This is my series of attempts at writing Sherlolly one shots! Woo! I really want to try and have fun with these and make them just wonderful Sherlolly fluff pretty much free of drama and angst, which I normally save for my longer fics, so… Please read and review and let me know what you think!
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Molly frantically rummaged through her tote bag that she had lying on the impeccably dressed bed in the high end hotel room in the center of London. It was Mary's wedding day and so, by default it was also John Watson's. She could hear the cries of her best friend in the powder room who at the moment was being tortured by what seemed to be a swarm of women attending to her every need.
Molly finally pulled out what she had been looking for and could take a steady breath once more. It was a simple black leather box and once opened held a simple white gold band tucked in between two pieces of plush velvet.
Whoever thought that making Molly Maid of Honor was a brilliant idea had obviously never met the woman. She could barely coordinate her own life, let alone events for someone else that she had to pay for. It was Mary though, and it was her best friend, so for that she would make an exception.
She remembered when Mary asked her. She took her out to lunch at one of the café's not too far from where she worked. Mary took off for the day she had done a lot of that, she was so busy with the planning of the wedding, something Molly knew she would want to be completely involved in, in every way. When Mary did ask her, she almost said no. Yet, the look in her best friend's eyes, her bright blue orbs gleaming with hope and happiness, she just couldn't crush her in such a way. Molly sighed in defeat and gave in.
Thankfully Mary had a sense of style when it came to what to wear for the wedding. Her colors were elegant. She chose champagne. Molly was quite surprised with herself to be honest. She did quite well with said event planning; taking time to actually make sure everything went according to plan.
Now it was the big day. She was almost as excited as the bride herself. Molly was lucky to not be subjected to the torture that was make-up and hair yet, so she had time to maneuver around the hotel for a bit. She was in a light ivory slip at the moment, the one she'd be wearing under the dress, it was summer, so it was quite hot and frankly, they were all girls, Molly had nothing to hide.
She had decided it may be a good idea to put on her heels though to break them in. They were gold and strapped at the ankles, simple enough but accented the dress nicely.
Molly playfully looked at herself in the mirror messing around with her hair as if deciding whether to wear it up or down, not forgetting to make ridiculous faces that resembled something of a Vogue model.
There was a faint knock at the door.
"That better not be John Watson!" Mary barked from the powder room. Molly laughed lightly at her remark and sauntered briskly to the door.
"I doubt so, probably too busy—Oh, Hello." Molly said as she looked at the man in front of her.
"Morning, Molly. I hope that's not your attire for the wedding, quite intimate, don't you think?" Sherlock remarked at her slip. Molly had completely forgotten that she was only wearing her slip, and here she was answering the door, and of course it was Sherlock. It didn't help he was already dressed for the occasion. She could melt at what stood before her. She truly tried mentally preparing herself for what she might be in store for today, but no, not even her mind could imagine this.
He was leaning against the door frame of the hotel room legs crossed, clad in a black French cut tux. She was almost in amazement that John was able to convince the detective to wear a tie. She smirked at the conversation the two possibly had over the predicament. His vest and tie were champagne, just like the color of her dress would be. She could see the detail of the patterns on the vest and she looked up to his face to see his curls bouncier than usual. He looked tanner, he had sunglasses tucked away in his mass of hair, and it made him look so relaxed, so unlike him.
He looked down at her knowingly to let her know he had noticed her extended staring, almost to the point of ogling. She gulped quickly and her cheeks flushed red at being caught, he just smiled.
"What are you doing here?" Molly managed to choke out.
"Well good morning to you too." He said as his smile grew wider when he noticed her eyes become wide at her lack of manners.
"O—oh! Well, good morning Sherlock… what are you doing here?" She smiled at him.
"I thought you'd might like to join me for breakfast." He suggested as he pushed his weight off the door frame with his bicep.
"Oh, Well, I suppose so… I have to change though. You could come in?" Molly motioned for him to step inside the hotel room and he closed the door behind him.
"Oi! Who was it, Moll?!" Mary yelled from the powder room. Sherlock shot his head up eyes slightly wide at the sound; Molly covered her mouth trying to stifle a laugh.
"Oh, nothing, it was just Sherlock!" Molly said and Sherlock shot her a look as if implying 'ONLY ME? BUT I'M GREAT'
"What did he want?!" No one missed the drop in her voice at the mention of the detective's name.
"Oh, he asked me to breakfast!" Molly replied grabbing a few clothes from the suit case, nothing too fancy, just a pair of shorts which she put on under the slip and a tank top. She looked at Sherlock and motioned him to face the other side of the room as she slipped off the dress slip and put on the tank top, he obliged.
"Oh, did he now… Told ya he fancied you!" Mary said in a sing-song voice.
"Whu—" Molly tried to say, but noticed Sherlock had also turned around, most likely to add to the remark, yet instead was greeted with a topless Molly. He looked at her curiously keeping his eyes completely focused on hers as his face only began to grow redder.
She didn't really know what to say. Here she was standing topless in front of the man she has liked—no, loved for almost six years! Damn him! She thought in her mind. He lived with her on and off for the better part of three years after "The Fall" and not once had there been an incident. They were always careful about maintaining one another's personal space, Molly did so because she knew how Sherlock liked his privacy, and Sherlock did so because he knew Molly's feelings for him. Well now this only proved to complicate things.
He had never imagined that she would have such perfectly round pert and supple breasts.
You will stop it right now Sherlock, stop it. This is Molly, Molly Hooper, sexy Molly Hooper… no! I will not allow any of that! He physically straightened himself and cleared his throat, then turned around immediately mumbling an almost incoherent "Sorry" on his part, but was he really sorry?
Oh god, no.
Molly cleared her throat and walked quickly to the powder room, to let Mary know she'd be back soon Sherlock had deduced. When Molly walked back in, he could not help but look at her differently. He knew he had already done so after "The Fall" He knew she counted, and that she always counted, and that he trusted her. He would always trust her, he knew he had developed feelings for her, some semblance of caring, yet he wasn't sure to which degree. He had feelings for John, yet he knew that they were ones of companionship and camaraderie. Was it the same with Molly? He could almost say for certain no, especially now. Today, after seeing her topless, his mind was telling him a whole slew of other things Molly was that certainly John Watson wasn't.
He looked at her every move, from how her hair fell into her face when she bent down to grab her new clutch for the wedding, something she was uncomfortable with carrying, yet she admitted was convenient. Her waves fell gracefully down her back so softly, he wondered if her hair was as silky soft as it looked. When she came back up, she swept her hair from her features and smiled shyly at the detective who straightened up immediately at the eye contact.
"Shall we?" He said cordially motioning her towards the door. She nodded and followed close behind, face as red as ever. Sherlock could help but smirk.
Breakfast had gone surprisingly well. Sherlock and Molly had learned to bond and found they had more in common than they ever thought. Sherlock played the violin, while Molly played the cello, not nearly as often or as well as Sherlock did, but she dabbled. Sherlock was a scientist at heart, as was Molly of course, but she had such a creative side Sherlock was pleasantly surprised to learn about. He found that side of her refreshing and exciting.
He walked her back to the hotel room as it was now reaching fairly close to twelve thirty and Molly had not even began her arduous process of make-up and hair.
"Do you remember when you came back—the—the look on John's face?!" Molly busted out in a fit of giggles. Sherlock even cracked a smile. He looked down at her observing every mark and crease her face made when she smiled widely at the memories of not too long ago.
Sherlock had only been back for six months. Molly had told him that John was getting married and that she thought that it was important for his best friend to know that he was still alive. Sherlock begrudgingly agreed. He already knew John was to be married, as he had people watching him—more like Mycroft watching him, the only other person who knew he was alive aside from Molly.
"Well, aside from the look, I thought you would've found the 'punch and hug' much more amusing" he quipped smirking down at her. She looked up at him with a sheepish smile on her face at his remark.
"Oh no! I felt terrible. I knew why you did what you did, plus, your cheekbones! Goodness, it should be a crime trying to damage that face!" she laughed out. Sherlock barked out a laugh at her comment. He laughed so heartily he had to hold his stomach from the gleeful pain she caused him.
"I believe here you are Miss Hooper." Sherlock said rather cordially. "I will see you in a few hours? After all, you are my date." He said eyes wriggling. She laughed as a blush graced her face.
"Oh stop it you, we are only walking down the aisle together!" she said playfully hitting him on the arm. He returned her a look of mock hurt and she smiled.
"No dancing then?" He said innocently, puppy dog eyes in full effect. She stopped laughing and looked up at him. His eyes were glimmering, and he held the slightest of smirks upon his face. He looked playful and she didn't quite possibly know what to do with him, she knew after "The Fall" things had changed, he gained a new perspective on friendship, even on her. He respected her more than he ever had and she couldn't be happier, yet had she truly expected more from the detective?
But she certainly hoped she could.
"Oh, I'm rubbish you wouldn't want to dance with me." She said shyly trying to avert his gaze.
"I think it's only fair that I be allowed the judge of that, yes?" He said softly pulling her chin with his index and thumb to face his wonderful face once more. She only nodded in response.
"See you soon, Molly." He breathed and pecked her lightly on the cheek as he turned quickly on his heel and walked briskly down the hall, to John's room she only could assume.
She quickly walked into the door and closed it with a thud leaning her body against it and letting out a shaky breath replaying the events in her mind that had only happened moments ago. She closed her eyes trying to relish in the moment, but it seemed Mary just wouldn't allow that.
"Where the bloody hell have you been? You need to get ready! We're taking photographs in an hour!" Mary said to Molly trying her best to remain calm. Molly looked startled out of her thoughts and thought of the only way to possibly calm her best friend down. She straightened herself up off the door, smiled and faced Mary accordingly.
"Mary, you look absolutely breath-taking! You are what matters today after all, and calling you beautiful would be an understatement." Molly finished with a smile. It was genuine. She meant every word. Mary looked absolutely radiant. She knew Mary was only biting her head off because she was at her wits end when it came to nerves. She was a wreck and was worried about every single detail. Possibly that is why Mary had chosen Molly as her Maid of Honor, she knew that Molly would keep her grounded, would be her anchor in all of this.
Mary blinked a few times as if stunned, and then smiled. "Well, I… well, thank you Molly! You need to get ready though, because you must be the second most beautiful woman at my wedding!" She said in light spirits heading over to the bed to have a seat. Molly sighed as she rushed off to the powder room to suffer what Mary had just suffered for the better part of three hours. Thankfully Molly didn't have to go through nearly as much.
Once Molly had finished with hair and make-up, she barely recognized herself. Mary had opted for a 20's style for their wedding celebration, which Molly thought was classy and unique, yet she never thought it would have such an effect on her.
Her hair was down and flowing in a mass of bouncy curls. Both sides of her hair were pinned and the stylists made curled bangs at the front. With her hair so long, it complimented the champagne dress wonderfully. It was knee length and had a sweetheart neckline which then had a white lace overlay that covered her shoulders and came into a scoop neck cut. The shirt was a mix of satin and organza which flowed around the pathologist quite freely, thankfully in the summer weather. Molly decided to not wear the slip as it proved to be a little too long for her tastes.
Her make-up was very classic. Simple natural colors with pristine eyeliner and mascara with a wonderful shade of dark pink lipstick. Normally it would be red, but the color wouldn't go with the lightness of the dress.
Mary looked wonderful in her gown. She looked as if she regretted her gown choice though, which made Molly giggle. It was a three quarter length sleeve gown that had a semi-cathedral train. It was covered in lace and pearls, it had a strapless silhouette neckline, and a lace overlay that went with the sleeves, and the dress was ivory. She did look beautiful. Her hair being short didn't require much maintenance. They curled it in a typical 20's fashion and donned it with a wonderful bird cage veil that Mary bought and accompanied it with a beautiful broach that Mrs. Hudson gave her as her 'something new'.
After Mary, Molly and Mary's family had finished with their photos, they headed off to the church. Mary became increasingly more on edge if Molly thought it were possible. Molly kept checking her clutch to make sure she did indeed remember John's ring, when she heard a familiar beep on her phone.
Did you remember the ring?
Molly smiled. Of course he would remember. He remembers everything. She supposed she should be thankful that she had someone who was thoughtful enough to remind her of something so important.
Of course. Did you?
She stuffed her phone back into her clutch. She remembered to grab anything and everything she thought the bride could possibly need, stain remover, tissues, nail polish remover, nail filer, breath freshener, gum, band-aids, cotton swabs, the works. She was a walking pharmacy.
When they arrived at the church they noticed that John wasn't there yet. Molly could see the oncoming wave of panic rush to Mary's face before the woman even voiced it.
"Where the hell is he?! He better not had run off with that damn Sherlock! I swear to God!" she said almost in a fit of rage bringing her close to angry tears. Molly rushed close to her side trying to re-assure her that men were always late and that John was probably just nervous, and then took her phone out to type a quick text to a certain tall dark and handsome detective.
So, where in the world are you two? Mary's
scared out of her wits thinking John's ran away
with you! :)
She chuckled lightly before sending the text off. She could almost imagine the look on both the men's faces. Once the car stopped, Molly got out to help Mary into the church and back to the bridal suite. She rushed there with haste just in case any guests surprisingly arrived early, some people liked to do that for some reason. She supposed that of all people she may run into would be Mrs. Hudson, she always liked to be early.
Molly sat Mary down on the plush bench inside the bridal suite in hopes that she may calm down at the news of her soon to be husband possibly being late to his own wedding. Molly ran out of the suite so as not to startle her friend and began typing on her phone frantically when she received a reply from the detective.
Had to run back to Baker street.
Forgot the ring? :P
She sent the text with a smug smile on her lips waiting for the man's reply. She didn't have to wait long, her phone dinged and she looked down at it laughing.
Before she could send another, a text came just as rapidly.
Also, stop laughing. And don't say you're
not, because I know you are.
Her laugh became even louder in the vastness of the church. She tried to lower her voice but could not stop the incessant giggles from escaping her mouth ever so frequently.
John, Sherlock and Lestrade finally reached the church. Molly was beginning to panic; they only had fifteen minutes until the ceremony and Molly had no idea what condition John was in, or if he was even ready.
She saw the car pull up and rushed outside in a flurry to the men in question. John was the first to get out of the car and simply greeted Molly with a "Wow." And Molly only took a moment to look sheepish before hitting him on the arm.
"I could kill you, John Watson! Do you have any idea what Mary has been like?!" Molly said voice rising at an alarmed rate.
"You look wonderful Molly." John breathed. He smiled at her with admiration. "Remember, you're getting married today, John." Lestrade laughed out. "But, you do look great." He flashed her his signature smile. "We—well, thank you." Molly said flustered at the attention.
"Yes, I do believe starting your first day of matrimony by flirting with the Maid of Honor is a social faux pas." Sherlock said to the groom as he folded himself out of the car.
Sherlock looked to the small woman at his right, what apparently seemed to be what the commotion was all about, and quite right, he mused. She had a certain air of gracefulness that she seemed to exude in that champagne dress, or maybe it was the height of the heels, of the possibility he saw her topless this morning and knew exactly what lay underneath that light fabric of her dress that gave him a new appreciation for his pathologist.
He shook his head trying to rid himself of those thoughts but they did nothing but stay, readily apparent in his mind just waiting for the opportunity to cloud his thoughts once more. Before he could even comment on how perfectly the dress fit her, or how luscious her hair looked it the July sunlight, she was pulling him by the wrist and into the church. He would've looked startled if he wasn't admiring the simple form that was Molly Hooper from behind.
How on earth did he ever possibly think she had no curves, no breasts? He definitely knew the latter was not true now. Yet as he was pulled by the petite woman in front of him, he took in the subtle way her hips sashayed back and forth when wearing a pair of heels. He enjoyed how the fabric moved across her hips and thighs and how the lace showed the expanse of her beautiful spine. He wanted to run his fingertips along the vertebrae there, but no… he couldn't. Not now, not with Molly Hooper, not today.
Maybe another day. His mind smirked at him, taunting him with the idea of having the woman not even two feet in front of him in his bed, ravaging her, hearing her pants and moans of pleasure for him and only him.
No. he thought sternly. He was the Best Man; he had a job to do. He may have hated social situations, but this was John, his best friend. The man he had hidden being alive from after 'The Fall' for three years. The man who never gave up on him.
The least he could do was act normal for a few hours. The detective sighed as they suddenly came to a stop.
"Are you all right?" Molly looked up at him worriedly. She knew he was not comfortable with situations like this, and she could tell he was trying very hard. She admired him for that. She looked at him and appreciated his form once more. She had been graced with his presence this morning, as he had asked her to breakfast. The thoughts of the morning filling her mind caused her to blush, it did not pass Sherlock whom smirked at her look and bent down gracefully, mere inches from her face.
"Smashing. And you Doctor Hooper? Something on your mind you'd like to share?" He smirked at her. Making her uncomfortable was much easier for him than thinking about his own discomfort. It would allow him to have control of the situation. Knowing that he was not alone and could easily control the feeling rampaging his mind far better than Molly could, bringing him ease.
Molly took in the face of the detective and saw his blue green eyes bright with mischief. Of course they would be. The man had saw her topless this morning! From what she could remember, he was quite red himself. Perhaps she could use it to her advantage? She was not used to the all-knowing consulting detective being flushed in the face. What did that mean exactly? He didn't see her for other than what she was, Molly. Molly Hooper, his pathologist, and now friend—and that took her years to earn that title!
"You should know, detective. I thought you could deduce anything? So… care to deduce what I'm thinking?" Molly looked at him mirroring the mischievous look he had for her only moments ago. He looked into her eyes and she saw them widen only for a moment. He blinked rapidly, cleared his throat and stood up straightly in position next to Molly waiting for the procession to begin.
Molly was almost as frantic as Mary was, she couldn't help the pounding in her chest at knowing she would be walking down the aisle with Sherlock Holmes. The Fates could be so cruel.
When I asked to walk down the aisle with Sherlock, I didn't mean as Maid of Honor and Best Man! She scoffed.
Sherlock looked down at the woman to his side. By his side. She was always by his side wasn't she? He saw her looking around the church almost nervously like she always did, or like she used to with him before 'The Fall'. Part of him missed her fumbling of words, the way she brushed strands of stray hair from her face when looking at him, the slight blush that would creep to her cheeks whenever he would compliment her, or even speak to her.
Now though, now she was a new woman. A stronger woman. She was the woman who counted. The woman who didn't fumble with her words, sure she blushed in his presence, which was pretty obvious since the woman had feelings for him. What he had not anticipated for was that he may have some of his own. The absolute thought of it seemed absurd in the detective's mind. Yet, was it—truly? This one tiny, petite woman was always there for him, the strong anchor in the storm of his life, never wavering always by his side, willing to do anything at all costs to help him, to be there for him no matter what.
Molly finally looked up to face him, her face calm as she looked in to the color of the seas in his eyes.
"You ready?" She said almost too calmly. She was anxious about this. Sherlock knew Molly was not entirely graceful. She was naturally one for flats and not heels, because the likelihood of her fumbling over her own feet were exponentially high. He looked down at her and smiled. A reassuring smile.
He came close to her small frame and whispered lightly into Molly's ear.
"Not to worry, I won't let you fall." He said to her. His voice was a feather of a whisper on her ear. She let out a soft sigh at the warm contact of his breath so close to her. He pulled back just as the music began to start playing.
"You promise?" She said shaky. She looked at him hope filling her hazelnut orbs.
"You didn't let me, did you?" He smiled lightly. "You were there to catch me. And I will be right here to catch you." He said sincerely as he laced his arm around hers readying himself to walk down the aisle with Molly at his side.
She stared up at him wonder gracing her features. She would've cried at such a statement coming forth from his mouth if there weren't so many people staring at them in the church before them. Molly held onto Sherlock's arm almost too tightly as they walked gracefully down the aisle. She spared a glance in his direction and saw he had done the same. The looked at each other and smiled. A look on his face she could not quite describe. He looked to almost be, content possibly? She smiled back up him with all the emotions that she held for him in that single moment, so overwhelming and spilling forth walking down the long path to the altar before them. They didn't care to notice people looking at them, as they walked past, they did their part walking forward in motion to the music, and they could say they looked at each other simply out of discomfort of the entire situation, but they both knew better.
They seemed to convey to each other emotions that never had been spoken in all the years they had known one another, but were long overdue. The closest was the night when Molly helped Sherlock with 'The Fall'. The look in his eyes so raw and real, she almost didn't know what to think about them. Yet now, she looked into the sea of his eyes and accepted drowning into those depths. The depths of green blue. She seemed to mirror his features. The emotions on her face were almost too overwhelming for Sherlock but he couldn't look away. He held on to her firmly as they walked in synch with the music, thanking John in his head for going with the church with the incredibly long aisle, it gave him the opportunity to truly appreciate those brown eyes of hers.
For the longest time he thought they were plain, a solid brown, nothing to them. Yet, as he looked closer, he could see the complexity in them. They almost mirrored Molly herself. Sherlock once thought she was so one-sided and plain, until the one day he actually saw her—truly saw all of her beauties and her faults, and knew that Molly wasn't someone ordinary, that she was actually quite extraordinary.
They came to the altar in a slow moving stop. They faced one another slowly smiling and spared a glance to John, then one back to the doors far back at the church. They came to each others stares once more and smiled.
"Molly…" he breathed.
"Sherlock…" she added.
"I couldn't have imagined anyone better to walk down the aisle with on this day." He finished and bowed down to lightly kiss her cheek. She smiled sweetly at him and took her place on the left side of the altar and Sherlock on the right next to John.
The music changed and Mary graced the church as the doors swung open to reveal her lean form. Molly looked to John who seemed to be mesmerized on the woman at front, which made her smile. The love John held for Mary was almost too immense for Molly's heart to hold. Mary seemed to be on edge a bit, but calmed down greatly as she reached her future husband's side. Mary handed Molly her bouquet and the service began.
John and Mary decided to write their own vows, a nice touch Molly decided, and the procession for them to leave began. The service was short and sweet, there were tears and smiles and at the end applause. As John and Mary began their exit as man and wife, Sherlock rushed up to meet Molly to process out the middle of the church following suit. They tried catching up to the couple, as they would be taking the same car to the reception together and getting photos of course.
John and Mary stopped for a small bit to shake hands and give hugs to the many people who had shown up to share their special day. Molly and Sherlock stood patiently by the car waiting for the pair.
"Beautiful ceremony." Molly breathed out into the air. She was rewarded with a 'hmm' from the detective beside her.
"You look—" Sherlock began.
"Mind if I get a picture of you two? After all, you two are the second most important people here!" The photographer beamed holding up the camera in excitement. Sherlock knew this would, sadly be a part of the day, and begrudgingly agreed to it, as it would—hopefully only happen once for his best friend.
"Sure." Sherlock said putting on his social graces smiling slightly to the tall thin woman. She had bright blonde hair and black rim glasses, a jeff cap turned to the side and excessive amounts of jewelry gracing her ears, arms and neck. She wore a form fitting dress with flats and a leather coat. Sherlock almost stared at the woman quizzically for wearing such heavy clothing in July weather but didn't bother.
He moved close to Molly's side and placed his arm around her shoulders gracefully and pulled her flush to his side.
"Wonderful!" She beamed looking on at the couple. Molly looked up at him almost in surprise, but smiled, remembering they were indeed taking a photo.
"Simply beautiful! Now hold her, would you?" The woman smiled readying her camera for the shot. The two looked at each other almost unsure but they put themselves aside and remembered this was John and Mary's day. The things they did for friends.
Sherlock pulled her in close and slid his one hand into her luscious hair. He gripped it lightly relishing in the feel of it through his fingers, then placed his other hand protectively around her petite waist. Molly put one of her hands on his lean chest and her mind simply went mad at how toned she could feel his chest was underneath his clothing. Sherlock smirked down at her when he felt her grip onto him just slightly. Little did they know that the photographer was taking pictures while they readied themselves for their photo. Molly's other hand went around Sherlock's hip. She heard him take a sharp breath at the contact. Her small hands so close to his behind, she was so tempted! He pulled her even closer at the contact. He almost chastised himself for the movement, but he couldn't stop it before it happened. He looked down at her with a look of surprise, which she seemed to mirror, yet neither of them seemed to be upset, angry or agitated.
"Wonderful, simply, beautiful! Now face me and smile!" The photographer said.
Sherlock allowed his hand to slip from Molly's hair to glide along her spine to pull her in if only a little closer. He found himself smiling, genuinely smiling for the photo. He couldn't remember the last time that happened. He had taken many over the years, one's with John over successful cases, when receiving rewards, but his smiles were always forced, he always did put up a good façade it seemed. Yet, this one… this smile was genuine, he was… happy to have Molly wrapped in his embrace. It somehow felt—right. Could that be?
"Thank you!" The photographer smiled and walked away. Sherlock spared a glance down to the pathologist snuggled in his embrace and couldn't help but smile a little wider. She looked content. She looked up at him, a deep blush forming on her cheeks from such closeness.
"I—I'm sorry." She seemed to sputter out. Her fumbling only made him appreciate the sight before him even more.
"No need for an apology, Molly. Ready to leave? I think John and Mary are waiting for us." He said to Molly as she nodded looking up at him. They were so close at the moment. Her face was only inches from him it seemed. He could feel her hot breath on him and it made his mind swarm with ideas of what her lips might taste like, soft and supple, possibly sweet. He broke his thoughts as he circled his arms around her waist lazily and lead Molly into the car and off to the reception.
Mary and John chose a quaint yet modern reception area, thanks to the help of Sherlock and Mycroft. It was a fairly upscale restaurant with a beautiful view of the London skyline in the background. Sherlock's present to John so to speak, was the least he could do, he reasoned with himself. The colors matched the bridal party. Splashes of ivory and champagne graced the tables with different spurts of color, reds, purples and oranges, to make the room pop. Molly, Sherlock, John and Mary say up front in front of the mass of people before them, as any traditional wedding reception would be. Molly beside Mary, Sherlock beside John. Both people seemed to be quite upset over that unfortunate turn of events.
After introductions of the new 'Mr. and Mrs. John H. Watson!', the first song began. Mary apparently requested that Molly sing the song, although shy at the idea, she complied, as it being her best friend after all.
Sherlock was not aware of this fact. John had not disclosed this bit of information, in fact no one had, and perhaps it was a surprise to everyone and not just to the detective. Yet, telling by the looks around the room, it seemed everyone had known besides him. Had they thought he may have deduced her abilities at the task? Possibly. The thought of that sent a sour feeling into the pit of his stomach.
He saw Molly gracefully saunter up to the stage shyly brushing the hair out her face. She was in fact quite red at the thought of singing in front of so many people. He knew it was a hobby of hers, but never had the pleasure of hearing her sing. As soon as she went to the microphone she quickly glanced at Sherlock, who smiled at her, encouraging her on. She smiled slightly gaining the confidence she so needed to do this.
"Ehm—hello everyone!" Molly began gripping the mic on the stand looking out into the crowd. "For those of you who do not know me already, I am Molly. I'm the best friend, and Maid of Honor to Mary." She smiled brightly looking down at the couple who giggled softly at her courteousness. "This is my speech, since Mary will not get me on a mic twice." She looked at her friend accusingly which caused her and the crowd to laugh graciously.
"I have known Mary since Uni. She went on to be a nurse, and I—a doctor. She was always there for me, when no one was…" she looked down to her friend holding back the emotion in her voice. "You stood by me, in all the worst times of my life love, I could never repay that. When people looked at me oddly for going into Pathology, you rooted me on, standing by my side—as always." A small tear escaped Molly's eye, "So wouldn't it be a surprise that you end up marrying one of the best men I know… John." She looked to John with admiration. "I remember when I first met you—so wonderfully sweet, full of excitement, you were always such a wonderful friend." She laughed. "Funny, smart, witty, and strong. Loyal—fiercely so; and I know one man in this room who can attest to that." She turned to Sherlock smiling.
"You always said he saved you John—after he was 'gone' but you know what? You saved him too." Sherlock's eyes went wide at the truth of her words; she spoke the things he could never speak to his friend. John looked at her holding back the emotion in his eyes. "I know you went through so much dear…" Molly began, "but I'm happy—you met Mary," she tilted her head to his now bride, which caused him to smile bright. "And look at all of us. Truly. Things happen for a reason, and this is one of them John. So the next time you want to punch the man over there in his wonderful cheekbones—please don't, for the sake of law and order." She tried to say seriously, which cause everyone to laugh, even Sherlock. "I love you both. Be happy." She smiled and took a deep breath trying to not let the tears escape.
"Okay then! The song John and Mary chose is one of my favorite to sing—thankfully!" Molly peeped. She looked down at them, "You ready?" the nodded and made their way to the center of the dance floor. "Alright… this is called; You're in My Heart by Rod Stewart." Molly hummed as she began swaying back and forth once the music began.
I didn't know what day it was
when you walked into the room
I said hello unnoticed
You said goodbye too soon
Sherlock looked on in almost awe at the melody that escaped from her mouth.
Breezing through the clientele
spinning yarns that were so lyrical
I really must confess right here
the attraction was purely physical
She swung the microphone around glancing around the crowd while finally resting her eyes on Sherlock. He took her in and listened to her intently.
I took all those habits of yours
that in the beginning were hard to accept
Your fashion sense, Beardsly prints
I put down to experience
He almost laughed at how comically care-free she seemed to be behind a mic—it was so unlike her. Yet she seemed to look so natural, the action was so fluid. He took his eyes off of her to watch the couple in the middle of the floor—John and Mary. They swayed close together in each other's embrace to the sound of Molly's voice, laughing and happy—could he ever be so happy? He wondered.
The big bosomed lady with the Dutch accent
who tried to change my point of view
Her ad lib lines were well rehearsed
but my heart cried out for you
Her voice changed so much throughout the song it was surreal almost, it made her playful—and he loved it. He loved every bit of it. Watching her on stage swaying her hips to the music singing a sweet melody with such love and emotion—he loved watching her, he loved—no.
No. I don't know what that is. He chided himself.
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
As she sang the song, he noticed she looked at him with every bit of emotion she seemed to have done earlier. It made him stop and become almost uncomfortable under her gaze.
My love for you is immeasurable
My respect for you immense
You're ageless, timeless, lace and fineness
You're beauty and elegance
The meaning was not missed on Sherlock—the song seemed to fit perfectly with John and Mary—hence why they would pick it, yet if he thought about it, it quite possibly fit for his situation with Molly as well. Or maybe it did, could it have? The lyrics were so related to him it was almost uncanny. He looked up at her. The goddess in champagne. When had she become a goddess? When had she not been a goddess to him? Now that the thought was there, it seemed to have always been. He was fairly close to the stage now.
You're a rhapsody, a comedy
You're a symphony and a play
You're every love song ever written
But honey what do you see in me
She looked down at him. Her voice lovely and nurturing, as if she was trying to convey these words to him as well, possibly she was. His mouth became dry at the thought. He did not care who was staring—everyone he assumed at the moment. Although, it would be fairly safe to say they should be looking at the bride and groom.
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
She sang the chorus with such emotion in her voice it sounded as if it were to break. Her eyes stung from the raw power the words had held for her. Molly truly had wished Mary didn't choose this song, it was her song. Her song to Sherlock. She listened to it many times after 'The Fall' waiting for his return, never forgetting he was still out there, alive, somewhere. Mary heard it one night and thought of how perfect it was for her and John and practically begged Molly to let her use it.
You're an essay in glamour
Please pardon the grammar
but you're every schoolboy's dream
You're Celtic, United, but baby I've decided
You're the best team I've ever seen
She winked at him playfully and he laughed heartily at her mischievousness on almost couldn't bear it any longer seeing her up there so tantalizing and seductive, because that's what she was being. He thought for a moment, if he—Sherlock Holmes the most distant man when it came to relationships or any reference to emotions thought this about his pathologist at the moment, what did all the other men think who were in the room? He spared a glance and saw many men with their gazes locked on his pathologist, but she paid them no mind, her eyes were only for him. For a short moment a primal instinct to claim washed over him—yet subsided when he realized that she had eyes only for the consulting detective. A smug smile graced his lips.
And there have been many affairs
Many times I've thought to leave
But I bite my lip and turn around
'cause you're the warmest thing I've ever found
She almost broke down from the last line. It was so powerful in her mind and heart she had to look away from him. She looked at John and Mary and saw that they were looking at her and Sherlock small smiles gracing their faces. She smiled sheepishly as if being caught doing something she wasn't supposed to.
You're in my heart, you're in my soul
You'll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you're my best friend
You're in my soul
She bellowed the last piece, the chorus repeated three times lowering each time, and he watched her as her voice dwindled with each repeat dreading its end. He didn't want to not hear that lovely melody escape her lips. He wanted to elicit the sounds from her mouth forever. She was like an angel. Her voice entrancing to him and he wanted more, needed more.
She nodded her head and blushed a deep shade of red and she quietly said thanks to the uproaring applause. She exited quickly from the stage only to be gripped quickly by the detective. She glanced up suddenly at him and smiled.
"Oh—hello." She said nervously.
"That was beautiful." He said simply.
She gasped at his compliment. She had not expected him to say something so forward. She blushed an even deeper shade of red—if possible. "Th—thank you." She mumbled.
"I mean it, Molly. That was… that was—enchanting." He said whimsically to her with a smile on his face. She looked at him surprised at such a description of her.
"Really?" she couldn't help the excitement bubbling up inside of her.
"Truly, marvelous." He breathed. "I would love to hear you sing again sometime. Maybe while I play?" She was so taken aback at the suggestion.
"I would be honored." She smiled.
John walked over slowly to the couple smiling.
"Hey, your turn Sherlock!" he laughed.
"Ah, yes...right." Sherlock managed out of his mouth. Molly looked to him with all the support she could muster.
"A kiss for good luck, perhaps?" he said silkily to the woman in front of him.
"Wh—what?" she had not expected that. She eyed him suspiciously and nodded slightly. He smiled.
"Good luck, Sherlock—not that you'll need it." She placed a small arm around his neck and went to kiss his cheek he waited patiently for her to reach, just as he turned his head and landed his lips lightly on her own. She let out a peep in surprise at the action but had little time to react. He wrapped his arm lightly around her waist and gripped it tightly for a moment eliciting a moan into his mouth, he smirked against her.
"Thank you…" he said against her lips. She breathed out shakily and shook her head in response. No one really saw—well, aside from John who's mouth was agape at such an act from his best friend.
Molly gulped and took a deep breath trying to steady her rapid heart beating in her chest as she watched Sherlock float onto the stage.
Sherlock adjusted the microphone according to his height and winked down at Molly who immediately blushed.
"…Hello." Sherlock managed to say. "So I was told that by social norm, it is customary for the Best Man to give speeches at the wedding reception. Usually said speeches consist of embarrassing stories that cause the groom discomfort and may ruffle the bride's feathers on the wedding night…" Sherlock began cordially. "I could go on about how many strings of women John had been through before finding a mate like Mary, or how he is utterly predictable with the most common of things…" he said. It took almost everything for the entire populous to not groan, thankfully majority of the people present were used to Sherlock's antics. "Yet… that is not my purpose tonight. I was asked to be here as a…friend." He said almost uncomfortably. He spared a glance at John before continuing.
"I am the world's only consulting detective—that leaves people in quite a bit of awe of my intellectual prowess…" he said smugly. "Yet, John Watson is not fazed by what I can deduce about the chef here tonight, or the table linens on the tables, where the favors were made, or who is having an affair with whom." People actually laughed. "The honeymoon is over for us." He smiled. "And I couldn't be happier." He said looking out to the crowd. "John may have embarrassing stories, but I am not here to tell you those, maybe later after a brandy or three. I am here to tell you how grateful I am to have finally made a friend." He looked at him and quickly looked away. As if on instinct, his eyes landed on Molly, her eyes filled with encouragement and pride, he took that and ran with it.
"I heard a man say this once…So I will say it to you—John and know that I mean these words—more than I could possibly ever convey anything else…" he began, his voice cracking at the end. " 'I was so alone, and I owe you so much.' So...so much John." His eyes began to water. John looked at him eyes wide at the words being given back to him—the ones he said at Sherlock's grave so, so long ago, almost a lifetime ago it seemed. "Thank you John, for believing in me—for never giving up on me. You are a true friend, and you deserve all of this happiness and more. Mary, take care of him, would you?" He finished quickly as he walked off the stage in a flurry. He tried quickly to rush to Molly's side but was side-swiped by the ever not-elusive John Watson piling the tall man into a giant bear hug practically weeping into his arms.
"I am so glad Mary decided to get a videographer!" He remarked, Sherlock only laughed trying to hold together his composure for his short friend. "Damn you Sherlock Holmes, damn you." He hit him in the chest with little effort and only hugged the man tighter. "Careful John—people will talk." He mused. John barked a laugh.
"The best bromance in history." They heard Lestrade say with a laugh. Sherlock shot him a glance, only to soften it with a smirk. He looked back at Molly who had covered her mouth with her hands trying to hold back tears, from what Sherlock had said to his best friend.
"Come here, woman." He commanded. John pulled back almost baffled but then smiled at who he was addressing and composed himself. Molly sniffled a bit and walked up quickly to the detective's side.
"What?" she pouted.
"What, what?" he countered.
"You made me cry!" she said dramatically, then laughed.
"Aren't people supposed to cry at weddings?" He added.
"Well, I suppose…" She said to Sherlock, looking up at him. His eyes were gleaming so wonderfully in his glorious blue green. His hair in cascades of dark raven curls which spilled playfully upon his face. The tan of his skin made his eyes only show brighter and she stared at them in wonder.
"Come dance with me." He said completely changing the subject. Molly was unprepared for his request but nonetheless accepted. He held his hand out to her graciously and escorted her on to the dance floor.
It was a slow song; Sherlock mentally celebrated the fact and pulled the small woman into his embrace once more. He could get quite used to this, it seemed.
Molly laced her arms around his neck and let her fingers play loosely in his raven locks at the nape of his neck. Sherlock placed his large hands at the base of her hips forming small circles in appreciation.
She looked up at him smiling as she swayed her hips lazily to the music.
"So… what's the meaning of all this, huh?" Molly teased to the man in her arms. She had never dreamed of a moment like this. She most certainly had never thought of a day like today. Sure, she wished for something this wonderful—but for it to happen? No, she never thought it possible, not one bit.
"I'm not sure I know what you mean." Sherlock retorted pulling Molly only closer to his form relishing in her form and scent around him. She smelled like cherry blossoms, which was normal for her. He thought she looked beautiful, but he did miss the old Molly in all honesty—he liked the normalcy of Molly Hooper. Her jumpers, her mismatched clothes, it showed that such frivolous things like style meant nothing to her, only her work, which he knew she loved. Yet, he knew for a fact she could be quite captivating tonight certainly proved of that—but not only tonight, but living with her after 'The Fall' showed him proof as well. He was awarded slight glances of lacey undergarments strewn on the floor of her bedroom, or the sexy outfits she'd wear out on a night out 'with the girls' when he's 'keep an eye' on her, he would call it. So he knew she had it in her to be the seductress she was being at the moment, and quite frankly—it drove him mad.
"Being all flirty with me, kissing me even! Look Sherlock, you know—"
"Yes, I do. So has the thought ever occurred to you that possibly—I might too?" he interrupted. Molly stopped mid-sentence. No, it hadn't. The thought never crossed her mind. Why would it? So many women pined over him it was almost criminal, he never showed her any attention in that manner even after 'The Fall' sure, they became friends, even close friends, but nothing that she thought could be linked to anything romantic. She thought about it for a moment then looked up at him again; his eyes seemed to darken considerably. She couldn't tell if it was the light of the restaurant, or if it was the tone of the conversation that had caused this. She only saw him for who he was. His mask was gone completely, the façade he held up so well for everyone around him, letting them know nothing got to him—letting them know he was above it all, was gone. She could see him, truly see him for what he was, and it was beautiful.
She smiled up at him and he smiled back genuinely. "I'm sorry then." She replied.
"For what?" He looked at her confused at a statement.
"For questioning your motives. I owe you an apology." She said innocently.
"Really Molly, there's no n—" He began but was cut off quickly when Molly kissed him tenderly on the lips. He hummed in appreciation and pulled her close trailing his fingertips along her spine, he groaned at how he wished it was her bare spine. She played with his hair with one hand, and fiddled with his shirt with another, he chuckled against her mouth at her eagerness and it made her giggle, feeling him rumble against her.
He pulled away much to his displeasure to whisper quietly into Molly's ear. "Must we stay all night?" He breathed heavily, which caused her to sigh and press against his lips instinctively.
"No, we don't have to… did you have something else in mind?" She pulled away from him to look at him deeply with a glitter to her eyes as her pupils became larger at the close contact of one another.
"Oh, a few things." He mused.
"Well we have to stay a little longer than an hour I'd presume." She chuckled. They continued to dance changed styles with the music.
The music ranged from slow, to dance to old jazz swing, classy upbeat to match the theme of the wedding—to Molly's surprise, Sherlock was an amazing dancer, but what wasn't he good at? She especially enjoyed swing dancing with him. The look on his face was so playful as he would spin and dip her around the floor—he was such a showoff. She was thankful he was a great lead; otherwise she'd be afraid she'd make a fool of them. He'd swing her out and bring her back lifting her into the air and holding her close when bringing her back down to the ground swaying her close to him with the music. He would steal chaste kisses from her while on the floor which Molly accepted more freely now the more frequent they came.
Everyone was dispersing little by little. Sherlock and Molly sadly felt it was their duty to stay a little longer than most guests, as they were in the wedding party. Lestrade left with one of Mary's friends—Sherlock was eternally grateful with himself that he finally confronted Molly about his emotions towards her before Lestrade pounced on her. He knew how the DI felt about his pathologist, anyone with two eyes could see that, and it positively drove Sherlock to his wits end, to the point of finally confronting the war within his mind that yes—yes he did have feelings, he did care, and those feelings and caring were only for Molly, Little Miss Molly Hooper. The thought elated him a surprising degree, yet he was surprised that he had not reacted more reluctant to the news. He reasoned it was probably that his heart had already known the truth, and his mind just had to do the rest.
His heart. When did he ever possibly think he would ever start thinking with that impossibly unreliable organ in his body? So fleeting—feelings come and go, don't they? Part of his mind thought that that's exactly what Molly was to him, a fleeting thought, something that would pass—yet he knew, not too long after 'The Fall' that how she had changed, and how time away from those most important to him had changed his perspective. His thoughts often drifted to her on lonely nights when he would rather be in her stuffy flat with her insufferable cat Toby—whom he grew to quite like over the three year span of sporadic living.
The only other person he had really ever missed was John. Sure he missed Mrs. Hudson, but that was different, he knew he cared deeply for her a long time ago, like the mother he never had, or more like the mother he needed. He even missed Lestrade, but he missed mostly receiving cases from the DI. He missed John—simply because he was John, and that's exactly why he missed Molly. Because she was Molly. He didn't miss Looking at Lestrade's eyes, or Mrs. Hudson's, but he couldn't keep his mind off of the hazelnut color of his pathologist's. He didn't even think of John in such a way, which was when he knew it was different. He knew that it was different with Molly and that this 'fleeting feeling of emotions' would not dissipate so quickly. The thought frightened him and excited him.
Sherlock walked over to where Molly had stood next to John and Mary.
"Ready to leave Miss Hooper?" He came close to the small woman who jumped and giggled at his playfulness.
"What—oh! Yes, yes I am." She said shyly. "Congrats you two! I love you both! The wedding was beautiful! Have fun in France!" Molly beamed at the couple, who seemed to be smiling at the respective new blossoming couple before them.
"We will dear!" Mary said pulling Molly into a hug. "Have fun." Mary whispered to her cheeky and let her go. Molly's face flushed of embarrassment. She quickly went and hugged John who gave his thanks and said his goodbyes.
"I wait by the entrance, yes? I'm sure you want to talk to John alone." Molly added.
"Yes, I appreciate it. I'll be there shortly." Sherlock said finally, he pecked her on the cheek and watched her scurry off in the distance slight smile on his face.
"Okay—so what did I miss?" He heard John say. Sherlock chuckled at the sound of his voice, protective, almost like a big brother would be.
'Well, I know this is most certainly more your area than mine, John. I leave you to your deductions." He said calmly.
"Oh no you don't! Are you and Moll a couple?!" he said almost frantic to the detective.
"That remains to be unseen, my friend. Yet, if there is a possibility, I would very much like us to be one—yes." Sherlock finished.
John looked on in bafflement at his friend. His mouth was slightly agape at his words. He never imagined ever seeing him so—open about his emotions ever. It was alarming, yet refreshing.
"Not to worry John, I have no ulterior motives other than the fact that I can no longer press the nagging feeling that are my 'feelings' for Molly away any longer. Being dead for three years gives you a lot of time to think—an entirely new perspective on life." He added to help reassure his blogger and best friend.
He saw John let out an exaggerated breath. "Good! Jesus. Good. I'm glad." He patted Sherlock's shoulder. He looked down at John in surprise. "If you were to be with anyone on this earth—I couldn't think of anyone better." John said smiling. Sherlock returned the smile back.
"Congratulations, John." Sherlock said holding out his hand for a shake. John went to take it cordially, then brought him in for a quick hug.
"Just, care for her. She cares for you—"
"Yes I know she does John—and I her." He said sincerely pulling away from the hug to give Mary a hug and congratulations before heading off into Molly's direction.
He approached the petite woman quickly, he looked on as she seemed to become nervous at his absence, the thought made him swell with the littlest bit of pride, no matter how hard he tried to fight it off.
"Off then, shall we?" He said to her as she snapped her head up in his direction then nodded and grasped his hand that he held out for her.
Molly had kept the hotel room Mary and her booked for the night, since she wasn't sure what time she would be retiring for the evening, not to mention her belongings needed some place to stay for the duration of the wedding. Sherlock had done the same with the room him and John occupied just down the hall from Mary and Molly, so he went to grab his things. Mary and Molly's room had a better view of the London skyline.
When Sherlock came back, Molly had a glass of wine in hand and was sitting comfortably on the bed. It looked quite suggestive, but she was quite knackered.
"Implying something, Miss Hooper?" Sherlock said as he took off his suit jacket and laid it on one of the chairs next to the door. For a nice hotel, the rooms didn't really have a living room area, so Molly had no choice but to lay on the bed.
"No!" She blushed. "Wine?" she asked gesturing to the glass she had poured for him.
"Pity." He smirked at her, taking the other side of the bed. He took off his shoes and laid in the same position only inches from her side, perched up against the headboard ankles crossed.
"Beautiful wedding…" Molly began and looked at Sherlock smiling.
"Yes. You looked marvelous today, Molly—Sorry I didn't have the opportunity to tell you sooner." He finished. Molly's eyes widened slightly and she became flushed. Her heart began pounding in her chest at the excitement. Here they were, in a bed—and Sherlock was saying she looked marvelous. She put her glass down and turned on her side propping herself on her arm, gesturing for Sherlock to do the same.
He did so and took the opportunity to move closer to her small form. He allowed his one hand to sit lightly on her hip moving lazily up and down her frame. She looked at him and her eyes seemed darker than their normal hazelnut—almost a chocolate.
"Thank you." She purred. She purred? Sherlock was indeed quite surprised.
"You're welcome." He said, his voice hoarser than he had initially intended.
"You looked rather wonderful yourself, sir." She said playfully as she scooted closer to him. He noticed and smirked at the action, so she wanted to be near me to—good. Sherlock thought triumphantly, happy he was not alone in this.
"Is that so?" He teased.
"Yes. But—you always look quite appealing after all. It's really unfair." She pouted and he laughed.
"Why would that be?" he said deeply pulling her flush against his frame. They laid fully on their sides now hands exploring one another's bodies as best as one could with clothing in the way looking dazed into each other's eyes.
"It makes it difficult to concentrate, you looking so darn sexy all the time!" She said in mock annoyance.
He stopped his hand at the word. Sexy. Sexy? She thought he was sexy. Well then, this just got far more interesting. He grazed his one hand along her hip down to her pert bottom and squeezed, which he was then rewarded with an 'eek!'
"Sexy? You think I'm sexy, Doctor Hooper?" he growled into her ear breathing in her scent, brushing his nose along the silky tendrils of her cascading hair.
"Yes. Of course… I always have." She answered breathlessly. She let out small pants which grazed the expanse of Sherlock's neck; the sensation was almost surreal it felt so amazing upon his skin. It sent shivers throughout his body and caused him to let out a shaky breath.
"Look at what you've done to me Molly. I'm a mess." He said almost in annoyance. She looked at him with worry but he pulled her close and kissed her ear panting lightly on it.
"I never wanted sentiment. It was always a chemical defect found on the losing side. Caring was not an advantage to me. It only got in the way of what was truly important—the work." He began as he moved to kissing her jawline as she let out a sigh from the touch.
"Yet you, 'Mousy Molly Hooper'…" he said almost bitterly, "weaseled your way in, and I can't be rid of you." Moved to her neck nibbling and sucking softly relishing in the noises he caused his pathologist to make. "'TheFall' it changed me—changed how I perceived everything, perceived you Molly." He looked her in the eyes now, he lifted his one leg and locked it around one of hers locking her in his embrace, they were nothing but a mess of limbs now. "Today seemed to only make that statement apparent in the forefront of my mind—not allowing it to erase. I tried—" he kissed her lips quickly, "I truly did try to rid myself of feeling for you, never hating you though, only shutting down emotion, like I always did—but you were always there, always with me, because you are… aren't you, Molly… Always with me?" He said almost unsure of himself.
Molly looked at him in awe of his words she couldn't believe what he was saying, she had waited for a moment like this day, and here it was, Sherlock Holmes had confessed he had feeling for Molly Hooper. No one else, Molly. Molly—Mousy Molly, his pathologist. She took her hand and brushed a curl from the frame of his face and smiled. "No matter what… I will always be by your side, Sherlock. I will always be here for you."
"I know." He replied as he grabbed her face and kissed her fiercely. Molly wrapped her arms around his neck tenderly and pulled gently on his curls, only to have him pull back quickly. "And for that, thank you." He whispered. He kissed her more tenderly this time turning her onto her back gently he began pulling his tie off but she stopped him.
"Can I do that?" Molly asked with a bit of excitement in her voice. Sherlock chuckled lightly and let go to gesture to his neck. She propped herself on her elbows and began kissing him once more. She pulled slowly at the tie around his neck as he began working on the zipper of her dress. The separated only momentarily to take Sherlock's tie off and his shirt as well. Molly managed to shimmy out of her dress, which Sherlock gladly discarded in the corner to only take in her wonderful creamy form underneath him. Molly looked at him with as much appreciation that he seemed to hold in his eyes for her. The feeling of having the man she has wanted for so many years hold such desire in his eyes for her was simply overwhelming.
He looked down at her trying to remember ever single curve, color bend and crinkle of skin of her body to memory. He bent down and placed his face against her smooth skin, he never thought something so alive and moving could be so supple and soft. He grazed his calloused hands along the plains of her stomach to the mounds of her breasts covered in ivory lace. He looked at her with heavy lidded eyes and practically crawled up her body to kiss her awaiting lips parted at the attention he seemed to place on what she thought were such ordinary things, yet he found quite extraordinary.
She ran her fingers up and down the expanse of his chest ever so lightly which cause him to growl at the touch. She smiled at the effect she had on him. It made her happy that he felt just as she did. He began unbuttoning his pants to remove them in a flash it seemed. Molly went to remove her bra, but Sherlock wouldn't allow her, he apparently wanted the honors. He pulled her up against his kneeling form on the bed and unfastened her bra to discard the offensive material and finally—finally took the honor of grazing his fingertips lightly down the vertebrae of her spine. She arched against him and moaned at the feather light touch of his musician fingers. As he placed her down he glided his hands along her body all the way.
Molly circled her hands around his neck and pulled him close and kissed his neck and ear, only to move to his collar bone then down to his chest sucking lightly on his nipples which elicited a wonderful moan from his mouth—guttural in sound, he was surprised at the noise, but not at all embarrassed or mad. Molly then slid her hands toward his pelvis massaging him there gently, causing him to grind against her in appreciation.
Sherlock pushed Molly down almost forcefully from the lust inside of him and kissed her lips with such heat she moaned in his mouth at the sensation he massaged her breasts until she moaned louder and louder from the touch, he then kissed her collar bone and her breasts accordingly causing her to arch up against him in pleasure. He placed one hand on her spine and made lazy circles holding her in place as he sucked on each one of her nipples while massaging the other cause her to moan out his name. He only smiled against her skin causing his teeth to graze which he discovered she quite enjoyed.
He moved further down only to remove her beautiful ivory lace panties which she obviously wouldn't need right now, they were just an eyesore at the moment. He nipped playfully at her pelvic bone then kissed lightly to only hear her sigh in satisfaction.
"She—Sherlock…" Molly began.
"Yes dear?" He crawled up to her possessively like a predator stalking a prey.
"I don't know how much—" She tried letting out.
"Yes I know my dear sweet Molly, just a little longer." He smiled and kissed her gently placing his hand where it had ached for so long to go.
"Ah!" Molly's eyes flew open at his cool touch against her warm entrance. He pressed against her folds firmly, not trying to go inside, only to elicit a reaction, and a reaction he got. Molly squirmed against his hand and he placed a kiss against her temple and neck.
She couldn't bare it any longer. She slid her hand down to pay the detective quite the equal amount of attention. She smirked at his reaction. He looked at her startled and let out a loud groan of appreciation only grinding harder against her.
"Molly…" He breathed into her ear nibbling lightly.
"Yes?" she said breathlessly.
"Please tell me you are on the pill? As you being a doctor and someone of responsible decisions I presume—"
"Yes I am Sherlock, now… would you please just… make love to me?!" she said to him as he patience began wearing thin.
"Of course, darling. It would be my pleasure. Quite literally." He said cheeky as he placed himself in front of her entrance and rubbed himself along her folds and clitoris teasing her into a pile of moans and pants, he loved watching her unravel for him.
He thrusted inside of her gently at first so as to get used to the contact. To be honest Sherlock was not one with the ladies, he had only been with less than three women in his entire life and most of them consisted of times when he was on drugs. He doesn't like counting those times, he can barely remember them to be honest. Yet Molly—he never expected to have this woman, the quiet, shy mousy woman writhing underneath him in pleasure. He loved hearing her moan his name her pants of breath from the arousal he had caused her, it gave him confidence to keep doing more, to keep pleasing Molly—his Molly.
Molly grabbed on to him tightly and wound her legs around his hips to encourage him to move faster within her, she kissed him passionately and bit his lip as well as his neck ear and jawline. He looked marvelous, like a Greek statue carved out of marble—his skin even resembled the color of the stone. She let her hands wonder his body as his muscles rippled with his movements back and forth within her. She met him each time thrust for thrust moving her hips up and down in synch with his own, which only caused him to grip her hips tightly and moan in pleasure.
"Molly I—" Sherlock struggled with ragged breath. He pulled her close quickening his pace as he felt him reaching his peak. Molly drove her hips into him harder and deeper to make the sensation even better for the detective, and it seemed to work. The man literally cried out her name in pleasure as the both reached their climax together in a wonderful wave of bliss.
Sherlock made sure to take his weight off of the petite woman beneath him, but pulled her close to him. Damn id he would let her go now. The rested soundly for most of the night, but continued making love later into the early hours of the morning.
One Year Later
"The bride and groom have written their own vows." The minister said in a very regal fashion. He looked onward to the couple standing before him motioning for whom wanted to speak first.
"I will." The man said. "Darling, I have known you for many years. Before you opened my eyes to what could possibly be set forth of the world in front of me today, I had no clue as to what I was missing." He began. The small woman at his side was already tearing up. "You were always my anchor in the storm of my life, my literal life saver, and for that I could never thank you enough." He continued. "I always thought sentiment was a chemical defect found on the losing side—I told you this the first night I confessed my feeling for you, my dear Molly." Sherlock looked down at his bride shimmering in her pearl white gown, adorned with lace and pearls, tulle and organza. A strapless, it suited her nicely. Her hair was down, she knew he preferred it that way, and her head was graced with a lovely lace veil. Her make-up was purplish-and smokey to match the color scheme—purple, Molly insisted, since the color looked so well on Sherlock. "I could've never been so wrong in my entire existence." He said holding back the stinging sensation in his eyes. "I always miss something—always, and I almost missed you, darling, and that above all else would've been my biggest regret." A single tear graced the detective's face. "Sentiment has not made me weak—it has only made me stronger. You have given me more purpose to fight and live on Molly, for you, not only for myself, but now, I fight and live—for you dear." He finished, tears filling Molly's already red eyes. "I love you." He whispered.
The minster—whom was Mycroft cleared his throat at such sentiment in his presence, he didn't know how to quite react.
"Molly…" Mycroft choked out.
"Ah—yes!" she tried steadying her voice, Sherlock only looked on with admiration to the woman in front of him. "Sherlock…"She began. That one word, his name, it was all it took for eyes to well up in tears, she knew it would be difficult for her. She knew this would be simple, but she was hoping she could at least say her own vows on her wedding day! "I have known you for many years and loved you since the day I have known you." She looked into his eyes, they were glassy with emotion. "You could be cold, and distant, aloof, and snarky—yet, you are kind, gentle, loyal, loving and caring to those who matter to you, and even those who don't." She said smiling. She saw him straighten considerably, she knew this was his way of trying to maintain composure. "After 'The Fall' I didn't see Sherlock Holmes the quick witted all-knowing detective… I saw Sherlock, the man, and I fell in love even more, if that were possible." She looked at him in his black suit his curls spilling onto his face his sea colored eyes shining only for her, the purple of his vest and tie brought out his eyes immensely it almost too hard to look into them. "I will always be here, always by your side, Sherlock. Know that—and never forget it, because you complete me, and I would be lost without you." She began crying now, silently but tears cascaded her face in a solid trail. "I love you so much." She finished. she looked at him and saw he had let a few more tears escaped his own eyes as well.
Mycroft looked away for a moment, while there seemed to be a unanimous amount of coughing throughout the church as if trying to regain composure. "Well then—now that that is done…" he chided and Sherlock and Molly laughed lightly.
"Molly, do you take Sherlock to be your Husband?" Mycroft asked her pointedly.
"Yes." She smiled happily.
Mycroft looked to Sherlock, his brother and saw the love in his eyes. His gaze softened on him once he spoke.
"Sherlock, brother… do you take Molly to be your wife?" He asked.
"Yes." He replied eloquently.
"Well then. By the power vested in me, I know pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride." Mycroft finished looking at the two.
"Well, go on!" He encouraged, and the couple laughed as Sherlock pulled Molly to him closely and kissed her fully with every emotion resting within his heart.
It was true, for him having Molly was far from a defect that caused him to be on the losing side. If anything, not having her was a defect that would've quite literally caused him to be on the losing side, a much more permanent losing side. He could always count on her, the woman who counted.
Molly Hooper, The Woman Who Counted.
The Woman Who Counts.
The Woman Who Would Always Count.
Hello! I hope you like it! If there are any mistakes, feel free to let me know! Truly! I hope it's fluffy enough! I thought it came out pretty well! I hope you all love it! Yaaaayyyy! :D