side since I
told you I like it more this way. Then there is the lipstick lying on the
kitchen table. I guess you put it on before you went to work but that doesn´t
really matter. What matters is the fact that it is the same colour you wore the
day I first met John. This was a really long time ago so you must have re-bought
it. I have no doubt why. At least there is the fact that you kept one of the
papers with a picture of me on the front page. I can see it on your bookshelf,
too. Half-covered by a book but date of publishing and the partly noticeable
headline are very suggestive. So, God, this was a pleasure. It felt like my
brain was rusting.”
He turned to her and it seemed as he had just stepped back to reality. The woman
in front of him was crying now, silent tears falling from her eyes over her
red-coloured cheekbones as she tried not to sniffle. 
“Molly, is everything alright?”
She did not answer. How on earth could this man make her go through so many
emotions in less than 10 minutes? She felt naked, her soul unclothed by a person
who never meant to do so and now, that she was at home, she did not even have
the strength to hold back her tears. Bravo, Molly, she thought. Could she not
just act normally when he was around? 
“Sherlock” She found back her voice. “It´s no secret that you know
everything about me just by having a short glance at my face but, please, stop
making fun about me loving you.” Molly was about to turn around, to go
straight into her sleeping-room and leave the consulting detective alone. She
did not.  She could not even be angry about him for longer than a few seconds,
knowing that this was just the way he was, that she should not expect him to be
different just because she had lent him a hand to get out of a really
problematic situation. Yet, being dead- only figuratively of course- could
really change a man´s character and sometimes it seemed to her as she could
sense a soft note of this change even in Sherlock´s behaviour. The behaviour of
a self-appointed sociopath.
“I didn´t mean to make fun about your feelings, Molly. You saved my life, you
helped me to outplay Moriarty. I owe you so much.” His voice had turned very
quiet as he leaned forward to her. She could feel the vibrato of his deep breath
on her cheekbones. “You have always been nice to me, no matter how I treated
you. You have never given me up. I need to thank you, Molly, even if I don´t
know how to do this.” A soft kiss on her cheekbone was what followed. This had
somehow become a ritual to apologize for hurting her and even if she had had
enough time to get used to that she shivered every time she felt his lips on her
skin. 
“So” She cleared her throat. “I guess you aren´t in the mood to sleep
now, are you?”
“I´m definitely not. You now that the night has become my day since my jump
from the hospital-roof.” Of course it had. There was no other way he could
ever go out to catch some fresh air. He was living in a flat bought in the name
of Mr Mycroft Holmes- fortunately Moll had not been the only person Moriarty had
forgotten when going through the list of persons that could help Sherlock when
he had problems. Maybe this was because Jim Moriarty never had siblings and just
did not understand their relationships. Even if they seem to hate each other
there always was a connection between Sherlock and his older brother. She
lightly shook her head. It was useless to think about this. Moriarty was
apparently dead-even if nobody could be definitely sure- and Sherlock alive.
That was what matters. 
Molly wiped away her tears and managed to look up to Sherlock. “What about
playing some chess, Sherlock?”
“How could I resist this offer?”



                       Kapitel 2: 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.




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