Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steve Moffat, Mark Gatiss own Sherlock and his realm. I just own my computer,my version of Openoffice, and my sick fantasies. English is not my native language, and this story is un-betaed, so please forgive the mistakes and the typos.
"In the gardens of memory, in the palace of dreams. That is where you and I will meet."
Alice - Through the Looking glass
October 31st - St. Barts, 2 pm
"S-so… You are going to the Watson's Halloween party tonight… Aren't you?"
Molly flinched at Sherlock's unusual question: first of all, she was sure she was alone in the lab, and his deep baritone voice had startled her; secondly, because of his tone. He sounded almost hesitant, like a shy schoolboy. And Sherlock Holmes might be called in many ways (rude, extremely clever, absolutely handsome, commanding, incredibly annoying), but no one had ever described him as self-conscious.
She gave him a searching look, while her brain tried to find a possible reason for his awkward insecurity; after a few seconds, she decided that she had no time or will to try to emulate his deductive abilities, and answered "Yes, of course I'm going. But why are you asking?"
"Well… It occurred to me that you didn't tell me what costume you're wearing tonight." Molly watched the consulting detective shifting his weight from one foot to the other, before he added "There are only a few hours left before the party, so if you could answer me quickly, I would appreciate it, Molly."
"And why do you need to know?".
Finally, a familiar expression of frustration appeared on his face, and he replied, obviously fed up, "Because we need to coordinate our outfits! Isn't it what couples do?"
Thankfully for Molly she was already seated, otherwise she would have fallen on the floor. "I beg your pardon?", she managed to say, while she squinted her eyes to watch him better. The last time she had checked his urine, two weeks ago, she didn't find anything, but maybe it was time to run another test…
"Why are you looking at me like that? You know I'm not taking anything… And the clock is ticking, so if you could be so gentle to tell me…"
Molly tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly very dry. "Sherlock… Bear with me, but tell me again why do you want to know what I'm wearing tonight?"
The consulting detective glared at her. "I see… You want me to deduce it, don't you? Very well… See you tonight, Dr. Hooper!". He turned and left the lab, leaving a puzzled Molly behind.
October 31st - 221 Baker Street, 6 pm
Knock, knock.
"Mrs Hudson! The door!"
Knock, knock.
"The door, Mrs Hudson! Open that damn door!"
Knock, knock.
"Those pesky herbal soothers… One day or another I will ask Graham to pay you a visit!", Sherlock threatened, while running down the stairs. He had only an hour before the party, and his outfit was in dire need of a fix, so he was prepared to insult whomever was disturbing him.
But when he opened the door, a beautiful Alice appeared before his eyes, and he couldn't say a word. Yes, the blonde wig was a bit askew, as the black headband, and the blue satin dress was a bit too large, but she was still the most alluring woman he had ever seen.
Molly cleared her throat, looking all flushed under Sherlock's gaze. "So… You deduced it, see. My costume, I mean."
"Of course I did. After all…"
"Couples often coordinate their outfit, don't they?", Molly finished his sentence, admiring his fine Mad Hatter costume. "So… We are a couple."
Sherlock watched her intently, then finally he opened his mouth. "Oh… I told it to the Molly in my Mind Palace, didn't I?"
Molly smiled at him, and in a moment all his worries flew away. "All the times you asked me to go with you on a case, were they dates? And when we had dinner at Angelo's, when you told me that the others were busy, it was another date?"
Sherlock nodded, and added "And then we went to your flat, and I spent the night on your sofa, and you kissed me… On the forehead, yes, but it's been the first time you kissed me, and then I told you that… That I felt something for you, and asked you to be my… My pathologist."
She moved, and he stepped back, allowing her to enter. "I said yes, I reckon." She stood on her tiptoes, and brushed her lips on his chin. "It seems that the Molly in your Mind Palace is a very brilliant girl."
Sherlock pecked her quickly on the lips, and a smile blossomed on both their mouths. "Oh, but I prefer the real one, trust me!"
Thanks for reading. Leave a comment, you will receive good influence and beautiful dreams.