There's only three days before John and Mary's wedding, and she still hasn't purchased a suitable outfit. The truth is that she's uncomfortable with Sherlock being her date, even though she knows he's only asked her to make John happy.
She sighs as she turns the key into the lock and steps into her flat. Toby greets her by rubbing himself up against her leg, she absently strokes his head before slumping into the armchair.
That's when she freezes, suddenly noticing a presence at the other end of the room.
"Who are you?" she squeals in surprise, taking in the appearance of the woman that is standing before her. The stranger definitely doesn't look like a burglar, though she's pretty sure the door was locked when she went out in the morning.
"Look at yourself," the woman says pleasantly, not bothering to explain why she's even there. "You're prettier than I imagined."
Molly stands up nervously, wondering whether she should call the police. However, she doesn't think that the stranger actually means any harm to her, and that makes her pause for a moment.
"I'm not pretty. What do you want?"
The woman shakes her head indulgently. "You do have a lovely figure, though I can't imagine why you hide it beneath those ugly jumpers of yours. People don't usually have X-ray eyes, you know – and while he's usually very observant, he doesn't really pay attention to such details."
"What are you talking about?"
"Sherlock Holmes, my dear. I thought that was pretty obvious."
She's not sure how she makes the connection – it's probably the mention of X-rays that does it. Her eyes narrow all of a sudden, and she wraps her arms around herself before asking the question that is dancing on the tip of her tongue. "Are you his girlfriend?"
The other woman only laughs. "Not really my area. I did ask him out for dinner several times, but he always turned me down."
"Who are you?" she demands again, though she's not entirely sure she actually wants to know.
"Let's say I'm a friend, of sorts."
"Of Sherlock's?" she asks in disbelief. Sherlock doesn't really have friends, except for John Watson; she can't help but wonder if he's ever had any lovers, and if this woman was one of them.
"The closest thing to a friend he can have. An enemy. I loved battling wits with him, it's been – invigorating."
"What do you want?"
"I see that our common friend needs a nudge in the right direction. However, since we both know he's not going to heed my advice, I thought I'd better do it the other way round."
"I beg your pardon?" she murmurs, utterly confused now. She was looking forward to a quiet evening on her own, looks like she's not going to get any of it.
"Do you need me to spell it for you? He's genuinely fond of you, but he's such an pompous idiot he won't ever do anything about it. That's why you have to make the first move."
A humorless laughter falls from her lips. Sherlock never thinks of her that way, he barely notices her at all; what this woman is suggesting is preposterous, nothing more.
"He's not – I'm just someone he happens to trust, that's all."
"That's exactly my point. He likes you, and trusts you. You're not really expecting him to get down on his knee and declare his undying love, are you?"
The room starts spinning around her, and she wonders if they're both talking about the same man. She supposes Sherlock likes her, in a way – just like he likes John and Mrs. Hudson. He's not really capable of what ordinary people call love, is he?
"I've got you some clothes," the woman goes on, pointing at the shopping bags lying on the floor. "I'm sure they'll suit you nicely. And I'm going to show you how to properly style your hair."
Molly laughs again, though she's dangerously near tears now. "You think a dress would be enough to make him fall for me?"
"Of course not, you silly thing. That's for catching his attention. I'll tell you exactly what you have to do next."
xxx
She thinks she'd rather be dead than go to the wedding dressed like this, and yet the woman has been very persuasive in ways she still can't fully understand. Molly has never been used to draw other people's attention, and she's not sure she's entirely comfortable with doing it now; especially since Sherlock will be there too, though she's not really expecting him to notice.
Mrs. Hudson keeps telling her she looks so pretty in that dress; that's when she remembers the stranger's words, and her heart sinks even further.
You have to feel pretty in order to look it. It's as simple as that.
She doesn't feel pretty though; she's just the plain, ordinary, clumsy Molly Hooper. The only reason why she doesn't blurts out an excuse and leaves is that she doesn't want to disappoint John.
Sherlock barely looks at her during the ceremony. He pretends to be annoyed at his friend for choosing him as his best man, but she has a feeling he does it because he's uncomfortable with the idea of John not being a permanent part of his life anymore.
That means he's only human, though that side of himself actually scares him.
Later on she finally plucks her courage and asks him to dance. She can see he's about to dismiss the idea as ridiculous, then something flickers about his eyes and his gazes turns suddenly intent.
"You look lovely tonight," he murmurs; and while he's used to saying similar things when he's asking for a favor, this time his words sound a bit different.
There's a strange grace about his movements as they pace across the dance floor; she wasn't really expecting him to be a good dancer, but he is, and she's definitely not going to complain.
Her heart is hammering in her chest, she's half afraid he's going to run away as soon as he notices. Then she remembers the woman's final advice, and her heart leaps into her mouth.
Take his pulse when you're close to him. If his heart rate is accelerated, it's a sign he's attracted to you. His pupils will probably be dilated too.
Tentatively she reaches a finger across his wrist, and feels his smile against her temple. His pulse is indeed slightly accelerated, the sheer surprise prompting her to pull back in order to look him in the eyes – dark and sparking with amusement.
"Well, what do you deduce Ms. Hooper?" he says wryly, a moment before he leans forward to brush his lips across hers.
It's clear that he hasn't the slightest idea of how to do this, but she's more than willing to show him.
Molly makes a mental note to thank the stranger, if the two of them ever meet again.