Protect Her

Chapter 2

The cab dropped Sherlock back off at Baker Street late that night. He said his goodbyes to John and told him he would inform him of the plan for tomorrow. They had just about finished the case, but Sherlock still needed to sort out some things before giving a report to Lestrade.

Once inside, he plopped himself down in his black armchair and immediately entered into his mind palace. He quickly ran through the clues and deductions he made throughout the evening. But while trying to piece everything together a notion kept tapping at his head. Sherlock knew what it was and did not want to address it, as it would disturb him from his work indefinably. For quite some time he sat with his eyes closed trying to keep focused on the puzzle presented in front of him. However after a little more than an hour he couldn't take it anymore. The thought was looming over him ever since he left the flat. It was like this continuous little buzzing in the back of his brain. Sherlock opened his eyes, shifted positions in his chair, and then dived back into his mind palace to address the discussion with Mary.

He couldn't shake the feeling after telling her. He wondered if it was joy or fear he endured from confessing how he felt about Molly out loud. He did like her. Sherlock always knew there was something special in her. Molly sometimes would tell Sherlock more about him then he knew himself. "She really does have a miraculous mind for seeing such things," Sherlock thought. Because of this he knew that when it was time to fake his own death there was only one person he could put faith in. Molly Hooper- the one person who mattered most. Without her help, Sherlock would not be alive.

After his return Sherlock turned to Molly again. He understood that now that John was married and a father, he would not be around as much. So instead of sitting in his lonely flat he visited Molly at St. Bart's. He just liked to sit there in his mind palace while she worked. Sometimes they never even talked- which he usually favored. He grew fond of the simple feeling of her being in the same room. Occasionally he watched her work when she wasn't looking. It was then that he became aware of how lovely he found her. Sherlock always thought Molly was a pretty woman, but it was not till the past months that he could not seem to keep his eyes of her. He studied her fair skin, her shining brown eyes, her delicate polished hands, and her pulled back soft hair that showed off her dazzling features. Sherlock decided that Molly was not just an exquisite mind in a lab coat, but that she was a gorgeous woman with an exquisite mind in a lab coat. He was reminded of what The Woman had said to him: "Brainy is thenew sexy."

Sherlock toyed with what Mary said; that he shouldn't push her away. But what else was he to do the risk of giving into romantic sentiment was too much. The only reason he had confessed to Mary was because she thought he was protecting himself. He could not let her believe it was selfishness holding him back. Sherlock felt again the rush an anger he got when she brought up Molly's ex-boyfriends. He had watched men use her, cheat on her, and overlook her, and nearly every time he said something to point to Molly that she was worth more than these men deserved. The only time he didn't say anything was when she was engaged to Tom. He noticed from the moment they first met that his appearance was alarmingly similar to his own. But he chose to not say anything as Molly was happy with him. He didn't want to do anything that would make her question their relationship. "But could she really have been that blind?" he considered. It was during this time Sherlock grasped that his interfering with her love life was not just to stop her from detrimental relationships, but was also out of jealousy. Listening to Molly talk about her affairs made Sherlock uncomfortable and envious.

Envious that Molly would give up so much of herself to someone who would hurt her in the end. Sherlock had seen a dismal Molly fighting back her tears at work days after a breakup, but he resisted taking the girl under his arms to comfort her. He couldn't console her without giving Molly an opening to let their friendship grow to much more.

This brought up another the point that worried Sherlock most. How could he be the one to support her when he could just as likely be the one to hurt her? He had already disappointed Molly many times. Those moments haunted Sherlock and fill him with regret. He thought about his horrible words to her at the Christmas party years ago. He remembered how furious Molly was when John brought him to her from the drug house.

Her face told Sherlock that he had completely betrayed her trust and she was appallingly dissatisfied with his actions. Even though Sherlock was high he knew that what he did was horrible, he disregarded his friends and disappointed Molly entirely.

Three slaps to the face from her reinforced this idea and he tucked it away in his mind palace for the next time he needed to snap himself back into reality- which came sooner than expected. Like he told Mary, Sherlock was scared that if their relationship progressed to more than a friendship and he did something to hurt Molly, she would end up heartbroken. But this time Sherlock would know that he was the one who did it. That he had been the one to do something that she just couldn't forgive. He could not bear the idea of losing Molly for good.

All these points going against Sherlock went through his head as he sat with his eyes closed. However, along with these fears was the image of Molly. He could picture her cheerful face, hear her youthful laugh, see her considerate brain at work, and almost feel her kindhearted spirit around him. He remembered Mary's words to him, "You can't keep pushing her away... You shouldn't. That will just torment her." She was right, it was wrong for him to treat her this way. John once told him that Molly would feel used if he kept flirting with her, then dismissing her advances. Sherlock argued that he didn't flirt with her; he was just giving a compliment, making conversation. "Yes, but you don't generally compliment people. So when you do, it means something," John retorted.

Sherlock esteemed the idea of telling Molly what he truly felt. But he didn't know how to say it. Yes, Sherlock could explain to John how much he cherished their friendship, but that was during the heat of the moment or after working on a best man speech for days with the help of Gonzalo – or whatever the hell his name was. However to bring it up himself and to start a new depths of a relationship; he didn't know how.

Sherlock opened his eyes after clearing his spinning head and confirming one final conclusive thought. He would protect Molly from harm. The same way he watched out for John, Mary, Mrs. Hudson, and others. He wouldn't allow himself to treat her cruelly- not that he ever meant to. Sherlock would not let Molly down.

He got up from his chair and automatically began pacing the floor. He ran his hand through his long curly black hair. From under a pile of papers, he got out his phone and dialed the number, while his other hand hung by his side, fingers twitching for a cigarette. The phone began to ring against his ear. One. Two. Three. Four-

"Hello?" Sherlock's feet stopped when the small voice came from the other end.

"It's Sherlock. I need-"

"Sherlock? You never call? Anyone! Is everything alright?" Molly said sounding concerned.

"Yes. Er, I thought it would be more appropriate. I need to talk to you, can you stop by?"

"Do you realize what time it is? You woke me up."

Sherlock brought the phone away from his ear to check the time. It was 2:17 in the morning. Rather embarrassed, he said back into the phone, "I'm sorry, Molly. Can I meet you for tea in the morning?"

"I have to work tomorrow," she replied tiredly now, but still with the same warmth and excitement her voice always carried when speaking with Sherlock.

Sherlock was pacing again. "Oh, it was foolish of me to ask anyway. I'll just let you go then."

"No!" she said maybe a bit too quick. "Um. I mean, we can meet during my lunch break."

"That sounds good. I'm sorry for waking you. Goodbye, Molly."

"Goodnight, Sherlock. And please, try to get some sleep."

He pressed the end button when he heard the other line go out. Tossing his phone on the chair he made his way to the black sofa on the other side of the room. He laid down on his back, letting out a long sigh. Sherlock was wide awake now, mind racing as to what he might say tomorrow. He knew he wasn't going to sleep. He had already let Molly down.