It Could be You

Chapter 3

 Sherlock spent the rest of the morning at Barts working on two experiments he'd been meaning to do for weeks. He suddenly felt the need to be busy and not let his thought intrude upon important work. As infuriating as he could be, his brother was right about letting sentiment get the better of him. Molly came in once to ask him about some marks on a corpse. It gave him even more of a distraction to help her figure them out. She'd been appropriately grateful, smiling and stumbling all at once and he found himself empathizing with her. He'd known about her insipid crush on him for ages and it usually only hovered over the surface of his thoughts. He even found himself using it to his advantage on occasion. But today he observed her as she spoke to him. Her pupils dilated, her smile faltering at times and beaming when she thought his full attention on her. It struck him for a moment how much he meant to her. For years she'd hovered around him, attending to his every need or whim because she wanted to even when he'd treated her like a doormat.

"I wanted to thank you for helping me with Mr. Lamplighter, those were tricky marks to discern," she said. "Saved me a bit of bother trying to suss it out."

"Of course, Molly," he said trying to work his mouth into a genuine smile for her. "Not much of a challenge. Once you told me he was a mail carrier, I deduced the marks on his side came from his mailbag. He'd developed bruises and a small hematoma from the heavy bag hitting him in the same spot over and over."

"Yes, well, I wouldn't have put that together. Thanks, Sherlock," she said and turned to leave.

"You're welcome, Molly," he said, and she stopped in her tracks.

"You okay?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied. "Why's everybody asking me that today?"

"I dunno," she said. "You seem different today. Maybe a bit retrospective." She shrugged. "You usually don't say 'you're welcome'."

"Well, I should," he said thinking about it. "Maybe it wouldn't hurt me to learn a few social niceties."

It was Molly's turn to look surprised. "Are you trying to impress someone, maybe?" she asked archly.

"What? No!" Sherlock said suddenly flustered. "I just thought I might try to behave in a way that might endear me to..." He began rearranging his beakers on the lab table to give his hands something to do.

"Who?" she asked her expression suddenly eager. "Who is Sherlock Holmes trying to impress?"

"No one. John simply suggested I might try being nicer to ....people," Sherlock said trying to find something to latch onto in this excruciating conversation. John had often asked him to curb his acidic commentary and consider other people's feelings. He'd just never been that keen to do it before now.

"Oh, John suggested it," Molly said and her face relaxed. "I see. You think a lot of John's good opinion, don't you?"

"Of course," he said immediately. "I count on him in so many ways," here his brow knitted as he considered how much John did mean to him. Because of his constant companionship these few years, Sherlock didn't know, if he could ever live without John Watson in his future. He found he didn't want to think about it.

"You and John? Have you ever thought about being more than friends?" she asked gently.

"John?" Sherlock said almost too sharp. "John likes women. He dates as many of them, as often as he can."

"Yes, but he doesn't seem to keep any of them, does he?" Molly said. "The only one he seems to have kept is you, Sherlock."

He wished that were true. He found himself wanting that to be true. At first, he pushed all thoughts of a romantic relationship with the Army doctor out of his mind. He'd been too focused on the work. And over time, John had certainly displayed no real affection for him other than friendship. A close friendship, Sherlock conceded, a necessary friendship. The thought of he and John having more than friendship, however, made him pause. John meant the world to him, and he couldn't imagine living at Baker Street without him but...