Tonight was the night. Molly Hooper was so excited she could barely contain herself. She'd spent the day deciding on the dress and shoes she would wear, going for something that wasn't too clingy but still showed off her figure and heels that gave her little extra height while still comfortable to wear. How much or how little makeup to apply, finally deciding that less was best and what hairstyle suited her, going with a French plait, that her mum helped her with.
So, she was all set.
If there was any dampener to her plans, it was that she would be attending the school dance but not in the company of the boy that she had really wanted to go with.
But in all likelihood Sherlock Holmes would not be in attendance anyway, having made it clear that dating was not his area. From what she'd heard through the grapevine he'd rudely rebuffed any and all advances the girls in his year had made toward him. In retaliation the girls spread rumours that he was gay, not that it bothered him in the slightest.
So Molly had determined that if he wasn't interested in the more experienced and pretty girls his own age, than a complete innocent, three years his junior stood little chance of catching his eye.
Her plans to end the night having finally been kissed looked to be in jeopardy, when Tom had asked her if she'd like to go with him. And she thought 'Why not,' though not her first choice, he was nice enough, and as long as the night ended with her getting her much anticipated kiss, all the better. She was fed up with being the only girl in her year not to have been kissed, and here was the perfect opportunity. So she'd been more than happy to accept his invitation.
But the best-laid plans rarely end up as you intend them to.
Which is why Molly rushed out of the school hall in tears, intent on getting as far away as possible. She was so upset she didn't pay attention to where she was going, until she collided with someone.
Stumbling back, she was surprised to see that it was Sherlock. She swallowed several times as she took in his appearance. He looked like sin, dressed in skintight black jeans and an equally tight purple coloured shirt.
Sherlock was tall and wiry, but his chest was broad, hence the buttons on his shirt were constantly under strain every time he breathed. The top two buttons had clearly given up the fight, while the third looked set to succumb and burst free at any moment.
Molly was abruptly pulled out of her musings by Sherlock's deep baritone voice demanding. "Why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?"
"Tom…" she began.
"Where is he?" Sherlock snarled as he made to move past her.
"No, no, no, " Molly cried, grabbing hold of his arm and pulling him back. "He didn't hurt me Sherlock, not physically at least."
"What then?"
Molly let out a resigned sigh. Sherlock would not give up until he knew every detail. Better to get it over and done with now, the sooner it was told, the sooner she could go home and try to forget the whole horrible incident.
Taking a deep breath she started her narrative. "I came to the dance with Tom and I'd hoped that by the end of the night he'd kiss me," she paused glancing up at Sherlock attempting to gauge his reaction. She'd felt him go tense when she'd mentioned the kiss, and his expression confirmed his displeasure, so she hurriedly continued. "I mean I'm the only girl in my class, no make that my year who's never been kissed, its embarrassing, especially since everyone knows."
She let go of Sherlock's arm, needing to move around as she explained. "Tom had disappeared for a bit so I went in search of him," the tears began to fall again. "I found him in a back room, snogging Janine! They were too engrossed to notice me. I've never felt so humiliated. If you go to a dance with a girl, isn't she supposed to be the one…" she couldn't continue as the tears overcame her once again.
Sherlock, unused to dealing with anything emotional hesitantly walked over to her and awkwardly patted her back.
But as he watched the tears roll down her cheeks he felt a sudden wave of anger that anyone should treat Molly so disrespectfully. This was quickly followed by a need to protect and care for her. He'd always been fond of Molly, but it was only just occurring to Sherlock that those feelings were now starting to morph into something more substantial.
Before he could stop himself he turned her around and pulled her in for a hug. Resting his chin against the top of her head he noted. "Personally Molly I think you're well rid of Tom. The last thing you need is someone who doesn't know what he wants and who spends all his time trying to be like others. As for Janine, given that she's known to play the field, I doubt she was in a serious relationship with him. More likely she was teaching him the art of kissing so he'd have a rough idea of what he had to do. And if you want to be kissed it should be done by someone who cares for you and respects you."
Molly raised her head, which once he'd moved left them looking deeply into each other's eyes. In an attempt to quiet the sudden pounding of her heart, Molly remarked playfully. "Why Sherlock, I didn't know you cared."
"Oh I care Molly," he replied, his expression serious. "More than you know."
Molly's eyes widened slightly when Sherlock gently took her face in his hands. Without hesitation he lent down and pressed his lips to hers.
The kiss was firm and determined, with no sign of uncertainty. As he moulded his lips to hers, Sherlock was making it clear to Molly in no uncertain terms that she was his.
When they were finally forced to come up for air, they were both breathing heavily.
At some point Molly had moved closer, her smooth curves having moulded themselves to his sharp angles, while her fingers had become entwined in his mop of curls.
When Sherlock rested his forehead against her own, Molly could see by the lustrous glint in his eyes that that was to be the first of many, many kisses to come.
It's true that the best-laid plans don't always turn out as intended. Sometimes if you're very, very lucky they'll end up turning out far better than you could ever have imagined.
