Posts tagged: Aenonnymoose
Excellent! We’re on our way. No idea where to, but we’re going.
Thanks to all of you for giving it a whirl.
“I would give several years of my life to see Molly turn suddenly sassy and bitch Sherlock out. I don’t think you understand. I need it.”
As a result, this was left in her askbox:
Molly’s having one of those days. Rude people, Toby coughed up a hairball in her comfiest work shoes, and someone’s botched the paperwork on the last three bodies brought in. Sherlock wants to see two of them, but she has to make sure which is which before he can. The fifth time he comes back with his fourth coffee, and says something implying she’s the one at fault and that anyone with a brain ought to be able to solve the problem, she hears her blood pressure pounding in her ears.
“That’s enough!” Someone snaps – oh, did that come out of her? – and Sherlock’s head rears back slightly, his dark brows rising. His amazing lips part to let something snide out, she’s sure, so she puts her clipboard on the worktop with a loud ‘snack!’ and doesn’t let him get started. “You can either help me sort this or stand back and let me do it in peace. I’m not stupid, I’m not the one who mucked this up, but I am the one who allows you access at all hours when I don’t have to!”
Surprised again, Sherlock’s expression shifts through annoyance briefly to concern. “Molly,” he begins, voice quieter, calming. If she hadn’t been looking right at him, she’d’ve missed it. How often has he done this sort of thing? Doesn’t he know…?
Not wanting to let him talk her ‘round, she puts her index finger in the middle of his chest, cutting him off again. “No. No sweet talking. No games. No more manipulating me. Stop treating me like a… resource and treat me like a person!” Sherlock’s brows start to furrow, anger flashing in his pale eyes, and Molly pokes him in his breastbone, finger bending slightly from the pressure. “None of that, either! You don’t get to be angry at me! I’ve been more patient with you than anyone and you deserve it the least!” Taking a deep breath, she has to lower her voice or he’ll know she’s trembling. “Don’t treat me the way you’d hate people to treat you. If you can’t respect me as a person, respect the help I’m giving you.”
Something in what she says, near the end, seems to click. Molly sees his startled blink and a tiny instant of expression, maybe regret… or not, she’s not sure. Tightening his lips, Sherlock steps back – well, she was poking him pretty hard – and nods. Despite her crush on Sherlock, Molly does see him, his faults as well as his good points. He’s terribly proud, so she doesn’t try to push any further.
“So, if you want to help, fine. Otherwise, why don’t I text you when it’s sorted?”
Glancing at the clipboard, Sherlock snorts, but whatever scathing words pop into his mind, he doesn’t say them. Instead he lifts his chin, saying coolly, “Yes, please do,” and swirls out in his usual fashion.
Molly slumps after a moment, swallows hard, and then covers her mouth as a slightly-hysterical burst of giggles tries to escape.
Later, after she texts him, Sherlock arrives with two coffees. On his way to the cadaver waiting for him, he leaves one of the coffees at her station.