theonewhocounted | (no subject)

"With John--oh."

Now that he's suddenly faced with the prospect of another experience like this morning's, he actually comprehends why people care if someone else is in the house or flat. The thought of his best friend, the person he thinks of as his brother, accidentally overhearing any of this... that's too awkward even for Sherlock.

"I, uh. I do know a couple of hotel owners who owe me favors--"

"Don't be silly, we can just come back here," she says with a shrug. "Maybe we can go out to dinner first..."

They'll both be out at John's so they could just pop in somewhere for a bite before going to her flat. At this point they're kind of beyond proper dates, but well, a girl does like a little wooing regardless. She doesn't want this to just be the same as it was before except that he's nicer to her and they share more meals and have sex. She loves him, but he still has to prove that he's in this for real.

This isn't going to be an ordinary relationship, by any means--Sherlock knows there's likely going to be a disconnect between what he intends with a gesture and how it's interpreted, because there always is with him and most people. But he's a world's only, and he knows Molly's aware of that. She won't give him awful nicknames or expect him to bring her flowers once a week. She knows who he is.

And who Sherlock is, sometimes, is a man who's willing to meet someone in the middle if he cares enough.

"Ballet. Do you enjoy it?"

Molly definitely doesn't expect or want ordinary with Sherlock. She's had enough dull suitors and she knows what she's signing on for with him. He'll be entirely distracted while on a case. He won't remember important dates. He'll sometimes make her upset and won't understand why. But she's had those problems with other men. How much worse could it be? And on the plus side, she's already in love with him.

The change in topic throws her off.

"Ballet?" she asks. "Yes. I used to practice it even. Back in college anyway. Why?"

"Right. One minute."

He grabs his mobile, scrolls through his contacts, finds what he's looking for. And though he himself prefers to text, he knows the person he wants to talk to isn't fond of it.

Besides, that just makes this more theatrical, and Sherlock can never resist the theatrical.

Thankfully the man he's calling is there and, apparently, not too busy to answer.

"Wayne? Sherlock. I know you're probably on lunch so I'll keep this short--the company's premiering the Jewels revival on Tuesday night, am I remembering that correctly? Good. Get me two tickets and I'll consider it calling in the favor you owe me."

There's something uniquely satisfying about being able to both watch Molly react to this and hear the person on the other end sputter in surprise.

Edited (pronouns......) 2017-02-04 08:05 (UTC)

Molly's look of confusion changes to one of pleasant surprise when it becomes clear what he's doing. She hasn't been to the ballet in ages. It sounds lovely. And even more lovely that she'll get to enjoy it with him. The thought causes her a moment of panic though that also probably passes over her face. What on earth will she wear?

It shouldn't even be a factor, but she knows that eyes will be on them. He is the famous and infamous Sherlock Holmes, and she is...no one. It's not a hard leap to imagine that tongues will be wagging and she's sure to get a deal of criticism. It makes her want to put on her largest jumper and curl up on her couch.

Edited 2017-02-04 08:13 (UTC)

He watches emotions chase one another across her face, and it's a sight that fascinates him. There's a lot he still has to learn about Molly Hooper and her emotional responses, but though it's relatively new for him he recognizes the delight that starts to light her up when she realizes what he's doing.

It's a look he likes on her.

"Yes--yes, I'll pick them up from will-call. Great. Cheers, see you then."

He hangs up, puts his phone aside with a flourish, and grabs a biscuit.

"Show's at eight, so we've got time beforehand to find a suitable pre-theatre menu in the area."

Molly huffs out a laugh at how accomplished he looks over the whole thing. He knows he's done something quite good that will make her happy and it shows. And, well, she can't blame him for looking a bit smug. She is, in fact, delighted and impressed.

"You lovely, lovely man," she says, leaning over to give his cheek a kiss. She's never had a boyfriend who would agree to accompany her to the ballet. Last time she went was to see the Nutcracker with some girlfriends.

Her door buzzer goes off then, most likely signalling that their food has arrived.

"Be right back."

Despite the timing of the arrival, he bites off half the biscuit anyway, just to punctuate the exchange. There's a satisfaction in this much like John telling him his deductions were amazing, except amplified and sweetened, and accompanied by a very pleasant reward.

The delivery boy who greets Molly seems a little bemused--not only does he have their food, he also presents her with a single white rose that he claims someone paid him a hundred quid to give her. Some funny thin bloke in a black car, very fancy suit.

When she comes back into the kitchen, Sherlock's polishing off his tea, still looking like a cat that's managed to get at several canaries.

"I hadn't picked up on the ballet thing, but it makes sense. Every so often it comes out in your movements."

Molly at first thinks the delivery boy is himself giving her a rose or that it was somehow part of the order that Sherlock sent in. Which is confusing because how would a curry shop even have roses? When he explains what happened and where it actually came from, she is at first surprised and then a combination of amused and embarrassed as she takes the flower and thanks the kid for their food.

"Looks like John isn't the only one who's found us out," she says like someone who is resigned to her personal life never being personal again. (Was it ever anyway? She knows Mycroft has had eyes on her since Sherlock jumped off that roof. Maybe even earlier.) "This came in with the delivery. I think it's for you."

It's a joke. She knows the rose is for her but it's far more amusing for it to be for Sherlock. She puts the bag of curry on the counter and then presents him with the flower, eyebrows raising in a way that says 'is your brother for real?"

She holds it out, and his ears start burning. Mycroft has a terrible tendency to needle at him, when he suspects his baby brother might be putting himself at a disadvantage--but then maybe, after Sherrinford, he's also considering going forward in a slightly different way.

Maybe Mycroft is conceding he was wrong about something.

Still, even when it's likely meant with some degree of sincere happiness, it's bloody irritating to be teased about liking somebody.

"Oh, no singing telegram to accompany it? He's slacking in his old age." The sarcasm almost helps cover the fact that he's been thrown off-balance for a second.

Molly's not sure which way to take it from him either. Mycroft has never seemed especially fond of her in the past. Or maybe it's just that he mostly seems disinterested, like he's not sure why she's even around.

Mostly it just feels like a reminder that big brother is very literally watching them. It's not reassuring.

"Just so you know, I plan on being very openly affectionate with you next time he's around.," she jokes as she sets the rose down, not bothering to put it in water. "I expect that will make him uncomfortable."

She knows it might also make Sherlock a bit uncomfortable except for the fact that it would be all part of a 'game'. She knows that he likes to needle his big brother right back and this would be a good opportunity.

He takes in what she's saying, and with a speed that astonishes him the embarrassment drains away and leaves him in momentary free fall.

"You'd snog me in front of my awful brother to spite him?"

That is somehow weirdly touching, and proof of a confidence he's noticed more and more the longer he's known her, and unexpectedly something of a turn-on.

"Molly Hooper. That might be the most generous thing anyone has ever offered to do for me."

Molly grins as she starts pulling out their food. She may be sweet most of the time, but Molly has some venom in her, especially when she feels people are being treated unfairly or someone she cares about has been treated unkind. If only she'd been able to channel that into defending herself better over the years.

"I'd like to say it would be an entirely altruistic gesture, but I'd pretty much snog you anywhere, Sherlock Holmes."

She's going to have that printed on a t-shirt. They will sell like hot cakes.

No wonder it's her, he thinks, and for a second there's something totally unguarded in the look he gives her.

She can defend herself against him, can hold her own, and that's beyond reassuring.

"Careful or I'll hold you to that," he smiles as he takes his curry from her and starts prying the container open. He rather likes the thought of strategically placed public displays of affection to send rude messages to his brother's surveillance team.

"Promise?"

She looks up from her own container of food in time to catch that look on his face and it's her turn to feel her cheeks and ears get hot. Her smile gets shy as she sits herself down next to him and focuses on getting the lid off her food. She tries to think if anyone has ever looked at her like that. Maybe Tom. He did adore her and at least thought he was in love with her.

The curry smells incredible and she digs right in, trying to banish thoughts of Tom from her mind. She still feels guilty about the whole thing.

Though she's been shy around him a lot, before, she tackles her food without any hesitation. And the funniest thing happens--Sherlock realizes she makes eating look appealing, like something he should probably do more of himself. Not just like a distraction or something that slows him down, but like something he might enjoy, if he did it with her here.

(Plus he knows any spice in her curry will probably make her lips red, and for some reason he wants to see that.)

He's got his own forkful of curry halfway to his mouth when he notices the faint, troubled micro-expression that crosses her face. Hard to tell what it's about--there is, after all, so much to Molly he can't just unravel at a glance--but he does have the thought, clear and confident, that he wants to make sure it comes back as little as possible.

Except he's not sure what to say in a situation like this.

So instead he leans towards her a bit, his shoulder pressing into hers.

It's a testament to her hunger that she doesn't notice Sherlock watching her. Or maybe it's just that he's always watching and noticing things so much that she's gotten used to being passively observed when in his presence. While it used to make her nervous, now it just...exists. She's always been hyper aware of him whenever he's around anyway. She's just used to it at this point.

His shoulder pressing into hers, though, is new.

She looks up from her food and toward him, her eyebrows raise in question, a small smile on her lips. She expects that maybe she's been shoveling her food in and he's going to make some teasing remark about it.

Edited 2017-02-05 22:38 (UTC)

The smile gets filed away in his head for later, one of these rare little human moments that doesn't bring pain with it. Because Molly Hooper eating curry next to him, giving him a look that says she's ready to challenge him if he moves in the wrong direction, is somehow on par with an expertly forged Picasso or a set of 32 fouettes done by a talented dancer.

Love is definitely making him biased and he doesn't give a damn right now.

He winks at her, broadly--that's something he knows a handful of people reliably laugh at, and if anything fits this moment in her kitchen it's laughter--and promptly takes an enormous bite of his own Madras curry. Which is, also to his surprise, delicious.

Molly does laugh, surprised and bright. They are sharing such a simple moment together - enjoying a meal side by side. It seems almost unreal after everything but it is perfect.

She watches him enjoy his curry for a quick moment before going back to her own.

"Bugger but I'm an awful host," she says suddenly. "Can I get you something to drink? A coke? Flavoured seltzer? Water?"

He's got a mouthful of curry when she asks, and has to make his way through it somewhat hastily before he can answer.

"Mm--no, I'm okay for now." He pauses for a second, and then, because there's always a random thought somewhere that gets through his filter: "John must not have told you what happened last time we had curry and coke. It's why I'm not allowed back into that one art gallery in Soho."

Molly nods and gets up to get herself some water.

"I'm afraid to ask," she says of his next statement. She's definitely sure John's never brought that up. She would remember a story that has to do with them and an art gallery and curry. Her imagination is providing possibilities already and none of them are good.

"It was disgusting," he informs her cheerfully. "Though I suppose it could have been worse, as we weren't drunk."

He's still somewhat reluctant to have a beer with John again. The Great Pub Crawl Disaster is an incident he has no desire to repeat any time soon.

He studies her for a second. Yes, there's definitely a hint of remembered ballet movement in her hands now and again, or in the way she steps forward. He's not sure how he missed it.

Molly huffs out another laugh and shakes her head. She supposes she's seen Sherlock at his lowest first-hand - sweating and vomiting as he detoxes from a bender comes to mind - that there can't really be embarrassments between them at this point.

"Maybe you should have told me this story before we decided to order curry," she says, looking a little worried for her wood floors and the state of her loo.

She comes to sit back down next to him and eyes his dish before looking up at him.

It's possible Sherlock's missed Molly's previous dance training because off the dance floor she's still prone to clumsiness. And she's historically been especially clumsy when he's around.

The wariness in the way she eyes his Madras curry nearly makes him giggle again.

"I'm not having coke and I'm not about to sprint five city blocks, Molly, it'll be perfectly fine."

Her warmth re-settles next to him--funny, that the last time he saw her in this kitchen she was on edge and now she's totally relaxed.

"Remind me to show you something after lunch."