A/N: So Victorian Sherlolly is probably one of my favourite things to write so far (probably because I can make it so incredibly fluffy). So I hope you like the next installment on their story. :) Thank you for the feedback on Her Own Tale of Love that is the beginning of this story.

Molly sighed as she let her back rest against the bridge, her legs dangling over the side. One hand lay on top of another against her abdomen as she sighed softly. When she closed her eyes, images danced behind her lids of the past month and the waves of pleasantness along with it. If anyone were there, they would see the smile she possessed, so bright and alive.

It had been a month since the beginning of her courtship with Sherlock, and it was going wonderfully. Molly decided it was best not to tell her mother about the question he had asked her so soon at the beginning of the courtship. Her mother would be happy in the end, just as much as Molly would and that was what mattered.

He was coming over again today. Her parents had thought the same thing as Molly at first - that he seemed too reserved, rude, but now it was different. Although Sherlock remained very quiet at gatherings, he was a bit more pleasant, to the point where her mother was impressed with him. He was quite the charmer when he chose to be, and for the sake of Molly he wanted this to go smoothly for her.

Though both parents were in high hopes that the courtship would end with an engagement, Molly and Sherlock decided that they wanted their love to stay a secret at first. When Sherlock could not sneak her way for private moments, for sweet kisses and gentle caresses, they did not speak much, and they did not stay in close proximity to each other within the room. Though, Sherlock would always smirk when he gazed at her from across the room and made her cheeks blush scarlet.

Molly was enjoying her bliss until she remembered that Sherlock was supposed to arrive soon and she wasn't anywhere near ready. She gasped as she sat up, looking at the bottom of her frock – covered in mud. She had walked through tall fields of grass. Normally she would not care about the state of her clothes, but she wanted to look her best for Sherlock. Her bun had become a loose mess, and she knew if her mother saw her like this, she would kill her.

Molly jumped up from the bridge, picking up her dress so the hem did not drag across the dirt, and ran down the pathway. She needed to get to her room and change before either her mother or Sherlock saw her.

When she reached the end of the yard, she slowed her pace so that she would not look suspicious. She walked around the side of the house, knowing that she would have less chance of being seen. She looked nervously behind her every few moments to watch for anyone.

But as she made her way along the side of the house, she felt herself pinned up against the wall, a hand covering her mouth. Her eyes went wide for only a moment before she saw a bouncing of curls and a familiar pair of deep, blue eyes only a few inches from her face.

Molly relaxed as she realised who it was, smiling. Sherlock let his hand move away from her mouth, cupping her cheek as he smiled at her, a playful look about him. "My love," she whispered as she tilted her head to kiss his palm.

His eyes lit up with delight as the blush faded from her cheeks. Although they had grown accustomed to each other in their few minutes' privacy when he visited the Hooper home, she always grew shy with him at first. She seemed to be growing more comfortable around him as time went on.

It was only then she realised that Sherlock did not even seem to care that she was a mess; he only seemed happy to see her.

Sherlock let the pads of his fingers gently rake down the length of her arm, finding her pulse point on her wrist. He made a hum of content as he kissed her lips and then along her jaw. "It has been eight days and fourteen hours since our last encounter," he noted.

"I missed you dearly," Molly said, her hum reflecting his as she traced her fingers along his jaw when he pulled away to look at her again.

Sherlock was very affectionate physically; always kissing, touching her soft skin. But words did not come as easily. She knew his statement was a way of saying that he missed her. It was like she could already understand his different way of expressing his love. She didn't mind it. She knew that his touches and his words were for her eyes and ears only and she cherished every moment of it.

Molly lost herself in a haze as she kissed him tenderly, her fingers moving against his skin. In this moment she did not care if a servant saw, did not care if anyone else saw. She only wanted Sherlock as her heart fluttered out of her chest.

When Sherlock pulled away, Molly looked blissful, her tongue jutting out in the slightest to wet her lips, his taste still on them as she smiled at him. He grabbed her hand and she gave him a puzzled look, not wanting to move from their spot.

"Your mother is expecting us," he reminded her, leaning in to press another chaste kiss to her lips. "And you do want to change." She nodded at him as she squeezed her hand tight around his before he continued to move along the side of the house.

Sherlock guided her inside the house, manoeuvring their way to the next floor without running into a single servant. It was true that there were less walking about at this time of day, but it was as if Sherlock knew the layout of the house better than she.

She stood close to him, still gripping his hand as they made their way down the hall, but she came to a still. This stopped Sherlock in his tracks as they made their way closer to the drawing room; Molly knew her mother was in there.

"Sherlock -" she began to say, but she was against the wall again and his finger touched her lips. He nodded, almost as if he knew what she was going to say.

"When you hear the sound of the piano," he said, gazing into her eyes as he pushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear, "that is your chance to walk past and get to your room."

Molly only nodded at him as he straightened himself out, and walked into the drawing room.

"Mr Holmes!" her mother exclaimed. "It is so good to see you."

"Mrs Hooper," he said in a polite greeting.

They were quiet for only a moment before her mother spoke again. "I'm not sure where my dear Margaret is," Molly cringed at her mother using her full name. "She is often very punctual; I'm sure she will only be a few more minutes."

He nodded in acceptance as he looked to the piano. Her mother shoved her book behind her as she noticed his interest.

"Do you play an instrument, Mr Holmes?"

He nodded again, "the violin."

"Oh dear, we do not have one at our dispense, but I would dearly love to hear you play. If you're visits are going to be this frequent, I must have one here for when you are here."

"The piano is sufficient," he said to her, waiting. He knew it would be easy, but did not think that it would be this easy.

"Oh, you must play!"

Sherlock grinned, accepting the offer very willingly as he walked over to the piano in the corner of the room and began to play, drawing Mrs Hooper's eyes in his direction and away from the door.

At the sound of his fingers on the keys, Molly briskly walked across the doorway. She hesitated for only a second, her heart feeling as though it paused within her chest. His playing was beautiful, more so than she had ever heard before. It was not a piece that she could recall though; it was one of his own making.

She fled now though, remembering that she had to be quick to avoid her mother's anger. She also wanted to return to Sherlock. Their week apart felt so long and she wished to set her eyes upon him again. As she made her way down the hall and up the stairs, she only wondered how he knew her house so well. How the need to change and to hide from her mother was known without her vocalising it. It was as if he knew her needs before she even spoke. She felt cared about, listened to; like he was protecting her before she even knew she needed protecting.

When Molly appeared in the drawing room, she had a complete transformation. Sherlock thought she was beautiful even when a ruffled mess, but when Mrs Hooper looked to Molly and away from Sherlock, the corners of his lips turned upward into a soft smile as he gazed her over.

He had never seen her hair down before, but now it was falling about her shoulders, a headband entwined with fresh flowers. She had picked her outfit hours before his arrival, and it had been done for him. The way she smiled at him said that; she looked down at the floor, a blush in her cheeks from being the attention of the room.

"Molly, finally," her mother said, a look of relief on her face. "Well, come, both of you," she said, linking arms with Molly as she led them both towards the dining room, Sherlock following a bit behind the two of them.

Molly's mother leaned in close as they walked along, speaking angrily, but in a whisper through her teeth.

"Margaret Hooper, where have you been? You know it is proper for a lady to be punctual."

"Mother, it's fine. I'm here now."

"You mustn't keep a man waiting. Sherlock Holmes is a man of wealth, and you may find he doesn't have time to wait for you."

Molly only groaned that her mother thought that Sherlock could not hear them in her whisper.

"I think you'll find that Sherlock is a bit different from the rest of his family," she pointed out, wishing her mother would keep quiet. Her mother looked up at her curiously though, wondering when Molly had the time to find that out. She had seen the exchanges – well, she thought that she had seen them all – between the two and there was not much conversation. She wished to urge her daughter more to speak with him, but it seemed Molly knew him better than her mother thought.

Sherlock could only laugh at the banter between Mrs Hooper and her daughter, a small smirk when he heard her defend him. When her mother gave her the curious look, Molly turned her head to the side, looking at Sherlock's chuckle from the corner of her eye before turning back to look straight ahead.

At dinner, they had retained their normal act. Her mother sat them close to each other, in hopes of encouraging more conversation, but they were both very quiet. The backs of their hands grazed against each other under the table often and Molly spent her time biting her lip every time he caught her staring.

Molly was surprised that her mother hadn't figured it out by now, because as time went on she was getting worse at hiding it. It could also be due to the fact that her mother spent most of the meal yelling at her brothers to settle down.

When Molly was in the room with Sherlock, he was all that she could think about. She couldn't focus on a conversation with anyone; she could not go long without glancing his way. Their time apart had made her love grow stronger and she only desired to be alone with him again.

"Molly," her mother tried to reprimand her when Molly said she was going to retire early for the night, Sherlock still in the room. Her mother thought she was being impolite and she was about to tell her that she must stay until Sherlock spoke up when Molly disappeared behind the door.

"It is alright, Mrs Hooper, I must be getting home anyway," he explained to her.

As Molly ran off, the conversation died as she was too far away to hear it anymore. She made her way out the back door and to the garden where she knew that he would find her.

She was only alone for a minute or two before he appeared within the maze of bushes. By the time he made his way over to her, she took his hands in hers. But before he could speak, she was guiding him somewhere new. She took her time, gently holding his hand as he walked behind her.

Molly walked along the familiar path, and continued on when the path didn't. She continued to move to the end of the yard, a tree blocking their view from the house. "We will have more time here," she smiled happily as they both lay down on the ground.

His fingers ran through her hair as she laid her head against his chest, her hand next to her face. She closed her eyes as she listened to his calm, rhythmic breathing; the very relaxed rise and fall of his chest.

"How did you know?" she asked him, her voice quiet as her eyes remained closed.

"Hmm?" he hummed at her as Molly felt the vibrations rumble in his chest.

She nuzzled him before propping herself up on one elbow, gazing at his face that was only lit by the moonlight. "It is as if you know the house I have always lived in better than me."

"I grow bored easily," he began to explain to her. "It only took me three quarters of an hour to learn the probable routine of the servants within the house."

Molly seemed to think about this for a moment before Sherlock spoke up again, his fingers still guiding through her hair. "It was not until our first moment together that I knew I could use that to an advantage, for you."

Molly smiled sweetly at him, tracing her finger along the outline of his ear. "And my mother?"

"People can be easily persuaded if you know how to," he said confidently.

"You are the most brilliant man I know," she said proudly. She could only dream of one day being able to say that this brilliant man was her husband.

Sherlock laced his fingers with hers as she leaned down, pressing light kisses to his mouth. But before she knew it, Molly let out a squeak as he rolled on top of her. He grazed his lips over her collarbone as his fingers trailed up her side. She was already letting out tiny breaths and soft mewls from her lips and he was barely touching her.

He kissed up the column of her neck and along her jaw until he found her lips again, giving her a more passionate kiss. Her hands came up to tangle within his hair as she kissed him back hungrily. Sherlock gasped when he felt her lips part and her tongue skim along his bottom lip. He opened his mouth to give her more heated kisses, his hips pressing against hers.

Sherlock broke his lips from Molly, the two panting as he gazed down at her. She was smiling, but she looked so tired from the day's events.

Molly's smile seemed to fade though when he helped her to her feet, though she accepted his arm, linking hers around it as he escorted her. She held herself close to him, but her stride was slower than usual. Her fingers brushed along his arm as they walked towards her door.

"You are upset," he said as they reached the door.

"I do not wish you to leave," she sighed as she moved a loose curl away from his face. She could only giggle as he did not look so put together as he did when he arrived.

Sherlock grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him. It was a dangerous move being so close to the door, but he did not care. His fingers lifted her chin to look up at him, his thumb resting in the dip under her lip. "My love," he said softly, using her name to him before. She smiled when she heard it, it was the first time he had ever said it to her. It sounded so sweet, so comforting coming from his lips. "You know I will return," he assured her as his thumb traced across her bottom lip.

She relaxed a bit as she leaned into him now, resting against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. "I will see you in just a few days," he whispered as his lips touched her ear, his warm breath playing against it.

Molly shivered against him before pulling away to look up at him. She raised herself on her tip toes to kiss him, her hands pressing against his chest to hold herself up steady.

When she was back down on flat feet, Sherlock squeezed her hand. "I will see you soon, Molly."

She only smiled in reply before Sherlock walked in the other direction and Molly went inside the door.

"Margaret Hooper," she heard a stern voice calling as soon as it closed. Molly winced as her mother came over to the door, but her expression softened and turned more curious than anything as she saw Molly's smile and the blush on her cheeks. It did not fall even as her mother tried to reprimand her.

"What have you been doing?"

"I was… apologising to Mr Holmes for being so impolite with my exit," she blushed further.

"For the last hour?"

"No- no, I showed him around the garden, and then I walked around for a bit on my own." Molly bit her lip as her eyes darted around, avoiding eye contact with her mother.

Her mother opened her mouth to yell again, but instead closed it as she was no longer angry. She walked over to Molly, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Goodnight, Molly," her mother smiled as she left Molly at the door and went upstairs.