You Can See Me
A Molly/Sherlock fic by rhaine-weber
Sherlock © BBC
A/N: Oh my gosh hi wow. Didn’t think this was coming did you? Well, yes, glad to have surprised you. Okay, I didn’t mean to leave this fic alone for so long, but suddenly my life decided to get crazy busy, and when I did sit down to write, I was bursting with new ideas, so this was put on hold. Right, so, to those following this story, thank you. I love you, seriously, let’s be friends okay. So, anyway, John and Sherlock are aquatinted now, and the game is ON.
Molly had found it quite hard to concentrate on anything the past few weeks.
If she was asked about her distractedness, she really wouldn’t have been able to reply though she most certainly knew the answer.
She missed her odd, dark, lanky boy.
Sherlock seemed to have taken to avoiding her. He didn’t say anything the day before to indicate that she had done something wrong, but she must have. Right?
She didn’t know. She was questioning herself now, and she could hear him in her head, reprimanding her. Leave it to Sherlock to impose himself into her mind at random times of the day. Not that it was his fault, of course.
During class, they were only a few seats away, and her gaze often flickered to him, though he was never looking in her direction. It was odd, because when she was looking away, at the board or the teacher, actually trying to focus, she could feel his gaze on her.
Of course she had tried to confront him, but he was always a step ahead of her, ducking out of sight right before she could reach him, his dark mop of curls disappearing around the corner.
Frustration grew inside her, and she was hurt. Molly wasn’t angry at him. Never angry. She just wanted her Sherlock. Had something happened? Something awful? Was he okay? Questions burned inside her, and she was slowly becoming a mess of emotions. Day by day, she felt herself becoming more unstable. No. That wouldn’t do. Molly was strong. Her dad had always told her so. She would hold herself together.
She had always thought, well, maybe just a few times, she had thought that maybe Sherlock just…lost interest in her.
Maybe he didn’t want her anymore.
Such thoughts were to discouraging to even contemplate, so they were shut away to the back of her mind where they slowly ate away at her.
However, Molly was never alone. I mean, it wasn’t as if she was lonely without Sherlock, even if it felt that way sometimes.
Jim was there. But, well…Jim was always there. It wasn’t really a problem. Molly liked Jim. Jim was sweet, nice, funny, handsome, and Jim liked Molly. It was a bit odd sometimes though, when he thought she wasn’t looking, she’d see something in his dark eyes, and it almost scared her. It was silly of her, really. It had only been a glimpse, and who’s to say she hadn’t imagined it anyway?
But, all in all, Molly was fine having Jim around. He walked with her in the hall, ate lunch with her, was always nice to her. It wasn’t a problem…but why did it feel like it was?
The answer was quite simple really.
Jim wasn’t Sherlock.
She sighed, tugging on a strand of her hair.
“Something wrong, Molls?”
Jim’s voice broke through her thoughts, and she realized she’d been frowning, eyebrows knitted. She quickly gave him a smile, nodding. “O-Oh yeah, fine, just thinking…” She bit her lip, gathering her things together, beginning to walk back to class. Lunch was over.
She sighed without realizing it, hugging her books to her chest, and subconsciously trying to catch a glimpse of a mop of dark curls.
“So what really is your deal with this girl?” John asked the, at the moment, statue like boy sitting next to him.
They were sitting a short distance away from where Molly and Jim were sitting, eating lunch and ‘investigating’, as Sherlock put it.
Well, at least John was eating.
They were hidden by a bit of brush, but had a clear view of the pair.
Sherlock frowned at his question, tearing his eyes away from Jim and Molly, his eyebrows knitting together as he hesitated, pondering John’s question.
“My…deal?” He asked quietly, raising an eyebrow.
John nodded quickly, waving his hands around slightly for emphasis. “Yes, your deal, Sherlock. I mean, we’re stalking this guy, Jim, because he’s spending time with Molly. I mean, it’s not really a crime. Molly’s nice…cute.” He blinked a few times, nodding slowly, the tips of his ears going slightly pink.
Sherlock wrinkled his nose as if this was really the most idiotic thing he’d ever heard uttered in his presence.
“You really have some things to work out with her. Sherlock? Do you hear me?” John raised his eyebrows, gesturing towards Molly. “Look at her. She’s upset. Why don’t you talk to her. Like a normal person. You keep avoiding her and she’s hurting, Sherlock.” He said, and this seemed to reach through the tall boy’s thick skull. He froze, cold stare intensified. “It was never my intention to hurt Molly.” He said quietly, and John almost smiled.
He had only been running about with Sherlock for a week, but really, it felt quite natural to John already. Things, well, he just fit with Sherlock. He had other friends, sort of, none of them were really worth mentioning. It was nice to finally find someone interesting, even if he was…well, a bit of a git.
He didn’t have much trouble reading him, most of the time.
And when it came to Molly Hooper, Sherlock was quite the open book, even if he didn’t mean to be.
“Well she is hurt, Sherlock. You’re avoiding her all the time. Friends stick together.” He said quietly, running his fingers through his sandy colored hair.
Sherlock didn’t answer, he kept his eyes on Molly, and when she got up, so did she.
John gathered his things, following after the long-legged boy.
“Anyway, what exactly are you trying to achieve here?” John inquired, doing his best to keep up with him.
Sherlock, shot him the ‘obviously’ look. “I find Jim Moriarty to be suspicious.” He mumbled, half of him lost in thought.
“Because he likes Molly?”
“Well-” Sherlock glared at him before continuing. “No, that’s not the entire reasoning behind this investigation.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Don’t you see, John? Jim-…he’s too..well it’s too perfect to be real. His whole act, as if he was crafted especially for Molly.” He waved his hands out for a bit of effect, as if he were explaining something to a child.
“You do know how that sounds, right?” John asked, raising an eyebrow, a slight smirk against his lips.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Something is wrong there. I don’t like it.”
“It is the…natural reaction…to be jealous.” John mumbled with a slightly smug smile on his face.
“Oh, shut up, John.”
Another week passed.
Molly really wasn’t thinking straight, her thoughts returning to him.
What if he needed her help? What if something was wrong? What if…he just didn’t want her anymore? Even if that was the case, she deserved to hear it from him.
Molly would go find Sherlock, whether he wanted it or not.
She waited for midnight, when the school was asleep. She tugged on her nightgown, slipping her flats on as she made her way through the dark halls. She knew the school well enough to walk through it blind, but soon enough her eyes were adjusting to the darkness.
She stopped walking. She was almost there, but a chill ran up her spine. Her light brown eyes widened, and a split second later someone had her pinned against the wall. She gave out a soft squeak, struggling against the dark figure, though their grip was like steal, and her blows didn’t have much effect. They had something over their face, covering it. She could feel their fingers digging into her fair skin, and she closed her eyes, trembling softly.
“Oh, Mousy Molly, going to see Sherlock?” She recognized the voice immediately, but she didn’t make it known. She took deep breaths, feeling her heart pounding in her chest. “Y-Yes.” She managed, her voice shaken and high pitched.
“Molly, I have a job for you. When you do see Sherlock, I want you to tell him that you’re hurt, you’re angry and upset with him. Tell him you…well, tell him you don’t want to see him again. Tell him you’ve moved on. Say it anyway you want, Mousy Molly, but be sure that you get your point across.” He whispered, and Molly’s lip trembled, feeling the tears welling up in her eyes. “Or what?” She rasped, and the boy laughed coldly. “Oh, no, I won’t hurt you, it’ll be Sherlock that falls, and you’ll have yourself to blame.”
Her head pounded, and her body was screaming out at her, the grip too tight. “O-Okay j-j-just don’t h-hurt him.” She whispered, and the next moment, she was dropped to the ground, and the figure was gone. She buried her head in her hands, crumpling against the ground, letting a few sobs rake through her. She brushed the tears from her eyes, standing shakily. She could still feel her skin burning from where he touched her.
She took a few shaky breaths, attempting to collect herself.
She had to save him.
Molly opened the door to the boy’s dorm, her eyes adjusted to the dark by now. She tread carefully, silently moving through the room.
Sherlock was awake when she found him.
He was lying on his back at the foot of his bed, his eyes closed, though his feet the dangled off the end made a swaying motion, over and over in a rhythmic pattern.
“Sherlock?” She whispered, taking a step towards him.
His pale eyes shot open immediately, coming to rest on the small girl. She met his gaze straight on, and he did not speak for a long while. “Something’s happened to you, Molly. Who hurt you?” He asked softly, coming towards her.
She took a step back, forcing herself to speak. “Why were you avoiding me?” She asked, and she made an effort to make her words cold and broken.
Sherlock stopped, eyes widening slightly, and she thought she saw a glimpse of something there, before he looked down at his shoes, as if he were embarrassed. “I thought…well, maybe, you didn’t require me anymore, Molly. Jim is…much better suited for you, and I…” He stopped talking, and Molly felt her heart ache, felt the overwhelming urge to throw her arms around him and never let go, always make him feel wanted.
But Molly frowned, her body trembling slightly. “I don’t need you anymore, Sherlock.” She said, and her heart broke. She could feel herself collapsing inside, knowing she would fall to pieces the moment she left him.
He looked up at her, eyebrows knitted. “Molly, if I have done somethin-”
“I just needed to tell you that, Sherlock. I’m done.” She said softly, her words cold and final.
Sherlock blinked a few times, and she could see something pass over his face for a split second before he was cold and stoic once more, straightening up.
She walked to him, wrapping her arms around him tightly. “Goodbye, Sherlock.” She whispered, his body tensing up. She slipped a piece of paper into his hand, letting go of him just enough to look up at his face as he looked down at the paper that read only two words. His eyes widened for a moment, and he looked down at her, realization crossing his features, giving a quick nod. She turned and left, her body quaking as she made her way back down the halls.
Sherlock read the message over again.