At the tender ages of seven and ten, respectively, Molly Hopper and Sherlock Holmes were meeting for the first time. Their parents were great friends and Molly's mother had finally decided that it was time the two children become acquainted with one another. Molly's hair had been curled and brought into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her mother had wiped off the few tears that had escaped, caused by the pain that was coursing through Molly's scalp, and they had gotten into the carriage. Molly was wearing her best dress and found it very difficult to sit down. She felt, all around, completely uncomfortable and particularly annoyed.
On the other side of the spectrum, Sherlock Holmes was getting a lecture from his parents about how important it was that he be nice to this girl.
"You may even like her." His mother had told him. He waited until his parents had left the room to roll his eyes.
The Hooper's carriage arrived shortly after noon. Molly stepped out and tried not to gawk at the large manor house that was in front of her. She had been privileged her whole life, but had never seen a house this large. While the adults stood and talked, the children were left to meet each other.
"They do make a very lovely couple, don't they?" Mrs. Holmes remarked, watching as Molly and Sherlock shook hands.
OOOOOOOOOO
"Hello, I'm Sherlock." The boy said, his tone dull and board.
"I'm Molly."
"I know that, stupid."
Molly recoiled. "There's no need to be rude." Molly chastised.
"Don't tell me what to do. You aren't my mother."
"Well, there's still no reason to be mean." Molly replied.
"Really? I have to spend my whole day with some stupid girl."
"Well, I have to spend my day with you." Molly bit back.
"I could be out having an adventure right now if it wasn't for you, imbecile. Do you even know what 'imbecilic' means?"
"Yes, of course I do! And my father always says, if you don't have anything nice to say-"
"I don't care what your father says! He's an idiot."
Molly's fists balled up and her face redden. "You take that back."
"Why don't you make me?" Sherlock smirked
Suddenly, a cry was heard and the parents rushed across the lawn to the children to see what had happened. Sherlock was wiping mud off of his face and Molly was standing there, her right hand covered in mud and her face cherry red.
"Don't you ever say something like that again! Take it back." Molly threatened, her eyes still on Sherlock.
"I think you got some in my eye."
"Molly, dear what happened?" Mr. Hooper asked, but his daughter ignored him.
"Take it back, Sherlock." Molly said, her tone menacing.
"Is there some up my nose?" Sherlock grumbled.
"Take…it…back."
Sherlock stared at Molly, trying to make sense of the younger girl. He must have struck some kind of cord, but which one? Something about her father, most likely. He turned his head slightly to stare at Mr. Hooper. He was a normal sort of man with brown hair and eyes. He wore nicer clothing, but he didn't flaunt his wealth like some people. So what was it about him that made Molly so angry?
"Oh." Sherlock's eyes widened as he noticed how pale Mr. Hopper was. The older man had done a good enough job of hiding it, but Sherlock could tell he was sick. And judging by the handkerchief stained with blood that was peeking out of his pocket, he wasn't getting any better. He turned back to Molly. "I'm sorry."
"Molly you shouldn't have done that!" Mrs. Hooper scolded.
"It's my fault. I made her angry." Sherlock admitted. "I deserved it."
"What did he do to make you angry?" Mr. Hooper asked, kneeling down in front of his daughter to get a better look at her face. A few tears welled up in her eyes, but none came out.
"Nothing Papa. I don't want to talk about it." She said quietly, giving a glace over to Sherlock.
OOOOOOOOOO
The Hoopers stayed for a little over a week. Sherlock and Molly refused to even go near each other, let alone be in the same room. Molly couldn't make herself go near this boy who had insulted her and her family and Sherlock really didn't want to argue with that. So the Hoopers left having not gotten anything more out of the trip than some hurt feelings and muddied children.
About a year after the fateful visit, Molly Hooper became fatherless. She had a small dowry that was left to her by her father, so she was less than destitute. However, she was without a father figure and her mother could not be expected to stay single. Two years after her father's death, she moved with her mother into their new home. Mrs. Hooper had now become Mrs. Stamford.
"What am I supposed to call him, mama? What if he doesn't like me? I'm not his child; he doesn't have to like me."
"Molly, dear he's going to love you. He is a nice man, I promise."
"I've never met him. What if he doesn't like me?"
"Molly." Her mother gently placed her hands on Molly's cheeks. "He's going to love you."
They pulled up to a small manor house and a stout man came down the steps to greet them at the carriage. Molly shyly got out and watched as her mother greeted the man. He had a cheerful face and Molly was happy to see him smile at her mother. Then he turned to her.
"And this must be Miss Molly, who I've heard so much about."
"I'm sorry to be rude sir, but I don't know what to call you. You are not my father, sir."
The man looked a little shocked at the bluntness but his smile remained.
"Well, you are right…You may call me Uncle Michael, if you like."
"That…that sounds wonderful." Molly smiled "Uncle Michael."