Capacity

Part One

        Molly tapped her small foot on the ground and drummed her fingers on the bed, as she sat, thinking about her present situation. He had barely spoken a word to her for the last two weeks now- excluding trivial things like, “Please pass the jam,” and “Where’s my scarf?” Molly’s confusion and worry built up in her chest slowly, then extremely quickly. After giving him what should’ve been some of the happiest news of their married life, he began to shut her out. She was not sure why, and the lack of knowledge fueled her fear. On the beginning of the third week of tense silence, a Friday night, Molly decided something needed to be said.

        Sherlock was laying on the apartment’s sofa, his long pale frame stretched out with his head rested on a pillow and his hands on his torso. He was still in his dress shirt and pants, his ankles crossed, but his suit jacket was thrown over John’s old chair that had been moved to the corner. This was not a new occurrence in 221B Baker Street, in fact it happened quite often; whenever there was a hiccup in a case, this was Sherlock’s natural thinking position. Most of the time, when he was thinking so deeply, he wore a blank expression. However, at this time, his face looked calm, serene almost, the tranquil features only interrupted by his creased brow over the detective’s closed eyes.

        In a moment of courage, Molly padded out from the bedroom, peeking at Sherlock’s still, yet agitated expression. She pulled up a chair from the desk, and set it by the couch, directly in front of her husband. She fidgeted with her hands for a moment, gazing at her wedding ring and twisting it around her finger, before drawing a breath to speak. Then she hesitated.

        Their relationship had gone fairly smoothly as of late, up until Molly had told him she was pregnant. She assumed something about this news was wrong to Sherlock, given his reaction. The only thing that held her from speaking, was that she wasn’t completely sure she wanted to know what was wrong. A single, fresh tear slipped down her cheek. The raging possibilities and awful repercussions this conversations could have weighed on Molly’s heart.

        The tear fell onto her clasped hands.

        "What is it Molly?" Sherlock said, in a tone that sounded more interrupted than concerned.

        Molly was taken aback by his voice. "Sherlock. We haven't spoken in two weeks." She took a shaky breath. "What's wrong? Is this about... The pregnancy? I thought you'd be happy...” Sherlock shifted at this. "But you're so angry." At these last words the man opened his blue eyes and sat up quickly.

        "Molly." he started. "I am in no way angry."

        They were sitting face to face at this point, hands tense at their sides. "Then what are you feeling Sherlock? What is going on?"

        Suddenly, his eyes shone with tears. Sherlock ducked his head to try to hide them, but Molly had already seen them. His tears had helped Molly understand what was going on. The tense ball of frustration and fear built up so quickly until it released itself in the form of silent sobs. She stood up quickly and made her way into the kitchen. Once out of Sherlock's line of sight, she put her back against the wall and cried. He didn't want her baby. He didn't want it. He didn't want Molly anymore because of it, of that she was sure. She covered her mouth with her hands, stifling all the things she wanted to scream at him. Molly sank down to the floor, with her back still against the wall, and wrapped her arms around her legs. Shaking slightly, she adjusted to the newfound conclusion she had come to. Sherlock didn't want her.

        A few minutes later, Sherlock's shoes could be heard across the kitchen floor. Molly's head was buried in her hands, her emotions rolling over her in waves. When Sherlock rounded the corner and saw his wife, his best friend like that, his heart hurt. He knew he had caused her all this pain- and just because he wasn't able to express his feelings, his worries. Sherlock crouched down in front of her, grasped her arm, and touched his forehead to hers. Molly's head came up and their eyes met. She wiped one of her cheeks, and whispered, defeated, "I know what's wrong. It's ok, I know."

        Sherlock's eyes grew wide. Did she actually know the true reason behind his frustration? If she did, would she leave him? Would she believe she married an emotionless monster? These were Sherlock's greatest fears as he asked, "What do you know, Molly?" He rubbed her shoulder in an effort to calm her as well as himself.

        "I know-" her voice cracked here, "I know that you don't want a baby, and now you... You don't want me." Her wide brown eyes looked up at him in despair.

        Sherlock froze. "Molly...” He started shaking with the realization of what he had put her through in the last two weeks. Slowly standing, Sherlock looked down at Molly. He offered her his hand, which she took, despite the fact that she looked at it like it could burn her. He held her gingerly around her waist, and guided her back to the couch.

        Sitting side by side, the tension was high. "Molly," Sherlock began. Her eyes looked heartbroken and resigned. "How could you think I would ever leave you?" Her tears spilled over her eyelids once again. "Molly, I love you. So much more than I can explain. I could never leave you." He pulled her into an embrace so tender and full of raw emotion, that they just sat like that for a few minutes as Molly worked up the courage to ask the question both of them feared the answer to.

        "Then what's wrong with us Sherlock?"

        He sighed and pushed her away, gently, far enough to see her face. "Molly, we both know how hard it is for me to grow close to people. Loving people has often felt like a burden, and I have gone without for a long time. However, I have grown to come accustomed to it, because it is what I feel for you. Every second, of every minute, of every day." A lovely pink blush rolled across Molly's face. She didn't hear Sherlock say these things often enough. "But, I have been worried, sick to my stomach, about what you told me." He said, looking down as if ashamed.

        "But why? Why would that worry you?" Molly asked with concern.

        Suddenly, Sherlock looked up with fiercely frightened eyes. "Because, I am in love with you, and it took me so long, and it was so hard to embrace those feelings, even after years. Molly, I am not sure I am capable of loving someone else. I'm not sure I have the capacity to. And that frightens me more than anything."