“I could kiss you right now.”
Molly blinked in surprise, frozen and not really understanding how it was that she’d gotten here, with Sherlock Holmes right in her face while she was getting her and her date’s coffee order.
She thought back to the moments before and she vaguely recalled being upset at having him interrupt her (again, always) and when he had demanded an explanation of what she was doing, she’d gotten angry at him for having the audacity to even try to pretend that it wasn’t his fault that she was perpetually single. Molly had been determined to not let him ruin this too, because she had needs, dammit, and sometimes she just wanted to be kissed.
That was it. That’s why he had grabbed her wrists and pulled so that their faces were mere inches apart and made an offer of affection seem more like a threat.
Molly felt the color rise to her face as annoyance and anger bubbled to the surface.
“Stop it, Sherlock. Just, please, stop,” she said, wrenching herself free from beneath his hands as best she could carrying hot drinks, the tips of his fingers slipping past her pulse. “I’m going to go back to my date, and I’ll see you at the lab tomorrow.” She walked around him, thankful that Geoffrey had found them a table around the corner from the coffee pick up area and was unlikely to have seen what had happened.
Sherlock’s hand at her elbow stopped her.
“He’s an idiot, Molly,” he said firmly, obviously not giving up on the issue and Molly resisted rolling her eyes.
“Yes, he might be,” she conceded and tried to not give a smile of triumph at the look of confusion on his face. She was done being manipulated by this man, and she was finding that she had no qualms in letting him know it. “And if being an idiot is what it takes to fall in love with me, then I’ll take it.”
Sherlock’s hand dropped from her elbow and he stared at her a moment with such open vulnerability that she very nearly took it all back. Then she remembered all the times that she’d taken things back, that she’d bent farther than she should have all for just these glimpses and suddenly she felt exhausted.
“Please, Sherlock, just…please go,” she said, her voice soft but surprisingly steady. “I promise that tomorrow you’ll have my undivided attention at the lab or the morgue or anywhere you’d like, but right now I need you to go.”
Molly saw the moment his eyes shuttered, his chin raised in a familiar manner and the consulting detective was back. He gave her a curt nod and swept out of the shop using the staff entrance.
Molly took a shuddering breath and did her best to compose herself as she turned to walk towards Geoffrey, who greeted her with a smile.