He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Friends and Faulty Feelings

    "Mr. Watson, are you hearing this?" Sherlock wondered, and John blinked, looking at him with a hum of confusion.
"No, sorry, what?" John muttered.
"Doorbell?" Sherlock pointed out, looking almost concerned that John couldn't hear that himself.
"Doorbell, yes...um..." John muttered. As if on cue there was a loud chime throughout the house and John was left to scramble to the door, checking his watch and seeing that it's only been six minutes since they ordered. This Chinese place was very fast. John swung open the door, starting to pull out his wallet when, instead of a Chinese delivery man, he saw Molly Hooper. She smiled at him with a very polite grin, her long brown hair woven into a braid down her back.
"Hello John!" she said happily.
"Hi Molly." John said rather awkwardly.
"Is that Molly Hooper?" Sherlock asked, coming to the door as well. As soon as she saw Sherlock, Molly's face went quite red and she immediately started to fidget with her hair, as if trying to make sure it looked good.
"Sherlock!" she said with a surprised squeak, and John looked at Sherlock in confusion. He was able to read Molly quite well, obviously she liked him, but he looked more surprised than flustered, pleasantly surprised but not red or awkward at all. John wondered whether or not he shared the same feelings as Molly did.
"Hello Molly, what brings you here?" he wondered.
"Well, I could um...I could ask you the same thing." Molly muttered.
"That sounds almost accusing." John decided, leaning on the doorframe so that Sherlock could see her better as they talked.
"I'm not accusing you of anything, either of you, you know I was just...I didn't know you two knew each other." Molly admitted.
"We do, we met when Mrs. Hudson told me to mow his yard." Sherlock agreed.
"I yelled at him." John added.
"He yelled at me." Sherlock agreed.
"And so started the beginning of a friendship." John said dramatically, and Molly laughed nervously, her eyes going from one man to the other as if trying to figure something out.
"Oh well, alright then." She muttered.
"You never answered my question." Sherlock pointed out, and she got a little bit redder at being addressed.
"Yes, sorry?" she muttered, her words tripping over themselves as they tried to fall out of her mouth. John felt very bad for the girl, in fact it was almost like Sherlock was playing with her, trying to see just what shade of scarlet her cheeks would get to before she was diagnosed with third degree burns.
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked, his original question. Molly nodded, making a little noise of remembrance and nodding some more.
"Oh well, I just wanted to check in, I brought some cookies because I felt bad about not having anything the other night." Molly muttered. As promised there was a bag beside her, some tote bag she must've got from some home goods store.
"You didn't have to bring cookies, but I'm sure Hamish will love them." John decided, smiling as Molly pulled out a large Tupperware container of chocolate chip cookies.
"Ah yes, Hamish, where is he?" Molly wondered, peering behind the two as if Hamish were hiding in their shadows.
"Out back, playing with Redbeard." Sherlock said calmly, and Molly nodded.
"Oh well, it's good that they're getting along. It's good that you two are getting along, it's about time you have some friends of your own...gender." Molly muttered, looking a bit nervously down at her feet. John looked over at Sherlock and he just shrugged innocently, but it was rather odd to think that his only friends were girls. Was he just that much of a player or was he gay? God, there was just no way to read this man at all.
"Would you like to come in? We ordered some Chinese food; you're welcome to have some." John offered, stepping aside to let her in.
"Oh...um..." she looked from John to Sherlock and obviously her decision was made as soon as she saw Sherlock retreat back into the house. "Ya, sure, if it's no trouble." She agreed.
"God no, it's a neighborhood party." John assured.
"We should get Greg over." Molly suggested, and John just laughed, nodding in agreement.
"I just met him today, seemed like a very rambunctious fellow." John agreed.
"Indeed he is, a lot of fun." Molly agreed.
"Have you seen that man drunk?" Sherlock wondered with a laugh, and Molly shook her head vigorously, walking into the house and setting the cookies on the kitchen counter.
"I imagine it's a nightmare." John decided when no one else elaborated.
"If you videotaped him you could go viral, I swear to god, he's like...a disaster." Sherlock admitted.
"I'll put that on my bucket list then." John decided. Molly just laughed, maybe a bit too much, and Sherlock looked at her with a little smile. It wasn't a loving smile, more like that little sister that tries to fit in to your friend group but tries too hard and you pity her. That kind of smile. At that moment Hamish pulled open the screen door and let Redbeard run into the house, panting and dribbling saliva all over the hardwood floors.
"Hi daddy, hi Mr. Sherlock, hi..." he stopped, looking at Molly in confusion. "Holly?" he guessed, looking very lost.
"Molly." Molly corrected. Hamish's face broke into a smile and he nodded.
"I remember you from last night." Hamish decided.
"Well I'd hope so." Molly agreed. Hamish walked over, breathing almost as heavy as Redbeard, and got himself a glass of water, filling it up in the sink and drinking it rather sloppily.
"Ooh, are these cookies?" Hamish said excitedly upon seeing the container.
"No Hamish, not yet, your dinner is coming soon." John insisted, pulling the container away from the reach of his arm. Hamish's face fell but he just shrugged, walking over to the living room and turning on some cartoons while he waited for the food.
"So do you like the new house?" Molly wondered rather awkwardly, not knowing what else to say to start up a conversation with someone you just met. John nodded, looking around as if he needed a refresher on what the house looked like.
"It's wonderful, much better than my old house." He decided.
"How so?" Sherlock wondered, leaning against the counter and watching John with very keen eyes.
"Well, you know, just stuff." John shrugged, not really knowing what made it better. Maybe it was the lack of Mary that made this house shine just a little bit brighter.
"I think this neighborhood is lovely; there is nowhere else I'd rather live." Molly decided with a smile.
"If only I lived here." Sherlock agreed with a sad little sigh.
"Yes but you're part of the neighborhood here anyway, everyone knows you name, everyone likes you." Molly assured.
"Not old Mrs. Turner. I swear, if she says one more thing to me about my career choices I'm going to decapitate her with my rake." Sherlock groaned.
"What does she say about your career choices?" John wondered.
"She says gardening is a women's job and I should be off somewhere building houses or doing taxes or something manly like that. I told her very politely to mind her own business and continue writing her will." Sherlock grumbled.
"It's not a women's job, it takes a lot of manly skill to, you know, mow lawns and rake and stuff." John shrugged.
"And match flowers to the exterior of the house and put together bouquets of flowers for fun." Molly added with a little laugh, and Sherlock slapped her very lightly on the arm.
"Oh come on Molly, we all have our hobbies." He snapped.
"You arrange flowers?" John asked with a little laugh, and Sherlock just shrugged rather guiltily. Finally there was some color in his cheeks, so at least this man could be a little bit embarrassed.
"Alright, yes, but that's still you know, normal." Sherlock admitted.
"The best part is what he does with them." Molly added, as if waiting for John to ask what it was Sherlock did with these bouquets.
"Alright then, what do you do?" John asked, falling for the bait.
"Well, some of them I put in vases on my counter to liven things up a bit, but others I give to random people on the street, make them smile." Sherlock shrugged.
"That's so sweet Sherlock!" John insisted.
"Ya and it's an amazing way to get phone numbers, you've got half the town's population of women thinking you have a crush on them just because you gave them flowers." Molly pointed out.
"I don't have a crush on them, honestly if you get flowers from a gardener randomly, it means nothing." Sherlock defended, looking a bit like a defensive little kid.
"Have you called any of those numbers?" John wondered, and Sherlock just laughed, shaking his head as if that were a ridiculous question.
"Trust me John; the thought never crossed my mind." He assured. At that moment the doorbell rang and John went to answer it, leaving Molly and Sherlock to awkwardly finish up their conversation while he paid the delivery man and took the two large bags of food back to the kitchen.
"Here we are!" John announced, and Hamish bounded off of the couch, moving faster than John had ever seen him go before. At all of this excitement Redbeard got up as well, having previously been laying on the rug in front of the cold fireplace, watching Hamish with tried brown eyes.
"Alright, alright, Hamish be patient." John insisted, swatting his little hands away from the bag. Molly was standing rather awkwardly next to the counter as John handed out everyone's food. Hamish had taken his food and scurried back over to the couch, Redbeard sitting patiently on the ground and waiting for any fallen food from Hamish's large portion of food. Sherlock was now offering Molly his soup, which she politely refused over and over again until he finally gave up, settling with giving her his fortune cookie instead. John sat on one of the stools and dug into his dinner, very happy to finally have something to eat after so long. That sandwich had felt like ages ago, and it was nice to finally share a meal with other people, with friends. They all sat on the bar stools, Sherlock in the middle so that both John and Molly could sit next to him. Molly was talking about how her day went at work, talking about the kids she worked with and their crazy antics. Apparently she was a second grade teacher, so John could only guess that she would be a familiar face around Hamish's new school. That comforted him quite a bit, knowing someone could look after him.
"I wanted to be a teacher once." Sherlock admitted, looking almost guilty as he stared into his plastic container of rice.
"Wait, really?" John asked. "You don't strike me as a teacher type."
"Well my guidance counselor said I had all the wrong qualifications and motivations, so I decided not to go with that after all." Sherlock shrugged.
"I feel like there would be some casualties if you became a teacher." John guessed, and Molly just nodded in agreement.
"You were chemistry major weren't you?" she guessed, and Sherlock nodded in agreement.
"Look where that got me." he said with a laugh.
"In my kitchen, eating orange chicken." John pointed out, laughing as if this were some big tragedy.
"So I suppose it was all worth it." Sherlock said with a little smile, poking around and trying to spear a piece of chicken on his wooden chopsticks. John looked down at the table in surprise; he hadn't expected Sherlock to say something like that, especially sounding so grateful to be in this kitchen. It wasn't that exciting, was it?
"So Sherlock, why are you over anyway?" Molly wondered, her voice dropping to a more serious note, maybe even a hint of jealousy.
"John invited me over." Sherlock said simply.
"We were unpacking." John clarified, seeing the suspicious look on Molly's face. John wondered whether or not Molly knew the truth about Sherlock's enigma of a sexuality, maybe that small piece of information would help her either overcome her crush or become more hopeful than ever.
"We were supposed to enjoy a nice home cooked meal." Sherlock said with a little laugh.
"But I have no garlic and there are mice in the grill." John added, and Sherlock nodded.
"Good thing you're having Chinese then, because everyone knows you can't have food without garlic." Molly agreed.
"As tempting as grilled mouse sounds, orange chicken is much tastier." Sherlock decided, poking around at his food with his chopsticks once more and looking a bit frustrated. It seems that no matter how dainty and elegant he is, he was bested by a simple pair of chopsticks.
"Daddy I should get ready for school, right?" Hamish asked, coming over with his half full container of General Tso's chicken and trying to discreetly place it on the counter. John eyed him suspiciously but Hamish just smiled innocently.
"I got full." He admitted.
"I knew that was going to happen." John agreed. "Put it in the fridge then." Hamish nodded, looking relieved that he wasn't going to get in trouble and put his food in the fridge, scrambling up to his room and talking about how he was going to try to find his Captain America shirt for school the next day.
"Speaking of school, I have some papers to grade, so I should probably get going." Molly decided, sliding off of her stool and getting to his feet. Even though he wasn't finished eating John stepped away from his food as well, standing rather awkwardly by the counter say if not sure what to do to say goodbye.
"So tomorrow's Hamish's first day, would you mind possibly looking out for him? Make sure he doesn't get lost?" John asked hopefully, and Molly nodded with a large smile.
"Oh of course, that school is mayhem when it's full of kids." Molly assured.
"Well that's...reassuring." John muttered nervously.
"I didn't mean it like that; it's a very nice chaos." Molly assured, and Sherlock laughed doubtfully.
"Maybe it's best I stuck with chemistry." He decided, and Molly slapped him lightly.
"Oh shush Sherlock, the only chemistry you've done since college was trying to figure out how much sugar to put in your coffee." Molly snapped, and Sherlock just frowned.
"That's not really chemistry." He muttered, and Molly just rolled her eyes.
"Goodbye Sherlock, it was nice seeing you again, especially when you're all dressed up." she said with a little laugh, her cheeks getting all red even as she said it.
"I always dress like this in my leisure, you just never stop by anymore." Sherlock insisted.
"Maybe I'll make you a batch of cookies then." She decided with a laugh, and Sherlock nodded, looking like an excited child.
"That you should." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"Alright then, well, John, thank you for having me over, maybe I'll have the neighborhood gang over for dinner one night, get you to formally meet Greg." She decided.
"And then feed him a bit too much wine. Now that's a party." Sherlock added, and John just laughed in agreement.
"That sounds splendid Molly, thanks for coming over and thanks for the cookies." John agreed.
"No problem, it's wonderful that we have a new neighbor." She said with a smile, making her way over to the door. "Bye guys!" Molly called, opening the door and disappearing out of it. They both waved but went back to their food in a comfortable silence, now not so guiltily for eating in front of someone who had only had a fortune cookie. After a little while of struggling with the chopsticks, John got up from his stool, grabbing a fork to eat his food more efficiently. Sherlock was eyeing the pile of cutlery rather longingly, so without a word John grabbed him one as well.
"You read my mind." Sherlock muttered, throwing his wooden chopsticks onto the counter and continuing with the food he was actually able to eat.
"No I didn't, I just read your eyes." John pointed out.
"They're not telling you too much now are they?" Sherlock asked with a little laugh, and John just shook his head reassuringly. He couldn't help but wonder what Sherlock had to hide. When they were done eating they both got up from their chairs and walked very awkwardly over to the door. Neither of them wanted to be the first one to say goodbye, so they just kind of stood there.
"Well I should go I guess, however I have no idea where my dog went." Sherlock admitted, craning his neck to see where Redbeard might be hiding.
"Oh it's alright, we'll just keep him." John assured with a laugh, and Sherlock shook his head, smiling all the same.
"Redbeard, come!" he called throughout the house. It wasn't long until they heard Redbeard's nails clicking against the hardwood, the dog rushing down the stairs with his tail wagging. However energetic he was at the moment John could tell the dog was tired, his ears were droopy and his eyes dim. Obviously all Redbeard wanted right now was his bed, to curl up and get a good nigh of doggy sleep.
"There you are Redbeard, did you have fun?" Sherlock asked in a high pitched voice, like the one you use when you're talking to a small child.
"I think he did, I think Hamish did as well." John agreed. "Thanks for coming over Sherlock, it's really nice to make some friends around here."
"Oh the pleasure is all mine Mr. Watson, thank you very much for having me." Sherlock agreed. They both stood there awkwardly, it felt like there should be more of a farewell, a hug, a handshake, even a kiss on the cheek, something felt like it was missing. But never the less after a pause Sherlock turned the door handle and lead Redbeard out the door, walking down along the sidewalk. John watched him go, his dark curls reflecting the porch light so it made it seem like he was his own beacon of light. It was then that John felt himself get short of breath, his heart beating a bit faster than it should be. Sherlock turned one last time as he reached his truck, waving at John's form in the doorway. John waved back, smiling a bit wider than what might be necessary and closed the door, leaning against the wood and staring into the house with a sigh. What was this, what was he feeling? It was Sherlock; it was another man, so why did he feel like he was falling in love all over again? At that thought John's wedding ring felt a bit heavier in his pocket, as if it were reminding him who he had dedicated his heart to all of those years ago.