A/N: So...I have never written anything for Sherlock before, so I apologise if it's awful; but it wouldn't leave me alone.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Stunning
Molly Hooper was stunning.
Sherlock steepled his fingers as he considered the word and the corners of his lips twitched.
He'd finally found the right word to describe her.
Sherlock liked to find labels for people, especially for those who had stayed in his life for so long.
He wasn't completely immune to sentiment; he knew that his willingness to share his life with them had to mean something, but he preferred to define it by labelling them, thus filing them appropriately.
Lestrade was tolerable; Mycroft was family; Mrs. Hudson had defied all the labels and finally been deemed 'special' and John…John had been many things but in the end 'friend' had been the only word to truly encompass them all.
The Woman had likewise gone through many different words – intriguing, beguiling, fascinating – but had ended up (like so many others) being labelled 'boring.'
'Sher-locked' indeed; he'd thought she was better than that.
Molly Hooper, on the other hand, had taken much longer to label.
Like John she was uncomplicated and he could deduce her with a glance. Unlike John, however, 'friend' never seemed the right term. It was a word her applied to her, but it was not the word.
Even though he could predict what she might say or how she might react, there were still moments when she surprised him.
Stunned him as it were.
Often it was an insight on a case or a flash of her own brilliance that would catch him unawares, but sometimes it was something simpler: a change in her routine or something new at the lab.
Lately, much to his annoyance, it had been even simpler things that would stun him: the way her eyes caught the light or her smile.
It was these instances that eventually led him to the right word.
Molly Hooper was not like other women.
Other women were beautiful, pretty, insipid, vain, shallow – all labels that were easy to dismiss.
Molly Hooper was not easy to dismiss; Molly Hooper was stunning.
He was in the midst of congratulating himself on finally solving the riddle that he had puzzled over for much longer than he cared to admit, when the object of said riddle came into the flat.
Immediately he deduced her appearance – taking in the royal blue dress, the make-up and the high heels – and determined she was on her way to a work function. As he came to this conclusion, he let out the breath he hadn't know he was holding.
"I was just on my way out, but I thought I should bring Sherlock the test results before he tries to break into the lab to get them," she explained, glancing in Sherlock's direction and handing John the file when he made no move to get up.
"Thanks," John said, shooting a reproving glance in Sherlock's direction and smiling at Molly, "you look beautiful."
Sherlock rolled his eyes at John's mundane choice of word, hadn't he already dismissed that word as unacceptable?
"No she doesn't John, don't be stupid," he said flatly.
John's eyes flashed fire as he turned to face him and Molly's smile faded as she braced herself for what was to come next.
"Molly Hooper is stunning," he said firmly, proving that statement as Molly beamed and he was struck – stunned – by the sparkle in her eyes.
Inwardly, Sherlock frowned, suddenly deciding that stunning – whilst applicable – still wasn't the word he was looking for.
It took Sherlock several more days before he realised that only one word would truly sum up everything that was Molly Hooper.
Molly Hooper was his.