Lo Stesso Tempo (Sherlolly)

Chapter Thirteen

"You saw me nearly a year ago."

"I saw you three weeks ago, I just didn't say anything."

She frowned as they slid into a cab. "Why?" The knowledge that he had been so close and yet so far saddened her even further.

"I was rather focused on pickpocketing." He looked unashamed by this as he looked out the window. She didn't reply. 

Arriving at Molly's flat, Sherlock wasn't surprised to find that it was fairly bare of all things her. He'd assumed it was really her boyfriend's flat. If he was that nurse from before then it wasn't as serious on his side of the relationship. Sherlock gave it another six months at most. 

The cream walls were bare except for a certificate and an old photo of college boys at a pub - obviously drunk. A faded red settee faced the telly with a dark brown bookshelf filled with medical books beside it. Definitely the boyfriend's flat. 

Molly went into the small kitchen, saying something about tea. Sherlock looked in but found there wasn't much of interest in it. It was white and faded green tile with mottled green counters. The bedroom door opened and a young man looked out sleepily, pushing his auburn hair from his face. 

"Mols? 

"Oh!" Molly rushed into the sitting room just as the man's gaze focused on Sherlock. "Andrew, you remember Sherlock."

He nodded warily and went to her, pulling her against his side. He kissed the side of her head. "You okay?"

She nodded but her slight frown suggested otherwise. Sherlock raised a brow, wondering why Andrew hadn't been at the funeral. Molly looked up. "I wanted to be alone so I told him to go ahead and leave." She explained. He nodded and muttered a hello to Andrew. 

"Yeah, hi... What are you doing here?" Andrew rubbed his eyes.

Molly explained again. "Is it okay if he stays the night? He needs a place and I haven't seen him in so long. Just for a night?"

Andrew didn't look too happy about it. He frowned at Sherlock but nodded anyway. "One night. You can have the settee. Some extra sheets and stuff in the bathroom over there. I don't want any trouble, got it? Keep your drugs out."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and mock bowed before flopping onto the settee. Molly kissed Andrew in thanks and went to pour the tea. Andrew leaned against the wall and watched her. 

"Listen, babe... They called me in to work. I said I'd let them know. You gonna be okay tonight?"

She hesitated but gave him a bright smile and nodded. "Yeah." She said softly. His mouth quirked up in an affectionately concerned look. He hugged her tightly and went to get ready. Molly sighed and put a cup on the small brown table in front of the settee. Andrew came out a moment later, dressed in green scrubs. He pulled a backpack on his shoulder and kissed Molly goodbye. With a last glare at Sherlock, he was gone. 

Sherlock sipped his tea. He opened his mouth to make it known what he knew about Andrew but again he stopped and looked at Molly. What if she was happy with Andrew? She'd always had bad luck with relationships so he wasn't surprised she would end up with another man who didn't know what he had. But what would be the point in telling her? He'd only upset her and then he'd have to deal with the angry boyfriend. She was unhappy enough after losing her dad.

But he couldn't let that idiot take advantage of her. No one, no one had the right to hurt his Molly. 

"You know you can do better." He muttered, closing his eyes and relaxing against the back of the settee. He tried to look nonchalant.

"Than Andrew?" She sounded uncertain. "He's really good to me and he's been such a big help with Dad and all." He opened his eyes to find her frowning. "What did you see?"

Sherlock hesitated as fear and hurt glimmered in her eyes. He sighed and told her. "He's using work as an excuse to leave at all hours. He's cheating on you."

She stared down into her tea. Sherlock sat up, unsure if she would be angry and with whom. Setting her cup down, Molly wiped her eyes and looked at him. "You've only been here ten minutes. How do you know that?" Sherlock opened his mouth to reply but she cut him off. "I'm starting to think you just say these things to keep me single and lonely and useful to your studies like Tim said. You're always ruining everything! Why? Why do you have to be so difficult?"

Mad at him. Of course, she'd be in denial. He sipped his tea in silence. She shot to her feet. "You don't even care!" She shouted. "What is even so wrong with me that the Great Sherlock Holmes has to save every man from suffering with me for too long?"

Sherlock tilted his head, unsure of this. "You never had a female influence in life. If would make sense that you would have trouble with men. You don't know how to value yourself and so they won't think to do so. And then you blame yourself for it."

She shook her head. "What?"

"You don't think highly of yourself. So you always choose men who don't see you as you are." He looked away, feeling distinctly uncomfortable and vulnerable talking about this - especially if she was still angry.

"What is there for me to value?"

"I couldn't say. I don't take the time to think about it." He shrugged. She threw her hands up.

"Of course. So nothing, basically. I can't do this today." She shook her head and went to the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Silence prevailed for all of five minutes before he heard her crying. He stood slowly, pulled on his sweatshirt and left the flat. It was better if he just stayed away from her. He only ever made her unhappy.