Welcome back!
UPDATE ON Why Are You My Remedy: Part Two will come up as soon as I get it started and planned out :) there isn't that high of a demand so it'll stay one part until I can get to it ^.^
Other than that, welcome to the new Sherlolly fanfiction. Victorian! Sherlolly :D
DISCLAIMER:
Ms. Hudson: Oh... You shouldn't steal things, hon...
Sherlock: No no no, she didn't steal us!
Molly: No, she's borrowing us!
Ms. Hudson: oh... Why would she do that?
Sherlock: Well...
Molly: because she wants me and Sherlock together...
Ms. Hudson: REALLY?! I thought everyone wanted you and John-
Anderson: *barges through window* no.
*walks out door*
Sherlock: ...
Molly: ...
Ms. Hudson: ...
The Doctor: Well that was irrelevant...
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The wind blew through the auburn colored hair of which fell upon a beautiful woman's face like rose petals on satin.
Her red lipsticked lips pressed together in a small pout, her silky milk white skin glowing in the afternoon sun as she had her pointed nose stuck in a book.
Stagecoaches rolled past her, splashing yesterday's rain onto unsuspecting standing people. She bumps into a few passerby's who politely yell at her, but she pays no mind.
She rather was stuck in another world... Dashing sword fights... Princesses and dragons... Vampires... Creatures... The works.
She would gasp and "aw" at certain parts, and overall just seem completely enthralled in that of which she is reading.
As she made it to the book store, two men were standing and waiting for her.
Moriarty and Moran.
Moriarty was a town hunk, a man every woman wanted and apparently needed in their lives.
And his loyal sidekick, Moran. A handsome fellow, but normal compared to Moriarty.
"Well well well..." Moriarty sings in a taunting tone.
Molly looks up, and rolls her chestnut colored eyes.
"Good afternoon, Jim." Molly says politely, trying to find the goodness in Moriarty like she did for all the people of her small town.
"Good afternoon, Molly... What's this in your fingers, hm?" He asks, and snatches the book from the unsuspecting woman.
"A book. You know... Those things people read for entertainment."
Moriarty looks at it and raises an eyebrow.
"Mhm... Mhm... Mmm..." He shrugs and hands it to Moran with an almost musing look.
Moran looks it over and actually tries to read it, and ends up looking a bit confused.
"Eh... Sounds boring."
"Indeed it does, my friend, indeed it does. Why read when you could come to my home and share a drink, share a laugh, actually have fun instead of... Reaadddd..." He says disgustedly, throwing the book in the air for Molly to catch, for which she does and holds it to her chest like her baby.
"Well... I was busy tonight, anyways."
Moriarty looks to Molly with a laugh.
"I would bet any amount of coins that you aren't. Lying isn't going to get you out of our get together." Moran counters her fib, and leaves Molly groaning out of annoyance.
"Well, my father-"
"Has been missing for years." Moriarty sighs, and inspects his nails, fixes the sleeves on his wrists, and the collar on his neck.
Well, he wasn't wrong. But Molly always visits a grave before going home. It was a ritual. It helped clear her head, like a sad story. She didn't want to admit he was dead, but she also didn't want to get her hopes up that he might come back and have them die when they finally find out what he really was...
"Now, if you'll excuse me. I best be back off to work. Come along, Moran."
Moran tips his hat to the woman, and they both headed off.
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Molly enters the bookstore, and immediately puts the book she borrowed on a shelf.
"Afternoon, milady." The owner greets her as usual. He was a chubby man with a sweet disposition, bright grey eyes, white wiry hair, a mustache over his lip, and lovely lips always curled in a smile for his favorite customer.
"Afternoon." She replies, and rests her forehead against the shelf.
"Something the matter, my dear?" He asks, with a voice as smooth and soothing as honey.
Molly shakes her head, and runs a hand over her red fabric stomach to sooth the nervous butterflies.
"Fine, sir. Just..." She sighs, and turns around, leaning against the bookcase full of different colored spines holding her up.
"Have you ever... Wanted more... Than what you have?" She asks the man, shorter than she.
The man thinks about it, and nods.
"Well... I do. I have all these books and all these stories to take me somewhere and give me treasures untold."
Molly sighs, and nods.
"I meant... More than a story. But, you're right... I should be thankful. I have... Books and a home... Food... A job... Everything..." She turns, and takes a book, turning the pages and skimming what she already read over and over and over.
The owner of the bookstore looks over her tenderly, and looks at his feet.
"But you want more... Perhaps... An adventure..." He says with a small smile, knowing his makeshift daughter would want this someday.
Molly nods, and closes the book with a small
*flump*
"So much... I want to go on my own, explore the world. I want to go beyond my books... To the outside world." She says wistfully, experiencing wanderlust for the first time.
"Perhaps... You should."
Molly turns to the man with a delicate eyebrow raised.
"I should?"
The man nods and pockets his fingers, still nodding.
"Yes, you should. Explore. Find love. Find adventure. You're a woman now... I trust you."
Molly smiles a little, and holds the book close to her lovingly.
"Where should I go? Where..." She whispers to herself as she steps around the small room, humming to herself.
The man bounces on the balls of his feet.
"Sherlock Holmes..."
"Hm?" She asks in a small voice, and the man pops his tongue as he walks to the shelves and pulls out a large book dressed in black.
On the cover lay an inscription.
The Grand Adventures of Sherlock and Watson
"It's a new shipment. John Watson, the friend of Sherlock Holmes, has just published his newest book."
Molly looks through it, skimming over words and phrases, and gaining a bit of knowledge of the two.
"Ok... And?"
The owner of the store smiles at her, and taps his fingers on the table for which the book lay on.
"He'll find your father. I can guarantee it. He's the best at what he does..."
Molly looks over the words again, reading about this... Sherlock...
"You really think so?" She asks with complete and utter hope.
The man nods, entirely sure of himself.
"Oh yes... Yes, he most certainly will."
Molly closes the book, holds it to her chest, and takes a deep breath as she runs out the door.
Gasping, she runs back in and kisses the man's cheek.
"Thank you... Thank you so much, sir."
The man smiles humbly, and nods.
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Sherlock sits upon his chair as usual at his address of 221B.
It was a large fortress on the outside, but the rooms individually were small.
He sits, fingers perched upright under his chin, as if in a prayer, and contemplates.
Contemplates everything.
He felt something was about to happen, but concludes it must just be the story he had just finished.
John Watson, a loyal man for whom worked with Sherlock, walks into the room and smiles at his friend.
"Going home. Mary and the baby must be starving."
Sherlock makes a noise, and doesn't say anything.
John forgot to add, the man was a beast at times. Utterly horrible to be around.
"Alright. Goodnight, sir." He waved, and turned. Leaving the subject alone.
"Mhm..." Sherlock muttered, and looked to the dwindling fire.
It snapped and crackled, and within it Sherlock saw figures, saw people dancing...
It was his inner soul.
Once the door closed in the other room, Sherlock stands by the window, and leans against it.
"Mmm... Goodnight, dear friend..." He says to his imaginary friend.
"Goodnight to anybody out there... Goodnight to any friends... Anyone..." He says farewell as usual to no one, but prefers it that way... For who could ever learn to love a beast?
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Sorry it's so long! I just got so into it! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did! ^.^