Flower Power
Rating: M
Author's note: I'm trying out something new. This is something I've thought about for a long time but I needed extensive research before I could do anything. I hope you enjoy.
CHAPTER 1:
Molly Hooper wiped the sweat that collected on her forehead. Jesus, its way too hot here. The sun was blazing and it didn't look like it was going to set soon but Molly encouraged herself to keep walking along the vacant road side, biting down the pain her long boots squeezed through her feet.
"IS THERE ANYONE ALIVE?" She growled at the sky in frustration, "Great, now I'm sweaty, stranded, and angry. God knows who's going to pick up the psychotic woman who's yelling at the sky," she muttered to herself. She hated herself for not looking up where she was going. She just wanted to get to America as fast as she could before August 15. So after her plane ride and a few trips around in a taxi she ended up here. She should have just taken up that old man's offer to take her north when she had the chance. Maybe he was telling the truth…
Molly shook her head. She knew a creep when she saw one.
"Come one… anytime before it becomes 1970." She was exaggerating, she knew. But Molly wasn't a very patient person when being tested.
The slight breeze that passed by cooled Molly down slightly but she still wanted more. She picked up her hot thick hair with her thin fingers and let the wind hit her neck that beaded with sweat. She sighed out of relief.
Suddenly, Molly heard the sweet, sweet sound of car tires slowing down behind her. She twirled on the heel of her black boots and stuck out her thumb. She quirked an eyebrow at the large orange painted van with a rainbow strip painted all around it horizontally.
"Finally…"
"Where are we now?"
The unshaven driver peeled his eyes away from the road to look back at his companion.
"Eager aren't we, John? Florida."
John impatiently clicked his tongue and flopped back on the mediocre self-made bed that was on the floor of the giant van. The cheap sheets were tough yet cool on his heated skin. John closed his eyes and tried to relax but the humidity and his natural-born nervousness didn't help. It's only the seventh, it's only the seventh, it's only the-
John's thoughts stopped abruptly when he smelled the ancient scent of cigarette smoke. He sniffed the air one more to confirm it was real. His eyes shot open and immediately turned to the source of that scent, his best friend, Sherlock Holmes. He sat up from the bed and raised his eyebrows, a bit if not disappointed in his friend, though he said nothing.
Sherlock seemed unfazed at John's reaction to his smoking.
"I thought you quit?"
"Yes, I did," Sherlock took another long drag of his cigarette.
John scoffed, "But you don't have any fags, we got rid of them all, I quit to help you."
"Yes, you did, John. But Jack didn't."
The sputter of laughter from the front seat caught John's attention. Shit, he must have found Jack's box.
"Damn it Jack!" John tried to ignore the driver's laughter and sighed; frustrated. The three of them have traveled for days since Jack found them in California. It really should have only taken 2 days but Jack liked to make stops at every state.
The entire van was pretty rocky and a bit untrustworthy. It was like it could break down at any moment. There was no air conditioning so they were always hot and sweaty. But Jack won over their trust so they joined him on his ride.
John ran his fingers through his hair, he was growing anxious. Sherlock stuck out a cigarette at John and he happily accepted, realizing there was nothing he could do. He lit a match and took a long drag with a sigh; finding a bit of peace. At least it's not drugs in broad daylight.
Sherlock laid his Texas bought leather western hat over his eyes and stretched his long legs over the mock velvet seats. He wasn't really worried they weren't going to make it to New York. Right now he was just enjoying the ride and the scenery.
He did get a bit annoyed when Jack insisted they stopped because by the time they passed Arizona more than half of the scenery was protest of people on the Vietnam War. Jack seemed passionate about it but Sherlock and John weren't involved in it. It wasn't their war to care for. Doesn't matter, at least at every stop they had time to refill their cherry red cooler with water, beer, and whatever snack they could find.
"Why are we slowing down?"
Sherlock raised his hat to take a look at John. They indeed slowed down to a halt and Sherlock was also curious as to know why.
"Why are we stopping?" Sherlock added with a quirk of his eyebrow.
Molly smiled up at her savior, a handsome man with a charming smile. Well, this makes the wait all the more better.
"Hey there," the man leaned over his open window, "I'm Jack Harkness," the ma- Jack stuck out his hand and Molly placed her dainty hand in his. My god, he's so muscular. He gave it a light kiss that made Molly giggle. It was nice to flirt with a stranger after so long. Molly subconsciously pulled at her frayed suede mini skirt and found a new reason to turn red when she looked up and Jack winked at her.
She might as well find out if he was headed the same way she was.
"New York?"