A/N: My first published story! Be kind and tell me if it's alright.
At age 14, Molly Madeline Hooper fell in love.
She was a junior in highschool then just some bubbly,innocent schoolgirl. But, even though she was young, she wasn't an idiot. Molly might've been sidetracked by the sharp cheekbones, sapphire blue eyes,and cupid bow-shaped lips but she isn't keen on being bothered by such childish feelings. Not when there was too much schoolwork to do, errands to run, or lessons to study. Or when her mother keeps on hounding her to perfect that pirouette or attend those piano recitals. There were so many things on her plate already that she doesn't have the time to squeal and gawk over "him".
So, Molly Madeline Hooper brushes off her little crush like it was merely salt on her shoulder. And she vows to never, ever let anyone know about this tiny slip-up. She instead attends those ballet sessions just as her mother had said and attempts to perfect that blasted pirouette. Almost.
It was hard. Very, utterly, and inexplicably hard to get over her little crush though. Not when he sits in front of you every single day and recites shakespearean poems in front of the class with that deep, spine-tingling voice of his. And when one day, Mr. Fitzwilliam, their english teacher who might or might not be a little too 'flamboyant', assigns him to recite that verse from Lord Tennyson's "Lady of Shallot" she doesn't think she can hold onto her resolve any longer. Literature, seriously, was her achilles' heel.
Yes, she finds him attractive (maybe a little too much).
Yes, she looks up to him in respect as much as a habitue would to it's idol.
Yes, she might still have that little crush.
But, she still won't tell it to anyone ever. Almost.
Though,of course,she can't go about hiding it forever. Especially not from your bestfriend. So when Irene Adler, her bloody gorgeous bestfriend, strolls into the cafeteria and plops beside her hunched, eating self it really shouldn't surprise her when Irene's first words were- " I heard you have a crush on Sherlock Holmes? ". But, it doesn't stop her from choking on her ham sandwich a bit.
" What? Where did you hear that from? That's crazy! Nonsense, seriously! ",she says after recovering from the her little choking incident.
She gets a raised eyebrow in response.
" You know, lying won't get you anywhere ".
" I am not lying ".
" Yes, you are ".
" No, I'm not ".
" Yes, you are ".
" No, I'm not ".
" Yes. "
" No. "
" Yes. "
" No. "
" Okay, fine. Is that Sherlock over there? "
" Where? "
And on that day, Molly Hooper learned to never lie to Irene Adler for it results to her utter mortification and to Irene's amusement.
You see, there are certain drawbacks when you inform your peers about the apple of your eye. For example, getting unnecessary pep talks.
" Come on, Mols, just tell him! It won't actually kill you, and it might even set you free ", Irene exclaims for the fifth time ever since Molly told her.
" Yes, it would. Now, be quiet. We're in a library for pete's sake. "
" You're exaggerating. Could it be that hard? You'll just tell him, you're not going to marry him. And wouldn't you want to know if he likes you back? "
Another unnecessary thought is planted in Molly's brain. She haven't even perfected her piroutte yet. Now all this, he might like you back nonsense. She just won't think about it. Now, where is that book about the study of the hypothalamus.
Too late. She has thought about it. Now, here she is standing at the facade of Riverdale Highschool with a red envelope in one hand and a plain, white umbrella in the other. It is raining. And, coincidentally, it is valentine's day. A feeling akin to dread crawls over her skin. Or maybe, that's just the rain making it's eerie presence known. This was just not her day. She can still make a run for it, she thinks. Irene's still in Biology class, no students in sight, not even teachers- thank God. She still has a chance to save herself from-
Her train of thought stops when she makes out a figure slowly, but surely approaching her. It doesn't take her a beat to recognize the boy from a distance. She'd know it was him anywhere.
In a moment, her chance of escaping had gone with the wind because right in front of her, Benedict Holmes, the-boy-who-she-might-have-a-crush-on, stood. Up close, she finds out that he is a foot taller than her and if anything, more handsome than ever. A wistful sigh-that comes out a bit like a yammer- escapes her lips.
He was barely inches away from her and it feels all too surreal. And awkward, definitely awkward.
" So you're Molly Hooper? " It was more of a statement than a question.
" Why exactly did you summon me? " That was him again, and for a second, Molly thinks she heard wrong because, seriously, who uses the word 'summon' regarding,well,himself?
" I-uhmm-you-see- ", she doesn't get to finish her mutterings when he interrupts again.
" Ms. Hooper, I suggest you hurry up in forming coherent sentences. You are wasting a dreadful amount of my time, " he sneers with a look she's all too familiar with. A look that says, Please refrain from showing your stupidity. She gets it all the time from her snooty mother.
Her stomach drops. Of course. He's a jerk. She should have seen that one coming. Truly, no one is ever really perfect. And definitely not Sherlock, Sherlock who keeps on tsking and checking his wristwatch as if she's some puppy he's dreading to look after. The same Sherlock who she swooned, squealed,and gawked at. Life can be too cruel sometimes.
" Uhmm, I was just wondering if you have a copy of Macbeth. I lost mine," she says as quickly as she thought of it. If he thinks she's still going to pour her heart out to him ( even if he doesn't know ) he'd have to guess again.
" I don't have it with me right now. " He says not at all too regrettably.
" That's okay. I'll just borrow from someone else." She replies and turns away quickly. The walk to her next class is a long one.
It wasn't his fault that he shattered her fantasies.
It wasn't his fault that she had unreasonable expectations.
It wasn't his fault.
She was just young and definitely stupid. And Irene's pity didn't make her feel any better.
Summer comes and Sherlock Holmes is forgotten. Almost.
It doesn't escape her mind that she might have dropped that red envelope. Or that a copy of Macbeth is sent to her home via post office. She can't think of a sebriquet to what she is feeling about it.
" How was your summer? " When she looks up, she finds Sherlock standing in front of her. He looks different. Not that he changed anything in his appearance but something was definitely altered. She just can't put her finger on it.
" Fine." She replies. Not too bitterly. She turns back to what she's reading before he so rudely interrupted.
" Not one for pleasantries, are you? " He says as he sits on the desk next to her.
" Not one for jerks, actually. "
" Ah. That. " A pause. " I'm sorry for that. "
" You don't have to be apologetic if you don't want to. "
" But I am and I do, Miss Hooper. " He motions to stand up.
" Just because I like-liked you it doesn't mean you have to like me back. " She says, without looking up.
" You're right. I don't. " So much for not being a jerk.
He walks back to his proper seat, which was three seats away from hers, before he stops and adds, " I'm just abiding by that old saying, to thine own self be true."
The bell rings and Mr. Fitzwilliam comes through the classroom door.
Literature would surely be the death of her,she thinks as she tucks her copy of Macbeth into her knapsack.
A/N: So is it okay...should I make it into a one-shot only thing or more?