Just Johnlock- The Big Book of One Shots

The Definition of False Hope

          

So today was a big day, a very big day, and of course Molly couldn't figure out what to wear. She had been anticipating this for a while now, when she could finally have Sherlock over for dinner, when she could finally let her parents meet the boy they had been hearing so much about. It was essential that tonight went well, for Molly was beginning to suspect that Sherlock liked her every bit as much as she liked him. And that was a good thing of course, because she liked him very much. It wasn't so much his looks, well of course it was his looks because he was gorgeous, but it was very critical to know him in order to fall in love with him, you had to love his personality as well. Sherlock was a reserved boy, Molly had known that for ages now, and yet once you talk to him, once he gets comfortable, well he was hysterical! So unintentionally critical, and certainly not afraid to say what's on his mind. They had been friends for about a month now and Molly was just starting to develop feelings, romantic feelings that is, for her new best friend. Of course she wasn't quite sure how to ask, and she wasn't sure how to tell if he liked her back, and so she decided that she would take the first step in the typical boyfriend routine, without actually declaring Sherlock as her boyfriend. Besides, her parents had wanted to meet him for ages now, ever since she had first mentioned him. They thought his name, more than anything, was curious, as did she at first. But now Molly realized that there was no better name to name such a peculiar boy, and no name would fit anyone better. Sherlock was basically the personification of his weird name, or at least all weirdness that is. He was tall, very skinny, and very beautiful in an almost feminine way. He liked classical music, he wore dress clothes to school, and he always had his nose in a book. He and Molly had first become friends through a school project, and somehow they had become friends...somehow. And now look, he was coming over for dinner, oh who knows, maybe tonight will be the night he asks her out! Oh wouldn't that be wonderful, no one would have a more attractive boyfriend than she, sure her friends had boys from the football team, with their large muscles and nice hair, well Sherlock was a little skinny, however he had the best head of curly hair that Molly had ever seen. She was always too polite to ask to touch it, however her time was coming of course, it was coming. Sherlock didn't have very many other friends, the only other person Molly had ever seen him talk with was John Watson, and those conversations seemed very awkward indeed. Maybe it was just because they sat next to each other in English that they were forced to converse, however it always seemed like they were downright terrified to talk to each other, both getting quite red as soon as the other's gaze fell on them. Molly sat behind them, and so sometimes she took it upon herself to ease the awkwardness, butting in on their conversation just so that they could look somewhere else except at the other's desk. She felt like that was the right thing to do, just to prevent those two idiots from dying of embarrassment under the other's gaze. Molly spent a good while trying to figure out what to wear, oh the possibilities were endless of course, her closet seemed to have no end except none of the clothes seemed fitting! Sherlock was going to look nice, he always did, and in the horrific occasion that he may try to dress nicer than he did at school then Molly would have to wear a ballroom gown just to match him. Hopefully Sherlock knew that this was a casual event, and so Molly simply picked out a nice sweater and a pair of jeans, something casual and cute, something warm. For a while she then did her hair, trying her best to make it look pretty without making it look like it was intended to catch his eye. Sherlock spent a lot of time focusing on her outfits, that may be the one sign she had to suggest he had an interest in her. Just the other day Sherlock complemented her on her scarf and pants color coordination, and Molly had blushed so hard her cheeks had clashed with her outfit. Of course Sherlock hadn't noticed that because he went back to his homework, however it was the thought that counted, right? When Molly was finally done getting dressed (she looked stunning, of course) she started down the stairs, towards the living room that was lacking the appropriate aroma of scented candles.
"Is everyone getting ready?" Molly called irritably, standing on a chair so as to reach the cabinets above the TV and digging out a nice lavender candle and a box of matches.
"Well of course we are honey, he's not due for another half hour." Mrs. Hooper insisted, her voice calling from the kitchen that was wafting out delicious smells of something or other. Molly hoped that whatever her mother was making was superb, because of course her own reputation depended on her mother's cooking abilities. Why would any boy want to go out with someone if they had no hope for good meals after they were married? If Sherlock hated Mrs. Hooper's cooking now then why would he marry Molly, just with the promise of the same obscene meals every Christmas? As already stressed, tonight was critical. It took exactly a half hour's worth of pacing around the house for the doorbell to ring, just as Molly was in the middle of coaching her parents on how to act. She told them that Sherlock really wasn't much of a talker, and that she really liked him and wanted to make the best impression possible. Of course her parents mocked her, teasing and poking at her as she told them another time that she really wanted him to like her. Of course they would respect her wishes, they always did, and she just had to trust in their cooperation.
"That'll be him, now everyone please, on their best behavior!" Molly exclaimed, rushing to the mirror as quickly as she could before patting down her hair and rushing for the door. When she opened it there he was, standing with a bottle of non alcoholic fancy soda, wearing his nicest purple button down shirt with his hair combed into a nice little mess of curls on his pale head.
"Well hello Sherlock!" Molly said with a smile, immediately losing her breath as she stood aside for him to walk in. This was his first time in her house so of course it was cleaned to perfection, Molly was quite sure that no matter where he looked he would never find a speck of dust. Not that he would really care.
"Hi Molly, thanks for having me. I brought some soda, it's um...cherry something." Sherlock muttered, holding up the bottle to look at the label before presenting it with a smile.
"Oh lovely, you can come put it in the kitchen, my parents can't wait to meet you." Molly insisted with a smile, batting her eyelashes quickly before shutting the door and leading Sherlock through the house with a smile.
"I hope I'm on time, I wasn't quite sure if I should be late or early so I waited outside in my car for  couple of minutes, making sure that I arrived promptly at five thirty." Sherlock admitted with a nervous little giggle.
"Well that's very ambitious of you Sherlock." Molly said with a laugh. "You're right on time, no need to worry."
"That's good, that's good." Sherlock agreed. They walked into the kitchen and both the Hooper parents turned, their smiles wavering for just a moment as they took their first look at Sherlock, almost as though they were not expecting such a boy to walk into their kitchen.
"Mom, dad, this is Sherlock. Sherlock, these are my parents." Molly said proudly, displaying her parents to her very awkward friend as he presented them with the cherry something soda.
"Hello." Sherlock muttered, holding himself up proudly as the Hooper family processes what they might want to say.
"Hi Sherlock, it's very nice to have you." Mrs. Hooper said first, taking the soda thankfully before setting it on the counter next to the arranged glasses. Mr. Hooper shook Sherlock's hand, like the formal gentleman he was, before smiling rather nervously.
"You got to work on that, son." Mr. Hooper suggested, making Sherlock stutter out an apology and go quite red.
"Dad!" Molly whined, however Sherlock shook his head and assured her that it was fine.
"Well you kids go hang out wherever; the food should be ready in about ten minutes." Mrs. Hooper decided with a smile, shooing the two of them out of the kitchen as if she needed cooking space. Of course the food was ready, they all knew that, but she was just giving them time to talk before dinner was formally started, just to ease any nerves that might arise from starting their first conversation in the clear view on the parents. And so Molly led Sherlock to the living room, plenty far from the kitchen so that they could be out of earshot.
"They don't like me." Sherlock decided flatly as he sank into a very cozy armchair, leaning against a couple of blankets that were draped over top, just in case he was cold.
"Oh no, no of course they like you they like everyone. My dad is always like that, don't worry." Molly assured. Sherlock sighed, nodding his beautiful head and looking quite thoughtful, as if wondering what he was even doing here. Molly sat on the couch, the closest piece of furniture to the armchair that Sherlock had chosen, and curled up into a little ball, smiling t the fact that she had managed to get Sherlock Holmes himself into her armchair, in her house! All the girls thought that he was cute, that's purely because he was indeed very cute, but of course no one could ever get to actually talk to him, that was a luxury reserved for only a few. Sherlock probably wouldn't look in the direction of most other girls, and yet look at him now! Molly felt very accomplished, and if all went well she could have the honor of strutting down the hallway with his hand in hers come tomorrow morning.
"I don't think my handshake is that bad." Sherlock admitted in a small voice.
"Oh I'm sure it's not, he's just aggressive. If your hand doesn't budge then he's happy, but of course his main goal is to move it. Handshakes are a friendly and sociably acceptable way to assert male dominance; it's like an arm wrestle with formalities." Molly assured with a shrug. Sherlock nodded, however he didn't seem convinced. Just leave it to Mr. Hooper to ruin everything, to plant doubt in the mind that prided itself on knowing everything. That was another attractive thing about Sherlock; he was a genius, an absolute genius. He was the student that could correct the teacher, for he knew everything about anything and just kept learning, far surpassing whatever knowledge he was supposed to have at his age level. If they were to get married, which right now was a possibility, he would go off to get an excellent job and Molly would live in comfort. She could tell, he was going to be rich.
"Men are confusing." Sherlock admitted with a sigh, looking almost reminiscent, as though he was remembering one man in particular that he couldn't figure out.
"Well good thing I'm not a man, right?" Molly added with a smile. Sherlock hummed, looking at Molly with an appreciative smile.
"Oh yes, it's nice to know someone, like really know them." Sherlock agreed.
"Oh stop it you." Molly muttered with a swat of her hand, blushing furiously as her heart pounded in response to his compliment.
"No I'm serious. Did you know this is my first proper 'hang out'? Like I've never gone to anyone's house before, not even to stop by and pick them up, I've never really hung out with anyone except the librarians, if they count." Sherlock admitted.
"You mean you've never had friends?" Molly asked in surprise, although she really wasn't surprised, for she knew that already. It was no secret that Sherlock was a loner, he sat alone at lunch, he sat alone in class, he never talked to anyone accept Molly and on some painful occasions to John Watson. He must have the loneliest life.
"Of course I haven't!" Sherlock insisted with a laugh.
"Well, you're like twelve years too late on that, however I'm happy to be your first." Molly said with a proud smile.
"Yes, you are my friend." Sherlock agreed in a distant voice, his fingers tapping along the armchair as he stared at the wall on the opposite side of the room. "Do you think John Watson likes me?" he asked suddenly. Molly blinked, not really expecting such a question to pop up in the midst of their complimenting of her.
"John? Well, I mean...maybe? I can't really tell with him, he's rather confusing." Molly admitted.
"Ya, I mean we talk in English but I can't really tell...Like I said men are confusing." Sherlock sighed.
"Well he's not much of a man, so you've got even more troubles." Molly added with a shrug. Sherlock nodded, looking down at the ground with something of a blush to his cheeks, some sort of color. Molly didn't like this; they were just talking about her, what had changed? She was about to figure out if he really liked her or not, and now they were talking about that kid that sat near them at English, who the heck cared about John Watson?
"I think he's rather manly." Sherlock admitted. "He's got muscle."
"They all do, but they laugh at fart jokes so really what's their maturity level?" Molly pointed out, to which Sherlock nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes I suppose so. Then again, I'm not manly, and I've got no muscle, and I don't laugh at obscene humor. In fact I hardly ever laugh at all." Sherlock admitted stoically.
"Oh you liar. You laugh at puns all the time, and you laugh when people you don't like answer questions wrong." Molly pointed out defensively, towards which Sherlock smiled proudly.
"Ah yes, the purest form of entertainment." Sherlock breathed proudly, holding himself higher as if he somehow found pride in being rude to incompetent people.
"Aright kids, dinner is ready!" Mrs. Hooper called from the kitchen, interrupting whatever was struggling on of their conversation. Needless to say Molly wasn't altogether annoyed with the disruption. Together she and Sherlock made their way to the dining room, following in the wake of the delicious smelling pot roast that had been simmering for quite a while, the perfect meal for a cold day like this. Molly and Sherlock sat next to each other while the parents sat on the other side, both parties staring hungrily at the food while they all waited their turn to ladle their shares into their bowls. Sherlock was waiting patiently, his posture straight, his manners perfect, his napkin folded properly on his lap. He was the only one bothering with hardcore formalities, and yet there was an air of awkwardness that was evident. Something was wrong with this picture, and it would seem that Molly was the only one who didn't know exactly what it was. She's had boys over before, none of them half as polite as Sherlock was being, so what was the issue? Shouldn't her parents be gushing over him right now?
"So Sherlock, how did you meet Molly? She's only just mentioned you a couple of weeks ago." Mr. Hooper wondered, taking the liberty of starting conversation as they all began to eat.
"Oh, well we just met through English class, a project." Sherlock admitted with a shrug, to which Molly smiled proudly, as though that was some sort of accomplishment.
"That's nice. What book was it then, Frankenstein?" Mrs. Hooper wondered, to which the both of them nodded. "Yes I do remember seeing her read that one."
"I didn't really like it; there weren't enough likable characters really." Molly admitted with a sigh.
"I thought it was fascinating, the underlying theme of men playing God was fascinating." Sherlock admitted with a little smile, to which both Hooper parents looked at each other a bit apprehensively. Why on earth were they being so rude, acting like they did like him! They were going to scare him off!
"I remember reading that one when I went to school." Mrs. Hooper admitted with a laugh.
"I'm sure it was just as fascinating back then." Sherlock assured with a smile.
"Just as boring." Molly grumbled, to which Sherlock gave her a disappointed look.
"Well I suppose we don't all share the same tastes of literature." Sherlock shrugged, and continued to eat his dinner. Molly hopped he liked it, for she was the one that had picked the menu. He didn't seem to not like it, which was probably a plus.
"You're a very nice boy Sherlock, you have a good manners." Mrs. Hooper observed.
"Oh yes, much better than the other boys Molly has brought home." Mr. Hooper agreed.
"Dad, oh come on!" Molly whined, sinking into her chair in humiliation as Sherlock raised his head proudly. Maybe he saw that as a legitimate compliment, and not a reminder of all the boys he succeeded in this very chair.
"Ya, Molly's had quite some characters, and quite a lot of boyfriends too." Mrs. Hooper teased. Molly glowed red in humiliation, letting out a slow whine as she looked at Sherlock's rather uncomfortable face. It's like they were trying to chase him away!
"It's not like I've had a lot, only like two...or four." Molly murmured defensively.
"And how many boyfriends have you had Sherlock?" Mr. Hooper asked immediately, almost like he was trying to catch him off guard.
"Oh, none yet, but I...." Sherlock stopped right there, dropping his spoon to hold his white hand to his lips, as if trying to prevent anymore words from escaping. Evidently he had just spilled a critical secret. Molly gasped, she really had no choice but to gasp, while both the Hooper parents nodded, sinking back into their chairs as if their work was done.
"You're gay?" Molly asked with a breath, feeling somewhere on the verge of tears while Sherlock tried to stutter out some sort of excuse. Obviously this wasn't the way he wanted her to find out.
"I thought I um...I thought I told you." Sherlock whispered in a bit of a hiss, his cheeks going so red that Molly was almost worried the blood vessels in his face might burst. 
"No you did not tell me!" Molly insisted, looking about her parents accusingly, for they had just ruined whatever chances she had, even though she really didn't have any. Now that she was looking at him it was really quite obvious, now that she was thinking about it, now that she knew the truth, well how could she be so blind?
"I'm pretty sure I did." Sherlock insisted.
"So you don't like me?" Molly murmured, starting to come to grips that this whole thing was just a big waste of time, a funny mistake that would become even more of a laugh in the future. Sherlock's eyes widened, for he probably saw this as some sort of trick question, however Molly just needed some clarification. This had all been so confusing; she wanted an actual answer now.
"Molly I don't really want to be obvious but you're um....well you're not really my type." Sherlock hissed.
"This is so embarrassing." Molly admitted finally, sitting back in her chair as her lips twitched, her eyes brimming.
"We can still be friends of course." Sherlock assured.
"Well yes of course we can still be friends, but I thought that we could..." Molly just shook her head, feeling unable to say the things she wanted to. There had been a dream, an impossible dream, and now she had just woken up. Gay, of course he was. It was almost like her luck.
"You really didn't know?" Mrs. Hooper clarified, to which her daughter just glared up at her angrily, were they really trying to rub this in? They were going for that answer, they were trying to poke around and unleash the secret that would be sure to separate the two for good. Molly sighed heavily, shaking her head miserably and staring down at her bowl, unable to eat anymore.
"Well, I do now." She admitted. Sherlock looked between the parents nervously before very timidly picking up his spoon, but only to stir his stew and not actually eat it. Needless to say, the dinner had gotten a lot more awkward. But at least there were no secrets, none at least, that went against the reason Sherlock was here in the first place.