When Sherlock Holmes was a child, he was entranced by books. He couldn't put them down. He was lost in the world. Whenever he was asked what he'd like to do when he grew up, he always said 'librarian' as though it was the proudest thing he would ever decide.

His brother, Mycroft, always had a knack for ruining things, in Sherlock's opinion. For example, Mycroft tried to lay down his stupid rules of 'caring isn't an advantage, Sherlock' and tried to force him to fill his "mind palace" with nonsense such as how much blood someone can lose before they will die. Sherlock countered with "in the books, caring is very important, so there!" and "when I need to know how much blood is in people for when I read a book, I'll be sure to ask you, Mycroft."

It was no surprise to anyone when Sherlock was able to rattle off all the books he'd ever read, along with a short review, the general plot and the author of each book. He was pretty sure, at the age of 8, that he could write it all down and hand that in to a library as his resume. Mycroft had snickered when Sherlock had sent in his "resume" to the local library, only for him to get a letter back informing him that all the books on his list would be added to the library straight away because they sounded great. Sherlock had huffed and refused to leave his bedroom for a week.

At the age of 19, Sherlock turned to his local library and stated his quest to read every single book they had. When he was 25, Sherlock had read the entire library and had a mind palace full of books and that was when he decided to be a library assistant, a job his knowledge would be very good for.

While Sherlock was interviewed for his dream job, Mycroft sat in his office in the heart of London, preparing for his interview with the Prime Minister. The eldest Holmes brother had made his way rather high up the ladder and was perched at a fantastic location, able to look down at over 90% of the British citizens. He had pursued his dream job and was only climbing up the ladder with each year.

At 30 years old, Sherlock had begun to master the ability to read people. Mycroft was more than happy to help his brother with the hope Sherlock would change career paths. Nonetheless, the two Holmes worked on reading people, allowing Sherlock to identify the favourite genre and book of a person.
Mycroft had hoped that with his newfound knowledge, Sherlock might change professions and invest in a more intellectual job. Sherlock, however, was excited to come into work the next day and start helping people.

"Excuse me," a woman asked one day. "I was just wondering where the non-fiction was."

Sherlock smiled at her and pointed down the library. "Right down the end. The stuff on ghosts are all the way at the back, though. I'd recommend 113.9 BEC," he told her. "You'll find a lot of the information you're after."

And with that, Sherlock's fame began to take off. People began to ask him where specific books were and soon, he was a spectacle. People came from all over London to get books recommended and for him to guess their favourite genres and books.

For five years, people came to Sherlock Holmes to continue the spectacle. He never ceased to amaze and became one of the hottest attractions for tourists. But in all the years as a librarian, only one woman had ever stood out to him. He had seen her a few times walking past the library and his eyes always followed her, even as he talked to one of his many excited clients. Sherlock couldn't help but wish that she'd walk into the library, just once, and he could introduce himself to her. But alas, she had been cynical when it came to Sherlock Holmes, and she never looked over at the library and she never caught his eye. She never realised that he knew she existed. His fortune changed on a rainy day, five years, seven months, three weeks and six days after he first deduced in the library. The woman who he craved to meet walked into the library.

It was a quiet evening, about five o'clock. There were few people remaining, and few who hadn't already had a turn at Sherlock Holmes. It was yet another rainy, London day. The woman ducked for cover and ran straight into the entrance of the library. She took off her coat and cringed as she folded it over her arm.

Sherlock was sitting at the front desk and looked up at the new arrival. He paled. She was right there and he could walk straight over with no problem. This was his chance, but would he take it? He was getting nervous and he wasn't sure he could do it. He stood up and gulped. He could do this, he told himself, taking one step forward. Sherlock grabbed one of the books from the desk and walked over to the woman, planting a smile on his face. He stood behind her and bit his lip. He had to say something, anything!

"I'd say you're a fan of sci-fi and romance," he said.

The woman jumped and spun around. "Erm, I only read romance when there's another genre involved," she replied, looking him up and down.

He moved the book to get one hand free and held it out to her. "Sherlock Holmes."

She froze. Oh God. "M-Molly Hooper," she stumbled out and shook his hand, a blush over her face.

"Hmm," Sherlock muttered, his smile turning to a frown. "That was a rather negative reaction to my name..."

Molly blushed further. She didn't believe in him. She didn't believe that Sherlock could deduce people. "Just words on the street clouding my thoughts," she replied.

Unsure of how to respond, he settled for a small, forced smile that looked more like a smirk. "Would you like to take a seat with me?" he asked while looking around the library. There were few people in the library but Sherlock hoped there was a free place. "I think there's a table over there."

Molly looked up at Sherlock and looked across the library. "I suppose so. I didn't really have a plan when entering; just 'keep dry'," she replied with a small smile.

"I'll escort you to my favourite table," he said before offering his hand to her. She was hesitant in taking it, but decided nothing bad would happen if she did. "It sits right between the crime and mystery section, a very quiet place indeed. I'm almost always in the library," he told Molly as they walked.

"I'm rarely in libraries, nowadays. I buy stuff online or read it online. I don't have a lot of time in between working and sleeping," she told him, a blush rising again.

"I suppose it must be tiring working with the dead, though. I'm not too sure how close Bart's is, but I suppose you took the tube and popped up close by. You were on your way home when the rain started heavily," Sherlock said before motioning to a table.

He sat down and Molly gave him an odd look. "How do you know where I work and what I do?"

"Your ID is on top of your purse. It's easy to see," he told her, waving his hand as if it was nothing.

Molly sank down in her chair and crossed her legs. "I have to ask, since it's eating me inside, how do you know about people? Like, their favourite genre and book," she clarified, feeling somewhat embarrassed that she had asked him.

"I can read people. Where someone looks when they enter the library, where they're feet are, the way they hold themselves and speak, the way they dress and everything they do. To me, it screams out 'read me, read me' as though I have to understand everything. But I don't just get books from them. I can read their life stories from the way they look, from a string on their shirt, from the fluff left on a sleeve. Just the condition of your skirt tells me many things, Doctor Hooper." Sherlock cocked his head at her and his smile faded.

He didn't know what she thought of him. She had changed her opinion on him, though. He thought that she no longer felt uncomfortable around him. Oh how he'd love to go on a date with her, or something.

"Well," she started a few moments after his explanation. "This certainly has been an interesting conversation, but I best getting home. I think it's starting to clear up a bit."

Sherlock felt his heart drop. She didn't like him and she certainly wasn't impressed. "Oh. Alright then." He frowned and his mind raced. He had to see her again, just emhad /emto. No-one had enthralled him as much as she had. "Erm, would you be interested in getting coffee with me, some time?" he asked, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Yeah, sure. I'll give you my number." She pulled a pad of paper out of her purse and scrawled her number before handing it to him. "I'll hear from you soon, then?"

"Oh, definitely," he replied with a wink as she stood up. He felt so relieved, even if the conversation had only been a few minutes long.

She smiled and looked over at the doors. "It was great to meet you, Sherlock."

"And you, Molly. I'll call you," he said before standing up and nodding at her.

Sherlock watched as Molly walked out of the library, a huge smile splitting his face. He ran into the break room where his fellow librarian, John Watson, was trying to chat up the new girl.

"Sorry to interrupt," he called as he entered the room. "But I've got some brilliantnews!"

John gave an apologetic smile at the woman and turned to Sherlock. "What? We get some new books?" he joked.

Sherlock shook his head, his smile growing. "Molly Hooper," he told John who gave him a blank stare. "The woman! THE woman! She walked in about ten minutes ago. Her name's Molly Hooper and she gave me her number," he beamed.

"Wait, the woman?! I thought she didn't really exist! I thought you were making her up so I stopped trying to set you up,' John said.

"She does exist and I have her number," Sherlock boasted. "But I'm going to need your help. I don't really understand relationships."

John smiled. "I'm happy for you, Sherlock. I'll help you make sure it goes well."

The elated man brought John into a hug, even if the latter wasn't really into hugging Sherlock.

"I can't believe my luck, John! It started raining once she got of the tube and she came into the library to hide from the rain." Sherlock raised his arms into the air and tilted his head back. "Ah! It's Christmas! I can die a happy man!"

John laughed and nodded. "Alright, Sherlock. We're not off until eight, so you go and be nice to people, maybe read the new book. It needs to be covered, too. If you could do that, that'd be great."


Sherlock paced around Baker Street, John sitting in his armchair, reading one of the new books.

"What do I say?" Sherlock asked as he began to sweat.

John sighed. "I dunno. 'Hi Molly, it's Sherlock from the library. Would you like to have lunch tomorrow?'" he suggested.

"But what if she says no?" Sherlock asked as he sat down in his armchair and sighed. "Books didn't prepare me for real life."

"If she says no, that's ok. You know that rejection is part of being human. You'll meet someone else or whatever. But don't focus on if she says no. She'll probably say yes, she gave you her number, afterall. Stop thinking of the negatives, Sherlock," John said and turned the page in his book.

"But-"

John put the book down and sighed. "Sherlock, I have been rejected by so many women. I've been in relationships and one of us has ended it. Alright? I can tell you that even if you meet someone who might be the one, you'll get over them if they reject you. You move on, you live your life, alright? Don't fret. Just send her a text and see where it goes from then," he reassured his friend.

Sherlock frowned at John and sat down in his armchair. "I s'pose." He twiddled his thumbs for a bit and sighed. "Can you text her for me?"

"No, that's ridiculous," John said with a laugh. "Just tell her it's you, then ask her out for… whatever."

"Fine," Sherlock muttered and sent a text to Molly.


A/N: Hey darling reader!

I'm thinking about continuing this because who doesn't love adorable librarian Sherlock? So, tell me what you think of it :)

My most sincere apologies for the original version of this. It appeared FFN uploaded this in HTML text which totally sucks. Nonetheless, I fixed it up so everyone can read it without those pesky "p", "/p", "/em" etc.

A HUGE thank you to the beautiful yarnandahalfspinner, Rosie McGuilicuty, SammyKatz,and a fabulous Guest who told me that the original file needed fixing. I really appreciate it :)

Have a fabby dabby day!

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