Like it or not, he was still keeping watch for John's arrival. That boy had a keen sense of when the worst possible moment was to show up, and so Sherlock was expecting him by now. Just as their topic turned to something that really shouldn't be overheard, there was a very strong chance that he was just appear when he thought it most convenient. Ah! As if on cue, Sherlock could just make out a short little head of blonde hair through the dense crowds, coming from the usual direction. He wasn't the only one to notice, of course, for as soon as he made a noise of discontent Molly slapped him and shushed irritably.
"You should be nice to him today, Sherlock. Yesterday you proved to be a monster." Molly warned.
"Well ya, he was interrupting my confession!" Sherlock defended.
"That's still no reason to be insufferable." Molly snapped. Sherlock gasped, or at least pretended to, for as soon as he began to open his mouth to argue he was cut off my Molly's aggressive waving.
"John! Hi John, nice to see you!" she exclaimed, summoning the milkman over to meet them at their bench whereas Sherlock would've much rather he kept on walking by. How could Molly expect him to be nice when she insisted so blatantly on tainting their nice afternoon with his presence? John fought through the crowd as would be expected, obediently showing up next to the bench and looking upon the two with a smile. As afraid as he appeared to be by Sherlock's presence he hid it very well, he smiled wide and looked genuinely happy to see them.
"Hello Ms. Hooper, hello Sherlock." John said with a grin.
"Why does she get a formal title, and I just get Sherlock?" Sherlock clarified with a frown, looking up at John in a very offended sort of way.
"Because she still earns the formal greeting. She's proven herself to be a proper lady." John defended with a knowing grin, the sort of grin that made Sherlock want to knock his exposed teeth out.
"You'd proven yourself to be a very improper lady, Sherlock." Molly reminded him, to which John laughed out loud. Of course he would find that sort of thing funny.
"As has he. He's been rude to me the minute we first met, and I can see that nothing has changed." Sherlock muttered. "Not to mention he's insufferably nosey."
"I apologize for that. In fact I had attempted to formally apologize for it yesterday, but since my presence was so inopportune..." John sighed heavily, ending his sentence and letting his listeners fill in the blanks. Sherlock stared at him, very unamused, before forcing something of a smile on his face.
"My apologies for prioritizing." Sherlock snapped.
"Well we're doing nothing now, if you'd like to sit with us?" Molly suggested, gesturing to the open bench space next to where Sherlock was sitting. Of course she would suggest that, for she always wanted to trap Sherlock into new friendships! Oh how like his mother she was turning out to be.
"That would be wonderful! I've got nowhere to be." John assured, nodding with a grin before taking the spot next to Sherlock. Of course they both knew that most of this conversation would be held right overtop of Sherlock, for he wasn't going to do much talking and Molly was going to keep the entire dialog running.
"Why do you keep saying you have nowhere to be when you're obviously passing the same spot, at the same time, every day? As if you're on a schedule, despite how easily you break it?" Sherlock wondered curiously, looking at John with the utmost suspicion. Sherlock wasn't going to deny it; he had always seen something very fishy in John Watson. He didn't know what it was, but there was something too perfect about him, something too downright American that got him thinking that there was more to his friendly milkman routine. But what it was could not be placed, at least not at the moment.
"Well Sherlock, I'll let you in on a little secret. I work down that way," John pointed the way he had come, "And I live that way." He pointed then, to the way he was going. "And I get done with my milk routine ten minutes before this."
"That's a valid excuse." Molly agreed immediately, and with a laugh from both sides Sherlock just frowned, accepting his defeat.
"Yes I do suppose it is." Sherlock muttered with a sigh. John laughed once more, leaning back on the bench as if he owned it and looking at Sherlock with a very satisfied gaze.
"You don't trust me then, do you?" he clarified. Sherlock scowled, attempting to scoot over towards Molly's side of the bench so as to avoid John's now sprawling limbs.
"I never did, obviously." Sherlock insisted with a frown. "It's hard to trust anyone who waltzes around your house without permission."
"Like I said, your mother had let me in, and I was delivering the milk as I always do! It wasn't waltzing, and I most certainly had permission." John defended, throwing his arms up in the air as if he was becoming exasperated with this question.
"A likely excuse now, but when I find you anywhere you shouldn't be, I'm reporting you to the police." Sherlock warned.
"Now Sherlock stop that, don't be so harsh!" Molly insisted, yet Sherlock was quite satisfied. John nodded; obviously he would take such a warning to heart in the future. And if that was enough to keep that man's oddly perfect nose out of Sherlock's house and far away from the soldiers, then that would certainly prove such a warning to be worthwhile. 

 While they were walking home, Sherlock was trying to explain to Molly the situation he was in with Victor. Yet it was getting him nowhere, she still hadn't even seen Victor yet, how could she understand the way he acted, or the way he looked? Sherlock could tell her things or she could observe them for herself, and to be quite honest the latter was very much more tempting. She could never understand the way things were at the Holmes household until she experienced it firsthand, and Sherlock decided that tonight would be the ideal night. Nothing made it special yet nothing made it unavailable, and at the pinnacle of all his romantic troubles, what better night to choose? Maybe if Molly could live through a dinner at the Holmes household her advice from here on out would be a lot more useful. 

"Why don't you stay for dinner tonight?" Sherlock suggested as they neared Sherlock's front porch. Molly hesitated, shrugging her shoulders as if she was sure that was a very bad idea.
"Sherlock don't you think your parents won't want me around the soldiers? They know of my...well my heritage." Molly pointed out rather nervously, alluding of course to her father's ties to the revolution.
"Well maybe they think that it will change your ways, maybe they'll think it will be good for you? You never know until you ask." Sherlock pointed out optimistically. Molly nodded, however she still didn't look all that keen on entering the house. It was almost as if the idea of the British soldiers scared her, as if she was worried they would recognize her face or her name and arrest her on the spot. Yet she had to understand that the soldiers were not here to work, this was what was considered their home here in America. They weren't looking to fight their war in the walls of the Holmes household; they were just looking for comfort and relaxation where they could appreciate it. They were humans, after all.
"A little bit more notice would've been nice." Molly added, however she knew that once Sherlock got his mind set on an idea he wouldn't be talked out of it so easily.
"I gave you notice, a whole thirty seconds of it! Now come on, let's go ask." Sherlock said eagerly, taking Molly's hand (that would surely be enough to get her to follow him) and pulling her up the stairs without waiting for a response. Her following alone was enough to assure him that she had the intentions of staying; for as the stubborn girl she was she would never do something she didn't actually want to do.
"Besides, Molly, I want you to meet him." Sherlock added quietly, knocking on the door and expecting a response from his mother. Molly sighed heavily; knowing there was nothing she could do now but wait for the higher power to tell her what she was supposed to do. That higher power was, as always, Sherlock's mother. The door opened.
"William, back late! Come in, come on, the men are just..." Mrs. Holmes's voice trailed off upon noticing Molly standing at Sherlock's side, and for a moment her smile faded as well.
"Can Molly stay for dinner?" Sherlock pleaded. Mrs. Holmes looked to them both once more, and then down at their hands that were still together from Sherlock's dragging Molly up the stairs. It was a lucky little mishap, for if Sherlock had realized he would've let go long ago. Yet it was obviously enough to persuade Mrs. Holmes to show a little bit of a leeway, for of course while she didn't much like Molly Hooper she would always show a tolerance for what might become Sherlock's first real girlfriend.
"I don't see a problem with it." she decided quickly, smiling rather knowingly at their interlocked fingers. Of course Sherlock kept Molly's hand there now with an iron grip, and while he could feel Molly trying to wriggle her hand out in embarrassment Sherlock was making a point to not let her escape.
"Thank you Mrs. Holmes!" Molly said with a grin, finally digging her nails into Sherlock's palm and forcing him to let go with something of a whimper. Mrs. Holmes noticed, her eyes slanting in some confusion, however Sherlock was able to smile it off and thank his mother as well, leading Molly into the house.
"Will your parents wonder where you are?" Sherlock wondered, remembering finally that Molly might have somewhere she actually had to be.
"Haven't you learned anything, Sherlock? Whenever I'm not back they'll assume I'm here, it's happened one too many times already." Molly reminded him with a laugh. Sherlock nodded, closing the door and watching as his mother left them for the kitchen, watching just to be sure that she really was out of earshot before he started the grand tour. He could smell the telltale cigarette smoke from the sitting room and he heard the mediocre chatter of the men, which meant they were at it again with their pre-dinner poker game.
"So there's six of them in all, Captain Moran is the one that looks the oldest and the most official. Victor...well I'm sure you'll be able to tell which one he is. They're in here." Sherlock said eagerly, taking Molly's hand once more so as to lead her into the sitting room where six pairs of curious eyes met them both. Sherlock could feel Molly tremble in sudden fear; however she kept calm and collective, as she always did in stressful situations. She cleared her throat as the men all grew silent, and Sherlock was only able to smile along proudly.
"Hello." She managed, to mere silence on the other end. It was impossible not to take note of the overwhelming shade of red the men wore, and that was the first thing that drew Molly's eye. Sherlock could sense her rising panic; however she was wearing a smile, trying to appear to be normal. If these soldiers were going to trust her they would have to believe that she appreciated them, right? She had to play loyalist, at least for tonight.
"Um, everyone...this is Molly Hooper. My best friend." Sherlock said with a smile, gesturing towards Molly as if they would otherwise have difficulty finding her in the room. For a moment the men were quiet, almost as if they were stunned at her being here. Sherlock realized that it was probably due to the fact that none of them had even seen a woman since their arrival here; however he hoped they weren't trying to figure out how easy it would be to get Molly on their arm. Surely they would have another thing coming, considering her ability to slap very hard and her revolutionary affiliations. And of course it was Victor who was the first one to smile, just as he had done with Sherlock. Leave it to him to be charming, leave it to him to be the most welcoming of them all. God! This was why Sherlock fell in love with him in the first place! It would be so much easier if he had proven to be a rotten person, and a horrible man. Looks were one thing, but when a gentleman was beautiful it was almost impossible to ignore.
"Hello Ms. Hooper, it's very nice to meet you." Victor said with a soft smile, setting down his cards yet not rising to greet her as formally as might be expected when you meet a lady. Presumably he stayed seated for the other men, for if he was the only one who rose and kissed her hand he would appear to be a try hard, however they all knew it was irrational for all six of them to rise and kiss her hand. And so Molly just curtseyed, for that was what a lady did to great powerful men, and they all mumbled their welcome. Yet there was something wrong, Sherlock could sense that there was uneasiness in the air that circulated after he had introduced her. Had it something to do with her name, did they recognize her last name as her father? Did they know now that she was a patriot, without her speaking more than one word? Sherlock was a fool, oh why didn't he leave out her last name? Now he may have spoiled any chance he was given of coexisting, for despite Molly's willingness to cooperate with her supposed enemy, now these men had to cooperate as well! And something told Sherlock that they wouldn't be so easily swayed to forgive and forget.
"Do you know how to play poker?" Moran asked, snuffing out his cigarette as if he was afraid the smoke would harm the lady's lungs. They were obviously mid game; however it didn't take long for a new hand to start. Sherlock and Molly could simply wait until then to join.
"Yes actually, my family plays it at reunions." Molly admitted with a little grin, as if she should be guilty of such a thing. Sherlock, on the contrary, found it very admirable that a woman such as Molly Hooper, as respectable and dainty as she was, knew how to gamble.
"Well take a seat then, Victor move over." Ponytail man instructed, pushing Victor along the couch so as to make room for two other people to have a seat. However Victor tried to squish up against the armrest, however, it was already very obvious that two people wouldn't fit in that little space. Especially with Molly's large dress it was an almost hopeless affair, however they had to make an attempt. Molly got to sit next to the armrest as Sherlock didn't want to make her sit up next to Victor (not only would that be putting her in an awkward position, but he would rather such an honor be his own), and so as the men were dealt their final card the two of them tried to get comfortable. Molly sat down first, and then it was Sherlock's job to make room for himself in hardly a foot of space. It wasn't too bad to try to lean up against Molly, and however tempted he was to lean against Victor, Sherlock tried to minimize that. Despite his politeness the entire left side of Sherlock's body was pressed up against Victor's right, and he had a painstakingly clear view of the cards the soldier was trying to hold so secretively.
"Sorry." Sherlock whispered to him, to which Victor's face just broke into a little smile. This smile might be due to Sherlock's comment, his proximity, or the excellent hand of cards Victor was holding. Sherlock rather hoped it was due to his own actions; however it was certainly easy to guess that victor was just happy about how much money he was sure to win tonight.
"So Ms. Hooper, you're friends with William? What sort of deal did you lose to end up like that?" one of the soldiers joked, to which the others chuckled along as they examined their cards and everyone else's faces. Sherlock scowled, however he understood that this was just a joke that was shared among people who knew each other for a while. Molly would of course consider it as some sort of crude insult, and think the soldiers to be rude mannered.
"Well I live close by; we've been friends since birth. I've learned to tolerate him, that's all." Molly admitted with a shrug.
"That's a skill you've got to teach us." agreed another one of the men, chorusing another round of chuckles on cue. The conversation was halted when the cards were displayed, and it was always amusing to hear the groans of defeat from the ones who thought they had some sort of chance, only to get showed up by someone who had much more superior cards. Victor won, as Sherlock had predicted, and while he stuffed most of the money into his pockets he kept quite a bit down on the table for more bets to be made.
"Do you like Boston so far?" Molly asked as the cards were being shuffled and dealt, wincing a little bit when one of the men's puff of cigar smoke came dangerously close to her face.
"Yes it's wonderful. Boring, and foreign in some aspects, yet wonderful." Moran assured.
"I think it's a wonderful city. Maybe not like London in some aspects, yet it's home." Molly agreed with a grin.
"We're not all from London. Mostly from the countryside of England." commented one of the men from the middle of the circle, the one who was smoking so close to Molly's face.
"Is that nice?" Molly asked, obviously trying to keep up conversation where she could do the least amount of actual talking. She was very good at keeping people occupied by making them talk, purely because most everyone loved to talk about themselves. Sherlock always fell prey to this tactic of conversation, because Molly knew that he could go on and on about himself and she took advantage of such vanity. Sometimes Sherlock would talk for ten minutes just about one topic before realizing that Molly had taken to completing a crossword puzzle in the newspaper instead of listening to him.
"Oh it's wonderful. Always sheep and cows wandering about, and the beer is excellent." A man piped in cheerfully. Sherlock wasn't listening all that much, for he was very content with observing his very promising cards, a king and a jack. Now if he could only get a queen he would be very close to winning the whole round! The money was building up on the table as the men got more and more confident (Sherlock noticed that Molly had put in five pounds as well) and he was just beginning to imagine how much that could come in handy. A new book, perhaps, or a bouquet of roses to woo his new love interest, the possibilities were endless.
"Yes but do they have half as good lobster in England?" Molly challenged, to which the men just laughed.
"Do you really assume we can buy lobster on our army money? We'll have to imagine the taste of both countries gourmet food." One of the men laughed. Molly nodded almost shamefully, obviously having forgotten that not everyone was blessed into a rich, respected family.
"I have had lobster in England, and I'm sure it's better here." Victor assured with something close to a laugh.
"Leave it to Victor to know." Grumbled the ponytail man, to which Sherlock could only crack a smile. Oh add that to the list of perfections! Not only was Victor kind and handsome, but now he was rich as well! This man couldn't get any better!
"Men and Molly, dinner is served if you're all ready!" Mrs. Holmes called from the dining room.
"Just let us finish this hand mother, if you will?" Sherlock pleaded, as now just arrived a jack. Now all he needed was that queen!
"Yes alright, William." Mrs. Holmes agreed with a sort of grumble, as if she wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea yet she would let it slide all the same. Couldn't she realize that there was a lot on the table here? Molly was focused as well, looking serious as she stared down at the table. She was always so impossible to read, and Sherlock could only imagine now how much more difficult it would be when she was trying to keep a straight face. Yet there was that fire in her eyes, which made him suspect that she was hiding some arrangement of good cards as well. All as this was going on Sherlock could feel Victor's leg bouncing up and down, as if he was thinking eagerly about his hand as well. Yet considering how close they were all squished Victor's bouncing leg was becoming rather infuriating, for it was shaking Sherlock who was in turn bumping into Molly. It took her to hiss at him to stop before Victor finally realize that his leg was absent mindedly shaking, and he shamefully apologized before continuing the game just the same. Sherlock hadn't minded it of course, and now that attention had been called to the matter Victor was keeping his legs very far away from brushing up with Sherlock's any longer. Rather rude, in his opinion. Finally the last card was dealt, and with a cry of excitement and a quick reveal it was Sherlock who got to stuff all that cash into his pockets. The queen had shown up, just as he had hoped for, and now he was about twenty pounds richer.