The One Next Door

My Hateful Neighbor

"Hello." She said with a smile.
"What do you want?" Sherlock asked with a sigh.
"Why so grumpy?" Molly asked, not answering the question and walking past him into the apartment.
"I'm grumpy because that thing moved in, right across from me!" Sherlock growled.
"I thought that lady lived there, the one with the sweaters?" Molly asked, lounging on the couch and looking at Sherlock in confusion.
"She moved out a year ago." Sherlock insisted.
"Oh, ya, now I remember. She said she couldn't stand the constant aroma of paint wafting through the building, giving her gerbil a headache." Molly agreed.
"I hope she died. "Sherlock decided.
"That's not very nice. But true." Molly agreed.
"So, why are you here?" Sherlock asked.
"Do I need a reason?" Molly shot back, cocking her head to the side as if daring Sherlock to kick her out.
"Yes." Sherlock decided.
"It's your turn to make dinner. I give you food all the time, return the favor." She insisted.
"I've got butter." Sherlock shrugged. "And cat food."
"Come on Sherlock, you're bound to have something edible, right?" she asked.
"Yellow paint." Sherlock suggested with a smile.
"Come on Sherlock, be serious." Molly insisted. So, five minutes later, Sherlock and Molly were sitting on the couch, watching some crappy table news channel and eating Ramen Noodles.
"Did you add the flavor packet?" Molly asked, picking up the soggy noodles with her fork and watching them splash back into the bowl.
"Yes." Sherlock agreed, sniffing at the mysterious chunks of celery floating in the broth.
"Well, I guess we'll wait until payday, then you can fully pay me back." Molly decided.
"Oh come on, this is food, isn't it?" Sherlock insisted.
"This stuff costs like, five cents, and it's nasty." Molly insisted, pushing her bowl away.
"Welcome to the life of Sherlock, I doubt you'll enjoy your stay." Sherlock sighed.
"Oh come on, the other day you were totally fine with being, you, what changed?" Molly asked.
"Nothing changed." Sherlock insisted.
"Liar, come on, is it the coffee shop? Do you not like working there?" She asked.
"The coffee shop is fine." Sherlock decided.
"Are you sad because ketchup man declined your offer?" she asked in a teasing voice.
"No, I had that coming." Sherlock shrugged.
"Then why are you so mellow? Come on, you're always the one that's supposed to cheer me up." Molly insisted.
"I'm allowed to have bad days, aren't I?" Sherlock asked. Molly sighed, leaning back on the couch and watching the weather man talk about some upcoming rain.
"Is it about John?" Molly asked, and Sherlock sighed, letting his fork drop back into the artificially yellow broth and pushed his bowl away a well.
"No, it's not John." he decided, but they both knew that wasn't true.
"He doesn't seem like a bad guy, he had a bad first impression, sure, but he was nice today, wasn't he?" Molly asked.
"Yes." Sherlock admitted.
"Then what's wrong? You should be thrilled, he's right across the hall from you!" Molly insisted.
"I don't like him, if that's what you think. Shockingly, I don't like every guy, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I love every single man that happens to walk by." Sherlock insisted.
"I never said that!" Molly defended.
"I know you didn't." Sherlock sighed.
"So what if you don't like him, you don't have to like him!" Molly insisted.
"Good, because I don't like him." Sherlock agreed.
"Good." Molly nodded. They were silent for a while, staring at some retirement home commercials that faded into fuzzy static every so often.
"My life sucks Molly, and I mean it. It's pathetic, I have one friend, I never even talk to my family, partially because I don't like them and partially because I can't afford the phone bill. I have a minimum wage job, I eat Ramen Noodles as company food, and for all the flirting I do, I haven't even had one boyfriend. I really am just a failure." Sherlock decided.
"Sherlock, no you're not! You have so much potential, I mean it, you're brilliant, but you just need to put that brilliance to work, something other than art." Molly insisted.
"But I love art, it's the only way I know how to express myself. I don't like talking, you know that." Sherlock insisted.
"I know, I know Sherlock, but just because you have a stable income and a day job doesn't mean that you can't make art. It just has to be a side job." Molly decided.
"I don't think I can bribe people to buy this crap." Sherlock admitted.
"It's beautiful Sherlock, it truly is. That painting of the daisy makes a great addition to my guest room." Molly insisted.
"It's not supposed to be a daisy, it's supposed to represent how people immediately see something beautiful when presented with something horrible." Sherlock insisted.
"Well, I see a daisy, and I think it's beautiful." Molly decided. "I think you just need a boyfriend, you need someone else to talk to, other than me."
"Who am I going to talk to, Carl?" Sherlock snapped.
"Well..." Molly shrugged.
"I am not talking to John, he's a rude person, and just because he's having a bad day doesn't mean he can criticize me!" Sherlock insisted.
"AS you sit here, having a bad day, criticizing him." Molly pointed out.
"That's different." Sherlock defended.
"How?" Molly asked.
"Because he's him, and I'm me. I'm allowed to criticize people, because they ask for it." Sherlock insisted.
"Your sense of logic mystifies me." Molly decided.
"I'm not talking to him." Sherlock insisted.
"Alright, alright. You seem set in your ways, I'm not going to tell you how to live your life." Molly decided.
"You'll certainly try." Sherlock pointed out.
"Yes, you're right, I will." Molly agreed with a guilty little laugh. Sherlock couldn't help but smile a little bit, curling into a little ball and staring at the TV.
"Do you think I'm going to ever find someone?" he asked.
"I think you definitely will. You're a very likable person; you just need a better approach." Molly decided.
"Like what?" Sherlock asked.
"Maybe, instead of pickup lines, if that's what you call them, you can try talking first. Then, normally ask them for a drink, or to dinner." Molly suggested. "But only if they seem gay, if they mention a girlfriend, or a female crush, abandon ship."
"They could be bisexual." Sherlock insisted.
"True." Molly agreed.
"Then we wouldn't even have to flip a coin." Sherlock said with a laugh.
"No, I suppose we wouldn't." Molly agreed.
"Well, you've had boyfriends, you know what it's like." Sherlock shrugged.
"What what's like?" she asked.
"To love someone, to have someone love you." Sherlock sighed.
"I never really loved them Sherlock, and I'm sure they didn't love me." Molly insisted.
"Well, maybe we should both try to find someone then, or just be the forever alone club." Sherlock shrugged.
"There's no such thing being forever alone if you're in a club." Molly decided.
"Unless there's only one person in that club." Sherlock insisted.
"But there's two of us." Molly pointed out.
"Who knows when you'll want to jump ship." Sherlock shrugged.
"Or you, when you find the most perfect boyfriend in the entire world, and get married, and adopt a little kid, and grow old." Molly insisted. Sherlock couldn't help but smiling, imagining him and some supermodel dude with a six pack taking a little girl for a walk on the beach. It was one of those stereotypical rich people greeting cards, but still, it fit his fantasy.
"That would be nice." He muttered.
"And it will be nice, just hold off, eat your Ramen Noodles and enjoy them, watch static cable TV and try to live off of minimum wage, because I guarantee you, it will get better." Molly insisted.
"You almost make it seem like there's light at the end of the tunnel." Sherlock decided.
"Because there is, you just have to take off your sunglasses, it's there." Molly assured.
"Now you're really sounding like a motivational calendar." Sherlock muttered, and Molly just laughed. They sat in a comfortable silence, watching some sort of movie on a feel good family channel before finally Molly headed home, bidding Sherlock goodnight and going off to her flat. So Sherlock was left alone, so he washed out the forgotten Ramen bowls and turned off the TV, changing into his pajamas and slipping into his bed, staring at the ceiling with a sigh. Molly insisted there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but as he lay alone in the dark, that was all he saw. Darkness.                                            

           Sherlock woke once more to that annoying alarm clock, playing a static filled radio station with the early morning DJ's screaming about pretty much nothing. The worst way to wake up in the morning, the very worst. So he rolled out of bed, pulling on his usual coffee shop attire, his slacks and a button down shirt, combing his curly hair the best he could and washing his face. When finally he looked workplace appropriate, Sherlock grabbed his jacket and went to walk out the door. The minute he opened his door, though, the door across the hall opened, and a pajama clad John was dragging the fat bulldog out the door with a leash. Sherlock groaned, kind of tempted to close the door and wait until his was gone, but from the way the dog was waddling, Sherlock had to guess it was bathroom break. 

"Oh, it's you." Sherlock muttered.
"Is that a problem?" John asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning. Sherlock couldn't help but notice his hair was in a bit of a rat's nest, as if he literally just rolled out of bed.
"Yes." Sherlock decided.
"You're on your way to the coffee shop?" John asked, trying to make polite conversation as his poor dog strained desperately on the leash.
"Yes, and your dog is hopefully on his way outside." Sherlock agreed. "Moran doesn't like animals peeing in his hallways."
"You make a fair case. I'm just taking Dudley outside; I'll be heading down soon." John decided.
"Well then I'll leave now." Sherlock insisted.
"I should do that too, see you!" John agreed, finally giving into his dog's pulling and rushing down the stairs. Sherlock sighed, watching him leave in his plaid pajama bottoms, rushing out the door and out of sight. Sherlock waited a little while to make sure that he was gone, and then walked over to Molly's apartment, knocking on the door.
"Ah, two days in a row, this must be a record!" Molly said happily, opening the door and just finishing off the last of her cereal.
"Yes, it's called time management, I read a book." Sherlock snapped, walking inside and letting Molly close the door behind him.
"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed I see?" she guessed.
"Do you have any alcohol?" Sherlock asked.
"Not at this hour I don't get a hold of yourself." Molly insisted.
"You'd never guess who I saw in the hallway." Sherlock sighed.
"Based on your mood and sudden need for a drink, it was John." Molly guessed.
"He doesn't make me need a drink." Sherlock insisted, but Molly just hummed in silent agreement, walking over to the bathroom to do her hair or something. Hell Spawn jumped up on the counter, its ugly black fur standing on end as it observed Sherlock with its evil eyes.
"So, ready to go?" Molly asked, grabbing her coat and walking out, all dolled up and ready to go.
"I suppose." Sherlock agreed, giving the cat a glare back. Molly walked out first, and he heard a false gasp of surprise, never a good sign.
"Oh, hello John!" she said excitedly, and Sherlock walked out the door to see his neighbor, now dressed and looking decent, walking down the stairs towards them.
"Hey, Holly." He muttered, obviously guessing at the name.
"Molly." Molly corrected.
"Molly, sorry. And Sherlock, twice in one day, who do I have to thank for that?" he asked teasingly.
"The maker of Molly's cat." Sherlock snapped.
"Is that a good thing?" John muttered to Molly, who just laughed.
"Oh, ya, definitely." She agreed reluctantly.
"It's the Devil." Sherlock corrected, and John just smiled, as if he thought Sherlock was teasing.
"Always a pleasure. "he decided.
"You can't make that decision, you just met me." Sherlock snapped.
"And yet you already decided that you hate me." John pointed out, and Sherlock opened his mouth in shock, about to spit fire, but no words seemed to form in his mind, so he just sat there like a gaping fish gone mute.