[It could be better that Sherlock doesn't get out all the things he wants to say. Molly definitely wouldn't like any of what he's thinking, what he wants to test by cutting off wings. She might even make a scene, shout a bit.

So maybe it's better. Or maybe not.

Molly shrinks back at the mention of Jim, who is still Jim in her head, probably always will be, but she's not saying that out loud. It isn't the first time that Sherlock's said something that makes her want to vanish, poof, right out of the chair to somewhere else, where he isn't looking at her like she's stupid even if he says she's not.]

I knew. [Her voice is tiny. Mouselike, and she swallows before she tries it again.] I. I knew he was here. I just wanted...well. To be sure.

[She fidgets then, starts to reach out for Toby, but second guesses herself and pulls her hands back.]

He's very good at it. Lying, I mean. He doesn't seem like someone people shouldn't trust.

[Or date. But they'd only gone out three times, even if Molly had invited him over for a Glee night once. Still, Sherlock's being harsh, she thinks.]

Besides, even you didn't know the first time. You said he was gay, but you didn't know everything. At least, you didn't say it if you did know. And why wouldn't you say it? You'd already gotten me mad, and it's not like that stops you.

[And that gives her a thought. They aren't questioning, but...]

Have you said anything, here? About him.