His Best Friend (sherlolly)

6

After Sherlocks drunk night he seemed...closer with me. I'm not saying he told me everything that went on in his life, just that whenever I questioned what he was doing he seemed happier to tell me.

I would ask him if he had any interesting cases lately and he'd be delighted to tell me about some crazy murder that had stumped him and John, but he eventually found some crazy clue that connected to a murderer.

Most of the time what he was saying didn't even register in my 'ordinary' brain what he was saying, but watching somebody talk about something that they truly loved was magnificent.

I don't know, maybe I was just getting used to him and his weird ways, or maybe, just maybe, he was getting used to me.

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I put the finishing touch to my outfit on. A simple, yet beautiful jeweled hair clip in the shape of a flower. I felt beautiful, but something was missing. I had a beautiful dress, soft waves with a dazzling hair clip, and gorgeous makeup, but something was missing.

"My face" I said aloud. My excitedly pulled out a red lipstick that I've never gotten to use, and swiped it on my lips. There. I looked beautiful.

I was going to a New Years eve party, and wanted to look stunning, but it was the host that I wanted to impress.

Sherlock had casually brought it up the morning after his little drunken night.

He's been acting like it never happened, which I didn't mind, it wasn't like Sherlock to thank people. I had woken up at around 7, and went into the living room, where I had left Sherlock the previous night. I stumbled into the room, where I found the blanket I gave him neatly folded and on the coffee table.

I went to work that morning, and later Sherlock appeared. We greeted each other and he mentioned that he was having a New Years party, explaining it was Johns idea, and asked if I wanted to go. I told him that I'd see if I could fit it in, but we both knew that I had nothing going on. He had smiled at me, and then continued on with whatever he was examining.

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Sherlock had been playing 'we wish you a merry Christmas' on the violin, capturing everyone's attention. John and his girlfriend, Jeanette, were sitting on the couch together, while Lestrade was standing and Mrs.Hudson was sitting in a chair.

When he played the final note of the song, everyone clapped.

"That was lovely, dear." Mrs.Hudson gushed to sherlock, who just smiled proudly.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and Mrs.Hudson jumped up.

"I'll get that." she smiled.

"Molly!" everyone heard her yell with excitement. Molly shuffled into the room, looking at everyone.

"Hi." she practically whispered. All eyes were on her. She looked absolutely stunning. Sherlock looked her up and down, eyes wide and lips parted. He quickly pushed away his thoughts and greeted her.

Of course, he had to embarrass her, talking about how her lipstick was the same color as a beautifully wrapped gift on the top, and that it was for her boyfriend that she was wildly in love with, and was seeing tonight.

"Let's see who it is, shall we?" he spoke. Molly shifted uncomfortably as he picked the gift up, and read the card.

It was addressed to him.

By now Molly was tearing up, and holding in the waterworks. He looked at her with sorry eyes.

"You always say such horrible things..." her voice trailed off. Now, a single tear was rolling down her cheek, and Sherlock had never felt so guilty.

"Please..." he started. "Forgive me, Molly. I truly am sorry." Sherlock apologized.

Everything happened so fast. I was crying and hurt.

Sherlock leaned in, and pressed his lips to my cheek, leaving a tickling sensation.

"Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper" he whispered in my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. My lips parted and he pulled away. I guess he knew how to make me feel better.

An erotic moan filled the room.

"Oh, No..that wasn't! I didn't!" I rushed.

"Yes, I know. It was me." Sherlock said, already back to his usual self.

"Wha-really?" Lestrade said in disbelief.

Sherlock ignored his comment, and pulled out his phone. His eyes searched the screen, and his eyes became wide. He hurried over to the mantle above the fireplace and grabbed a small box.

"John" he whipped around. "She's going to die" he rushed.

John stood up and explained to his girlfriend that he had to leave. She was outraged, and stormed out.

"Molly..." He addressed me. "Can you show us a body?"

Honestly, I just wanted to enjoy myself. I had to be back at work on the 2nd and I was trying to distance myself from work, but it's harder than I thought. I desperately wanted to say no, but I couldn't. I couldn't leave sherlock when he needed me.

I agreed I and we all took a cab to my house, so I could change and get the key, and then another to St.Barts.

I pulled the sheet over a young woman's head. She was not much older than me, but her face was severely beaten, and you couldn't even tell who it was.

Sherlock stared at her for a few seconds, and then his voice filled the air.

"Show me the rest of her." He commanded. As soon as I pulled the sheet back all the way, he immediately responded.

"Yep, that's her." He said with sadness. He strided out of the room and I turned to John.

"How did Sherlock know her from..." I searched for words. "...Not her face?" I questioned. Johns mouth opened and closed before he just shrugged, and left me there alone.

Who was she? I'd never seen her before, and he's never talked about...a woman.

Suddenly a wave of realization washed over me. He didn't like me. He never liked me. He probably doesn't even see me like that. My eyes were becoming cloudy, and I pushed the body of Sherlocks girlfriend into her slot.

"Well, at least he's single again!" I said to myself, in a desperate attempt to make myself laugh. It didn't work. In fact, it had the opposite effect.

Tears, hot and long over due ran down my cheeks. I tried to be as quiet as possible, and ended up sniveling to myself.

I walked around and sat at my desk, putting my head in my hands. I let it all go, full on crying into my hands. Pathetic.

I felt a hand on my back and I quickly sat up, wiping the years from my cheeks.

"Molly.." Sherlock whispered. He bent down so he was at my height.

"Why were you crying?" he asked, concerned.

"I wasn't." I lied. He laughed at my response.

"I know you were. I want to know why." He rested his hand on my shoulder. I knew lying to him would be no use, he could see right through me.

"Who was she?" I asked. He stayed quiet.

"Who was she?" I repeated, turning so my body was facing his.

He took in a deep breath, and blew it out, puffing his lips out in the process.

"She had some...." he paused, searching for words. "..Incriminating photos of a client." He finished.

"That's all?" I asked in disbelief. My tears had dried, and I had a stupid grin on my face.

"Yes." he smiled back at me.

She was nobody to him.

She didn't matter.