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Molly fluttered down next to Jim, clearly anxious. She was a few minutes late for their date.
Jim had already ordered her her favorite, knowing full well that if he had to listen to her order it one more time /(one caramel latte please, er, the larger size, venti? Is it venti? Oh I always forget. And could you —- oh. I-don’t-really-Oh. Don’t worry about it, the foam’s fine)/ he might just break his rule about not getting his hands dirty and stick a butter knife into the first warm body that had the misfortune to cross his path.
Molly wrung her hands at the sight of her latte and Jim nearly groaned aloud. “What, what is it? Is it the wrong flavor?” He remembered to add Jim from IT’s groveling pitch at the end, but it was a close call. Luckily, Molly didn’t notice his snappishness.
“Oh no, not at all. Jim, I— we need to talk Jim. It’s about— well. It’s about our relationship.”
Fuck- how utterly boring. Jim wondered if arsenic was still an option. A bit old-school, dull, but there was something about the classiness of it, Agatha Christie-style and it might throw Sherlock for a loop—
“Jim, are you even listening to me?” Molly voice hit what might have been it’s highest pitch and shattered.
“Yes, yes of course— you seem a bit anxious, dear.”
Molly stopped shredding napkins and promptly began worrying her lip.
No, Sherlock wouldn’t go for arsenic: not clever enough. Best stick to the Jim from IT act. Easier.
“Now, go on, tell me and then we can go home and watch a lovely episode of—Glee.“
If anything, this seemed to upset Molly more.
“No, see, that’s just it— listen, Jim, why’d you have to lie to me? It would all have been fine you know, but it’s embarrassing not to know these sorts of things when one’s dating—?”
Jim sat up straighter, hardly able to believe it. Could it be that Miss Molly Hooper, with her dowdy cardigans and shy smile, had somehow figured out what he really was? WHO he really was?
“You do understand,” he said carefully, mind racing with the varied ways he could keep her from telling Sherlock, “That I’d prefer people not know about this side to my personality. It could be—difficult.”
Molly slapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh- Oh I’m sorry, do you not tell people? I didn’t even think—Oh, Jim. Of course I won’t tell anyone.”
“Of course—” Jim didn’t want to admit it. But even his genius was clearly missing something here. Surely Molly wouldn’t be this accepting of his misdeeds?
“So I won’t have to kill you over this, my dear?” he asked silkily, just to make sure.
“No- no, of course not, but Jim, you have to realize, now that I know this—we can’t possibly date.”
Jim shrugged. “I’m not against keeping up the pretense—”
Molly took one of his hands, warm eyes earnestly gazing into his. “Oh no, no. It wouldn’t be healthy, don’t you see? You might not be ready yet, but one day, you will be and this? This is just holding you back, it’s just silly, really. And you’ll get a lovely boyfriend and—”
“Wait. What?”
“Now, don’t get upset, please don’t get upset, I just thought—”
“Molly,” Jim bit off. “For fuck’s sake, what are you trying to say?
Molly took a deep breath.
“I’ve-decided-this-isn’t-working-because-you’re-gay-and-I-think-we-should-call-it-off.”
“Oh my god.” Jim stared at her. “You have got to be fucking KIDDING me.”
“No, no I’m really not.” Molly glanced at him helplessly. “We can be friends though, right?”
“Friends?”
“And you can come over to watch Glee still—maybe we can get some ice cream too, I know that always makes me feel better— “
“Molly-
“Well, not that I usually do the Glee and ice cream thing with my exes, but in this case-“
“MOLLY.”
Molly finally paused. “What?” she asked in consternation. “Is it alright? You’ll be okay, won’t you?”
Jim pushed his seat away. “I think,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll be just fine.”
But Molly wasn’t about to let him off so easily.
“Oh no, don’t be like that: I’m sorry, I really am—”
Jim turned his back and started walking, too dumbfounded to even be angry. That hadn’t really just happened, had it? Molly Hooper hadn’t actually just broken up with him?
A voice tittered out from behind him, just as he reached the cafe door.
“But— we can still be friends, can’t we Jim?”
Jim wanted to turn, scream and possibly snap one of her fingers. But then he thought about it. Thought about Molly. Molly-fucking-Hooper, who just broke up with the world’s only consulting criminal and tried to let him down easily. MOLLY.
“Yes,” he called back, shoulders slumping in defeat.
“Let us be friends, Miss Hooper. ”
There were some people you just couldn’t win against.