The Blonde


Just a warning...some people might find this a bit racy towards the end. I don't, but some people might. :)

Animal fur. Canine. But there was something off about it. Sherlock ran the analysis through the computer. Molly was hovering near the edge of the table, which usually met she wanted to talk. He sighed and as if on cue her eyes darted to him.

"Find anything?" she asked.

"I'm waiting on the analysis," he replied without taking his eyes from the cells under the microscope.

A few minutes of silence passed during which he wished she'd find something else to do, but she stayed put. Why did people always want to talk about things?

"She seems…nice."


What the devil was Molly talking about?

"John's friend, Rose."

"Ms. Tyler, yes, she's very…nice."

Another stretch of silence.

"So, you're friends then?" Molly asked.

"Friends?" He glanced at her. "No. Not really. I mean, I hardly know her."

"It seemed like you knew her." Molly fidgeted. "If I didn't know you've only known her for two days I…"

He glanced at her again.

"You'd what?"

"I don't know."

She shook her head, a clear indication that she was going to say something, but changed her mind, piquing Sherlock's curiosity.



"You'd what?"

Molly shook her head and looked away.

"No, it's silly. She's obviously not."

"Obviously not, what?"

She waved her hand as if to wave him off, but that wasn't going to work.

"Nothing. Never mind."


Her eyes snapped to him and she fidgeted, uncomfortably.

"I thought. I mean the way you two were acting…"

Sherlock turned his full attention on her. What the hell was she talking about?

"You thought what?"

"That she was your girlfriend." He stared at her, mouth slightly open. "See, I told you it was silly."

He closed his mouth. Girlfriend?

"Why would you even think that? It's completely absurd."

"Just…the way you two were acting."

"And exactly how were we acting?" he asked, raising his brow.

"Like you were together."

What did she mean? They were standing together.


"You know. Together."

Oh, she met…

"That's…completely absurd." He turned his attention back to the microscope. Girlfriend? Honestly. Had everyone gone mad? There was no…she wasn't even his…

"It's just…" she began. He sighed. "…you're different around her."

"Different?" He glanced at her. "Different how?"

"You were smiling."

He turned back to the microscope.

"I smile."

"Not really. And…"

He looked at her.


She fidgeted again.

"And sort of…joking."

So, because he smiled at her and joked with her she must be his girlfriend, people were idiots.

"I've joked with John before."

"But not with anyone else?"

"I…" He must have. What about…no. There was…no. "I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"You're right."


She began straightening things up.

"It was silly…really," she said. He sighed. "Thinking that about her and you. She's known John a lot longer and they did leave together."

Sherlock glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes. What did she mean by that?

"To get takeout," he pointed out.

"He's more her type anyway-"

"What do you mean more her type?" Sherlock snapped, turning to look at her.

"He's more, you know…" He raised his brow. "…friendly and she's sort of like that too."


"Yeah, you know, nice."


"He smiles and says nice things."

"I've been nice."




"I haven't said one word about your boyfriend…what was his name again?"


"Yes. Or the fact that you think he's cheating on you."

"Why would you say that?"

"Dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep. You didn't wash your hair, probably didn't even shower before you came in because you were up all night crying-"

Molly started to run across the room.


His eyes snapped to the other end of the room. Rose stood next to John in front of the open door. She shoved the takeout bag at his friend and strode across the room toward him.

"I leave you alone for a few minutes and you're at it again," John chastised. "Well done."

Sherlock watched her cross the room not entirely sure what to do. Her eyes were blazing.

"I didn't-" was all he managed to get out before she grabbed his hand and pulled him off the stool. "I'm working."

"Sod it!" she growled, pulling him toward the door.

What the hell does she think she's doing? She couldn't order him about. He was in the middle of a case. He looked at John for help, but his friend only smiled.

"I'll just keep an eye on the analysis then," John offered as she pulled Sherlock out the door.

He tried to pull out of her grip, but she was stronger than he gave her credit for. She drug him down the hall. He could hear Molly crying in one of the rooms. Crying? Why was she so upset? He merely pointed out what she was already thinking.

"What're you doing?" he demanded.

"Making you clean up your own mess for once," she snapped.

Clean up his own…What the hell was she talking about? Rose drug him into one of the rooms. Molly was hunched over near the window. Her back to them. She turned around when they entered.

"What are you doing here?" Molly asked, wiping her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Molly, I know you're upset, but this couldn't wait."

Rose pulled Sherlock across the room. Molly glanced at their hands and then back at Rose.

"I don't understand."

"Sherlock," Rose said, pulling him up next to her, "was just about to apologize."

"Apologize?" Sherlock and Molly asked in shock.

Rose glared at the detective.

"Yes, apologize."

"For what?" Sherlock asked.

"For what you said to her."

"I was merely pointing out-"

She slapped his arm, hard.

"You duffer. I wasn't asking you to repeat it. We all heard what you said."

Sherlock glared at her. She slapped him!

"You slapped me!"

"Got that did you? Now tell her you're sorry or I'll slap you again."

"If you heard me then why should I apologize?" he growled.

"Because Molly thinks you said her boyfriend's cheating on her."

"I didn't say he was. I said-"

She slapped him again. He'd had about enough of her. He glared at her. She returned his glare and pointed her finger at him.

"Rule number one. It doesn't matter what you said. It only matters what she thinks you said."

"That's absurd! How would I even know what she thinks I said?"

"Running out of the room crying didn't give you a clue?"

"Well, I-"

"You knew you upset her, but you chose to ignore it. Why should you deal with it? You're Sherlock Holmes. The world's only consulting detective. You just say whatever you bloody well want and sod everyone else. Let someone else deal with your mess. Well, not today. Now, tell her you're sorry."

She was infuriating! Earlier, when she'd been covering for his fabrication about her being John's sister he thought they could be friends, but now.

"It's all right. I know he didn't mean it," Molly said.

"No, Molly. It's not all right. People, especially self serving pompous arses, don't get to go around hurting other people because they're too thick headed to stop and think before they open their big mouths."

He stepped closer to her, glaring into her hazel eyes.

"I'm a pompous arse am I?" he snapped.

She stepped closer, poking his chest. The scent of strawberries swept between them, but he forced himself to ignore it. Must be her shampoo.

"And thick headed!" she yelled.

"Thick headed?"

She poked him in the chest again and he grabbed her hand.

"And you have a big mouth!"

He could feel the pulse in her wrist climbing.

"And you're obnoxious!" he shot.

He grabbed her other hand as she reached out to slap him and then closed the last few inches between them. He could feel her heartbeat coursing through her body as it pressed against his, but he was too angry to think about that. Or the way her blonde hair framed her face or the flush of pink on her skin because she was just as angry as him or the intensity of her hazel eyes or-

"And you're a spoiled arrogant prick!" she snapped.

His head inclined toward her as if it had a mind of its own. Her eyes darted between his, glaring a warning.

"Don't you even think about it!" she growled.

Oh, he was thinking about it. More than thinking about it. John cleared his throat from the doorway. Sherlock glanced at his friend out of the corner of his eye. Then he returned his gaze to the infuriating woman pressed against him, his hands clamped firmly around her wrists.

"Right. Um. Would you two like a room because there's one that's not occupied just down the hall," John said.

Sherlock watched Rose look at Molly. Interruptions. Why were there always interruptions? She pulled away, but he kept his eyes on her, trying to figure out how their argument turned into…

"Apologize," Rose insisted.

Right. Apologize. That's what he'd been about to do…wasn't it? He looked at Molly.

"I'm sorry, Molly. Can you forgive me?" he asked.

"Okay," she said, glancing between Sherlock and Rose.

"And, for what it's worth, you're wrong about him."

"I am?"

"I saw him yesterday coming out of a clinic with his mother. He's not cheating on you."

"Are you sure?"

He gave her his patented don't be an idiot look, which earned him another slap from Rose.

"Thank you," Molly said.

Rose hugged her. Why? They didn't even know each other.

"Better?" Rose asked.

"Much," Molly said.

"If you're finished the, um, analysis is done," John said.

The case! Sherlock turned around and followed his friend out of the room. Finally, he could get started and hopefully get his mind off Ms. Tyler and her ability to distract him. The last thing he needed was a distraction.

Standard Disclaimer.

Thank you to all my brilliant readers!

If you have time reviews are always welcome. :)

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