A/N: My 250th reviewer of "Vows" Hallaanduneiel gave me a prompt; "jealousy" more or less, and I worked it with another idea I had previously. I hope you enjoy. And yes, I know I said I was only going to update Vows for the time being, but I needed a tiny fluffy break.

"Molly – you're a woman."

She was very aware of that fact, had been for over thirty years to say the least. A fact she didn't exactly know how to react to when presented with. Especially when it came from the lips of Sherlock who'd just stormed into the morgue when she was elbow deep in intestine.

Half of her was not entirely sure she'd heard correctly, and she started to wonder if that was a way of greeting these days, that had just slipped past her head entirely, "Sorry?" she said, as he gazed at her expectantly, looking like he was waiting for her to confirm the fact. A fact she really did sometimes wonder if he was aware of.

"John wants me to bring a plus one to the wedding," said Sherlock with such distain that she almost laughed.

She blinked for good measure, wondering what on earth he was getting into, when he suddenly said rather carefully, "I - am - asking," since her silence was obviously not the answer he'd expected.

She almost felt tempted to say – Really? – But she kept her tongue slowly slipping off her gloves, before discarding them in the bin, "Asking what?"

He gave to roll his eyes at that, assuming she was being the idiot obviously, when she in all honesty wanted him to properly ask, since she wouldn't exactly call that asking her to go with him, if that was his intention upon entering.

"If you would care to join me to the wedding?" he said with one of those tentative smiles of his, that she loathed, but secretly loved.

"As your date?"

He scoffed, before smoothing out his own expression softly wording out, "Yes."

"Oh, right," she said grinning a bit, biting her lip, until she in one breath added the fact that practically gnawed at her insides, "I'm already going with someone, actually."

"You are?" he practically snapped; his face a grimace, until it tried to look unaffected, which was a bit too late. Part of her was astonished over his general surprise over the fact that she had a date, another was a bit mad that he'd just assume she'd be available – after all, it was less than a week to the actual wedding.

"Yes," she bit back frowning.

"Fine," he said sounding a bit bored, "At least I can tell John I tried." With that announcement he turned on his heel, and strode out. Her rather good mood prior to that vanished. Obviously he asked her because she was conveniently a woman, as he so nicely put it. Not because he genuinely wanted to.

He was annoyed, perhaps a bit more than necessary. It shouldn't have been so surprising really, but when he mulled over his recent encounter with Molly he almost heard John mentally berating him for his sentence upon entering the morgue to begin with, "You said – what?" It was the truth, Molly was a woman, and the most age-appropriate and least difficult to attend the wedding with, though the downsides would of course be elevating her hopes in what was a good enough working relationship between the pair. He had already involved her in his life in many ways, but he liked to assume that this venture would be a careful nod of thank you in her direction for having assisting his jump off a roof-top some months ago.

Also, since John was badgering him into it, which was to say the least also annoying. Frankly, he was rather irritated that she had acquired someone else as her plus one. It would be less trouble having him as her plus one than ingratiating any kind of idiot into their midst, really. What if this was another poor choice? Considering her general history it most likely was, and why was he not to worry about it? Though he thought more of it than he liked to, really, and that truly grated on his nerves.

Not as much as it did ruin his mood, when he finally spotted the idiot wandering at her side - a normal looking man, broad shouldered, light blonde hair, well groomed. A co-worker from Bart's considering the familiarity that seemed absolutely normal, but he smiled too much.

His smile was a dead give away to the lack of upholstery in his mind, but Molly's smile marvelled his only with a twinkle in hers. There was no nervousness in her walk, as she trotted down the aisle standing besides the rest of the bridesmaids in a horrendous ensemble that only made all the women giggle. However, his eyes kept darting towards her figure in the odious contraption, and he found himself constantly frowning when her eyes kept flitting towards Clarence.

Clarence who quickly drew her away from the rest the minute the wedding reception had begun, touching her bare shoulders, her wrist, and her flushed cheek at every spare moment, as they engaged in secret discussions, which were whispered at every opportunity with Clarence's mouth suspended by her ear.

It was a disgusting display, really, especially considering the way her hand would be the man's knee, or her head thrown back into a full-blown laugh, before they both sprang onto the dance floor nestling too closely one another with Clarence's hands low on her waist – Sherlock was grinding his teeth at this point, his eyes narrowing at the display, as he snorted in disbelief.

"What's wrong?" said John who sat down besides him, slightly out of breath and red-cheeked, as he soon brought a glass of champagne to his lips.

"Nothing," he answered directing his gaze at John instead.

"You've been scowling at Molly for ages – why's that?"

"I'm not scowling at her," he spat back.

John laughed, "OK – you're scowling at Clarence, then? You're not jealous?"

He sighed at the insinuation, "Why would I be jealous?"

John grinned, "You could sit here sulking of course, or you could do something about it," said his friend, disappearing off to his bride who was half-shrieking in mirth on the dance floor.

Sherlock crossed his arms mutely on his chest, as his eyes re-directed themselves at Molly and Clarence.

He was not jealous.

If Clarence wasn't spending his time inappropriately touching Molly - she was talking to the other guests. She seemed to be in a rather good mood, that spread to the people she talked with, who all in some way or the other, especially the men - kept touching her. He pressed his lips together trying to look elsewhere, only to have his eyes flicker to her again every time he attempted to.

Why would he be jealous?

There was no reason to be jealous. It would only be good if Molly was distracted by someone else, if she didn't live with the hope that anything was ever going to happen between them, but then she would be too busy. She would be occupied. In the end she might not even like to work with him anymore, and he felt the idea leave a hollow space in his stomach.

Molly seemed perfectly happy not speaking to him, not even glancing at him, as it was obviously not one of her silly attempts at trying to trick him. For then her eyes would turn to him if it was, almost expecting him to do something, but what was he supposed to do? She was after all just a friend.

The idea of her being only his friend seemed wrong.


Even worse than friend.

What was she to him?

Yes, she helped him on cases when John wasn't around.

Yes, she was even better than John at keeping her head cool during those occasions.

And yes, she was rather pretty.

Pretty? He pursed his lips at the idea.

Yes, she was attractive.

There was a reason everyone was staring at her besides himself, why their eyes were on her, even if she was in that contraption of a dress.

She was certainly not unappealing, even if her outfit was unspeakably horrendous. It was perhaps the way she held herself in it; with quiet confidence that he only saw when she was at work and filled with no chip on her shoulder. That chip being him.

He needed to leave.

The minute he stood up however, while Molly and Clarence were in a rather intense round of dancing that required Clarence to unnecessarily touch her at every convenient moment, making his stomach twist into knots - he found his feet directing him towards the pair.

He had to end the display of course.

"Do you mind?" he said, trying not to sneer, as the pair broke apart immediately, and Molly stared at him wide-eyed.

"No – no – I suppose not," said Clarence with a roguish grin at Molly, as if he had her.

He didn't intend to dance. He just wanted it to stop.

Sherlock smiled nastily in return, causing Clarence to look at him in confusion, before he walked off leaving the pair of them. Molly stood before him uncertainly, "So, you want to-,"

"Yes," he said taking her deeper into the dance floor, suddenly uncertain of how to tackle the rather upbeat music playing, which then reverted to a slow song. A quick glance to the DJ gave him the answer to the sudden change, as John stood nearby smugly "Get on with it," his friend mouthed to him.

Sherlock held out a hand to Molly who mutely put her delicate one into his.

Like a flower waiting to bloom
Like a lightbulb in a dark room

He heard her intake of breath when his hand touched her waist, bringing her closer towards him. She was filled with nervousness now, that she did not seem at all to owe with Clarence, "Molly – do - remember to breathe." he murmured into her ear, unable to keep himself from mimicking Clarence's recent behaviour, which received a completely different response from her than giggling.

He was pleased at that.

I'm just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on

"Right," she said barely audible giving to laugh a little anxiously, "I never thought you could dance."

"I was taught by the best," he replied with a smirk gazing into her brown eyes that stared back in bewilderment.

Like the desert waiting for the rain
Like a school kid waiting for the spring

"You were?" she said, before she with a grin added, "You must have hated that."

"I did."

"You're rather good, though"

"Practise does make perfect."

I'm just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on

"I wouldn't say that good."

"How much wine have you had?" he said curiously, as she spoke much more bravely than usual.

He was used to her bluntness.

She hesitated in her answer, "Not enough to not notice you've been glaring at me the most of the evening," she said with a low voice.

"I haven't been glaring."

"Ok – staring."

My poor heart it's been so dark
Since you've been gone

He grimaced, "Fine."


"I don't like him."

"What's wrong with him, then?"

"He smiles too much. He is also rather dull compared to Jim. I did tell you that you shouldn't date, you know."

"He's only my plus one, Sherlock."

After all you're the one who turns me off
You're the only one who can turn me back on

"He has expectations, Molly."

"He does?"

"Obviously – by the amount of touching he's been instigating every second."

"You're touching me right now, it doesn't mean you want to touch me more."

"What ever gave you that impression?" he said with a raised brow.

She froze under his touch, breaking out his grasp.

My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune
My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes

He could not read her expression entirely, there were too many emotions to be had, as her hands were bunched into fists - her expression was rather lost, soon turning into an anguished one. He supposed his answer came when she sprang off the dance floor leaving him to his devices.

I'm just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on
Turn me on

He found her with a glass of wine in her hand, which was better than her at the arm of Clarence who was luckily looking for her at the opposite direction – at his instruction none the less. Her expression was that of aggravation, when he stepped out of the shadow into her view. He didn't know what to say, his mouth turning rather dry, as he saw her makeup was rather messy. She'd been crying and he didn't understand why. He hadn't said anything rude, rather the opposite in his opinion, but things he did say had a tendency to turn out differently.

"What?" she said after a large swallow of wine.

"Are you angry at me?"

"What gave you that impression?" she said with a hollow laugh.


"It's OK, Sherlock, I'm yours for the taking, aren't I? I'm always going to be there, always - and that's just – I'm sorry – but you can't expect I'm going to accept it when you are just obviously lying to me – so I can do you favours in the future, I suppose? I'm done with be-," she stopped talking the minute his fingertips grazed her cheek, "What – what are you doing?"

"What I want to be doing – obviously?"

"Oh – right – ok," she said startled, as he palmed her soft cheek under his hand, slowly smoothing away the tear that had slid down her cheek. Her brown eyes looked at him unblinkingly, anxiously taking in his face, as he only smiled in return.

"I'd rather you not date anyone indefinitely to be entirely honest."

Her brows knitted at that, and she almost broke out of his grasp, but his other hand swiftly reached for her other cheek. Now he held her face firmly between his hands, his mouth hovering over hers, "I'd rather there not be anyone else," and with that he kissed her. It was remarkable what that action did, making her a flurry of emotion, that he did not know if he possessed, but he soon displayed the second she grabbed him towards her. His hands soon wrapped themselves around her waist, keeping her close to his skin, as much as he could by pure contact, and he knew that he'd rather not let go indefinitely.