The One Next Door

Three Is Company

    Sherlock got back to his apartment and stared at the clay, trying to get some inspiration, maybe even start sculpting it to its fullest potential. But no, he decided, once more, that inspiration had not stuck, and the clay still looked like a horrible lump of brown gooey stuff covered in plastic, rather than some master piece of art. As he was just started to poke around in his fridge for lunch, there was a knock on the door, and he went over to answer it, checking through the peephole to make sure that it was Molly and not his pesky neighbor. Well, his other pesky neighbor. When he saw Molly smile up into the door (she always had a way of knowing if he was looking through or not) he opened the door to let her in, going back to his fridge and poking around.
"Payday then, huh?" she asked.
"I forgot! Now I can actually buy actual food." He decided thoughtfully.
"Only the necessities, alright? I don't want you blowing all that money on new paint." She insisted.
"It's alright, I'm not struck with inspiration right now." Sherlock admitted. "I'll go shopping tomorrow."
"And what are you going to eat tonight?" she asked.
"Maybe my couch." He decided. Molly just laughed, but looked kind of worried all the same.
"Why don't you come over tonight, I'll make some spaghetti or something, a proper meal." She offered.
"I'm fine with a pizza; you don't have to go through all that trouble." Sherlock assured.
"Nah, it's been a while since I've actually cooked, might be fun." Molly shrugged.
"I seriously doubt that." Sherlock decided.
"Oh come on, don't be so moody. I'm sorry about the whole John thing buy the way." Molly admitted.
"It's alright. I'm having a surprisingly good day today, I'm sure it's because that vermin hasn't talked to me all day." Sherlock guessed.
"That's not very nice." Molly decided.
"That's why I said it." Sherlock agreed.
"I still think you should give him a fair chance. It's not like he wants to annoy you, it just happens I guess. Honestly I think he's a very nice guy, I can't see why you don't like him." Molly insisted.
"Well, maybe I don't see certain qualities in him; maybe from the feminine side he'll seem more...charming." Sherlock sighed, pretty much choking out the word.
"I don't like him, if that's what you're implying." Molly insisted.
"I don't like him either, but everyone seems to forget that." Sherlock sighed. He closed his fridge and went to the cabinets, where he just pulled out a half finished box of Cheerios and poured himself a bowl. He had no milk, so he ate it dry.
"Well, after this morning I decided that maybe I had gone too far in trying to get you to make friends, I thought you were dead, honestly." She admitted.
"I thought you might think that." Sherlock agreed.
"So, we good for dinner tonight then?" she asked.
"Ya, you've got yourself a platonic date." He agreed with a smile.
"You don't have to be politically correct with me." Molly assured.
"How am I supposed to know that Moran's not watching? I swear, he's got cameras somewhere." Sherlock insisted.
"You're just paranoid." Molly decided.
"I'm not paranoid, he's psychic or something." Sherlock defended.
"I'll see you at five then?" Molly asked. Sherlock took another bite of his dry cheerios, chewing slowly and dramatically, making Molly wait for his answer.
"You will." He agreed.
"You're an idiot." She decided.
"Love you too!" Sherlock called as she walked out of the apartment, closing the door behind her. So, at four o'clock, Sherlock decided that he should probably dress a bit nicer than jeans and paint covered tee shirt. So he put on his button up and his slacks, making sure he looked somewhat presentable. If Molly was actually going to cook (which was rare for her) he probably shouldn't look like he crawled out of the art store dumpster. At five minutes to five, he slouched over and knocked on the door, not really sure what to expect. Molly had him over for dinner many times, mostly Chinese food or pizza, nothing classy like this. The door opened and Molly smiled, also looking pretty snazzy in a sweater dress combo, her hair a little bit curly.
"Why are you all dressed up?" he asked.
"I should ask you the same thing." Molly insisted.
"I thought since you were cooking that I should..." Sherlock's sentence stopped when he saw John, standing at the counter, petting Hell Spawn, who was actually purring. Sherlock didn't even want to say anything, he didn't see the purpose, he just spun on his heel and started back out the door before Molly pulled him in by his coat, locking the door and frowning at him.
"Nice to see you too." John decided.
"Oh, so this is why you weren't talking to me? Maybe thought it would reconcile you for dinner?" Sherlock snapped.
"Molly's idea, I assure you." John assured.
"Molly, explain." Sherlock snapped, really wanting to snap someone's neck. John was looking like a worthy candidate at the moment, Molly coming closely in second. Maybe he could just settle for drowning Hell Spawn in the sink...
"I thought that you two could settle your differences, I know there's tension between you two, and maybe, you know, you could bond a little bit?" Molly suggested.
"I'm not good at making friends; we only met because you came to complain that I was leaving paint drippings all over the carpets in the hallway." Sherlock insisted.
"And look at us now!" Molly defended.
"Right now, we're not on very good terms." Sherlock decided.
"If I'm too much of an inconvenience, I can just go. I don't want to stir things up between you two." John insisted.
"No, stay where you are!" Molly almost yelled, and John looked vaguely concerned.
"She's joking, of course, please, feel free to leave." Sherlock assured.
"Stay where you are. Sherlock, be nice, or you'll starve." Molly insisted.
"I've got a paycheck, you can't control me." Sherlock snapped.
"Ugh, I hate you so much. But for now, no one leaves." She decided.
"Is this a friendly meet and greet or a hostage situation?" John asked with a laugh.
"I'll decide once dinner is over." Molly decided, and Sherlock just scowled.
"Your cat is very friendly." John decided.
"Her name is Helen, she's actually a stray." Molly agreed, putting on her 'please love me voice' and fake company ready smile.
"Well, she got lucky, didn't she?" John asked with a smile, scratching Hell Spawn's ears as the cat purred away.
"Sherlock, why don't you open a bottle of wine, I think I've still got one or two in the cabinet." Molly decided. Sherlock sighed, walking over to the cabinet and opening it to see what type of alcohol Molly had stored away. As soon as he came close, Hell Spawn started to his, swiping a clawed paw at him, as if warning him to back away.
"Oh, I don't she likes you very much." John laughed.
"Well, I don't like you very much." Sherlock insisted.
"Very clever Sherlock, very clever." John decided, and Sherlock just scowled, pulling down one of the last bottles of cheap wine Molly had and uncorked it, pouring three glasses and leaving the other two on the counter, not bothering to be anyone's waiter tonight.
"Please, try to keep an open mind." Molly insisted as she walked over to get her glass.
"My mind is under lock and key." Sherlock snapped, leaning against the wall and sipping his wine, squinting suspiciously at John as he continued to stroke the cat.
"I'm sure Dudley won't like cat hair all over me." he decided.
"What possessed you to name your dog Dudley?" Sherlock asked.
"It seemed to fit him, the chubby little puppy that he was." John decided. Sherlock couldn't argue there, but he still frowned.
"So, are you all done unpacking then?" Molly asked.
"Almost done, just some last minute things, pictures to hang, dishes to put away, carpets to put down." John shrugged.
"Well, I'm sure it'll look great when it's done." Molly decided.
"Well, it already feels like home." He agreed.
"I'm sure, if this doesn't work out, the orphanage will take you." Sherlock decided.
"Sherlock, shush!" Molly insisted, slapping Sherlock in the arm. But John just laughed, as if he thought Sherlock was only joking around. In reality, he was being only too serious.
"How about you Sherlock, do you like your new job?" John asked.
"It would be perfect if there was someone missing." Sherlock insisted. John just smiled.
"If I die under mysterious circumstances, I'm pretty sure I know who will be responsible." John guessed. Sherlock just frowned, and John smiled smugly up at him.
"Why don't we try to pretend like we don't hate each other?" Molly asked.
"No, I'm completely indifferent to Sherlock." John assured.
"I hate him." Sherlock agreed. Molly sighed, seeing this was a problem she'd have to solve at another time. Thankfully though, the pot on the stove started to boil, so she was able to avoid any awkward conversations by putting in the noodles.
"So, what's on the menu?" John asked.
"I was thinking of making pasta with a plain red sauce, nothing fancy since I'm pretty handicapped in the kitchen." Molly decided.
"Nothing wrong with that. It's been a while since I've had an actual meal; I've just been living off of takeout food and coffee." John admitted.
"How about you try not eating, I'm sure the results will be a lot quieter." Sherlock suggested. To Sherlock's surprise, Molly actually laughed, but tried to cover it up as a little cough.
"I got you there." Sherlock insisted.
"Okay, maybe it was funny, but you shouldn't say something like that, it's horrible!" Molly insisted.
"It's life Molly, get used to it." Sherlock pointed out, and she just sighed, sipping her wine and starting on the tomato sauce. John helped out the best he could, cutting the tomatoes and chopping up some onions, Molly sautéed everything in a little sauce pan, and Sherlock tried his best to keep the cat away from the food, providing little suggestions about where John should put the knife next. When finally dinner was served, Molly presented a big bowl of spaghetti and sauce, and she had tossed up a salad and bought some French bread for the side. All in all, it was probably going to be the best meal Sherlock has had in two years. The three of them sat down, Molly at the head, and John and Sherlock staring loathingly down at each other.
"Should we say a prayer?" she asked.
"I'm not terribly religious." John assured.
"Ya, we aren't either." She agreed, and started serving herself some pasta. Sherlock just got a piece of bread and buttered it lazily, still staring at John as if trying to figure out anything else he could insult.
"So, John, why'd you move here?" Molly asked.
"Well, I was just out of college, had a pretty steady resume, some money stored away, decided to take my chances and move somewhere different." John admitted.
"Turn out okay?" Molly asked.
"I let you know." John decided.
"Surely you're leaving behind family, friends, maybe a girlfriend?" Molly asked. John just laughed, twirling spaghetti onto his fork.
"Not close with my family, not good at staying in touch with my friends, and I don't think I could get a girl to come within fifty feet of me without hitting me with her purse." John laughed.
"They've got the right idea; maybe I should start carrying around a man satchel." Sherlock decided.
"Like Indiana Jones?" John laughed.
"Only filled with rocks." Sherlock decided. Molly sighed, but John only laughed, and Sherlock hated that a lot. He wasn't supposed to laugh at his insults; they were insults, mean to make him feel bad! Instead they seemed to do nothing to affect his self-esteem or confidence, and Sherlock just moodily ate his pasta, trying his best not to bend his fork in anger.

 "What made you move here?" John asked Molly. 

"Nothing particular, it was cheap, convenient, couldn't resist." Molly shrugged.
"Landlord's the Devil though." John decided.
"Don't say that, he'll hear you." Sherlock warned.
"What?" John asked, and Molly just laughed.
"Sherlock seems to think that Moran has security cameras hidden around here, because he once called him an insulting name while on the phone with him." Molly sighed.
"I pressed end!" Sherlock insisted. Molly just laughed, happy to hear Sherlock say something other than just insults. Obviously then, Sherlock would have to be more insulting.
"Why'd you move here?" John asked Sherlock, looking up at him curiously. Sherlock hated how brown his eyes were, like a doe's.
"It was cheap, but I might just have to move out." Sherlock decided.
"Sherlock, honestly, stop. Please." Molly growled, looking like she was either going to throw some punches or burst into tears. Sherlock sighed, but once Molly gets all choked up and emotional, there was nothing he could do but abide by her wishes. He's only seen her cry once, and he didn't want to repeat that cycle.
"Sorry Molly." He muttered, poking at his salad innocently. John looked kind of guilty, Sherlock had no idea why, he didn't do anything wrong, except exist, or course.
"So, you have any family?" John asked Molly.
"I do, my parents and I are pretty close." Molly admitted.
"No boyfriend?" John asked.
"No boyfriend. Someone keeps scaring them away." Molly sighed, glaring at Sherlock who smiled innocently.
"I can't imagine why. How about you Sherlock, any of the ladies breaking down your door?" he asked. Molly almost laughed, but she covered it up by taking a sip of her water.
"Surprisingly, no." Sherlock admitted.
"Really, I can't see why, you're so terribly charming." John decided, and Sherlock just clenched his jaw, trying not to shoot back a couple of choice words of his own, but remembering what Molly said.
"I just don't think I'm anyone's type, pathetic, weak, lacking in self-confidence, and poor." He decided.
"Sherlock shush, you've got plenty to offer people!" Molly insisted.
"Yes, but you seem to be the only one that sees that." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, why don't you two just make it official? I mean, you already seem pretty close." John offered.
"Oh no...we're just friends." Sherlock assured.
"And beside, he's..." Molly started.
"Definitely not her type. And I prefer more, uh, blonde women?" Sherlock muttered, trying not to look too guilty. Molly looked at him with the most mystified expression, but John didn't seem to pick up anything strange.
"Well, I'm afraid I don't have an overabundance of those." John admitted.
"Ya, apparently neither do I." Sherlock agreed, staring at his plate and hoping John couldn't smell fear.
"So you're an artist then? Any works I'd recognize?" John asked.
"Unless you walk in my flat or happen to have to use Mrs. Turner's bathroom, probably not." Sherlock sighed.
"Who's' Mrs. Turner?" John asked.
"Little old witch that lives down the hall, she redecorated her bathroom and was in need of something containing yellow and red. Thankfully I had just painted an abstract painting of a flower on fire, and she bought it for fifty bucks." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, I have to be honest; I've never been in her bathroom." John admitted.
"Then you haven't seen any of my works." Sherlock decided.
"Well, I'd love to see them, if you want to..." John started.
"You are never going to get a voluntary invitation to my apartment." Sherlock interrupted.
"There goes that then." John decided. They sat in an awkward silence for some time, Sherlock finished the last of his spaghetti and started on his salad, kind of worried about being the first one done when John set his fork down and sighed.
"That was a great meal Molly, best I've had in a while." He decided.
"Thank you! I've got some ice cream in the freezer, if you're interested." She shrugged.
"No, I can't eat another bite, I'm pretty sure my stomach shrunk along with my bank account." John decided. Sherlock just scowled, what did he know about shrinking bank accounts? Finally Sherlock finished his meal and went back to staring suspiciously at John, who caught his eye and gave him a very sarcastic smile. Sherlock just squinted at him, and finally averted his eyes so that John didn't seem him start to blush a little bit. Of hate of course, nothing more.
"Well, I'd love to stay, but I have to take Dudley out, poor thing probably went to the bathroom in the house." John decided, getting up from his chair. "Unless you'd like me to stay and wash some dishes?"
"No, it's fine, Sherlock will help me." Molly assured.
"I certainly will, you're free to go." Sherlock agreed.
"The dinner was splendid Molly, truly loved it. I'll repay you somehow, maybe have you two over some night?" John offered.
"Now, that's just a trap for me to host." Sherlock pointed out.
"Maybe you will." Molly agreed.
"I will never. Goodbye John, I hope that dog pulls you into oncoming traffic." Sherlock decided.
"Lovely as ever." John laughed, getting up and bidding Molly one last goodbye before walking out the door.