Chapter Text
He hated studying. It was as though if the information wasn’t instantly absorbed during the lecture or, at the very least, during the group discussions that most of the professors held then it was worthless. He’d always felt that way, but the exams he was presented with here at Cambridge were a bit more difficult than he was used to.
A bit.
Fortunately, he had a secret weapon that made studying much easier to stomach. And tonight they were in the uni library, sharing their regular table.
Molly Hooper didn’t appear to be as brilliant as she was, but as he had found time and again, looks could be deceiving. She had an aptitude for absorbing knowledge, and a thirst for it as well, and the things he often considered too frivolous she knew more about and would patiently discuss them with him until he saw the merit in knowing that information. He’d had to admit, his marks had gotten better since the day she’d snapped at him to stop his incessant humming in the library so she could concentrate. What should have become a huge and very public row, knowing him, had become an invitation for coffee and a better understanding of biology.
He could not have been more grateful.
But he could be better at showing it.
“So he’s a shite physics professor,” he was saying to her. “Please tell me that’s a subject you understand?”
She smiled at him. Literally, her smile was one of the few things that could stop a full-on tirade and cause abrupt speechlessness in him. Otherwise, he would ramble on and on with increasing vehemence. “I’m sure I can get you through it. It’s basically a combination of upper-level math and science, isn’t it?”
“I suppose,” he said with a frown.
“Then we’ll muddle along just fine,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. His mind blanked on him and he looked down at their joined hands, which much to his dismay were unjoined rather quickly. “Do you have any new compositions?”
Sherlock shook his head. “I haven’t had time to play the violin lately. But I should work on something, shouldn’t I?”
“Yes!” Molly said with an enthusiastic nod of her head. “You play the most brilliant things, Sherlock.”
A flush hit his cheeks and he looked down. “Thank you,” he said, damn near mumbling. Her encouragement to continue the violin was one of the few reasons he kept the blasted instrument around. The remembrance of his parents' insistence he master the instrument had led to some dark times, the times he preferred to never think about, let alone speak of.
Times Molly knew nothing about.
As close as they were, he kept things to the vest, even as she was open fully with him. Sometimes he wondered if he deserved her friendship. And other times, he sometimes wondered if she might be open to more if he were honest with himself. He was smitten and that, it seemed, could pose a problem.
But his mind was jolted out of its thoughts by the soft press of her lips against his cheek, and she saw she was gathering her things. “Where are you going?”
“Tom wanted to have a cuppa with me today, so our session for today is over, I’m afraid.”
“But why…?”
“To get your attention.” She smiled at him as she put her books in her messenger bag. “See you in two days?”
“Yeah, of course,” he said, bringing his fingers to where she had kissed his cheek. What did it all mean?
This was something he needed to ponder more...