The Woman Who Counted (A Sherlolly Tale)

Chapter 1 - The Woman Who Counted

NOTE FROM 2017: This chapter was originally written in September of 2013. It was revised and rewritten on 1 November 2017.
NOTE FROM 2013: This chapter is basically just catching anyone up on the situation. Please leave reviews, constructive criticism is welcome!!!! :D 

     Molly Hooper was very much in love with Sherlock Holmes, but despite knowing how much she loved him and how she would and did do anything for him she knew that he was an absolute arsehole. While she couldn't picture herself not being in love with Sherlock she did understand why Meena was so puzzled by her infatuation with the consulting detective.
     But how could she not be absolutely smitten? Sherlock Holmes was probably 97% perfection. He was boffin and attractive, two very important qualities, but that odd 3% is the machine in him. Sherlock's beauty and intelligence could easily be hidden by his ego, his objective detachment, his aversion to social constructs....
     But anyways, Molly was in love with this man.
     Love. What a silly thought. Molly's mother and father had always told her that love came after dating. They said that when you were in love, you became engaged to be married. Love wasn't something that just happened overnight. For a majority of her life, Molly had believed this to be true, but when she met Sherlock her whole rules about love changed.
     At first, it was just a silly little crush, but then it escalated so quickly and every time they worked together since then her cheeks kept a natural rouge, her pupils rarely constricted, and her heart never seemed to beat slower than a hummingbird's wings.
     Anybody could tell what Molly was thinking, especially when she was around Sherlock. Molly couldn't help but wonder what he felt, though. Not necessarily how he felt towards her, but just his feelings in general. He was such a tough nut to crack. He wasn't exactly one to express emotions verbally or physically; however, Molly thought herself rather good at reading emotions. She often bragged to Meena about being able to read Sherlock's emotions when no one else could, but there was one reason for that: Molly knew when to look.

                                       • • •

     Sherlock sat at the microscope, working on a case. Molly glanced up at him and knew immediately what he felt. From the furrowed brows to the look in his eyes as he stared into the microscope to the drooping corners of his lips, they were all signs of sadness.
     She'd seen this look before and it broke her heart. Despite the many times he made her sad she couldn't bear to see him upset. She had never tried to help, always being too afraid of being shut down, but today she felt stronger. She picked up her nerves and broke the silence.
     "You're a bit like my dad. He's dead. No, sorry."
     He didn't even flinch. "Molly please don't feel the need to make conversation. It's really not your area."
     She swallowed her fear, looking away from him as she gathered her words together. "When he was dying he was always cheerful, he was lovely, except when he thought no one could see...." She bit her lip. "I saw him once.... He looked sad."
     "Molly."
     "You look sad. When you think he can't see you." She looked over to John, then back at Sherlock who was now looking at her. His lips parted, brows now raised.
     She continued. "Are you okay? And don't just say you are because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no one can see you."
     "You can see me."
     She shook her head. "I don't count.... What I'm trying to say is if there's ever anything you need – anything at all – you can have me. No, I just mean. I mean, if there's anything you need ... it's fine." Her cheeks were burning and she looked away as if that would cool them down.
     "What could I need from you?"
     "Nothing. I don't know.... You could probably say thank you, actually."
     He looks away for a moment before looking back, brows furrowed once again. "Thank you." After Molly nods Sherlock returns to his work, once again being consumed by whatever speck of dust or drop of blood he had in the petri dish.
     Molly closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she decided whether or not it was a good idea to break the silence or not. She decided she didn't care. "I'm just going to go get some crisps. Do you want anything? It's okay. I know you don't." She turned, her mousey brown ponytail whipping behind her as she started towards the door.
     "Well actually, maybe I–"
     She waved him off, not comprehending what he had started to say. "I know you don't."
     Once she shut the lab door behind her eyes widened and she planted her face into the palm of her hand. He had wanted something. He was sad and he had attempted to connect with her by asking for some crisps or a candy bar and she had messed it up by assuming he wanted nothing. Of course she did. She always messed it up with him. Everytime. Always, always.

     By the time she got back he was gone. She sighed and resumed her work. She had one autopsy left, so she grabbed the list of waiting cadavers and headed downstairs to the morgue, pushing her conversation with Sherlock out of her mind.
     When the end of her shift had arrived, she grabbed her coat and bag and started towards the locker room door; however, she was stopped by a voice.
     "You were wrong, you know."
     She gasped and jumped, turning to face him with her hand clutching her chest. The voice had come from Sherlock. His back was towards her. How she had missed him standing there, she couldn't say.
     "You do count," he continued. "You've always counted and I've always trusted you. But you were right. I'm not okay."
     Molly pulled herself together, taking a step forward. "Tell me what's wrong." He faced her now, locking his eyes with hers. Molly could see that they weren't as icy as usual. She saw fear in them.
     He started stepping closer to her. "If I wasn't everything that you think I am, everything I think I am, would you still want to help me?"
     Molly felt her heartbeat in her throat and her stomach flip over. She took a deep breath. "What do you need?"
     "You."