❛ – WELL, I tried that didn’t I ? ❜ A wry smile, if she wrings her hands anymore, she might whittle them down to nothing but bone. Her mouth is dry, she’s all to aware of the deafening silence in the room. This isn’t easy for her; but it’s something that she’s been wanting so badly to get off her chest. It was silly really, to bring up something that had been nothing more than a drunken peck. when it happened, yes, she spent a few restless nights thinking about it, wondering why it was Greg’s rough, chapped lips that tasted of cigarette smoke and champagne, that kept running through her mind, rather than Sherlock’s chaste kiss on the cheek. There was no way she could have come clean to Greg at the time, not when he had just expressed a desire to patch things up with his wife, and was practically on the verge of divorce. Besides, he knew about her feelings for Sherlock– so Molly nipped that in the bud early on, and threw herself into becoming just that, her little crush for Sherlock.
❛ D i d n ‘t work out so well for me. ❜ Tom had been lovely, Molly had genuinely pictured living out a life with him, if not she wouldn’t have said yes. True, he could be silly and a little dim at times, but he was lovely, warm where Sherlock was cold, sympathetic where sherlock was brusque. He had been kind and wonderful and funny, and he’d like her, she was sure of that. Sure, there had been the matter of his dog, and her cat, but she had considered a life with him, living together and having children of their own, being Mrs Sawyer. Even now, thinking of it, she was sure they would have been a good match, and she would have led a comfortable, contended life. Maybe not a happy one, but they’d certainly make it to old age together. But it was people, people who kept pointing out she had a type, her mates who sniggered and whispered. When she caught herself recognising a shadow of Sherlock in his face, she had broken it off, unable to STOP seeing it once she had . It wasn’t fair to him, this constant comparison she would make for the rest of their lives. Poor, sweet Tom. He’d deserved none of that.
For awhile, she had actively avoided crossing paths with Greg, though Molly herself couldn’t figure out why. Part of her might have still been guilty for lying to him back then, when Sherlock died. She knew he had been going through a rough time, what with the divorce and all, and as a friend, she should’ve helped, should’ve invited him out to tea more often, yet she could never bring herself to. When Greg came around, she made herself scarce, when he rounded the corner she turned and walked in the other direction. Yet when the phone call happened, he had been the first one she had turned to; she’d known he would understand.
❛ – I thought so too. When he called– when he asked why I couldn’t say it– ❜ I love you, the words had died on her lips, ❛ I told him I couldn’t, because it was the truth. But– it wasn’t. That wasn’t the real reason why I couldn’t say it. It was like having something lodged in my throat, choking me, when I should have been thrilled he even said them back. Because deep down, I guess I knew that it WASN’T the truth. Not anymore. I don’t l o v e Sherlock. And I don’t think I’ve loved him for, for years. ❜
He’s not had much luck in the way of love. He was married for a good long while, of course, but that had just degraded over the years and turned into something awful. But Greg couldn’t say that he’d take it back. He WOULDN’T. He had his girls and they were the most important thing in his life. Still, he wished he hadn’t been so willfully blind to Anne’s indiscretions and the fact of the matter: she didn’t love him anymore. It might’ve saved them YEARS of heartache and struggle. It might’ve saved his girls some trouble as well. They’d had to watch, after all. And maybe he could’ve found himself in a happier place at an earlier time. He’s not quite there yet but he’s working on it. Trying to.
Since the divorce his love life has been somewhat lacking. Between work and keeping up with his girls, dates don’t really fit into the mix. That hasn’t stopped some of his co-workers and his mother from trying to set him up though. They’re always NICE enough people but nothing has ever gone past a first date. He’s not particularly good at dates. It was only after he and Anne separated that he realized he had absolutely no experience with dating. He and Anne hadn’t so much DATED as they’d started holding hands and shagging all over campus and eventually moved in together. And that had left him really nowhere. Flirting wasn’t a forte and he really didn’t know what he was doing if he tried to mingle at the pub so he’d more or less given up on it and decided to let things happen naturally. Of course, that method hadn’t quite worked either. So, it was dates his mother continued trying to set him up on and hopelessly hoping that maybe he wasn’t going to wind up alone the rest of his life.
As Molly speaks, Greg can’t help thinking that maybe his patience is going to pay off. Because christ, he’s found himself pining for her as much as she used to pine for Sherlock sometimes. It’s never been the right time, their lives just haven’t lined up PROPERLY. Until now, he supposes. And she’s being rather blunt with him so he really can’t mistake this for anything else other than the opportunity that it is. “I...Molly...” A breath is released, shaking and deflating him somewhat as he brings a hand up to run through his hair. He’s not sure what to do with this, not sure what she WANTS him to do. Does she want him to do something? He wants to do something but he’s not quite sure what. But he does know that it’s been years and he’s been quiet because she’s been with other people or loved other people and it’s never been him until now and this is it.
Greg watches her for a moment, mouth slightly agape like a blood fool as he processes exactly what she’s saying. But the next moment he’s stepping towards her, bringing his hands up to the back of her head and leaning down to KISS her. It’s a gentle thing, light and sweet and not too long, and when he pulls away he’s gazing into her eyes. They’re a lovely honey brown when the light catches them. He’s a bit breathless, both from kissing her and just the sight of her and the feel of her skin under his fingers.
“...Christ, I’ve been wantin’ to do tha’ for a while.”