The whole day, Molly could sense Sherlock staring at her, trying to figure her out. Oddly, she felt a bit defencive of Jim. She reminded herself that he was one of the most evil men that London would ever see and tried to get back to work.
"Don't go back tonight, Molly." Sherlock's words were slightly mumbled, and she almost missed them.
"I have to." She sighed and set her clipboard down on the counter.
Sherlock began muttering to himself and stepped back from his microscope.
Molly checked her watch and realised with relief that it was time to leave.
"You don't have to go back, you know. You want to." Sherlock's voice was still almost too quiet for Molly to hear.
"Why would I want to go back?" She pulled on her coat, not looking at him.
He made a noise of disgust and shook his head. "You tell me."
Molly picked up her purse and walked out quickly, her shoulders slumping in relief as soon as she was out of his sight.
"You missed lunch." Came Sherlock's almost concerned reminder.
Jim checked his watch and realized that Molly was about to get off work. He turned back to his client, smiled calmly, and snapped his fingers, the signal for Sebastian to open fire as soon as Jim was clear of the building.
"So you'll help me?" asked George Dawley, a tall, muscular guy with a frankly ridiculous haircut.
Jim nodded slowly, as if thoughtfully, "Of course,"
As he got up and walked to the door, he heard a sigh of relief.
Oh, none of that.
Jim hesitated at the door, looking over his shoulder at George critically and then shaking his head.
George looked at him nervously, but quickly masked it. "You said you'd help!"
Jim cocked his head to the side like a puppy, shaking his head in mock despair. "I have no recollection of saying such a thing."
The other man stood, glaring. "You did!"
Smirking a bit, Jim slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged dramatically. "I really am sorry. I'm just sooo changeable."
As he strolled out of the building, there was a gunshot, and Jim smiled.
Molly decided to walk back to Jim's flat, it wasn't that far and she wasn't in any hurry, but even though she took the longest route possible, the flat came too soon.
Sighing, she knocked on the door.
Jim answered a few seconds later, still wearing the same pajamas he had been wearing that morning.
Molly didn't say a word and brushed past him, tossing her purse onto a chair as she passed it.
"Have a good day?" He asked, closing the door.
"Not really." Molly went to her room and shut the door loudly.
Jim sighed and sat in his chair, looking out the window.
Molly lay on her bed flat on her face, too tired of everything to do anything more.
"Are you hungry?" Jim called from the front room.
Molly pulled a pillow over her head. Yes, she was hungry, no, she didn't want to eat.
Her phone was still lying in pieces on the floor, so she finally reached over, picked it up and put it back together. Nine unread messages, all from Sherlock.
