A/N: Inspired by a Halloween prompt from SimplyShelbs16. I'd post the prompt but that would give away the plot. Takes place the Halloween after Sherrinford.
"Who are you supposed to be, Goth Charles Dickens?" Lestrade asked, smirking. He was dressed as Shakespeare, complete with earring.
Sherlock rolled his eyes. It was Halloween and they were in the ballroom of Mycroft's house, along with members of the Diogenes Club and people from Whitehall. Mycroft was currently talking to Lady Smallwood and Anthea. The women were both dressed as Charlotte Bronte, while Mycroft was dressed as Virgil. In Sherlock's opinion, his brother simply couldn't pull off a toga nearly as well as he could.
"He's Mr. Darcy with a bird fetish," John guessed. By his mid-century clothes, Sherlock deduced he was dressed as Tolkien.
"The invitation clearly said we're to dress as our favorite writer," Sherlock pointed out. "Mr. Darcy is a character."
"Written by Jane Austen," Molly said, grinning, as she approached them. She was dressed as Austen, and Sherlock thought she looked beautiful, though he would never tell her so. After giving him a quick once-over, she grinned. "Edgar Allan Poe."
All three men stared at her. Sherlock was the first to recover. "Quite astute, Miss Austen. I would have thought the raven on my shoulder was a dead giveaway." He gave his friends a look then took the prop bird off his shoulder and handed it to John just as a waltz was starting. Sherlock turned to Molly, holding out his hand and grinning. "May I have this dance, my dear master of social commentary?"
She grinned back. "You may, inventor of detective fiction."
Molly took his hand and he led her onto the dance floor. Sherlock was delighted to learn that she was as light on her feet as he'd always assumed she'd be. He realized he wanted to spend the rest of the night gazing into her lovely eyes, if not the rest of his life. When the song ended, he offered her his arm.
"Why don't we get some fresh air?" he murmured.
"I'd like that," she murmured back.
Molly took his arm and he led her to the well-manicured gardens. Night had fallen but the full moon overhead gave them more than enough light to see by. He took her down the stone path to a bench beside the fountain, out of sight from the house. She sat down then he sat beside her, closer than he had ever been before.
She raised an eyebrow, smiling a bit. "I didn't think Poe was known as a ladies man."
Sherlock chuckled. "We left the authors on the dance floor, Molly. This is purely me." He gently took her hands. "Molly … tonight is one more example of how you know me better than anyone. I was wondering…"
"Yes?" she asked, smiling hopefully.
"Would you be willing to … delete what I said about, er, deleting that phone call?"
Molly grinned at him. "Come here, you." She grabbed him by the lapels and proceeded to snog him like they had to make up for lost time. Which of course, they did.
"As charming and well-behaved as my niece is," Mycroft said a year later, "is a Halloween party really the best place for a three-month-old?"
Sherlock and Molly grinned at each other then Sherlock turned back to his brother. "My wife and I thought it would be nice to show Annabel where she began." He smirked. "The bench is still by the fountain, right?"