"Oh my god!"
Molly had almost had a heart attack, pressing a hand against her chest, her eyes wide open.
"Sherlock! You frightened me. Again."
"Sorry," Sherlock said, walking around her and sitting behind the microscope.
"It wasn't my intention."
"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't…" Molly uttered, fixing her hair quickly, looking at the reflection in the glass cabinet for test tubes. She returned to her work then, continuing in silence. She would love to talk about something – anything – but Sherlock never paid any attention to what she was saying. He preferred silence and she had to deal with it.
If she just undressed and worked completely naked, Sherlock wouldn't most probably notice it at all. Molly smirked, shaking her head. It was like she didn't even exist. Well, maybe it was for the best – at least today.
"You bought flowers," Sherlock remarked all of the sudden, not looking up from the microscope. Molly glanced at him.
"Yes…" she said. "On a grave."
"Grave?" Sherlock repeated, absorbed by the specimen. Molly shook her head.
"Have you watched a TV show giving advices on polite small talks?" she asked, smiling nervously.
"What?" Sherlock said, absent-minded.
"Never mind…" Molly waved her hand. "Start with weather next time."
Sherlock finally looked up from the microscope, evidently trying to recall the conversation, judging by his slightly narrowed eyes. He seemed not to have a clue, though.
"You were asking about the flowers I bought," Molly said. "They are on a grave."
"Whose grave?" Sherlock asked.
"My father's," Molly said. "He died two years ago."
"Oh…" Sherlock said, obviously in the uncomfortable zone. "Well, I would have known if I had looked at you more closely."
"Which is something you never do," Molly remarked. Sherlock raised his eyebrows but didn't comment on that. She regretted it immediately. It wasn't entirely true. He was much better to her since his faked death. He just couldn't help himself and she knew it. She shouldn't be complaining. Sherlock was showing her his kind side – although it would be considered the exact opposite considering a normal person.
"You've been crying…" Sherlock said. Molly swore in her mind. She should have put ice on her eyes.
"A bit… Memories, you know… I loved my dad, he was… he was a very sweet man… so funny and kind… and…"
Molly had no idea how it happened but tears were running down her face all of the sudden.
"Oh no," she said, annoyed by herself. "I'm sorry, I…"
She forced a terrible looking smile, wiping the tears that wouldn't stop coming.
"That's stupid… Just ignore me, please… I'm fine, it's just… I'm just…"
Her voice broke down and she looked away, trying hard to stop the cry. She achieved only that she looked like having a seizure.
Suddenly, she was embraced by Sherlock's arms. She yelped inaudibly with surprise. Sherlock didn't say anything but held her tightly, laying his chin on the top of her head. Molly eased slowly, accepting the offer of comfort. She buried her face in Sherlock's coat and allowed herself to let the tears flow.
When she looked up after a few minutes, Sherlock gave her a soft smirk.
"Do you feel better?"
"Yes," she nodded. "Thanks."
"Good," he said. He took a clean handkerchief out of his pocket and dried the tears on her face.
"Now that's better," he said. "I was wondering if you wouldn't want to go for a cup of coffee with me. That could lift your spirits up. And it would inflict less damage to my coat."
Molly laughed briefly, shaking her head. When she was able to go over the fact Sherlock insulted her basically in every second sentence he said – although unwillingly – he could be quite funny.
"OK," she said. "That would be nice."
"Wonderful," Sherlock said and opened the door, holding it for her. She walked out, thanking him.
"You're welcome. I'm just afraid you'll have to pay. Seems I've forgotten my valet."