"William that would be the soldiers, if you would be so kind as to bring out the French toast?" Mrs. Holmes suggested, gesturing to the large platter that was sitting next to Mrs. Hudson.
"Won't they be offended, considering the British are on and off enemies with the French?" Sherlock muttered, grabbing the plate nonetheless.
"I'm sure if they're hungry enough they'll forget the supposed nationality of their breakfast." Mrs. Hudson muttered, not sounding overly impressed with Sherlock's attempt at a joke.
"Ya alright." Sherlock agreed, taking a deep breath before walking into the dining room where he knew all the soldiers would be collected. The first one Sherlock spotted this time was Captain Moran, because at the moment he was the one that scared him the most. Sherlock managed a smile; however Moran lounged in his chair with a smirk, as if he knew exactly what sort of guilty state Sherlock was in this morning. It was very nerve wracking to know that such a suspicious man knew the bare minimum of Sherlock's secret, and he was left wondering if Moran had told anyone else last night or this morning. The second man Sherlock noticed was Victor, the ever familiar face that was appearing not only in his life but in his dreams as well. Thankfully this morning didn't bring as excited of a feeling when he looked upon the man, and Sherlock was even able to give him an innocent little smile. A smile that could hide whatever internal thoughts he was having, and whatever memories resurfaced at a mere glance at the boy's beautiful face.
"Good morning William." Victor said with a grin, sitting forward so as to appreciate the stack of French toast that was set before him.
"Good morning Victor." Sherlock managed, trying to hide his little smile and turning away immediately. Today no one said anything about his not staying for breakfast this time, and so Sherlock triumphantly made it to the kitchen without interruption. However much his stomach growled he was thankful to not have to sit next to both Victor and Moran at the same time. He didn't want tensions rising, especially if Moran had announced the little scene in the hallway to who he thought might have been the unwanted recipient of such staring. And he was very much content with sitting in the kitchen, if that was what was expected of him. He could eat later, for even now his stomach squirmed in protest at the thought of food. He only wanted one thing right now, or at least that was what his brain was telling him, for it was still very lagged from last night. The fire that had started still was smoldering down, and whatever smoke rose from the meager flames was still telling Sherlock to get Victor however he could manage. It wanted to be with Victor in real life, his heart was simply begging for him to make a move! Yet his brain, the much more rational organ, was reminding him once more that such aspirations were virtually impossible. If he wanted to love Victor he would have to be much more daring than he could even imagine. He would have to go up against public stigmas and the very likely possibility of rejection, two things that he could never face alone. He didn't like to be told no, especially if he could avoid the question in the first place. So while his heart burned Sherlock stayed silent, knowing that his place was not with Victor, but instead sitting and waiting should Victor ever want to collect him himself. 

 Molly sat next to him as she always did, and this time Sherlock was almost tempted to tell her of what was going on. She was his most trusted friend, she knew most everything about him, or at least she did. Now he had a secret from her, one that would mostly likely break her heart in more ways than one. Not only did Molly love him, but she loved America more. If she would learn that Sherlock had fallen in love with a British soldier, well what would that do to her? How much would that hurt? Yet Sherlock felt like he needed to tell someone, he needed an accomplice in all of this, someone who would understand what he was going through, someone he could confide in to keep his secrets and help him out in this very pressing time. Molly would be the obvious choice, she had been here for him ever since they were kids, and while Sherlock was sure she wouldn't be openly aggressive about such secrets he was still apprehensive about letting her know everything. She could very much abuse such knowledge; she could go to his father so as to try to get the soldiers kicked out of their house! Or more rationally she could help him out, despite her preoccupations about the presence of soldiers in Boston. 

"You're quiet today, again." Molly commented, crossing her arms and looking at Sherlock as if insulted that he wasn't entertaining her. Sherlock was bent over onto his elbows, staring at the ground with terrible posture and watching as multiple pairs of feet went walking by. He didn't know what to say, and most importantly he didn't know how to say it. Should he confess to her, would that make the overwhelming balloon of angst in his stomach slowly begin to deflate?
"I'm thinking." Sherlock admitted quietly.
"About what?" Molly asked.
"About...well life. I guess." Sherlock muttered, not able to put together a good enough answer to such a question. Obviously Molly was suspicious, for she sighed heavily and nodded her head slowly.
"Anything you think I should know?" she asked finally. Sherlock shook his head immediately, for that had become his go to denial tactic. No one could know that he was hiding anything if he continually refused to talk to anyone.
"Nothing you would understand." Sherlock assured.
"Oh come on Sherlock, try me." Molly insisted, pulling on his arm so that he had to sit back against the bench and be in her range of vision. Sherlock sighed heavily, reaching out his legs so that his back could slouch comfortably against the chair. He still refused to look at her; however it was becoming more and more tempting to admit to what was going on in his head. It might make it easier to understand himself if someone was there talking him through it. And he could trust Molly, he knew that he could.
"It's a lot to handle, Molly. It's something significant, unlike anything you've ever heard before. It's changed my life, and I'm almost worried to tell you...in fear that you'll grow to be disgusted by me." Sherlock admitted quietly, looking towards his friend for the first time to see that she had adopted her mother like stance. Her face was relaxed and kind, and her arm was already halfway to his shoulder before he caught her in the act. He knew of course that whatever he had to say, Molly would accept him for it. He would be stupid to think otherwise, however it was a suspicion he had that Molly might finally see what a mess he had made of himself. Surely she was now looking for more and more reasons to be wary of him, first with his apparent betrayal to his country, and now this? Turning his back on not only the revolution, but women as well? Two things he was supposed to love, and two things he began to have second thoughts on? Would this be the final straw?
"Sherlock don't be stupid, you know that I support you in anything you do. We're friends, which means we're stuck together whether we like it or not." Molly reminded him, patting his shoulder now that he was finally looking away. She probably expected to get slapped away; however there was something strangely comforting in the gesture, something that Sherlock couldn't push aside.
"I haven't told anyone yet, Molly. Frankly I'm scared to put it into words, knowing that as soon as I tell you- it's true." Sherlock admitted fearfully. "Up until now it's just been thoughts."
"I mean, if you want to write it down?" Molly suggested in a broken sort of way, for she really didn't know what else to suggest.
"No, no I'll say it of course. I need to get it off of my chest; I need to come to terms with reality." Sherlock admitted, shaking his head for a moment before falling back onto his elbows once more. Strangely it was easier to concentrate when he was staring at the ground, with the fallacy that the ground was the only thing staring back.
"Alright then. Whenever you're ready, I suppose." Molly muttered, sounding very motherly now. She was acting almost as if it was now her job to coax him through his confession, and to make it as easy and comfortable as possible. Sherlock took a deep breath, running his fingers through his scalp rather agressivley before falling back onto the bench and dropping his voice substantially.
"Molly, I've fallen in love." Sherlock whispered, shuttering with just the idea of it. The very words tasted like poison, for now it was out there, in the open where other people could vouch for its existence. It was now not merely an idea that he could shoo away when it got inconvenient, now Molly knew, she understood, and she would remember.
"You've fallen in..."
"Just like clockwork, I knew I'd see you two here!" exclaimed a new, unwelcome voice from in front of them. Sherlock looked up with a gasp, his face growing quite pale in anger as John's presence interrupted the power of his confession. He had interrupted the initial reaction, how could they rekindle such excitement now that John had barged in on them?
"John, not a good time, get lost." Sherlock snapped, shooing him away with a little sweep of his hand. John frowned, looking at Molly for some sort of defense, and yet Molly was still quivering with excitement, not speaking yet looking as if she was very much anticipating the moment she could open her mouth.
"Come on now, Sherlock don't be like that. I know that we didn't have the best day today, and I really wanted to make sure you know that..."
"John, can you not listen? Please, we're having a very important conversation!" Sherlock growled, reaching forward so as to try to push the boy away. Yet John was much too quick, and instead of Sherlock's pushing John away, John merely caught his wrist mid swipe and held it there as a sort of disarming method.
"Don't hit me, now that's just rude." John insisted with a groan.
"John I don't want to be rude at all, and therefore I shall take a kinder tone than Sherlock here. But he's right, we're in the middle of a very important conversation, and while we would love to talk to you another time perhaps, right now really isn't the time. If you could give us a moment?" Molly suggested as sweetly as could be managed. Of course her suggestion was enough to get John moving, for while he was used to Sherlock's dissatisfaction with his presence he was also smart enough to realize that Molly was not a force to be messed with.
"Yes of course, I'm sorry to have been a bother." John said immediately, bowing his head in some respect before starting off down the road once more. This now left Sherlock and Molly sitting alone, the excitement building up among them before Molly finally cracked and squealed like a little child.
"You're in love, Sherlock you've got to tell me, with who?" Molly demanded, shaking Sherlock's arm anxiously while Sherlock just groaned, closing his eyes a bit nervously as he didn't quite know how to respond. Half of him just wanted to insist that it was a strange girl that Molly had never met, that would surely be a better option than admitting the truth. However he knew that he hadn't come this far just to lie once more, if he was trying to protect his secrets then he would never have admitted to falling in love in the first place. He needed to admit this to Molly, he knew that now. Half of the weight on his shoulders had already been lifted, and the other half would be revealed once his lips formed those daring words, the ones that he felt could never be uttered yet needed to be said right now! It was the truth Molly deserved to know, it was the truth that was necessary!
"Molly don't be shocked...it's not who you might expect." Sherlock admitted quietly. Molly nodded her head slowly; her hand placed once more on Sherlock's shoulder as if she was trying to comfort him once more.
"I think I know what you mean." She agreed. Sherlock turned to look at her hopefully, hoping that he may not have to say it.
"You do?" he asked quietly. Molly nodded her head, patting his shoulder in a pitiful sort of way, as if she could already see the trouble that was in store for her poor friend.
"Yes, I think I do. You're in love with a poor person, aren't you?" she guessed quietly.
"What...no? What on earth, Molly that's outrageous!" Sherlock exclaimed. Molly blinked, looking at Sherlock as if he had gone mad, as if she could no longer guess who might be so forbidden that Sherlock could hardly mention the name.
"What else could be so scandalous, being as though you're both a rebel and a loyalist at the same time?" Molly demanded, looking both confused and angry all at once. As if she wanted to accuse Sherlock of something but hadn't yet figured out what he had done wrong.
"Molly I'm in love with a man!" Sherlock hissed, shutting her up immediately. Molly froze, staring at Sherlock as if he had sprouted two heads or something bizarre like that. As if he had just suddenly turned from her friend into a circus attraction, a horribly distorted and flawed human being, with a mere exclamation.
"A man..." Molly whispered, leaning in closer so that she could clarify, as if she hadn't yet heard correctly. "But you're a man?" she pointed out, as if he hadn't yet realized that.
"Yes Molly, I realize." Sherlock whispered in agreement.
"But that doesn't work, you can't like...have children. It just can't..." Molly stammered, obviously beyond words at the moment.
"You've never heard of homosexuals before?" Sherlock clarified with a blink of surprise. Molly stared blankly, shaking her head very slowly as a look of realization dawned upon her.
"You only like men?" she clarified. Sherlock sighed heavily, looking around so as to make sure they didn't have any eavesdropping before continuing.
"Well considering it's a man who stole my heart first, yes I think so." Sherlock agreed.
"That's insane." Molly whispered.
"I'm sorry to say that it's true." Sherlock admitted.
"Well who is it? It's not...it's not John, is it?" Molly clarified in a fearful little whisper, her face paling as she began to imagine what an enigma that might be.
"Ew, God no it's not John. I can't stand him!" Sherlock insisted, shivering with the very idea all while trying to keep the humor in this conversation. So long as there was a chance of laughter it was much easier to deliver the information, it almost made it seem like all of this was here for comical value and not actually serious, true information.
"Who else is there?" Molly hissed.
"It's Victor. Victor Trevor." Sherlock admitted quietly, a shiver running down his spine even as he said the name aloud. His heart gave a great big sigh of relief, finally being relieved of having to keep the secret for so long, finally able to at least share the load with another trusted counterpart. Yet as soon as Sherlock admitted the information Molly's smile dropped, and her face immediately turned serious.
"The soldier?" she clarified, all traces of humor having vanished from her voice. Sherlock sighed heavily, yet nodded his agreement.
"Yes, the soldier. I'm sorry to admit it, but it's true." Sherlock admitted quietly.
"How do you know? What if this is just...well what if it's just in your mind?" Molly asked anxiously, suddenly sounded more eager to disprove Sherlock's theory than to support it.
"I know it's not just in my mind, I've been pondering it for weeks now. He's in my dreams, he's in my heart. Molly I couldn't describe what my life would be like if I don't have him by my side, he's everything I've ever wanted, everything I think I deserve." Sherlock whispered passionately, gripping very tightly to the iron armrest so as to steady himself as he spoke. Molly looked dumbfounded, and all together completely at a loss for words. It was as if she couldn't process the information quick enough to come up with a response, and so instead she just nodded very slowly, trying to think of something intelligent to say next. Something that might be more than just shrieking.
"I can't believe this." Molly managed quietly, still patting Sherlock's arm at a much more aggressive rate, almost as if she thought that by patting him she might erase what he had just said from existence all together. Yet it still hung in the air. As Sherlock had predicted...it was permanent.
"Try to. I would like you to meet him; you'll understand why he's so desirable if you at least saw what he looked like, saw how he acted around me. He's so beautiful Molly, so beautiful." Sherlock whispered.
"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Molly admitted, finally sitting back and fanning her face as if she was going to pass out.
"Was it too abrupt? Oh I'm sorry if I scared you, Molly!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"You haven't scared me! God if I had known that sooner it would've been a lot easier to understand you all of these years. To think that you've been sitting here with me, and I still had that horrible imagination, the one that told me it was possible for you to have fallen in love with me!" Molly exclaimed with a great shiver.
"I'm sorry, but I hadn't known for long either. Not until a couple of nights ago, where it was confirmed." Sherlock admitted quietly, thinking to the night through the keyhole.
"Well what are you going to do know? Does he know? And is he a...oh what did you call it?" Molly asked.
"A homosexual?" Sherlock suggested.
"Ya, is he that?" Molly wondered. Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head in honest defeat.
"I don't know...he's never told me. I can't let myself get too hopeful, though. I could never imagine such a man as he ever deciding against women. He's just...he's just too perfect for that. Me, I've been flawed my whole life, but Victor? I couldn't imagine there's a flaw anywhere in him. I shouldn't keep my hopes up for it." Sherlock muttered sadly.
"Why do you think it's a flaw to love him? What does it matter if it's unorthodox, it's not wrong. If it was a flaw it wouldn't be there, God wouldn't create an emotion without willing it to be so." Molly assured sharply, regaining her motherly views of the world just as soon as she noticed Sherlock was feeling slightly unhappy.
"But if it was normal why wouldn't I have known about it until know? Why have you not even heard the word?" Sherlock pointed out.
"Because it's rare, so what? So are diamonds, but you never hear anyone talking about those as if they were a mistake of the natural world. I think it's wonderful that you're finally figuring yourself out, and embracing the things that most people would try to ignore. And beyond anything, I'm thankful that there is now a valid excuse why you're still not in love with me." Molly admitted with a grin, nodding her head with all enthusiasm while Sherlock could do nothing but laugh.
"Always so concerned with yourself, huh?" Sherlock clarified.
"Now stop that, I'm just pointing out the obvious. I knew there was something off from the start. That you were either hiding your love or you were just too blind to notice it. It was a little bit demeaning, you know, to know that there was one man who wasn't in love with me. Now of course, it makes sense." Molly said with a grin.
"Well good, I'm happy to have eased your conscience. Yet now there are much more important things on hand, right? Like what I'm going to do now?" Sherlock pointed out. Molly pondered for a moment, and while she was thinking it gave Sherlock some time to appreciate just how much more relaxed he could be with such an idea now that it was shared. He could put together a game plan, with another person acting upon and acknowledging his feelings he actually began to think that there might be hope. It was a secret now only to those who couldn't be trusted with it. Yet Molly could be trusted, and Molly could help. Maybe there was a future that was unfolding that held the opportunity for Sherlock to be happy, maybe there was a destiny in which he and Victor could be together? Maybe it was possible that Sherlock could live out his internal fantasies for real?
"Well what are you going to do? Are you going to go after him?" Molly asked hopefully.
"How could I? I know that he'll just..."
"That's not the spirit, Sherlock. Come on, if you're brave enough to tell me then deep down you want things put into motion, don't talk as if this is impossible." Molly insisted.
"Yes of course, you're right." Sherlock agreed quietly.
"I'm always right. Now come on Sherlock, do you want that man or not?" Molly demanded.
"Yes!" Sherlock exclaimed.
"Well then you're going to have to do exactly as I tell you. You're going to have to learn how to flirt." Molly insisted with a smile of dedication, and for a split second Sherlock was very, very concerned. It wasn't like Molly was the expert, being as though she's been in love with him and probably flirting with him for about ten years now. If Sherlock followed the same tactic then he'll get nowhere with Victor, undoubtedly! Yet he was going to have to listening to Molly's advice, being as though it was the first advice he was offered and therefore the only advice he could follow.