MOLLY'S PUB

This was inspired by a real place by the same name that I happened to pass by just yesterday on my way to see my grandmother. Enjoy this. I definitely did. - day

Friday nights were always the busiest nights for it was the start of the weekend. Everyone was getting off of work and hoping to find somewhere to just relax and maybe drink a little. Molly's Pub was one of those more populace places that seemed to always be open and willing to ease anyone's need for a good meal and a pint at a pretty decent price.

It also helped that the ladies working behind the bar weren't too bad to look at either. The owner, Margaret "Molly" Hooper split her time between behind the bar making sure that all of the orders were filled and out on the floor chatting up customers who she knew and some newcomers who she felt needed to accompany in a way to make them feel welcome.

Tonight she was doing a little bit of both. Her hair changing up just as much as what she did. She'd leave it down when out on the floor chatting up folks, refilling drinks and then it'd go back up into the pins she had secured in her black apron that covered her jeans. Her light blue flannel covered her form nicely. A cotton white shirt under it. Only visible in the slightest. She was comfortable enough.

This place had been hers since she turned twenty three. Passed down from her great aunt Molly – hence the name of the pub. Luckily her aunt had been surrounded by people who genuinely loved being around her and this fine establishment or else she would have had a near breakdown the first week that she found herself behind the bar.

She had several people there to help, especially when she had to go back up to Bart's to help with a death or two. There was something much more difficult to talk about. Having this second place among friends was something that made her relax from all of the morbid images that she experienced on her morgue nights. This was home for her. It had always been before she even inherited it.

She smiled at an older gentleman name Charlie who always came on the Friday's just for chips and variety of sauces they had along with them. He had been a regular as far as Molly knew. She was beginning to move around to make sure all of the other guests were doing alright when she heard the cheerful voice of her second in command behind the bar Mary call for her.

"Your boys are here!"

Molly rolled her eyes at that as she made her way towards the opening that would get her back into the chaos of glasses being tossed down and drinks being made in quick increments only to fill another order. It wasn't as cool back here as it was out near the tables due to the fact that the vents for the little place where the cooks filled orders were right there, emitting heat. Molly began to unbutton her flannel to try to not get too overwhelmed by the heat.

She smiled at the three men who were seated to her left. They always sat in the same spot. The tallest of the three was now without his deliciously tailored suit jacket. A white crisp button up hung off of him and Molly had to once again deter her focus from him. His eyes were quite mesmerizing to her. She looked at the other two.

The army doctor having finally come back from his time overseas. She had served him many times all with the taller man with the gorgeous eyes, not to mention his cheekbones. The doctor, was a bit of cheeky fellow. Always chatting up Mary when she in. By his appearance it seemed like he would be staying for some time. A grey shirt covering his shoulders, a military cut brown jacket thrown over the chair he was sitting on. If Molly were to have walked towards them when she was on the outside she was sure to see some form fitting slacks on him or perhaps a pair of jeans. He deserved comfortably enough for still seemed to have that soldier look to him.

The last being the only actual police enforcement in the entire place. A newly christened Detective Inspector. His hair dark , his face always looked so worried to her but she never tried to pry into anything he was getting into work wise or not. He was sweet enough to keep her attention while she worked around them.

"What will it be, gents?" She asked them as she picked up a glass and began to wipe it out. Mary had a couple of them placed face down on the bar. Only three. She was always so prepared.

The army doctor and the detective inspector both said, "the usual" while the gorgeous and sometimes mysterious fellow muttered, "scotch". Molly with the help of Mary prepared their orders along with a large order of chips knowing that everyone needed to eat something while drinking the sauce no matter if you were a lightweight or not. They always ordered more.

Molly pushed the scotch over to the disinterested curly haired man. His hand catching it as always. He never looked he just always did. She watched him toss it back with a scowl on his face. "Not to your liking, Mister Holmes?" She asked him as she nodded at a gentleman who had just ordered a strawberry daiquiri for his girl, they were newcomers. Molly turned moving to the otherside of the bar to grab the shaker and ice along with the other things she needed to quickly make the drinks.

"Fine." He muttered.

"What's got your panties in a twist, Locky?" Mary asked him. Molly knew that the woman knew of the Holmes longer than she had so stayed silent, focusing on pouring the drinks in the glasses and walking around Mary who had stopped right in front of Sherlock with a look of irritation on her face. Molly tried to hide her amusement at the continuation of what always happened whenever the man was here. Molly was always nice and sometimes tried to flirt with him. She knew she wouldn't get anything edge wise but it was still fun to do. He was always rather uncomfortable especially if John, the doctor always present at his side would egg him on about asking her to dance.

She presented the couple with their drinks; one daiquiri and another pint of Guinness for the fellow before trailing back over to the gentlemen to refill their pints. Sherlock hadn't asked for another one. He rarely did. The small movement of his hand tapping against the wood of the bar caught Molly by surprise. He wanted another.

If he hadn't like it, what would make him want another? This left her a bit befuddled but she went over to him, grabbing his glass and pouring him another on the rocks. She passed it back to him, stealing one of the chips (the bowl almost empty now).

Sherlock had muttered something to Mary but Molly hadn't caught it, neither had Mary decided to divulge the information with her. Instead she moved over to John and began flirting with him. The man looked delighted and Molly had to stop herself from commenting on this little thing they had going. They never did anything but it was rather obvious they clicked well.

Sherlock attempted to catch her attention just as another group on the outside was requesting her for a order. They had just came in. She usually gave people enough time to mull over what they wanted before going out to serve them but these people always came in and were abrupt about making their presence known. Everyone turned quiet as they looked between the bartender and the group of men. All of them with a glint of mischief in their eyes. There was a look on Molly's face that probably was closer to the scowl that Sherlock was giving not too long ago. She paused a moment to grab the tray that she would carry over there with their drinks. She already knew what they wanted. They always ordered the same thing.

Mary was there at her side mumbling in her ear, making sure that she would be fine to this again. She had done it a total of thirteen times in the past two months. A fourteenth time wouldn't kill her or anything. Well, it could. These were dangerous men. They had turned some of the best places to shambles in a matter of moments. They were all killers decked out in the devil's suit. Westwood. Molly never commented on it, no matter what they said to her. They had said plenty before.

"I'm fine, Mary. Just take care of the other guests while I'm dealing with them." Molly muttered.

"Molly, sweetheart we aren't getting any younger over here!" The sickeningly sweet voice of their leader, James or Jim as he liked to be called. She rolled her eyes at him not caring in the slightest if he saw her or what he planned to say to her about it. She really didn't care about him. She wanted to get him out of her home as quickly as she could however.

As she went to grab the tray of seven pints filled to the brim of Guinness, three orders of the savory Jack Daniel's barbeque sandwiches, and three orders of chips with the house sauce, a bit of a shiver went up her arm as she felt the touch of an unfamiliar cool hand. She looked up to meet the icy orbs of the usually silent Sherlock Holmes. "Allow me." He told her, taking the tray out of her hands before she could even begin to protest. What was he doing? She wondered as she circled around the bar, ducking under so that she could move back out as he moved away from the bar and made his way around to the corner where Jim and his minions sat.

It was fairly quiet in the place apart from the sound of people chewing but no one said a word to each other. They continued to enjoy their meals and drinks while the background of the frightening men sitting there lurking nearby. Every other place had been overrun by these guys, not here. Molly wouldn't allow it. Neither now it seemed would Sherlock Holmes. There was this look in his eyes that she had never caught onto before. She wasn't sure what it was but she stood by John and Greg as they had got out of their seat to watch the spectacle of their best mate as he walked with a swagger that all he could hold.

There were mutterings between the two men; Jim and Sherlock but no one besides the men could hear it. It all sort of happened really fast. First it seemed like they were just talking, Sherlock handed out their meal and drinks and then stood there speaking. Molly couldn't catch what was happening but soon enough there was a drink in his hand and he tossed it back before breaking it against the side of Jim's best friend and second in command Seb. Soon an all-out brawl had started. Greg and John moved over to aid their friend.

Mary had pulled her out of the way as more men came in and out. It was pure chaos. Molly and Mary ducked down behind the bar as to not get hit by any flying glass. There was plenty of that. As quickly as all of that happened, it all stopped. The sound of sirens and gunshots followed and there sat Molly, owner of Molly's Pub with her best friend in shock as questions were flown her way by men in uniform. Sherlock Holmes sat nearby listening to her recollection of what had happened while John and Mary both cleaned him up. He had gotten most of the hits. Mostly from fists but there were a few ragged openings where he had been cut at on his arms by broken glass. Soon enough, he was standing next to Molly much to the doctor's chagrin as he began talking. Peering down at her the entire time. "You missed a few things. Jim has been coming around for two months now trying to stir up trouble as his usual and then spoke very ill of the former Miss Molly of this establishment. I only decided that it was very disrespectful and decided that I needed him to shut his mouth. I reacted and he reacted and now we have five dead men and two on their way to booking. Anymore questions?" With the shake of heads from both men. One being Gregory "Greg" Lestrade who was there more to aid in the support of Molly's answers. "Good. C'mon Molly." Molly followed him slowly towards the bar for reasons she wasn't even sure of.

"What are you doing?" She finally asked him. He had went around to the other side once ushering her into the stool which he had been sitting in. "You need a drink." He told her as he moved around behind her area as if he had worked there for fifteen years. He hadn't. Molly took the scotch in her hands, looking at him as he tossed one of his own back. How he knew she would like scotch or even drunk it in the first place was beyond her.

She tossed it back slowly still reeling from tonight's events.

"Is it too late to ask you about that dance?" She asked with a smile. Sherlock had a smirk of his own on his face.

"Next week, Miss Hooper. You're have to fix a things around here first." He noted as he looked around at all the debris that he had may have caused.

"Yes, and you'll be here to help of course." She told him, her eyes unclouded from the hysteria that she was under before. She was back to normal for the moment albeit.

He nodded, his hand coming over to rest on her wrist. He smiled just a little. He knew it the entire time. She was rather obvious about it. He hummed, "Yes, I suppose that would be the right thing to do after all this was my doing."

"We're on the same page then." Her eyes flitted up to his, her lips tugging between her teeth biting down on it.

He hummed in affirmation of her thought. He'd stick around a little longer he supposed.