I flip the book page, so engrossed in the story that I don't see the long legs stretched out across the aisle. I trip over them and barely catch myself from face planting into the dark green carpet.
"Oh, my! I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" The owner of the legs jumps up and rushes to me. He towers over me at six foot with black curls flopping into his green eyes, or are they blue? They seem to change. He's wearing black skinny jeans, a dark purple t-shirt, and a black hoodie. He must be about a year older than me, twenty or so. I realize I've been staring and cough.
"Yes, I'm fine thank you." I pull my cardigan tighter around me. "I wasn't looking were I was going."
"Here," he bends down and picks up my book, "I really shouldn't be lounging in the aisles myself." He gazes down at me with a faint smile playing at his lips.
"Thank you." I take the book from his hands and begin walking away.
"The name's Sherlock." He calls to me. I turn to him, confused.
"I'm Molly."
"It's nice to meet you, Molly." He holds his hand out for me to shake. I take it.
"I'll be going now." I mean to sound confident but it comes out like a question.
"There's a lovely pair of couches just around the corner. If you're looking for a place to read that is."
"Mmmhmm…" I'm entranced by his eyes again, "Oh, thank you." I turn my back on him again and head in the direction he mentioned though I've been here many times. I glance back at him and am surprised to see him only a few feet behind me, following me, with a smile that makes my insides flutter. I quickly look away hoping he doesn't notice the blush creeping its way up my neck. As I make it out of the aisle, I hurry to the couches. This bookstore has always been customer friendly with couches and coffee and cookies. I plop down on one of the three couches and prop my legs up on the brown cushions. I feel a slight dip in the couch as Sherlock sits cross-legged next to me, nose in a book. I open my book again and start where I left off though I keep ready the same sentence over and over again. I glance up at my reading companion and he's looking at me over the rim of his book. I glance back down at the book before looking up at him again. This goes on for about five minutes. Sometimes I catch him looking at me, sometimes not. I don't know why he would be though. I'm not my older sister. She's a model, really, that's her job. Beautiful body, gorgeous hair, flawless skin. I'm just me. I'm wearing baggy jeans, a plaid shirt with a red and white ziz-zag cardigan, and my beat up, black Converse. My hair is up in its usual ponytail and I didn't bother putting makeup on today.
"Okay, I can't take it anymore." He shoots up off the couch, "Molly, will you do me a favor-"
"Yeah, I was just leaving." I hang my head dejectedly and get up. Obviously I was creeping him out with all my staring. I probably encroached on his usual reading spot too. I walk away.
"What? No, Molly, wait." He runs up in front of me, stopping me, "I don't want you to leave."
I look up at him confused, "What do you want then?"
"I would like, I mean if you want to. I'm not sure if you would even be interested. You can say no."
"Interested in what? You haven't asked me anything to say no to yet."
"Right, would you join me for a cup of coffee?"
Are my eyes playing with me or is he blushing? I'm too focused on his face to register what he said at first. He stares at me, waiting for an answer while I'm too shocked to say anything. My mouth hangs just slightly open. He coughs into his fist.
"Oh, um…sure." My words catch in my throat and barely come out audible, "I'd love a cup of coffee, Sherlock." I say a bit more confident.
"Brilliant."
We walk to the corner of the bookstore where they have the coffee shop. He orders two coffees and walks them to the table with all the cream and sugar and whatnot.
"Cream or sugar?"
"Both, please."
We ease into a comfortable silence, sipping our coffee. In that fifteen minute coffee break I find out that Sherlock is indeed twenty, he lives in a flat with his friend John Watson, has a dog named Red Beard, and plays the violin. He does most of the talking, asking me questions every now and again but I enjoy listening to him. His voice is powerful but soothing.
"My friends and I are having a small dinner party tomorrow evening at my flat if you'd be interested." He states after finishing off his coffee.
"I…I don't suppose I have anything going on tomorrow. What time?"
"Seven o'clock." He smiles again sending butterflies into a frenzy in my stomach.
"Should I dress a certain way?"
"Just the way you are is perfect."
Heat bursts through my cheeks and I drop my gaze to the floor.
"Well, I best be off. It was very nice to meet you, Molly, and I can't wait to see you again tomorrow." He starts walking away.
"Oh, Sherlock!" I rush up to him, "I didn't get your address."
"The address is 221 B. Baker St." he says with a wink and saunters off toward the door.
I sit back down on one of the couches nearby and open my book. I can't wipe the stupid smile off my face.
AN: Not sure if I should make this more than a one-shot for now. Please R&R. Thanks. :)
