Life happened to me for pretty much the last month. Will update things when I can, in the meantime have some frivolity. I may continue it if I continue to feel randomly ridiculous...
Enjoy!
Sherlock Holmes did not do just anyone's hair. The renowned hairstylist had done hair across every BBC channel to stint work at mini-series and on-location-films and occasionally at hole-in-the-wall-black-box theatres. It was rumored that he'd done Paul McCartney's hair as well as Victoria Beckham's, though there wasn't any evidence to substantiate these claims.
Molly's sister Anita—whose boss called her Anthea—had gotten her the appointment. "I'm tired of taking you places and having you just put your hair up in a pony tail. Your hair is lovely and if you have to have Sherlock's help to see that then that's what it's going to be. Besides, you'll get to ogle him up close—no more style magazines when you've got the real thing, right?"
Molly worked as a style magazine proof-editor, and saw a lot of Sherlock Holmes and his wild curls. Her bosses—everyone, in fact—teased her that she took so long on the proofs because she was in love with him. That wasn't quite the case. She just admired his hair cuts and his eyes and how confident he seemed in interviews. She liked that he didn't hide his opinion, and Molly certainly didn't disagree with the notion that he was the Gordon Ramsay of the salon.
"Now—let's see." He'd taken her wrist and guided her to the single chair in his salon, surrounded on three sides by mirrors and the fourth open to the natural light from the window looking out over Baker Street. His hands straightened her to look directly into one of the side mirrors, his fingers warm and light on her cheeks.
"Too much shampoo during washes, but the washes are spaced well enough. You had your hair trimmed four inches shorter on your last cut for split ends, and whatever idiot did it to you didn't mention you'd need less product. Well, your hair is my responsibility now. You'll not be hurting it anymore."
"But I've got such long hair and it—"
"Is very thick, yes, yes. Anita said you'd be petulant but I think she rather mistook it for innocence. She is what—five years your senior?"
"Almost six, actually," she said, trying to keep calm so that she didn't blush as she looked up at him as he inspected her hair. He tsk'd but didn't comment, instead his eyes narrowing at how the waves of her hair fell over her shoulders. He stepped behind her, putting his hands on her shoulders as he leaned his face in next to hers to smile unnervingly at her in the mirror.
"I think a pixie bob is what's in order. It will let us start on a fresh slate as to how to take care of your hair properly, and it will let you see all the possibilities of your hair while we wait for it to grow back out."
Molly stared at him, her jaw a little slack. Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together in a semblance of concern.
"Didn't your sister tell you? Once I take on a project like this I like to see my work go undisturbed by other stylists," he pecked her cheek and then spun her chair around to face the window, "something you know all about, with your proofing job. Now, I want you to tell me all about yourself while I save your hair."
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