Thank you for your reviews on my other fic - Over the Abyss! It means a lot so thank you :)

Summary: He's never been able to deduce his own feelings, he just knows that he doesn't like it when she's with someone other than him. Or...the three times Sherlock ruined Molly's relationships, and the one time she became his.

This is post-Reichenbach, so there won't be Jim from IT in this, I'm sorry! I will mention him though.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.


Of Blank Canvases and Blades of Words

Sherlock Holmes was not a happy man.

"Where is she?!" he hissed. He had been waiting in the morgue for over half an hour, he needed to see the body.

John watched his friend pace the room, "Calm down, Sherlock. You don't own her."

Sherlock ruffled his hair, impatient and exasperated. "But she's never late!"

"Sherlock it's her day off! It was short notice! She could be in the middle of something right now!"

As soon as the words left John's mouth, the door to the morgue swung open, and inside rushed Molly Hooper.

Sherlock observed her as she ran to the other side of the room to grab her lab coat and dumped her bag on the stool next to the supply closet. She wasn't wearing her normal frumpy sweater with khaki trousers, but instead, a nice pair of jeans that hugged her legs quite fittingly, and a silk turquoise dress shirt that was tucked in to her jeans.

She looked…nice.

Her hair was down with slight curls at the end, and soon it was tied up into a ponytail.

"I'm sorry!" she breathed, "I'm sorry I'm late!"

John smiled warmly at her, "Oh it's no problem. Sorry to trouble you."

Sherlock felt a nudge at his side, and looked down to see John looking at him expectantly to greet the woman in front of them. He turned away and looked at Molly.

She looked back at him, rosy cheeks flushing slightly redder, and began to open her mouth. "Shall we get star –"

"Where have you been?"

Molly looked taken aback. "Sorry, what?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes, "Where have you been? Why are you so late?"

Molly crossed her arms, "I think we both know where I was, Sherlock."

Sherlock bit his bottom lip and raised a brow. "You're dressed more formally than usual, your hair is styled and you have minimal make up on while you usually never where make up when you're working. You're wearing heels, which are not suitable for working at the morgue or in a lab, and you have an empty snack wrapper in your bag which meant that you had a date tonight but then you got our call, so you grabbed something to eat on the way."

Molly gave a small sarcastic smile, "Yes, well done."

She turned around and buttoned up her lab coat before taking her phone out of her bag and leaving the room in the middle of dialing a number.

As Sherlock watched her leave, John was shaking his head.

"You really should be more appreciative."

Sherlock almost looked offended. "I am appreciative of her help."

John shook his head, "Well you certainly don't sound like it. She drops everything at the sound of your name and you don't even give her a thank you!"

"She doesn't have to come when I call her."

"No, Sherlock, she does," John replies wearily, "because if she doesn't then you wreck havoc and piss off everyone else and no one other than her can tolerate you. Maybe you should give her some consideration once in a while and let her live her life."

John pulled his coat of the coat hanger and twisted the door knob, "You check the body and get back to Lestrade. I'm going to Mary's."

Sherlock watched him, "But John, the case!"

"You'll have Lestrade, just let me have one night with my wife. I promised her."

Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek. "Fine. If I need you I'll text you."

"Thank you," John whispered thankfully before leaving the morgue.

When the door finally swung shut, Sherlock felt alone. The room was cold and pure white with no life except him. He remembered when he died outside of this very building.

Molly had helped him fake his death. She housed him for weeks before he finally managed to coax Mycroft into letting him out of the country so he could deal with Moriarty's network himself.

His presence had hardened her.

She was no longer mousy Molly Hooper, who stuttered and blushed at every glance he would give her. There was still the occasional flush of the cheeks, but she no longer allowed him to bend her at his every whim.

And yet…she still comes.

She always comes.

"Sorry Sherlock, whose body did you need to see again?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and saw that Molly was now standing in front of him.

Flushed face – was on the phone with her date. Make up now wiped off – date was postponed to a later date.

"Mr. Norris."

She nodded and scuffled past him before opening a compartment.

When she pulled out the body, Sherlock got right to work. Usually it was John who wrote the details down, but since he wasn't here Sherlock whipped out his phone and began to type in his observations.

Molly stayed on the other side of the room, unlocking the cabinet to the right of the sink and grabbing a stack of papers that needed to be filled out. After setting them on the table, she crossed the room to grab the newly arrived papers in the basket by the door.

If she was going to stay, then she might as well get started on paperwork.

She could have just left, but knowing Sherlock he was going to have to ask for some lab equipment that she needed to authorize so there was no point in leaving anyway.

After half an hour of silence, Sherlock, now sitting in his usual spot by the microscope, was analyzing the remains of debris left underneath the victims' fingernails.

Molly felt her neck cramping up from bending over a desk and filling out paper work nonstop.

There was a slight noise from the other side of the room, and Molly looked up to come face to face with the date she had called off.

He was a nice bloke. Slightly taller than Sherlock, hazel eyes, tousled chestnut hair and a bright smile. Molly had met him on the Tube when she was coming home from helping Sherlock on another case. His name was Matt, and he worked as a stock broker.

"Oh hello, Matt. What are you doing here?" She asked, placing a soft kiss on his cheek. His glance towards Sherlock did not go unnoticed.

"Just dropped by to give you some Chinese takeout. I thought you'd be hungry," he said, bringing up the plastic bag full of food to show her.

She smiled at him, "Oh, thank you so much," she peered into the bag, "how'd you know that was my favourite?"

He shrugged, "You were carrying this on the night we met."

Molly felt a wide smile break on her face. She honestly believed that this could work out.

Matt nodded to Sherlock behind her, "Who's he?"

Molly felt a bit of anxiety bubble in her stomach. "Oh, um –"

"Sherlock Holmes."

Matt furrowed his eyebrows, "The detective?"

"Consulting detective," Sherlock corrected.

"Oh!" Matt said as realization dawned onto his face. He walked over a stuck his hand out. "Nice to meet you."

Sherlock looked at the outstretched hand. "I wish I could say the same."

Molly face-palmed herself. "Matt, I think it's best if you go."

"No, Molls. I want to know why he has a problem with me," Matt said. Molly began pulling at his arm.

"I seriously think you should -"

Sherlock sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Because you're a stock broker. You travel all over the world regularly and often meet exotic women, whom you have numerous affairs with. No don't try to deny it. The simple state of your dress and the way you noticed what Molly's favourite food was states that you spend much of your time on these trips looking for one night stands and do so by noticing things that a woman would find attractive. And I'm also absolutely certain that your wife wouldn't be very happy to hear about it."

Molly felt her heart sink. This was why she insisted that her boyfriends never visit the morgue.

Matt looked astonished. And not in a good way.

As Molly looked at him, she knew it was true. The way he held himself, shoulders sagged and defeated, light in eyes gone, mouth slightly agape. She knew it was over.

Sherlock, on the other hand, looked smug. He had a small smile on his lips as he resumed looking back into his microscope.

Matt strode forward, fists beginning to clench. Molly placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, almost sorry. "Just go."

He huffed, taking another quick glance at Sherlock. "He's the reason you cancelled our date, isn't he?"

Molly opened her mouth, but Matt already beat her to it. "I know he's why."

And then he was gone.

Molly was mad. She was so, so, irrevocably mad. This was not the first time that Sherlock had done this. He had ruined her relationships every time one of them came to visit her in the lab before the Fall. She just thought that maybe he had grown to respect her enough to let her be happy.

"Why can't you just let me be happy?" she whispered, too tired to argue. Oh, she was just so tired.

"You would have found out anyway," he replied surely back.

Sherlock adjusted the focus of the microscope, looking oblivious to the woman with tears now beginning to cloud her vision, but was fully aware of it.

He didn't understand. Why was she mad? Wasn't he just helping her find the right guy?

He always felt like the ones she chose were never good enough.

Not good enough. Not for her.

"But at least I would have found out on my own."

She gathered her things from around the room, hanging up her lab coat and putting away the piles of paper.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, looking at her in a genuinely confused manner.

"Out," she replied curtly, "I need to get away from you."

The door swung shut as she left, and suddenly the room felt very empty.

But Sherlock knew she'd come back.

She always came back.


Alright so this will be four chapters :) Definitely a Sherlolly fic (but that's obvious). However I don't know if I should continue this or not, it depends if this is successful or not XD

So please give me your feedback, I'd love to know how I did!

Thank you for reading you lovely people!

Review? :)