"What's wrong Sherlock, what did Victor tell you?" Molly whispered, stepping closer to be some sort of comfort.
"Why don't I love you Molly? Why have I never even considered it?" Sherlock asked, making Molly look a bit taken aback. Molly looked at him for a moment, obviously trying to figure out how to answer that.
"Well, Sherlock, we're like siblings I mean, we grew up together." She insisted, not sounding very sure of herself. Sherlock nodded, running his fingers through his curls fearfully. He could feel tears on their way but he didn't do anything to suppress them, tears would only emphasize how torn up he was about this.
"I mean, you're smart, you're beautiful, I can tolerate you, why would I never even think that maybe you should be my bride? And Irene, she's fairly decent once you ignore her personality, why am I not thrilled that she'll probably end up being my queen? All of those suitors, all beautiful, rich, powerful women who would do anything to be my bride, why did I send them away?" Sherlock wondered, his eyes alight with some sort of madness. Molly looked worried, as if she suspected that Sherlock had been drinking a little bit too much before the funeral.
"Are you regretting your decision or endorsing it?" Molly wondered, sounding very nervous.
"It was the right choice of course, but...I always thought I would never fall in love." Sherlock insisted, lowering his head in shame, not able to look Molly in the eyes as he admitted it. "But it seems that I have."
"You're in love with someone?" Molly asked in excitement, all of her fear seeming to dissolve as soon as he said it. "Oh this is wonderful, why are you so upset Sherlock, you can finally have a bride of your choosing!"
"No I can't!" Sherlock exclaimed, shaking in anger and lifting his head, tears starting their way down his cheeks as he stared at Molly in horror. Her smile started to fade when he saw how upset he was, how scared. "I can't have a bride, I'm in love..." Sherlock stopped talking, silencing himself for a moment while he regained his composure the best he could. "I'm in love with him." Sherlock whispered, so silent that he himself could barely hear it. But as soon as he said it, as soon as he let that thought become words, it seemed that a million pounds have been lifted off of his shoulders. That ridiculous thought, buried deep inside of his brain, it was truth, it was official. Molly gasped loudly, covering her mouth once more, her eyes as wide as they could go without popping out of her skull.
"With...with John?" she muttered. Sherlock squeezed tears out of his eyes, shaking his head and feeling as if someone had stabbed him with a spear. Of course this was stupid, what a terrible idea. Molly would never understand, she would never get it. Sherlock should've known how this was destined to go.
"It's ridiculous, it's impossible, my god what am I thinking?" Sherlock exclaimed, turning away once more and seeing the crown glittering on his dresser. He had the strongest urge to just throw it out the window, that horrible crown was doing things to him; it was making him more human than he'd ever want to be.
"Of course it's not impossible Sherlock." Molly insisted. Sherlock didn't dare to look up, but he had hope. Her voice was soft, comforting, as if she were trying to help him through this even though they both knew it was a lost cause.
"You don't think?" he whispered, turning back towards her and seeing a small little smile on her face.
"It's wonderful, you're feeling something for another human being, I thought this day would never come." She insisted. Sherlock shook his head, not quite sure she understood what he had said.
"Molly, it's John, I'm in love with a man, surely you've noticed that I'm a man as well?" Sherlock wondered. Molly just laughed, shaking her head as if this were some sort of miracle.
"What make you think that just because you're both men makes it impossible to love each other?" Molly wondered. Sherlock just stared at her, almost unable to believe what was coming out of her mouth.
"No...no Molly you're not supposed to support this!" he insisted.
"Why ever not?" Molly wondered, looking like a proud mother who knew a bit too much.
"Because it's impossible, it's...it's John!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"It's love, love is love, who cares?" Molly insisted. Sherlock could only force a laugh, a laugh dispute the tears still rolling down his cheeks.
"I knew I shouldn't have told you. I was doing much better when I knew that it was pathetic." He decided.
"Well I'm always here to ruin your bad moods, that much is certain." She assured. Sherlock just shook his head, feeling like a drama queen but he couldn't help it. This was so intense, so dramatic; it deserved the tears that it got.
"I'm quite certain that I've destroyed my entire life." Sherlock decided.
"You've enhanced it, I guarantee. Once you accept your own love it will help John accept his." Molly decided. Sherlock laughed, for real this time, at the absolute ridiculousness of that statement.
"Oh I'm sure John has some feelings for me, yep, that's obvious." Sherlock said with a laugh.
"I'm so excited I'm helping you with relationship trouble!" Molly exclaimed, jumping up and down dispute her heels.
"You're mad Molly, completely mad." Sherlock decided.
"Who's mad?" asked a voice at the door. Sherlock looked over, seeing that obviously those darned soldiers weren't doing their jobs once again. But of course, he might've rathered the assassin.
"John!" Sherlock exclaimed, doing the first thing that came to mind. He dove over his bed, curling up into a ball behind it so that John couldn't see him in his weakest state.
"Sherlock what in the world?" John wondered, probably looking at Molly for some sort of explanation. Oh if Molly told him anything she would be the first to be executed under his rule.
"Oh nothing, we're just having a little bit of a breakdown that's all." Molly assured.
"The mirror..." John muttered, obviously just noticing the shattered remains of Sherlock's late reflection.
"Oh that happens all of the time, it's alright John, I assure you." Molly said. Sherlock curled into a ball on the other side of the bed, hoping that John couldn't see the top of his head because he was sure even his curls were blushing.
"You can leave now, there's nothing going on." Sherlock called.
"Are you sure? Seems like something at the very least." John decided with a sort of laugh.
"Nothing! Now leave!" Sherlock exclaimed desperately. There was silence, and Sherlock hoped that Molly and John weren't having some sort of nonverbal communication where he couldn't see.
"I came to apologize." John said simply. Sherlock froze, racking his brain to figure out what John could possibly be apologizing for.
"For what, you didn't do anything!" Sherlock insisted.
"For scaring you, or whatever I did. I want you to know that you shouldn't be scared of me, that I'm here; I'll be whatever you need me to be. I just don't want you to think I'm the enemy." John insisted. Sherlock paused, not knowing what to say back, knowing that Molly was there, she knew everything...
"Thank you." Sherlock muttered quickly, the only response he could think of.
"Ya well, you're welcome. I see that I've probably overstayed my welcome just by being here, so I guess I'll just...go." John decided. There was silence for a moment. "What?" John asked, and there was a bit of a squeak of fear from Molly. Of course, Sherlock was right, they were communicating.
"Get out John!" Sherlock exclaimed, hoping beyond hope that Molly had enough sense to silence herself about anything that had to do with Sherlock's sudden feelings.
"Alright, yes, goodbye." John agreed. Sherlock couldn't see him leave, but he could hear footsteps walking away, the door opening and closing, and finally he let his head fall back against the wall, breathing heavily in panic. That boy was going to be the death of him.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock is the youngest son of a powerful family dynasty, with all the pressure of being the perfect prince sitting on his shoulders. However, he builds his good reputation on lies and tricks, and he dreads the day when his failures will come into...