Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
When Zeus gave Pandora a jar, fashioned by Hephaestus, and she opened said jar, releasing all of the evils into the world, there was one thing that remained behind. Hope. It was said hope that seemed to infect the world with delusions of grandeur, false promises, and the general idea that in the end, everything would be fine. The awkward girl gets the awkward guy who understands her by some strange miracle, and they live happily, if quirkily, every after. 'Pandora was a stupid bitch,' Molly thought as she stood in front of her mirror, inspecting her outfit for the last time before she was due to leave for a wedding. Said wedding was that of one Mary Morstan and one Doctor John Watson.
By no means was Molly begrudging her friends for finding happiness. She was never one to want to destroy other people's happiness because she did have it. Indeed, after Mary and John had started dating, Molly had been one of the first ones to meet her and realised just what an amazing person she was and how well suited she was for John. Mary had been the one to bring John back out of the darkness he had regressed to after Sherlock's fall. When Sherlock had spectacularly returned, Mary had received him into her company but had not let him take advantage of her. It was her willingness to go toe-to-toe with Sherlock that had earned her his respect and even more respect from John.
If anything, Molly was jealous of her for the fact that Mary could compose herself around Sherlock. This was probably due to the fact that she had not been in love with him for the past three years and was not currently in love with him, unlike Molly. After helping Sherlock survive the Fall, Molly had assumed that she would naturally gain confidence around him and stop acting like a school girl. Unfortunately, she had not. Even after his return and his resumption of pestering about in her lab, she still stuttered sometimes, albeit not nearly as much as before, but he still made her feel off guard.
The taxi honk pulled Molly from her thoughts and brought her crashing back to reality. 'You are going to watch Mary and John get married. You are going to enjoy dinner. You will have a glass of champagne. You will have a piece of cake. You will come home. You will get yourself off with a vibrator because weddings make you inexplicably horny. You will go to sleep. Sherlock Holmes will probably not acknowledge your presence. He will not dance with you. He will not kiss you. He will not take you home and have you on the sofa. Do not be hopeful,' she finished, grabbing her bag and rushing down to the waiting cab.
The moment she arrived at the hotel, she was grabbed by a woman and pulled into a large dressing room. Mary stood in the center in her gown and was being attended by her hairdresser. "Oh Molly! You're here!" she exclaimed, noticing her entrance.
Molly smiled brightly. "Hi Mary! You look positively stunning!" As attractive as Mary looked, her countenance was hardly that of a woman about to get married. She seemed far too worried for that.
Mary laughed nervously. "Thanks. Umm, I wonder if I might ask a favour?"
"You're the bride! Whatever you say I am compelled to do!"
Mary began to smile more genuinely. "Well, see, here's the thing. My maid of honour sort of got pissed last night and has yet to show today. When I called her, I was told to fuck off, so I was wondering how willing you would be to fill in for her."
Molly frowned. "Mary, I'm more than willing to do it, but why me? Surely you have closer friends or relatives than a coworker of your fiancé's?"
"Well, I've really enjoyed getting to know you, and –"
"I'm the only one the dress and shoes will fit?" Molly interrupted, looking at the gown that hung to the side of the room. It looked just about her size.
Mary smiled. "Would you terribly mind?"
"Not at all," she replied, already taking off the cherry cardigan and the yellow monstrosity that some might label a hat.
In the peacock blue gown and simple black heels, Molly felt rather radiant. Rather than the simply bun she had put her hair in, the stylist had jumped in and performed a miracle with five pins and half a can of hairspray. There was even a little half hat that pinned right in with the up-do. She was just putting the final touches on her lipstick when she heard the door open. Not paying attention, she continued to make sure that there was nothing on her teeth, she ignored the sound of someone approaching her. It wasn't until she heard a familiar cough that she looked up to see Sherlock standing next to her in a tux.
Oh. Right.
If she was playing Mary's maid of honour, it stood to reason that she would have to walk down the aisle with John's best man.
She would have to walk down the aisle with Sherlock Holmes.
Hope got up from the ground where Molly had beat her down to that morning and began to life her bitchy head.
"Hi," she squeaked out, looking up at the man.
"Hello Molly. I've heard you'll be playing the maid of honour today?"
"Yup, that's me!" she said, rather brightly.
"Shall we?" he asked, offering her his arm. Molly around to realise that everyone else had left was either already seated or waiting for the processional. She stood and took Sherlock's arm. They made their way to the opening of the church and waited for their cue from the planner.
Just before they began, Molly whispered under her breath. "Don't let me fall."
She might have imagined it, but she was rather sure that he had replied "never."
The wedding went off without a hitch. No one fell. No criminals interrupted in an attempt against John or Sherlock's life. No exs reared their ugly heads. Not even a mobile phone went off. All in all, it was toasted a success. There was a tad bit of confusion as to why she was the best maid and not Mary's actual best friend, but it was brushed off with an excuse of illness and all went on. Molly was a tad bit suspicious of the best friend calling to say she couldn't come, but it wasn't as if she actually knew the girl whose dress she was wearing.
At dinner, she was seated next to Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson since John and Mary had their own table in the center of the room. There was the proper amount of kissing and teasing and speeches. Sherlock even stood and said a few brief but meaningful words, which led to John crying and Sherlock feeling even more uncomfortable. Throughout the meal he had not engaged with anyone, save for Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade, who was also seated at their table. Even those interactions had been rather brief. Molly could tell that he was totally uncomfortable. She had a feeling that the plethora of people surrounding them might have been overloading his deduction sensors. However, they had got all the way through cake without an incident.
When the dancing began, Molly could feel the tension between them rise. As much as she would have loved to be the one to ask Sherlock to dance, being a feminist who believed that a woman could certainly make the first move, she was paralyzed by fear of rejection. His words from that awful Christmas all those years ago came back to her, as well as every other insult he'd ever given to her. She focused on the bit of champagne left in her glass and was thinking about getting another, when she felt him touch her arm and lean down to speak into her ear. "Would you like to get a breath of fresh air?" he asked. She nodded since the music had gotten rather loud. Even she was feeling a bit over whelmed.
The room they reception was in opened up onto a garden, complete with a rather large porch which overlooked a pond. The moon was full and the lights from the room did not reach so far as to overwhelm the natural light. There were candles set up every few feet. Sherlock and Molly were not the only company to leave the room, but due to the spring chill, there weren't that many. Molly still had her arm in the crook of his arm as they walked away from the other couples. They stood next to the rail, gazing out over the pond when the music switched. She gasped, and he felt her body become rather tense. "Are you alright?" he asked.
"Hmm? Yeah, I just love this song," she said, without thinking.
"Would you like to dance?"
If Molly had a heart monitor on, you would have thought she died for a minute. All she could do was nod as Sherlock took her hand in his and put his other on her waist. She placed her on his shoulder as they began to move. At first, she didn't know where to look, and she couldn't keep from smiling. To be dancing with the man she loved, after having spent the evening with him at their friends' wedding was enough. To be dancing with him to this song was a dream come true. Disney didn't get better than this. "Why are you smiling?" he inquired.
"I'm just so ridiculously happy," she said, looking up at him. He too was smiling, albeit not as manically as she was sure she was, but still, he seemed rather happy. "Was it too much for you inside?"
He sighed. "Yes, and I wanted to get you out here."
Her heart was skipping again. "Oh, why was that?" she asked.
"Because I wanted to dance with you in the moonlight. It seemed like something that you would enjoy. And, you look particularly radiant in the candlelight," he answered.
"Oh, ok," Molly said, feeling stupid that she could come up with a better response. She turned her gaze back down to their feet. Far too soon the music stopped and some inane dance song came on. Sherlock stopped moving, and so did she. She did not remove her hand from his shoulder or his hand, but they were still not moving.
"Molly," he said. She still had not moved her gaze from their feet. His hand left her waist and lifted her chin up so that she could see his face. "I engineered it so that the maid of honour wouldn't be here, knowing that she was your size and that you would be forced to be by my side all night. I asked to sit next to you, knowing that if I got out of control you wouldn't get as offended as others and that you could get me out. I knew that you were one of the very few people who I could tolerate for that amount of time and that you were one of the very few who could tolerate me. I know this because I know you and you know me. You see me. You always have. And, believe it or not, I am trying to see you. So, Molly Hooper, if you have no objections, I am going to follow the advice of that song, which was rather tolerable, and kiss you."
With that, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips against hers. Molly responded in kind and moved the hand that had been on his shoulder to tangle in his hair. Before either realised it, the kiss had turned rather extreme and neither were backing down. It was not until the music paused to announce that the wedding couple were leaving and it was time to say adieu, that they broke apart. Sherlock took Molly's hand and led her inside. They wished well to John and Mary, both of whom were staring at the pair's intertwined hands with a look of amusement. No one said anything, deciding that it could wait to see if anything lasted.
After John and Mary had left, neither Sherlock nor Molly felt any desire to stick around. They gathered their things and went out to get a cab. Sherlock's magic soon landed them one and they made their way to 221B. As they went through the night, Molly couldn't help but feel hope. Maybe she wasn't such a stupid bitch after all.
AN: Wow. Ok. So blame those photos that leaked yesterday and Pandora's decision to play "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer this morning. All mistakes are mine, and I am not British, so if this isn't how weddings go on that side of the pond, my apologies. Reviews make me smile!