Third Degree.
The evening has started much better than she would have imagined. They are all finally sitting at a table. Liam takes the chair next to Sherlock, Molly sits across from Liam without thinking much about the fact that Simon is going to sit down in front of Sherlock. She's still gliding above the ground after having received more admiration than she expected on a ‘first date'.
- What brings you to Scotland, Sherlock? – Liam asks directly. He's not particularly being intrusive. He's actually curious.
Sherlock was about to put some of the food in his mouth and stops. Seeing this and letting his finish eating the bite on his fork, Molly responds:
- He wanted advice on a case.
Simon looks at him. Sherlock feels definitely observed. He doesn't normally mind it but now for some reason it is a bit unnerving. He's used to being the odd one out.
- He could have asked your advice through the phone, couldn't he? – Simon says casually, fully aware that his casual attitude may be more unnerving to Sherlock, almost doing it on purpose. Liam knows what he is doing and he shoots him a glance from across the table. – What? I'm just saying. There was no need to be on a boring train for hours on end for a quick consultation.
- He's right – Sherlock says. – I wanted to come.
- You can't live without my sister, is it? – Simon smirks and Molly kicks him in the shin under the table. – Ouch.
- You deserve it. – she says turning to Sherlock - He's being a stupid idiot.
- He's always a stupid idiot – Liam says.
- I should remind you all that the house is in my name. – Simon jokes eating looking nonplussed.
- And I will take that key to my apartment that you keep in your top drawer of your bedside locker – Molly says smirking.
- They are always like that – Liam says to lighten the mode, but Sherlock is not smiling. He's not comfortable watching this kind of domestic antics. He doesn't know or want to know how to navigate them.
Simon notices and comes back at him.
- So you two are friends again? How long for this time?
- Simon... – Molly isn't smiling any more and Liam gives Simon a warning look. Molly and Sherlock can tell that Liam and Simon have had a conversation about how this visit could turn out to be and that the parameters had been discussed and that Simon right now is walking all over those parameters and beyond.
- What? – he takes a sip of his drink - I'm just describing a type of behaviour that I've watched between you two since the day you met.
Sherlock leaves the fork on the table.
- And what is that pattern of behaviour, Mr Hooper? – Sherlock asks calmly.
Simon smiles.
- I trust your legendary deductive skills will be able to decipher the pattern in a jiffy. Oh no, wait... probably not because you have never noticed her, maybe it's the white gown that makes her blend with the wall pattern in the morgue or the lab or something...
Molly is shaking her head now.
- Simon, stop...
Sherlock looks at Molly.
- No, let's hear it.
Simon keeps on eating as if nothing is happening.
- It normally goes like this: you need my sister for something or other, sometimes something illegal even, so after realizing how nasty and absolutely terrible friend you have been to her, you regret it and start buttering her up, complimenting her, making her believe that she actually counts, that she matters...
Molly is holding on to the table for dear life. Simon continues.
- She helps you obviously and then you go back to your normal selfish self and continue treating my sister as if she were part of the furniture for the rest of the time... Unless she's got a boyfriend, then you...
Molly stands up. Liam rolls his eyes in frustration. Molly grabs her coat and walks out of the farmhouse, towards the lake. She puts the coat half hazardly as she walks towards the lake. Trust Simon to ruin it all. It was going so well and Simon had to paint the hyperrealistic photo. She knows her fantasies. She knows Sherlock is not a romantic, maybe he's not even sexual, or if he is she's not his type, but from time to time, she's happy to suspend disbelief and think that she actually matters, like he said. She'd like to believe, but it's damn hard. She wants to slap Simon so many times in the face. If it wasn't dark already and she was so very tired and a bit typsy, she would have packed and left immediately.
He had done what he did to her on that bloody birthday party but now to Sherlock, and for what? To be right? She was drunk and Sherlock had arrived late and she as at that stage all over anything that moved and she ended up moping on Simon's shoulder, when he shouldn’t have. Simon had given her the same speech, modified maybe to hurt a little less but the basics were the same. Now he had to face it. Simon, the wise, judge and juror of his sister's boyfriends. Why couldn't he be more like Liam? Simon’s partner knew how to read people and let them be the way they are, instead of trying to poke on people's weaknesses as if it were a sport. She leans on a willow. She used to climb on its branches, she always liked to imagine they were wings, and jump into the lake in the summer when they were little. When did her brother turn into a moral coach? They used to have fun together. She wraps the coat around her because the frosty night is quickly descending.
Inside her exit and Liam's hard stare has brought silence on the table. Sherlock looks towards the door but he's not the type to run after the damsel in distress. He's never been, and in all fairness, he's not as made of ice as people think. Simon's words have struck more chords than he'd like to admit. He hasn't shown it but his snide comments make him question if he actually does that. If he does that all the time, and if he doesn't, what is it that is making him want to do this experiment of the first date, what it is that make him do unusual things when it comes to Molly.
- If you excuse me, I shall go to bed. I have an early train in the morning. – he stands up and heads towards the stairs realizing that he doesn't know where he is sleeping.
Simon was about to protest, to call him out, because Molly is out there in the cold and he's not even going to find her, but Liam gives him a look that Simon knows he can't mess with. Liam gets up.
- Sure, I'll show you the guest room.
He rushes towards the stairs and they both go up. He opens the door to a small seldom used bedroom.
- I'm sorry, he's... overprotective of Mols. – Liam says as an apology.
- I understand – Sherlock says. – Thank you for your hospitality. – Sherlock says closing the door.
He won't sleep. Not for a while. He kicks his shoes off and unbuttons some of the buttons of his shirt and lies down looking up at the white LED lights in the ceiling. He won't sleep, but he doesn't want to think so in he goes to his mind palace, not sure what room to pick to settle in this evening. He probably won't. Not until he hears the front door.
Molly isn't coming back. She's noticed the reflection of the lights upstairs in the farmhouse. Sherlock has gone to bed. Brilliant. Just great. For a split second while they were playing music earlier, she thought that maybe she was going to have a nice ‘first date' but here it is. Her grandfather used to joke that love and family do not mix together and maybe he was right after all. She walks a bit to keep warm, around the lake, aimlessly. She doesn't want to face Simon. She doesn't want any more fights or apologies or anything, so she's going to have to stay out here until they go to bed. She is upset, but she's trying not to be. She reaches the other side of the lake and her phone buzzes in the coat pocket.
- I'm sorry – Simon texts.
- Liam made you write that. – she texts back.
She knows he did.
- He did but I'm still sorry. – Simon texts again.
She can't be mad at him for long, even though she should be.
- Go to bed. – she texts back.
- Are you mad at me?
- Yes.
- Will you be mad at me forever?
- Maybe.
- For real?
- No.
- Okay.
- Goodnight, Sy.
- Good night, Mols.