Sherlock's Second Vow [FINISHED]

Chapter 15: Tangled

This one is suuuper short, I'm sorry (plus I forgot to update yesterday, I'm slacking, I know.) This part, along with the previous Molly stuff I have been writing solo, but my lovely friend MaroonSpider50 drew a card from Rosie to Sherlock. There will be more on that in chapter 16.

The news was pretty bad today... almost 800 people have been killed by COVID-19. Please please please wash your hands, stay safe, stock up on food but do not hoard hand sanitizer/paper towels etc. 

Prayers for those who need them

- Lis

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15

She put her hands on her hips. "Can't get rid of me that easily."

Molly never put up with any of his antics.

Yes or no?

The thing was, as afraid as he was of both answers, Sherlock didn't know. And he really didn't like not knowing.

He had known her intentions when they met, and he'd tried to push her away. Years later, here she was, still caring. There was no logical reason for it!

Sherlock stood on the bench. The height distance helped him feel a little more distant from the conversation. Of course, he could always go to his mind palace...

"Sherlock?"

The cookie had been crushed in his hand. He threw it at the wall. "I told you to leave."

"This isn't really fair, you know? You always know what I'm thinking, but you never tell me what you think."

"I don't care what you're thinking."

She had always been nice to him. Brought him things and kept his secrets and stood by him. She knew too much about him for something like this to work anyway. And as real as it seemed, written across all her features and movements, why would she love someone like him?

"Would you just sit down?"

He sat. There was no real reason why he shouldn't. She started forward and sat beside him, but not too close. Sherlock watched her, in case she tried to do something bad, like touch him.

She didn't.

Instead she stared hard right back at him. "I love you," she said suddenly.

"Why?" he shot back.

"I don't know."

Why did feelings have to be so sticky? Sherlock couldn't sort through them, he could hardly begin untangling them. He'd set them aside, of course, but everyone else seemed to think it was worth it and wouldn't tell him why.

I don't know.

"No is okay. But I need you to tell me."

She was fidgeting, anxious. Hopeful?

He wanted to bury his face in his hands and curl up into a ball. But he wanted to do those things alone. "Will you leave? If I tell you?"

"Yes." Molly's jaw tightened. She was looking at him, and trying very hard to appear as if she was not.

Yes or no?

No meant she left him alone. She'd be upset, but she'd get over it. He'd be free.

Yes meant he owed her attention, gifts and time and touch.

Which was true? Did it matter? Why was he hesitating? It didn't matter!

He didn't want this.

"I can't." That was a nicer way of putting it. Kinder to her.

He didn't have time to read her face before she smoothed the expression away, but he noticed Molly refolding and tightening her hands. "And why is that?"

"What would I want with a relationship? I'm not fit for one, I don't do touching or... well, I'm supposed to be heartless, aren't I?"

"I didn't ask how you felt about relationships, Sherlock. I asked how you felt about me."

"If I had feelings, it would inevitably have to lead to that kind of thing. That's what people like you want."

She let out a little laugh. "Why would I expect you to follow any sort of rule when I've seen you in action. You've broken the bloody law, social norms should be no problem for you."

"For me. But not for you."

"Why not? I work at a mortuary, I'm not your average girl."

"Norms comfort you. Routines comfort you. I am not comforting."

The floor had been scuffed and scraped and scratched by countless others before him. And he would have to stay here in this place. He would have to be one of the broken.

And he would not wish himself on Molly. "My answer is no."

"Alright," she said, carefully. She left just like she said she would, but not without leaving a thousand clues that had chosen the wrong answer.

***