❛ I'M REACHING OUT AND I JUST CAN'T TELL YOU WHY ❜
𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 an untouchable and a self-proclaimed consulting detective band together in the most unlikely of ways
[ bbc sherlock holmes x fem!oc ]
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MOLLY TWIDDLED HER THUMBS, TOOK a sip of her coffee, pressed the crumbs that remained of the cake they'd shared between the two of them onto her fork, and steeled herself. With a deep breath and a last failed attempt at dragging Poppy's attention to something else, like the good looking guy with his son bouncing on his knee or the small dog taking his owner out for a run by their window, she broke the silence and looked away from Poppy's relentless stare. "It happens when he doesn't have a case, from what I've gathered."
"But sometimes he goes for weeks without one, and he's always been fine. Sure there's the occasional cigarette, granted that's been happening more often than usual, but never anything worse."
"Sometimes, and this is just from what I've seen so you can't take my word on it," Molly circled the rim of her mug with her fingertip, pulled the bobble away from her hair and re-tied it before continuing, "If there's a change to his everyday he uses then. You're going out nearly every night, John's working everyday apart from Sunday. Perhaps that has something to do with it?"
Poppy's heart sank from her chest to her toes. "So it's my fault?" Her voice was quiet, barely audible above the lunch-hour din of the cafe. Molly rushed to correct herself. "No, no no. Don't be silly, it's not your fault. The disruption scares him, I think he only does it because he needs something to rely on."
With a hesitant nod, she pointed towards the box. "What shall I do with it?"
"Talk to him maybe, though I doubt he'll open up. Getting him to speak more than three words to me is hard enough." Molly sounded almost dejected. Poppy slumped down closer to the table to meet her eyes. "Are you okay? You're here asking after me and I've just disregarded you completely."
"Yeah, work's busier than ever. It's really awful, having to watch them get beaten with riding crops and pummelled until they turn purple. But that's just Sherlock. When you try and ask him about it, he'll argue that he's a 'user' and not an 'addict'. Don't believe him. I'm stuck in a never-ending circle now."
"He uses you, you know. And he doesn't care that he does it."
"I know. But I still like him despite all that, despite knowing he'll never like me apart from my complacency. He thinks I talk too much, and I put on weight too fast as soon as I get into some kind of relationship." Poppy looked at her, sullen and nearly on the verge of tears, scraping the prongs of the fork along the plate that their shared slice of cake was sat on.
Molly didn't even eat half of it.
"Don't be silly. You're wonderful, he's too far up himself to see that. He lacks tact, and one day you'll wake up and realise you can slap him as hard as you want to in the face and he'll know that he deserves it. You're too good for him. Sherlock's way of showing it is by showing off."
The pathologist reached for a sachet of sugar and tore it open, stirring it into the last remaining dregs of her coffee. "I've been meaning to do that since I sat down."
