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“Molly?” Sherlock called out as he came into the morgue. It had been three weeks since his conversation with John about whether or not he fancied Molly. He'd distanced himself in a bid not to get any more attached to her than he already was. He'd run through every reason he could think of why it would be a horrendous idea for him to even contemplate attempting a more than friendly relationship. He'd even attempted to have John dissuade her from continuing to fancy him and John had vehemently refused. He had hoped he could avoid her until he'd convinced himself 100% that there was no logical reason he should enter into a romantic relationship with her. But today he needed to see her for a case so he was stuck having to go down to the morgue. There was no avoiding it.
“I'm in the office,” she called out in response.
He squared his shoulders and made his way towards the office. He opened up the door and as he took in the scene in the office he was absolutely dumbstruck. “Did someone empty out a florist's shop?” he asked as he took in the vases of flowers on nearly every open space. There were even vases full of flowers on the floor.
“Apparently everyone who knows me thought I would want flowers on my birthday,” she said. “I have no idea how I'm going to get all of these home or where I'm going to put them. I'm thinking of walking them upstairs two at a time and asking that they be given to sick patients. At least they'll cheer someone up.”
He wanted to mentally slap himself. Today was her birthday. Her thirty-second, if he remembered correctly. And he had completely forgotten because he'd been so preoccupied with trying to keep his distance from her. “Happy birthday,” he said quietly.
“Thank you,” she said with a nod, leaning back in her chair. “Do you think Mrs. Hudson would like some flowers? I took all the cards off already so you can give them to her as a 'just because' gift. Just not that one,” she said, pointing to an arrangement of lilies and orchids. “That one was given to me by a secret admirer and it's the best of the bunch. That's the one I plan on taking home.”
He felt a sudden surge of jealousy and he tamped it down. He had no right to get jealous of a secret admirer. Molly had many fine qualities and he couldn't possibly have been the only one who had noticed them. And it wasn't as though he was planning on pursuing her himself. That would just lead to trouble. He nodded, though, trying to act nonchalant. “I suppose it's impressive.”
“I think Mrs. Hudson might like the yellow roses and sunflowers best,” she said. “But take whichever ones you want for her.”
“Who sent these to you?” he asked, coming in more and looking at a few of them more closely.
“Mostly doctors in the hospital,” she said with a slight shrug. “Quite a few of the cards hinted they wanted to celebrate my birthday with me tonight. Six of them total, I think.” She picked up a stack of cards and flipped through them. “No, eight. Seven doctors and one nurse hinted they wanted a date.”
The surge of jealousy came back and was actually worse this time. A secret admirer was one thing; eight different men attempting to woo her was aggravating. If they knew her at all they should have done something more direct. Or at the very least they shouldn't all have decided on flowers. They were all idiots, he surmised. “I see,” he murmured.
“I don't know why I'm suddenly appealing. Most of these men hadn't given me a second glance before...” She trailed off and he watched as her eyes widened. “Oh, bloody hell.”
“What?” he asked, slightly confused.
“I started getting more attention from quite a few men here after you and I were stuck in the lift together. I think they think I shagged you in the lift. I bet they all think they can get lucky with me.” She tilted her head onto the back of her chair. “What a lovely thing to realize when I'm already depressed it's my bloody birthday.”
“Who were the rest of the arrangements from?” he asked, trying to get her mind off of it.
“Friends and a few of the DIs I'm acquainted with at Scotland Yard. Greg sent me the bouquet of white roses, which I might also consider taking home,” she said. And then she sighed. “Eight different men thought they could get in my knickers by sending me flowers. Eight. Now I have a reputation and I didn't even get to earn it in a remotely pleasurable way. If you and I had actually shagged I probably wouldn't mind having this reputation, but since we haven't it's just bothersome.”
He blinked slightly. He knew she fancied him but he was honestly surprised to hear her talking so frankly about exactly what she had supposedly done with him to earn this reputation. “I'm sorry?” he replied.
“Well, might as well play hard to get. Maybe they'll toss in dinner and a film if I make them wait long enough,” she said lifting her head up.
“Do you even like any of those men?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Doctor Dresden is attractive enough, I suppose, though he's a bit...weird,” she said, picking up the cards and flipping through them again. “Doctor Crane is married, so that's a no. Marcus is a nurse fresh out of school. If I shagged him I'd feel like a cougar, and he's not that much younger than me. Doctor Hutt is obese and I'm not attracted to him, Doctor Mikaelson has got an ego to rival yours, Doctor Mallard is at least fifteen years older than me, let's not get started on Doctor Kirk and his groping of women and I could have sworn Doctor Harkness was gay.” She held onto that last card and really studied it. “Though if he's not he is attractive and rather charming. I could do worse.”
This time he was having an incredibly hard time keeping a lid on the jealousy. “But you know all they want is just a shag. They think you're easy,” he said, trying not to grit his teeth.
“Is that such a bad thing?” she asked. “I mean, having a bit of fun. It's not like anyone's asked me out on an honest to God date since Jim. And look how well that turned out. Three dates and he bolted.” She tapped the card on the desk. “It might be worth considering.”
“But if you give him what he wants then you just feed into this reputation you have. Then it will get worse,” he pointed out. “Others will think they have a chance with you because you supposedly shagged me and you would have definitely shagged the one you're considering. People will always whisper about it when you're around. They might attempt to have an interlude down here and you might not be able to fight back.” He knew he was grasping at straws at this point but he wanted her to see just how bad of an idea this really was.
She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. “I think you're overthinking it, Sherlock.”
“Well, I think it's a bad idea,” he said, huffing slightly.
“What's the alternative? Go home to my cat and leftovers and crap telly? Do the same pathetic thing I do every night? If a man wants to send me flowers and show a bit of interest in me, even if he just wants to get in my knickers, then it's better than being alone on my birthday.” She looked over at the card.
“You could spend it with me,” he said, speaking before he had even thought about it.
She shrugged slightly. “Why would I want to do that? You've been avoiding me for the last three weeks. We were becoming friends and then all of a sudden I was like a bit of rubbish stuck to the bottom of your shoe. You wanted nothing to do with me.”
“I--” he began but she held up her hand and shook her head so he stopped.
“I don't fancy any of those men. I don't even like most of them. But at least they paid attention to me. You've gone back to treating me like I'm not even worth your time. I thought I actually meant more to you than that. I guess I was wrong.”
He was quiet. He was about to lose so much over his own stupid actions. The way she spoke indicated she didn't even want to remain friends with him, much less still fancied him. He'd succeeded in doing exactly what he had wanted to do. He'd pushed her away. And now that he saw the aftermath of it he was kicking himself. He'd been so worried she would hurt him he hadn't even realized he was hurting her. “No, you mean a great deal to me,” he said quietly.
“Then why don't you treat me like I do?” she asked, looking up at him.
He looked down. She deserved to know the truth but there was no way he could look at her as he said it. “I...fancy you. And there are all these reasons why it's a very bad idea that I pursue anything more than a friendship with you. I've weighed them out and calculated everything that could go wrong. And I pushed you away because I didn't want to get any more attached than I already was. Even though I'm telling you now it's probably too late for it to make a difference, but I do care. You do mean a great deal to me. And I understand you have every reason to hate me for the way I've treated you these last few weeks, and if you choose to end the friendship we've developed then you would be well within your rights to do so. I brought it on myself and it's my own fault if you choose to only have a professional relationship with me from here on out.”
“Oh, Sherlock,” she said. He could hear her get out of her chair and then she moved in front of him. He looked up and saw a look on her face he couldn't quite register. There was surprise, and maybe she looked a bit pleased, and possibly a bit hopeful. Or was it determined? He had no clue why she looked the way she did. “For being one of the smartest men in the world you're a bloody idiot sometimes.”
“How am I an idiot?” he asked quietly.
“I don't hate you. I was confused and saddened because I didn't know if I had done or said something wrong, and you avoided me so I couldn't ask what I could do to fix it. But I don't hate you. And it's really not too late to tell me anything of the sort.”
“So what do you want to do?” he asked slowly.
“Well, you're going to pick out a vase or two of flowers for Mrs. Hudson. And then you're going to help me haul all the rest of the flowers upstairs to see that people who could use a brighter day get one. And then once we're done with whatever it is you came for today I'm hoping we can get supper and talk. And if you decide to toss in a film to make it a more proper date I wouldn't say no to that.” She gave him a smile. “Does that sound acceptable to you?”
He looked down at her and found himself grinning. It was not one of the forced smiles he knew he'd plaster on his face when he wanted something from somebody. This was an actual, genuine smile, and he could tell she knew that because her own smile got wider. “I think that sounds more than acceptable,” he said with a nod.
“Good. So pick out some flowers for Mrs. Hudson and let's get started,” she said. “I really do recommend the yellow roses arrangement. She seems like the type of woman who might enjoy sunflowers.” She paused for a moment, then leaned in and kissed his cheek softly. Before he could register she had done it she pulled away. “Just remember, the lilies and orchids are going home with me. And possibly the white roses from Greg. Anything else is fair game.”
He nodded and began to look at the different flower arrangements. He certainly hadn't expected this turn of events, but he was glad he hadn't messed everything up beyond repair. Maybe now he would let go of the irrational worry and actually give Molly the chance she deserved and maybe, just maybe, he could end up being happy in the process.