Trouville

“I talked to Mycroft,” Sherlock said suddenly. A day had passed since Molly’s date with Martin, and she was anxiously waiting for his call. He said he’d called her after he got back from his mysterious other job. “About your friend.”

“What did he say?” Molly asked suspiciously, with her luck he’d be some crazed mass murder or something.

“He’s an airline pilot apparently, with a removals business on the side. Harmless.”

“Did you have any reason to assume otherwise?”

“Beside you track record? Well, his features are suspiciously similar to mine. I thought he may be working with Moran.”

“But he’s not?”

“Based on what Mycroft could dig up, no.”

“Oh. Okay,” Molly said, unable to stop the goofy smile from spreading across her face. An airline pilot with a removals business on the side. Not exactly normal, but nice. He wasn’t planting bombs, or running around all night trying to catch people planting bombs. He wasn’t consulting anybody. That sounded so relaxing.

Sherlock gave her a strange look. “Yes, well, do you think you could pick up a few things for me at Bart’s this afternoon?”

Molly sighed and gave him a tight smile as reality crashed back down around her. “I suppose. What do you need?”

***

“Martin what on earth are you doing?”

Upon walking on to the flight deck Douglas found the captain on his hands and knees, rummaging under the control panel.

“I’ve lost it,” Martin snapped, his voice slightly muffled.

“Yes, I can see that, but what are you doing?

“Molly’s number. I can’t find it. It’s not here. I must’ve dropped it somewhere on the way here. Perfect.” This is just typical.

Douglas had a few choice remarks on the tip of his tongue, but decided to keep them to himself. Maybe it was the look of utter defeat on Martin’s face. Or maybe, more realistically, he was tired and wanted to go home without having (another) row with him.

“There will be other girls, Martin. And there’s really no sense in worrying about it now.” He paused for a moment, and then sighed. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Martin narrowed his eyes at the other man. “You’re being very, well, nice Douglas. Why?

“Can’t I choose to do something enjoyable with a friend of mine?”

“Well, sure I guess,” replied Martin, “But this is me we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

Douglas sighed again. “Come on, Martin, let’s go.”

The pub was fairly empty when they arrived. Douglas had driven them, telling Martin that it was no trouble, and yes he’d drive him back to the air field to pick up his van when they were done. Maybe he’d should start being nice to Martin, his total lack of faith in Douglas was kind of annoying.

He gave Martin a gentle push in the direction of an empty booth, and told him to go sit down while he got the drinks, ignoring Martin’s feeble protests. Douglas then proceeded to open a tab at the bar and order them both a pint of beer.

“Why are you doing this Douglas, really,” Martin said when Douglas set his drink down in front of him.

“Most people would say thank you,” Douglas replied.

Martin looked away, slightly embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Douglas. Thank you. This is really very kind of you.”

Douglas smiled. “Your welcome, and I’m doing this because you looked miserable today after you found you lost that girl’s phone number. And as much as I loathe to admit it, I rather enjoyed your more chipper mood earlier today.

“So what’s so different about this one girl?

“Well…I knocked her down, when we first met, and she didn’t slap me or run away screaming, and then remembered me when we met again a few months later. And she’s just really kind and sweet. And we do have quite a bit in common. And it’s not like I get a girls number every day. We can all be ladies men, you know.”

“Oh yes,” Douglas said airily, “I know. But in all seriousness, Martin, you really liked this girl.”

“Molly, her name’s Molly, and yes I did like her, but I guess there’s not much I can do about it now, is there.”

“No,” Douglas said after a short pause, “I suppose not.”

***

“Yes,” Sherlock drawled into the quiet living room.

He was lounging on the sofa, mindlessly plucking at the strings of his violin. Molly was seated at her window, twiddling Martin’s business card between her fingers. The card he dropped when they first met. The card with his contact information on it. The card he had no idea that she kept.

“What?” Molly asked, snapping out of her daydream.

“Yes, you will seem unattractively desperate if you contacted your pilot friend, right now.”

“He’s not my friend. I don’t know what we are really. And I wasn’t thinking about contacting him.”

“Yes you were. You’re thinking so loudly over there I can practically hear you.”

“I think I gave him the wrong number. My office number. I should-I should give him the proper one.”

“I don’t care if you make a fool of yourself,” Sherlock said.

Molly decided to take that as encouragement and typed Martin’s mobile number into her phone. Then typed in a short message.

I think I gave you the wrong number earlier. Sorry! This one’s the right one. -Molly

She hit send before she could stop herself. And then as an after thought she sent another message:

Don’t bother asking where I got your mobile number. It’ll just weird you out. -Molly

And then

Ah disregard that last message I got your number off the business card you dropped. -Molly

I didn’t mean to keep it -Molly

I’ll leave you alone forever now -Molly

***

Martin woke up on an unfamiliar sofa, with a pounding headache.

“Your phone kept going off last night. I think someone was texting you. You didn’t seem to notice,” Douglas said walking into the living room.

Douglas? Oh. That’s right. They went out after the flight last night. There was talking. And drinking. Lots of drinking.

“I was wondering if you’d remember. You were pretty far gone last night, not fit to drive anywhere. And it didn’t feel right shoving you in a cab and letting you stumble on home yourself. My place is closer to the airfield anyway. You still need to pick up your van.”

Martin just stared at Douglas though his whole little speech, which he seemed keen to be done with. Almost as if he was embarrassed. “Thank you, Douglas. I appreciate that,” he said.

He politely declined Douglas’ offer for breakfast and picked up his phone. There were four new texts, all from the same unknown number. He almost didn’t open them, thinking they were a mistake or spam of some sort, and deleted them. Almost.

His grin grew wider as he read that each message that Molly had sent him. He couldn’t believe his luck. He typed a quick reply.

No, it’s fine really. Things are always falling out of these damn pockets. I’m glad you texted me. Really. -Martin

Only after he sent the text did he realize that he had no idea what time it was. She may have been at work or sleeping or something else important. He fretted over this idea for a full three minutes before his phone chimed with Molly’s incoming message.

Oh good! I was worried that was being annoying. So back from that other job I presume. -Molly

Not annoying at all. And yes indeed I am. And I know we’d promised to arrange something when I got back so…Dinner? Tomorrow. I know it’s short notice. -Martin

No it’s fine. I didn’t have any other plans anyway. Dinner sounds great. -Molly

Ok. Great. I’ll pick you up around 6 then? -Martin

Sounds good. See you then. You remember where my flat is? -Molly
Yes, I think so -Martin

“I think I take back what I said last night. Smiley Martin is much more unnerving than Frowny Martin,” Douglas smirked.

“Shut up, Douglas,” Martin said halfheartedly, because not even the other man button pushing way could not damped his mood. Not now.

***
Martin had found Molly’s apartment again without much trouble. And now they were sitting in a nice, but still fairly cheap Italian restaurant. He had to dip into his savings a bit to make sure he had enough to pay for the two of them, but it was worth it.

“So what else do you do,” Molly asked. “Besides jobs with your van, I mean.”

“Oh I fly. A plane. I fly a plane. I’m a pilot,” Martin stammered. “It’s a small charter company. I take van jobs to cover some expenses during slow periods.” He added before Molly could comment. It was the reason why he didn’t mention being a pilot in the first place. Normally he would love to tell anyone that listened that he was a pilot. A captain, no less. And not mention he even drove a van. But he didn’t want to tell Molly he needed to have both jobs because he wasn’t paid for being a pilot. And since she already knew about the van job, well…”

“Oh that sounds really interesting. Are you the captain?” Molly asked.

“No I’m- wait yes, yes I’m the captain. Sorry.” Martin was practically beaming. “How did you know?”

Molly giggled and shrugged, bashfully. “Just a guess really. Also a friend of mine is really good a figuring things out, maybe I learned something from him after all.”

Martin wasn’t sure she like the way she talked about her friend, but brushed it aside. He was in no position to start acting all jealous. It was probably nothing anyway. Right?