A/N: The idea for this came from an OTP prompt: "I know I keep coming to the cookie shop and for some reason it's always your shift but don't you dare judge me I need these for my sanity." I know the proper British term is "biscuit," but the prompt says "cookie," so "cookie" it is.
It started out normally enough – the tall, gorgeous man in the black Belstaff came in one Saturday afternoon in late April, bought a dozen white chocolate macadamia nut cookies, paid in cash, then left, all without saying a word. Molly assumed it was a one-time customer, someone with a sudden craving.
A fortnight later, she was in the kitchen in the back, taking a tray of brownies out of the oven, when she heard the bell over the front door ding. "Just a minute!" she called out. I really need to hire some help.
She entered the front of the bakery and found the handsome man from before at the cookie display case, scowling at the selection. He looked up when she approached.
I could just drown in those eyes… She smiled brightly. "Hello, again. Are you looking for something special?"
"Those cookies with the nuts and chips?" he asked impatiently. "I'm in a hurry – I'm on a case."
"Oh, you're a police officer?"
"Consulting detective."
"Oh…" Like I know what that is. "I don't have any white chocolate macadamia nut cookies right now, but if you can come back later, I'll have a fresh batch ready."
He seemed to consider it. "Two hours, the murderer will be in custody before then." With that, he turned on his heel and left, leaving Molly to wonder what had just happened.
Exactly two hours later, Molly had just finished boxing up the cookies when the bells chimed. She looked up to see him approaching her, grinning from ear to ear.
She couldn't help grinning back. "So, you caught him, then?"
"Yep," he said, popping the P.
"Here you go." She pushed the white cardboard box of cookies towards him. "I threw in another for free, so it's a true baker's dozen."
He retrieved the cash from his wallet, still grinning. "Thank you." He seemed to dither for a moment then he opened the box and pulled out one cookie. He held it up, smiling a bit at her. "Cheers." He took a bite, closing his eyes, and Molly would swear the look of pleasure on his face was positively orgasmic.
She felt her own face flushing in response. "Good?"
"Mmm, the best." He opened his eyes and closed the box. "I'll be back the usual time next Saturday, do have a dozen ready for me." He gave her a sassy wink. "Evening." He picked up the box and left, leaving Molly a bit dazed.
Oh God, I think I'm in love…
The following Saturday, she was ready and waiting for him. Instead of her usual jeans and colorful blouse, she wore a cherry-patterned sundress under her frilly apron. Her was braided down her back instead of up in her typical bun.
She had just set the box of cookies on the counter when he walked into the bakery. She smiled at him brightly. "Hello, again."
He looked her over and she thought she saw approval in his eyes as he smiled back. "Hello. Are those for me?"
She nodded. "A baker's dozen, just like last time."
"How much for one more cookie?"
"Oh, um…" She named the price, pulling another cookie from the display case as he got the money out of his wallet. Just as she was going to add the cookie to the box, he put a hand over hers, stopping her.
"That one is for you," he said, smiling a bit. "Per Grose's 1785 Classical Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, a baker's dozen is fourteen, not thirteen."
Molly laughed softly. "A baker would go out of business giving away two cookies with every dozen."
The man nodded then took a cookie from the box and held it up. "Cheers." He tapped hers with it then took a bite, the same look of pleasure on his face. "Best cookies in London."
She took a bite of hers, her smile more inspired by his pleasure than her own. "I make other things too, you know."
"I'm well aware, and perhaps I'll even sample your other offerings one day soon." His smile was warm.
Is he flirting with me? Please, oh please, be flirting with me. She was about to ask his name when she heard the electronic chirp of a text alert.
He pulled a mobile from his pocket, his smile fading in an instant. He looked up at her. "Sorry, got to dash. Same time next week?"
She nodded, trying not to let her disappointment show. "Sure."
He picked up the box and was gone, his Belstaff billowing behind him.
The following week passed unbelievably slowly for Molly. She passed part of Monday creating a dark chocolate cupcake with icing she tinted the same blue-green shade of his eyes. She named the treat "Temptation," and it quickly became a best-seller. When Saturday rolled around, she spent almost an hour fixing her hair and make-up and deciding on what to wear. She finally settled on a simple black top with three-quarter sleeves and a flower-print skirt, her apron as always over them.
Three o'clock, his usual time, came and went with no sign of the man. He must be on another case. Four o'clock came and went, then five. By the time seven o'clock, closing time, came, Molly was worried. Where is he? Did something bad happen to him? She waited an extra half-hour before finally closing up, still wondering what had become of him.
After a sleepless night spent worrying about him and a morning spent berating herself for the sleepless night, Molly was dragging by the time she got to the bakery. She nearly dropped her coffee when she saw him by the front door, waiting for her.
He smiled at her apologetically. "Morning. Sorry about yesterday, I was on a case. I would have called but my mobile was a casualty." He held up the phone in question.
The hell? It looks like… "Someone shot your phone?" she asked in disbelief.
"Technically, he was shooting at my head, thankfully, his aim was atrocious. I dropped the phone when he shot it but recovered it after he was captured because I thought you would appreciate proof."
"Oh, um, thanks?" She unlocked the door and let them both in, turning on the lights as she walked further in to the bakery.
"The name's Sherlock Holmes," he said out of the blue.
"Molly Hooper," Molly replied, smiling a bit. Finally! "I can make a batch of those cookies now, if you want."
"That would be good," he agreed. "You know what would be even better?"
Other recipes started running through her mind as she tried to guess what else he'd like. "No, what?"
"Dinner. Are you free tonight?" Sherlock's hopeful expression melted her heart like chocolate in a double boiler.
Yep, I'm definitely in love.