A/N Sherlollyween prompt fill.
This is a prompt fill for the anon in tumblr who asked for: Molly is a witch ala Pratical Magic. I focused on the true love spell part of the movie but I let my love for greek mythology to take over the magic part.
Also, I am not Greek so I blame google translate for any errors. I am so sorry to any Greek readers.
Still unbetaed and out of the blue. Please enjoy.
When she first saw Sherlock Holmes, she had the impulse to throw back her head and laugh at the sky while screaming, "That's it?"
The sensible part of her won in the end. Laughing like a maniac in front of a total stranger would only serve to secure her position on the whole new level of weird. Besides, taunting the Moira had never been a good exercise - every female member of the Hooper line, case in point. Once upon a time great-great-grandmaman Eudora, a beautiful and powerful follower of Hecate, thought too much of her name and decided that she was the gods' gift to mankind. Soon, too many hearts and bodies were broken and the Moira had to step in to restore the balance.
Unfortunately, for the daughters of the Hooper family, the process of restoring balance is pretty much backlogged. Now, Molly is the sole bearer of the family curse. Growing up, she had witnessed how it turned every female relative into a withering body of sadness and regret. Each of them lived a life full of what ifs and if onlys. That is, everyone except her mother. She embraced the family curse and didn't try to run away from it. So when Thomas Hooper was diagnosed of cancer, Anna Hooper simply clasped her husband's hand while thinking of how she would explain everything to her only child. Through the years, her mother lived and loved with all her heart despite knowing that soon it will be gone. She tried to keep smiling widely and refused to succumbed to depression, like her ancestors. However, despite the constant reassurance that everything was okay, Molly could see that her mother was in pain. The day her mother pulled her into a tight, warm hug while answering her question "Why?", was the same day Molly Hooper made a promise.
She will not die with a broken heart.
The year after the promise was made, an intelligent, highly gifted in the arts and determined twelve year old girl stood in front of her father's headstone and cast the only spell she knew that could save her from predestined pain.
Χέρι της Αφροδίτης, τόξο του Έρωτα
Ακούστε λόγο μου
Φωνή της ψυχής, ψίθυροι Ζέφυρος
Φέρτε την ευχή μου
Βοήθεια καρδιά μου βρει το σπίτι της
Hand of Aphrodite, bow of Eros
Hear my plea
Voice of Psyche, whisper of Zephyrus
Carry my wish
Help my heart find its home
Clever little Molly Hooper thought she had found the ultimate escape. Unlike her ancestors who shunned true love, only to find themselves falling helplessly in the arms of a lover who would eventually leave or die, Molly decided to cast a true love spell. With a bowl of flower petals in front of her, she closed her eyes and whispered the first trait of her true love.
Για να έχει, τα μάτια των οποίων ανήκουν στον Ποσειδώνα
A petal of blue rosemary rose from the sea of fragrance and colors and soon set sail as dictated by the wind. A smile stretched into little Molly's face. Each petal that would rise from her bowl would try to find its way to her true love.
However, their travel would be in vain, because the man that she would describe as her true love, doesn't exist.
Twenty years after, in a cold and silent morgue, with an opened body in front of her and a heavy heart in her left hand, she realized that the Moira is not giving up that easily.
"Molly, this is Sherlock Holmes. He will be assisting me for this case." DI Lestrade proceeded with introductions without the slightest qualms of it being made in front of the intestines of the recently deceased Mr. Orgreaves. On the other hand, the tall stranger beside him seemed agitated. With his fingers drumming tirelessly against his thighs, he looked at the petite pathologist and commanded. "You, quickly tell me your analysis."
Still processing the turn of events and trying to stop her impulse to laugh at the Moira's petty attempt, Molly failed to respond to the stranger. All she had registered was the color in his eyes and how they flashed when he spoke.
Even then, Sherlock's patience for anything or anyone that stands in the way of him and his cases were as thin as ice so when Molly failed to answer him, he bellowed. "Speak! Now!"
His loud and heavy voice jolted Molly into consciousness and she immediately catered to the need of the rude stranger, but not before noting how his eyes, which reflected like the calm sea before, immediately became a tempest of crisp blues and stormy grays. Down the road, she'd realize that Sherlock may have perfected the art of masking his emotions, but his eyes will never lie.
She had to give props to The Moira for being so creative.
To him, whose eyes belong to Poseidon
In all honesty, she was aiming for someone who was very fond of the sea. Despite living in a landlocked town, Molly loves the sea and the mystery it holds. Back to the days when she pretended that she wasn't burdened with the curse, she'd imagine walking down the beach with a lover who'd whisper fantastic adventures that they could embark in the realm of Poseidon.
There, in front of her, was a man with the bluest and most unpredictable eyes. Just like the ocean. If only there was a spell that could turn back time, she'd warn her younger self to be careful with her words. She didn't realize that the Moira could be quite literal.
Of course it would be years after, before she learns from John Watson that Sherlock Holmes once dreamed of becoming a pirate.