A/N: One word prompt: bridge

Molly sighed as she twisted the stem between her fingers, letting the small flower turnabout. She wasn't sure she was ready for all this. Stupid meet ups, stupid dinners- it probably wouldn't even work out anyway. Why would anyone have interest in her?

She let her feet dangle as she sat on the edge of the small bridge. It was her favourite spot in the large yard behind her house. It raised over a tiny stream where Molly had helped their gardener plant flowers around it every tear. Every year she would do this, and every year her mother would pester her about getting dirty. As Molly got older, she approved of it even less; she called it 'inappropriate behaviour for a lady.'

Her mother thought she should spend all of her time in the drawing room. Which, she liked to do that, where she would practice piano, do extra studies and read. But sometimes she liked to be outside and explore on her own; she did not care that her frock could get mud on it or if her hair would become messy from walking around in the woods. She also didn't mind being solitary, but her mother insisted that she join them for more social events so that Molly could learn to be proper. It was all in preparation for when she got married and had to learn how to be lady of the house.

Molly threw her flower into the stream, huffing as she watched it float away. She was only fifteen, and she didn't understand why girls married at this age.

Another problem was that she was going to be marrying him. Ugh, bloody Sherlock Holmes! Molly had only met him once, the other day. It was to celebrate his eighteenth birthday, which also happened to be the beginning of their courtship. She tried to go into it with high hopes. Her mother may irritate her, but that does not mean that she did not want to please her parents. Plus, she had read so many stories of love that she had a deep urge to experience it herself.

When she first saw him, her eyes lit up; he was entirely handsome, and there was something that drew her in. He was very reserved though, and when Molly attempted to talk to him, he was rude to her, and then did not speak to her for the rest of the evening. She found it very peculiar though, after showing such disinterest, that he kept staring at her, even when he was more than halfway across the room.

Molly did not have much of a choice though. As her parents reminded her, the Holmes family was being graciously generous as they were willing to allow their son to marry her. It was not that their parents did not have money, they lived very well, but they wanted Molly to have the best that she could. Her dad was always striving for his children to be better off than him, even though he provided a great life for all of them.

She had not even noticed the figure approach her until he sat down next to her. Her eyes went a bit wide at his close proximity, especially when she realised who it was. She had forgotten that the Holmes' were coming over today. Her mother would be furious; she was in a nice gown, but not one that would satisfy her mother.

When Sherlock made eye contact with her, she immediately looked down at the stream, a scarlet blushing on her cheeks as she felt a flutter in her stomach. She had noticed in the small exchange that his eyes were beautiful and she wondered why she had not noticed that before. She tried to keep herself busy, distracted as she thought about it, placing her hands on either side of her against the bridge.

"I am sorry," he began, his voice a bit stern as he spoke, but when she looked up, his eyes lingered on her hand for a minute before looking down where her eyes had been set on the stream. "For being rude the other day. Conversation is not really… my area." He ruffled a hand through his dark curls as he spoke.

"Oh! It-it's okay," Molly squeaked in a voice a bit higher than she meant to, nervousness taking her over. She kept her eyes on him, staring at his profile as he looked down at the stream.

His cheekbones were prominent and his skin was very fair like hers. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and trace her fingers along his jaw, but she knew that would be beyond inappropriate. She blushed again at the thought of it, biting her lip.

Sherlock smirked when he looked at her out of the corner of his eye and saw her dilated eyes. Her breathing was soft, but in their quiet he could hear it sped up, which meant that her heart was beating out of her chest.

"Did- did you enjoy your birthday?" she asked politely as she continued to gnaw on her lip, trying to resist the urge to continue staring at him.

"It was… sufficient," he stated. He had forgotten about everyone at his party after setting eyes on Molly. He thought she was beautiful, and spent the entire evening unable to take his eyes off of her. He had even yelled at Mycroft the next day when he called her plain. "I do not do well talking to people, as you have seen first-hand."

"That was very clear," Molly said as her hand came flying up to cover her mouth. It was meant to be a thought- merely a thought, and now she had embarrassed herself. She began to shake her head. "I- uhm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." she trailed off.

He only gave her sceptical eyes for a few seconds before his expression softened and he let out a chuckle. For such a timid girl, she certainly had a strong voice when she wanted to. He very immediately decided that he liked that about her. It always seemed as though other girls would say what their mothers taught them to, and with his intelligence, he saw right through that. Molly was honest, even if it was not socially appropriate.

Molly's hand lying flat against the bridge suddenly felt warm. She had been too busy trying to recover from her moment of embarrassment. When she looked down; she saw that his hand was covering hers.

She smiled wide before blushing yet again. She scrunched her nose as she reprimanded herself for blushing so much. Her mother often told her that her face would stay a permanent scarlet if she did not learn to control herself.

She left her hand under his, accepting it warmly, but didn't know where she found the confidence to lean in and kiss his cheek. His skin began to tingle as soon as her lips met his cheek. When she pulled away, he turned his face toward hers and Molly froze. Molly gasped at the close proximity and wanted to kiss him, but she felt paralysed as his gaze is raked on her, his blue eyes boring into her brown ones. There is something so intriguing, so interesting about Molly Hooper and Sherlock found that she is the first girl that he has wanted to touch, to be close with.

Sherlock placed a finger against her lips. "Shhh," he said quietly as he listened, waiting for the sounds of other people.

Molly looked up at him curiously as he stood up and held out one hand to her to help her to her feet. Molly stared for only a second before taking his hand willingly. He pulled her along towards her garden, where there were tall bushes and they would be shielded from everyone.

Molly could feel her heart buzzing within her chest. He was so different meeting her this time; it must be that he was often misunderstood at social events because he simply was not good with them and became bored quickly. Molly Hooper does not bore him though. Sherlock was excited as he pulled her along towards the garden.

When they finally reached their destination, Sherlock pinned Molly into the corner of a tall, wrap around bush; it had been cut like a maze at Molly's request. She gasped inwardly as Sherlock's lips were dangerously close to hers again. She couldn't help but stare at his lips as she waited for him to close the distance.

When his lips met hers, Molly felt electrified. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking into Sherlock as she experienced this as her first kiss, which was tender and sweet. After the first few kisses, she kissed him back a bit more fiercely, more confident as she learned.

Sherlock learned her mouth quickly, memorizing her taste, the way she mewled when his tongue met hers and he found that he could not have enough of her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer against him, continuing to claim her as his own. His lips moved down to her neck, kissing along the column of her throat as Molly let out a whine, her fingers tangling into his curls.

He found her lips again quickly and Molly bit down on his bottom lip, pressing herself closer into him. She could feel his warm hands around her through the fabric of her gown, and the more that he wanted from her, the more that she wanted from him.

Sherlock finally broke away from their kiss as he rested his forehead against hers, both of them panting as they tried to catch their breath, his nose nudging hers. He properly looked into her eyes to see they were completely dilated. Only a small rim of the warm brown remained around her expanded pupil. He moved his hand down to lace his fingers with her, capturing her tiny hand into his large one. He let his wrist press against her pulse point, feeling her rapid pulse as it rose.

"You will marry me then?" he asked her suddenly. He was so very sure that he wanted her and that it would not change by the end of their courtship. He wanted to make her his wife and did not see the point in waiting to ask.

Her smile widened and he didn't think that it was possible for her eyes to brighten anymore, but they did. She smiled at him lovingly. "Yes! Yes, of course I will." She unashamedly moved her lips to find his again, giving him light, quick kisses.

Meeting Sherlock Holmes may not have started out like the love the stories she read in books, but now it certainly felt like one. She wanted to learn about him; his brilliant mind, about his body, about everything. She wanted this man, and if she were to marry anyone, it would be him.