Fourteen-year-old Molly Hooper, her school bag loaded down with library books, made her way over to a small group of teenagers waiting for her across the road.
"Sorry," she apologised to her friend. "I got a little carried away."
"So I see," Mary Morstan, who was a year older, said with a laugh.
Mary then introduced Molly to the others. "Molly, this is John Watson and his friend Sherlock Holmes."
John was a couple of years older than Mary, but appeared to be of a friendly, easy-going nature. Molly knew that they had recently started dating.
She then turned to his friend, and was instantly smitten. He was tall with a mop of dark, unruly curls, penetrating eyes that appeared to see straight through her. Alabaster skin stretched tightly over impossibly sharp cheekbones, and pouting cupids bow lips that begged to be kissed.
Sherlock Holmes definitely stood out in a crowd, and not just because he chose to wear a long, heavy coat on a warm summers day.
But before Molly could open her mouth to say "Hello," Sherlock began spurting out at speed his observations about her.
"Only child of recently widowed mother. Father's premature death has left the family in some financial difficulty, hence the appalling apparel bought from a local charity shop, which has not helped to improve low self-esteem. Has recently started part-time work after school in an attempt to save enough money as has hopes of going to university to do a medical degree, specifically forensic pathology…"
His steady stream of deductions was interrupted by an audible sob, and he turned to see Molly, tears pouring down her cheeks as she dashed off back across the road.
Sherlock turned to the stunned Mary and John. "Not good?" he queried.
John and Mary looked at him in total disbelief. "Ya think!" they replied in unison.
It didn't take Sherlock long to catch up with Molly, who was struggling along with her cumbersome load.
"Molly, wait," he pleaded. But she refused to listen, attempting to increase her pace in a valent effort to get away from him.
Sherlock simply lengthened his stride and easily overtook her, efficiently blocking her way by standing in front of her, before placing his hands gently, but firmly on her shoulders. Molly remained still, refusing to look up at him.
"I'm sorry," he began. "But you didn't let me finish."
He instantly felt the increase in tension throughout her body as she waited for his next barrage.
"Molly Hooper is intelligent, caring and loyal to a fault, shy and of the erroneous belief that she isn't pretty or of any value. These are views that I hope she will give me the opportunity to dispel."
As he spoke, Molly raised her face to look him in the eye.
"Why?" she asked.
"Well, because…" Sherlock began nervously, the tips of his ears turning red. "I happen to think she's quite beautiful… and I'd like to get to know her better."
It was now Sherlock who wouldn't make eye contact as he stood shuffling uncomfortably from one foot to the other waiting for her response.
Molly studied Sherlock carefully, a grin spreading across her face as she became aware that her scrutiny was unnerving him. Finally putting him out of his misery she gave him her response, replying simply "All right."
Sherlock raised his head , his eyes wide and hopeful. "Yes," he clarified.
Molly nodded, smiling happily.
Sherlock smiled down at her in return. Glancing up he spotted a Milk Bar close by. "Want to share a chocolate smoothy?"
Molly laughed, "You know me so well."
Reaching over to grab her bag which he easily swung over his shoulder, Sherlock then wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and led her over to the Milk Bar. "Not yet I don't, but I intend to."