They all shuffled to dinner (most of the men pretty bummed out about Sherlock's sudden victory) yet as soon as they saw the spread of food that was waiting for them their poker blues wore off. It was a splendid roast duck for dinner tonight, a meal that was fit for company despite their having been no way for Mrs. Hudson to predict Molly's arrival at their table tonight. They all sat (a seat had been added next to Sherlock and Mrs. Holmes for Molly to sit in) and said a quick prayer before the duck was carved and served. There was an overwhelming amount of food as usual, and everyone seemed to be eating and chatting and having a good time. Even Molly seemed to be enjoying herself, for she had taken to talking to Victor and Mycroft about where they would travel to if they ever got the chance. Victor was being very kind, as Sherlock knew he would be, yet it was apparent that his kindness was going the extra mile once more in charming Molly as well. She was batting her eyelashes, the very same thing she had told Sherlock to do to flirt. Obviously it was hard not to be attracted to him, yet it was a little bit insulting when she was going after a man Sherlock had very obviously claimed. The only reassuring thing about Molly's apparent interest was the indifference Victor seemed to have to it. He talked of his dreams of starting a tea planting business and seemed very normal, very calm as he spoke. Whether he didn't notice Molly's admiring eyes or he didn't care Sherlock didn't know, however he very much preferred it to be the latter. He wanted to be sure that Victor's kindness with him wasn't a privilege everyone got a taste of, Sherlock would feel a lot better about himself if he knew that Victor's wholehearted kindness was reserved only for those who he had fallen in love with. Sherlock lost interest in whatever conversation was going on across the table as soon as Mycroft began to talk, and he of course noticed that Molly suddenly became a lot more interested in her food as well.
"So Molly, thoughts?" Sherlock whispered as indiscreetly as he could, keeping his voice low so that Victor could not hear their obvious discussion about him.
"Wonderful. I can see why you were so...affected." Molly admitted with a little grin, to which Sherlock nodded just as confidently.
"I knew it. See, they're not that scary when you get to know them." Sherlock whispered with a little grin, to which Molly only shrugged.
"I don't know, the Captain is rather intimidating." She admitted in a hushed voice, her eyes looking over to where Moran sat at the end of the table, sitting strong and powerfully over his subjects.
"He's actually very kindhearted, I was surprised." Sherlock admitted, thinking back to Moran's catching him in the hallway. He could've been a lot more difficult in that situation, however from what Sherlock had observed he had kept his lips shut as promised.
"Well that's good. You were right of course, they're all surprisingly human." Molly agreed, to which Sherlock smiled triumphantly, knowing that tonight's purpose had been met. He had achieved in turning even Molly's biased mind to tolerate the men she had previously seen as enemies, she was seeing them now not as redcoats, but as humans.
"How about you Sherlock, what are your life's ambitions?" Victor asked from across the table, obviously having grown bored of Mycroft's rambling after having listened for just a few minutes. Sherlock blinked, looking at Victor and feeling once more that very welcome feeling of paralysis.
"Life ambitions? Well I'm not sure to be honest. I suppose it all depends on whether or not we live in a peaceful country or a war torn one." Sherlock admitted with a shrug, to which Molly sort of winced.
"That's rather morbid of you." She decided, to which Sherlock just shrugged innocently. No matter how morbid it was, it was most certainly a defining factor in how his life would play out from here. Predominantly it would depend on whether he made it out of the war, and if he did miraculously return unscathed then what professions would be open and available for a boy without schooling. The winner of the war would make matters worse as well, for Americans would be viewed as either lesser class or untrustworthy, and loyalist occupations would discriminate in that aspect. It would be curious, the way the world worked from this point on.
"Let's say in your version of utopia, what would you do?" Victor decided, seeming not to find that condition morbid, but workable. Sherlock thought for a moment, realizing at once that he really didn't have any life ambitions. He knew he wanted to go to King's college, but beyond that he couldn't think of a life that would best suit him. For whatever reason he simply couldn't picture himself in a business suit going to the office every day, yet he wasn't going to be any sort of farmer or woodsman either.
"I'm not sure...maybe work in shipping like my parents?" Sherlock suggested weakly, yet no one seemed very satisfied with that answer.
"Your dream job is in shipping?" Victor clarified with something of a doubtful giggle. Sherlock frowned, looking towards Molly as if trying to make sure his answer wasn't ridiculous. She was no help, since she was giggling as well.
"No not my dream job, but my most realistic one. Dream job might include something where I have to do absolutely no work and still get to live in comfort." Sherlock decided with a shrug.
"You could be a musician. You love to play your violin, and you're good at it too." Molly suggested. Sherlock nodded in enthusiasm, for while that was a good idea it was almost embarrassing that Molly knew more of his life's ambitions than he did.
"Yes that might be ideal." Sherlock agreed with a grin.
"You play the violin?" Victor clarified with a smile, his fork pausing on his plate so that he could admire the boy sitting across from him with much interest.
"Yes I do, my mother taught me when I was young." Sherlock agreed. "She told me that everyone should learn to play an instrument."
"Oh I very much agree. I played the piano when I was younger, although I admit I'd be rusty if I tried again. It's been years." Victor agreed. "But I do love the violin. You'll have to play for me sometime."
"Yes...yes I'd be honored to!" Sherlock agreed eagerly, looking over to Molly who simply kicked him under the table so as to show his enthusiasm. Victor smiled as well, maybe not just because of Sherlock's excitement about the violin, but the mutual understanding the two friends had. He could tell something was up, and he could probably deduce that it was about him, and he smiled because of it. Obviously he knew of Sherlock's infatuation, why else would two teenagers squeal and hit each other if they didn't know something they assumed was a secret? Desert was the most tense course of the whole meal, yet it wasn't like that for everyone. The conversations went on just as they had before, with Mr. Holmes and Captain Moran talking all the way across the table at each other about tax laws once more. That was always the hot topic, the one thing everyone understood because it was the one thing everyone was so exposed to anymore. The tax laws were the reason Americans were up in arms, the tax laws were why the British soldiers were here in the first place! And yet that still wasn't where the tension came from, it was from Victor across the table, who had regained something of a serious look to him as he poked at his sorbet with these ridiculously long spoons. He would occasionally look up at Sherlock as if trying to communicate something through his eyes, yet Sherlock being the coward he was couldn't stand to look into those blues any longer than couple of seconds before he looked away frightfully. He knew that Victor was trying to communicate with him wordlessly, yet Sherlock was too afraid that with eye contact might come secrets spilled on both sides. And so he couldn't do it, he looked away every time, tucking his hair out of his face and keeping his head down so as to ensure whatever secrets he had stayed safely inside of his head where they belonged.
"Would you like to stay for another hand of poker?" Sherlock offered Molly as they all rose to their feet, their plates cleaned and cleared long ago. Moran was already getting out his cigar case and the men were shuffling off towards the sitting room, patting their stomachs in satisfaction and looking quite sleepy already. Molly was looking a little bit uncomfortable once more, for she obviously didn't know where she fit in this array of motion, for she was the only true visitor now.
"Oh no I really best be going, however much I would love to stay it's getting late." Molly muttered reluctantly, walking towards the entrance hall so as to make her departure more final. Sherlock followed her, obviously a little bit sad at her leaving yet understanding enough so that he would let her escape all the same.
"Did you like them?" Sherlock asked anxiously, leading Molly out the dim little hallway towards the front door.
"Yes, yes they were proper gentlemen, just as you had promised." Molly agreed truthfully, shrugging her shoulders as if she was still holding back some well earned apprehensions. It's almost as if she saw that there were more dimensions to these soldiers, however human they might appear to be when at home and relaxed it was obvious that that was not the whole of their personalities. All men were peaceful when at home; even the soldiers who shot protestors in the massacre must have a family life and a home. These men were no different, and Molly still saw that while they were good men at heart, they had the potential and training to destroy other good men when necessary.
"Ms. Hooper! Not trying to sneak out without saying goodbye, are you?" asked a new voice, Victor's voice, as the soldier himself came rushing down the hall for farewells. Molly blushed (Sherlock took careful notice of that) as she turned to greet him, a smile plastered on her face that she simply couldn't wipe away. Oh it was the curse of falling in love with a flirt, Sherlock's stomach writhed in jealousy to see Victor treating Molly the way Sherlock had previously assumed was only reserved for him. With all the manners and the sympathies that Sherlock must have mistaken for romantic interest.
"Not sneaking off, just too shy to make any formal farewells. You men all rushing off to your poker game, I didn't want to interrupt." Molly admitted with a little giggle.
"Well I'm happy to catch you, and I'm happy you came. William was very kind to invite you to meet us; it's good to have some friendly faces now in these foreign Boston streets." Victor said with a grin, shaking Molly's hand in farewell.
"I'm just going to walk her home, tell Mother if she asks where I went." Sherlock muttered, nodding towards the front door as if Victor needed to know which door he was planning to use.
"Yes of course, yet I think I might sit outside myself. It's a lovely evening, quiet." Victor decided with a smile directed right at Sherlock, a smile that alluded to many other things that may come to pass on this quiet, solitary night.
"You're welcome to join us." Molly offered quickly, whether it be in her interest of getting to spend more time with Victor or just her politeness shining through once more.
"Oh no, no I think I'll just sit on the porch and wait for you to return, Sherlock." Victor said with a grin, reaching over and patting Sherlock on the shoulder as if trying to communicate something entirely by touch. Shivers raced down Sherlock's body, as they were obviously intended to, and he could do nothing but smile in agreement.
"Yes...yes of course." Sherlock agreed with a timid grin. He noticed of course that Victor had used his real name, and of course he did so on purpose. It was his tactic to get Sherlock to call to attention, to realize that their encounter on the porch would not be a formal one, and certainly not one that other people were invited to. For Victor only referred to Sherlock by his preferred name when he knew no one would overhear.
"Come on then Sherlock, it's getting dark." Molly instructed, pulling Sherlock away by his hand while Victor stayed in the hallway behind them, his smile not fading until the two disappeared. Even then it wavered, for he stared at the door and knew what was going to take place behind it in just a moment. He followed their steps. Sherlock and Molly disappeared off onto the sidewalk, and both of them made a point to keep their heads forward. They knew there was a chance Victor could be still listening, for he could very well be sitting on the porch right now, however there was a persistent feeling of anticipation that was building so powerfully in Sherlock's chest that it was almost impossible to appeared calm and collective.
"You heard that as well, right? You heard him..."
"Yes I did. That's a good sign Sherlock, a really good sign." Molly agreed before he could even finish his sentence.
"It's an invitation; he wants to talk to me on the porch, where no one can hear." Sherlock whispered excitedly, nearly hopping up and down as he made his way down the darkened sidewalk. The walk to Molly's house was not long, however Sherlock felt as though tonight the manor crept up rather quickly through the darkness.
"You think he's going to admit something?" Molly presumed.
"Yes of course...and if he doesn't then I will! I've got to tell him, Molly, it's eating me alive!" Sherlock exclaimed. Molly sighed heavily, but nodded in false enthusiasm.
"Then tonight's your night." She said with a grin. Sherlock watched her for just a moment, his smile fading as his eye narrowed and he watched her body language suspiciously.
"You're not jealous, are you?" Sherlock presumed. Molly blinked, looking towards him as if to make sure she wasn't hallucinating what she had just heard.
"Jealous of who?" she clarified.
"Well I'm not sure...You've been in love with me for years, and you seemed to be very friendly with Victor over dinner." Sherlock pointed out. Molly just laughed, shaking her head as if she couldn't believe the nerve of some people.
"Sherlock I was being friendly, you're right. That's what you are to people you've just met." Molly pointed out with a frown.
"You're not in love with him then?" Sherlock guessed hopefully. Molly laughed once more as they turned towards her porch, ascending the stairs to the light of an oil lamp and stopping near the welcome mat.
"I'm not in love with him, nowhere close. But I see why you are, Sherlock, and I'm happy for you. He's kind, and he's handsome. He'll be good to you, and that's all I can hope for." Molly assured with a little grin. Sherlock breathed deeply, nodding his head in harsh excitement as he glared down the sidewalk to where the shadows just barely concealed the silhouette of his house against the last of the dying sunlight. Molly was still watching him, watching as if she was expecting more than just an accusation. Maybe an apology, or at least a farewell. She understood that this conversation was short lived, as there was very obviously a more tempting one waiting for Sherlock at his own porch. One that waited with the man in the red coat.
"I'll let you get going, Sherlock. I know you've got important things to get to, and beautiful people to talk to." Molly said with a shameful little giggle, punching Sherlock accusingly in the shoulder.
"It's the last time you'll see me as a boy, Molly. Tomorrow I will have had my first kiss; I will be a man, properly." Sherlock said with a huff, trying to hold his head up just a little bit higher than it had gone before. Molly punched him again, hard enough this time to make him wince.
"You'll always be a kid to me, Sherlock." Molly promised, letting out a little squeal of emotion before rushing towards him and giving him a great big hug. It was a motherly sort of thing, yet there was a feeling of goodbye in it as well. Almost as if she was trying to hug what innocent little boy she knew now, knowing that she won't have another opportunity in the future. As if she understood that the Sherlock she saw tomorrow will not be the one who will leave her porch tonight. There was almost a feeling of despair to her, as if she couldn't believe she was saying goodbye so quickly. As if she was mourning the loss of a love she never had as she let Sherlock walk off to another boy.
"Be careful Sherlock." Molly pleaded as she finally pulled away.
"I will be, always." Sherlock promised with a grin. With that he gave her a nod of farewell, a nod that told her now that everything would be okay. And in the end it would be ,of course. In the end their peace would be restored, just in a different form. Once the smoke cleared, the smoke of romance and of war, they would all be at rest in the end.