Hey Guys! Here is my new two-shot of Sherlolly! I want to thank you for all for you support on He Made You Cry. It gave me the confidence to try another story. I am hoping to build up to a multi-chapter fic. Can't wait to hear what you all think!
Disclaimer- I own nothing of Sherlock (Trust me if I did we would be seeing some Sherlolly happening).
Molly gaped at the men sitting across from her, "you can't be serious?"
One had the decency to look somewhat sheepish but the other gave his customary eye roll, "Yes, because I am known for my joke telling. Of course, I am serious." He snapped crossly.
But, but, I uh-"
"Really, Molly this is not complicated. I don't understand why you seem so flustered. It would only be for one night."
"Sherlock," John finally intervened sensing how uncomfortable the young pathologist was feeling, "Maybe it would better if we-"
"Don't be ridiculous, John," Sherlock said impatiently, "There is no one else." He turned to Molly, "I will be at your flat by seven." Without waiting for a reply he stood up heading out of the lab.
"What about Sgt. Donovan?" Molly blurted out desperately.
Sherlock stopped in his tracks before turning back slowly to face her, his eyes narrowed and his face cold. Molly could feel his disapproval and shame went through for even suggesting it, "Sorry," She mumbled.
She took a deep breath calming her racing heart. Really Molly, she admonished herself, it was for just one night and he needed her. She stood up facing him, "I will see you at seven,"
"It is settled then," Sherlock said with a brisk nod before walking out.
Heavy silence filled the morgue as John stared at Molly before finally breaking the tension, "I am really sorry about all this Molly."
Molly gave an awkward laugh, "Don't be silly, John. I am happy to help."
John opened his mouth to reply but Sherlock burst back in before he could say a word, "Oh and Molly."
"Yes?"
"Don't dress like you." Sherlock told her before swooping back out impatiently.
Molly blushed a deep red before turning to John who looked uncomfortable. He gave her a weak smile, "Don't worry about it, Molls. I am sure you will look beautiful no matter what you wear. Just ignore Sherlock, lord knows I do."
She nodded absently, her mind racing with thoughts about the evening ahead. Sherlock had been investigating a high-profile businessman in London, Nicholas Greene. They believed him to be leading the now disabled network trying to reestablish it to its former power. Sherlock was convinced he was the new "Moriarty," Molly shivered inwardly at the thought.
It had been two years since Sherlock had "died." He had only come out of hiding within the last six months much to her relief. Molly had never been a good liar and especially hated lying to John and Greg who had taken a special guilt over Sherlock's death for not defending him better against those in Scotland Yard who bought into the lies.
Except for helping the one night making sure his body was taken away and replaced with a look alike, Molly had not seen or heard from Sherlock either. Mycroft had come within a couple of hours of his fall and Sherlock had disappeared. By the end of it Molly had almost come to believe her own deception. Just when she began to think she had imagined it all and Sherlock really had died on that rooftop, he had come strolling into St. Barts with a black eye and a stunned John. Sherlock had plopped down at her microscope asking for coffee as though nothing had happened. Like nothing had changed.
Molly had to grudgingly admit, nothing really had. She had hoped after everything she had done their relationship would have at least reached the level of friendship. However, except for the occasional insight into his cases and less open hostility Sherlock did not treat her or SEE her any differently than he always had. He had never called upon her for help again…until now. Greene was having a banquet tonight and Sherlock was convinced it was the perfect time to access the proof he needed. He could blend in with a large crowd and security would easily distracted. However, there was one problem…
"I cannot attend solo," Sherlock stated crossing his legs on the table, "I need someone to accompany me to help give off the façade of a wealthy businessman. One who's only interest is the high lifestyle he leads. It is absolutely vital that I do not attract attention, I must be simply another face in the crowd. Therefore I need a…" He paused as though the word was physically difficult for him, "date. More specifically a wife. This is where you come in, Molly."
Molly knew it was only pretend but it did not stop her heart from stopping when he had said those words. I mean being in love with a man for years and then having to act as his wife, how did one go unaffected by it?
Also, Molly knew she was awkward, clumsy, and had no clue how to act apart of the socialite crowd. She was a daughter of a fisherman for goodness sake! While she doubted this evening would be exceedingly dangerous (despite his flaws, she knew Sherlock would never intentionally put her in harm's way) but if she did acted in a way that drew attention to them, Sherlock would miss his opportunity.
Molly bite her lip thinking about his last comment not to dress like herself. As much as she hated to admit it, he had a point. She had never really cared about fashion, it was not like she had much of a need really. Her mother had left when she was young so she had never had any guidance on the subject and honestly she had never bothered to learn. The main people she saw were dead and it was not like she had a line of men at her door to ask her out. Molly had never really felt very confident in her looks anyway so it was easier to hide under the baggy jumpers. But her friend Mary once had told her, "Sometimes the first step in feeling confident is looking confident. If you want guys to notice maybe start acting and looking like you want them too."
Molly couldn't help wondering if maybe Mary had a point. She glanced over at John who was gathering his stuff to go. Molly felt slightly guilty realizing she had just been staring off into space for the last few minutes. He gave her an understanding smile as he started off, watching him walk away she had a thought, "John," She called out tentatively.
"Yes, Molly?"
"Could you um," Molly bite her lip, "help me?" She whispered.
He gave her a puzzled frown, "Help you how?"
She sighed before standing up in front of him, "Help me find a dress?"
"Molly-"
"John," She interrupted with a sad smile, "it's okay. I know I am not good when it comes to this sort of thing. Sherlock is right. I have to look the part and I was hoping you could help me. So you know I won't embarrass myself…again"
John sighed remembering the same Christmas party. The one time Molly had dressed up trying impress Sherlock. She had went overboard and ended up looking like a little girl in her mom's clothes. John could tell how important tonight was for her, how badly she wanted to do a good job.
He gazed at Molly who couldn't quite look him in the eye. He knew she was embarrassed to ask but aside from himself the only friend she had was his fiancé Mary who was out of town visiting her folks. John honestly felt bad for Molly. She really was a beautiful girl but she just had no confidence in herself. He knew if tonight was going to work she needed to walk in and have no-one doubt she belonged.
John grinned inwardly as he pictured how Sherlock might react if actually SAW Molly. Despite all the evidence to the contrary he was convinced Sherlock did feel something for the young pathologist. It was the fact he was so indifferent to her that made John suspicious. He acted as though he couldn't care less about her but because he always mentioned how she was looking and going out of his way to interrupt her dates, John couldn't help wondering if maybe there was more going on? With this thought he gave Molly a smile, "Okay."
"John," Molly grumbled as she stumbled out of the dressing room, "I look like a mermaid who was strangled by seaweed."
John bit back a smile, "it's not that bad."
Molly glared at him.
He grimaced, "Okay, yeah you do." The dress was a lime green, bunching awkwardly over her stomach and breasts. Plus being so tight around her legs that she could barely walk. "John," Molly said stumbling to the mirror, "No offense but I could have picked something like this out by myself."
He nodded with a sigh, it was time to call in some help. He grabbed his phone texting Mary asking for her advice. As a guy he knew when a woman looked attractive in a dress but he had no clue how pick one out for her.
As he waited for a reply, Molly stepped out of the dressing room, "I kind of like this one," she said. It was a deep purple and very simple. It had spaghetti straps and fell softly over her body, it was nice but it did not have the impact John was hoping to impress on Sherlock.
"No, that's not it."
Molly gave a frustrated frown, this was going to be more difficult than she thought. She glanced over as his phone tinged with a new message. Her stomach tightening nervously as John broke into a smile, "Molly, how do you feel about red?"
An hour later and her dressing room looked like a Valentine's Day explosion. Every dress in every shade of red you could imagine had been brought to her. There were a few Molly had really liked but there seemed to be a certain look he was going for. Feeling exhausted Molly grabbed the last one of the pile. As she slipped it on Molly could feel the soft fabric molding to her body. Molly turned slowly to face the mirror almost scared to see herself. This one felt different on her.
She gasped her hands flying to her mouth, it was a deep red and clung to her body as though it was made for her. Molly had always been afraid to try on a strapless gown but this one with its sweetheart neckline shaped her figure perfectly. It pushed up her breasts but not enough to make her feel like she was falling out. It fell simply to the floor but it had a long slit all the way up to her thigh.
Molly gulped staring at herself, she couldn't believe it. She had never seen herself look so elegant or…sexy. She bite her lip as self-doubt started to creep in. Could she really pull this off?
"Molly," John asked knocking on the door, "are you all-right?"
Yes," She called her voice squeaking, "um… I like this one but I don't know if…" She trailed off glancing back into the mirror.
"Let me see."
Molly took a deep breath, gathering her hair into a bun off her neck she opened the door, "Well?"
John's eyes widened as he looked at the pathologist barely recognizing her, he just stared for a few minutes before he realized Molly was waving her hand in his face, "John?"
"What-?" He shook himself out of his stupor, "I think this one will do." He told her calmly clearing his throat.
She smiled shyly, "Really?"
He nodded his eyes still slightly big. Molly walked down the hall towards the full-length mirror, she stopped staring at herself before letting out a grin, "okay," she whispered.
That evening as she stepped into her new pair of black heels Molly felt stunning for the first time in her life. Mary had called why she was checking out and told her that she had set up for her to get her make-up done at the cosmetic department. "Early birthday present," She called it.
The ladies had kept her look natural but they enhanced her features. They had rimmed her eyes making them look even bigger, adding just enough color to her cheeks giving them a soft glow, but they had painted her lips a deep red to match her dress. Plus putting some sort of gloss on causing them to look fuller. All in all Molly could barely recognize herself. She glanced shakily at the clock realizing Sherlock would be here in any minute.
Molly knew deep down she had done all of this for him. Of course she knew it was important she play the part of rich socialite but mostly she wanted Sherlock to be impressed by her. To look at her and not see the same awkward klutz he saw every day at the morgue.
Molly knew Sherlock respected her, her work and even thanked her for everything she had done for him over the years but that was it. He did not think of her as a woman and certainly never the woman for him.
But tonight Molly was to play his wife and while she knew it was pretend she wanted a moment. ONE moment where maybe he would look at her and really see her. Something she could look back on during the lonely nights. She took a deep breath admitting how much that would mean to her. She was startled out her thoughts by a knock on her door, "Molly," His deep voice sending shivers down her spine.
"Coming," Sending a prayer heavenward she marched forward running her hands over her dress smoothing it out. She opened it with a smile, "Hi."
"Hello-"His greeting dying in his throat as he stared at her. For the first time in his life Sherlock Holmes was rendered speechless. John had told him to be nice, that no matter what Molly ended up wearing he was to tell her she looked lovely. Sherlock had grudgingly agreed after the doctor threatened not let him do any experiments in the flat for a month otherwise.
He realized he was going have to break his promise. Lovely was hardly fitting for how Molly Hooper looked this evening. If it were not for the fact that her voice was the same tone and the slight nervous clenching of her fingers, Sherlock would wonder if this was some look alike impersonating her.
The deep red of the dress complimented her pale skin. Sherlock frowned wondering why he had been unable to detect Molly's delicious figure under her lab coat. This dress showed it off well. It clung to her curves causing himself to feel oddly warm. He had to force his eyes away from the swell of her breasts which had been pushed up to the top of the dress. He forced his gaze down and almost swallowed his tongue as he noticed the long slit showing off a creamy leg. For someone so short, Molly had surprisingly long legs.
"Did I do okay?" Molly asked, "I mean did I do well not dressing like me?" She joked nervously.
Sherlock realized he had not said anything for quite a while and Molly's face had paled slightly misinterpreting his silence. He strode forward grabbing her hand, "You, Dr. Hooper look beautiful," He said softly before placing a gentle kiss on her hand.
She let out the breath she had been holding, "thank you," She said, "you look wonderful too."
She swore the man had his clothes designed specifically to torture her, his black tux was tailored perfectly to his body with his crisp white shirt molding to his chest. His black curls styled carefully around his face. Even his eyes seemed bluer tonight. Molly hated this man. She really did.
Sherlock nodded his head with thanks at the compliment, "I like how you did your hair, Molly."
She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. Sherlock smirked reading her mind, "No, truly."
She had curled it and then piled it loosely at the back of her head letting some tendrils hang down kissing her neck and shoulders. Sherlock cocked his head as he took in her make-up, it was soft but well done bringing out her features, her lips though had the same deep red as her dress causing his stomach to tighten. He frowned at his body's reaction, "Who did your make-up tonight?" He asked gruffly.
Molly let out a soft chuckle, "what makes you think I had it done?"
"Please," Sherlock rolled his eyes annoyed, "It is applied accurately which is hardly a talent of yours. Also I see-"
"Sherlock" Molly interrupted, "You have been nice for almost two minutes which is some sort of record for you. Please don't ruin it." She gave him a smile to show she was teasing.
Sherlock inclined his head in her direction, "Very well but after four minutes I make no promises."
She laughed, "Deal. Let me just grab my purse and we can go." As she turned to walk away Sherlock was again stunned by his physical response to her. He had known for some time that his relationship with the pathologist had changed. Ever since the day when she had correctly deduced he was in trouble and then without thinking had helped him fake his death.
The night he "died" Molly had taken care of him. She had snuck him back to her flat and while he did not remember much due to the drugs and the pain, he remembered her hands as they softly cleaned his body. She had been gentle and…loving. Molly had patched him up and did not ask any questions when Mycroft had shown up and Sherlock left. While he could not pinpoint why he had found himself going back to those moments in his mind palace on numerous occasion.
He found recalling the sensation of her hands on his skin oddly soothing, helping him to find a calm when he was frustrated by the lack of progress he was making on tracking down Moriarty's informants.
It had bothered him and since he refused to cling to any type of sentiment when he returned Sherlock made sure his relationship with Molly did not alter. He forced himself to go back to thinking of her only as a colleague banishing himself from her room in his mind palace. Sherlock even tried to visit St. Barts only when absolutely necessary. He had been doing well until he learned about Greene's banquet. Sherlock had all but dissembled Moriarty's network when he returned. There was only one person left.
Sherlock had not been able to come up with his name but he knew it someone powerful. Most likely Moriarty's second in command. Someone he trained specifically to take over. Not Sebastian Moran his fateful assassin whom Sherlock originally thought and had finally caught up with. No, someone smart. A person with power who also had the money to back the organization again. It had taken him awhile to figure out this person existed and when he did Sherlock realized this man was too clever to be caught.
No, if Sherlock wanted him he was going to have to draw him out which is one of the reasons he had come back prematurely against Mycroft's wishes. After a few months he stumbled into a name Nicholas Greene. A wealthy man who had his hands into everything. While nothing outwardly suspicious, in fact he was considered by most a respected business man but after some digging and tapping into his homeless network for contacts Sherlock was convinced it was him.
He knew he could not pass this opportunity to investigate so Mycroft had arranged an invitation for Sherlock, but had quickly informed him the invite was for him and his wife. "It is the only way," he had told him when Sherlock had protested, "You will draw attention if you attend as a bachelor."
As much he hated to admit it, he knew Mycroft was right. If he attended with someone he would blend in better. Just another face on the dance floor until he could sneak away to find the evidence he needed. Sherlock was loathed to ask Molly but she was the only one he knew and trusted enough to go with him. However, after seeing how she looked tonight and his reaction to her he was beginning to regret his decision.
"Ready?" Molly asked interrupting his thoughts.
He nodded opening her door, forcing his mind back onto the task at hand.
As he hailed a cab Molly tried to hide her jitters. She believed Sherlock was pleased by her appearance, the first moments of him staring at her unable to speak had been delightful. At first she was worried he was upset but when he kissed her hand she forced herself not to giggle like a school-girl. However, now they were on their way to the party and Molly could feel her heart racing. She had no idea how she was supposed to behave.
"Sherlock," Molly said tentatively, "What should I do tonight? I mean-"
"Do not worry, Molly." Sherlock interrupted not even bothering to gaze up from his phone, "Since being a conversationalist is hardly a strength of yours just smile and try to talk as little as possible. With the way you look in that dress I doubt anyone will believe I married you for your mind anyway."
Molly frowned.
Sherlock gazed over at her, "Problem?" He asked sounding slightly annoyed.
"I am just not sure if that was a compliment."
Sherlock gave a rare smile, "To spare a row let us just say it was."
Molly laughed with a nod, "So," She paused, "Who exactly is Greene?"
Sherlock went still. He had been loathed to give her any details earlier. He believed the less she knew the better. After everything that had happened with Moriarty it was difficult for him to even involve John in his cases not wanting to put them in the same position again.
Molly tilted her head, "It would be safer for me to know."
Sherlock snapped up his head in surprise. She smiled softly, "I know you think it's best if you do it alone but you don't have too."
Once again Sherlock wondered how of all the people in his life, even those the closest to him could not read him the way Molly could. As he stayed silent, she leaned forward placing her hand on his knee, "Sherlock, please. At least tell me enough to help you get through tonight. If nothing else so I don't say or do anything that would jeopardize your investigation."
He nodded reluctantly, "Nicholas Greene," He said leaning back into the seat, "is considered by most just a successful business man except no-one is sure what business he is in. Most believe he is an investor with his hands tied in to almost everything from real estate to the stock market."
"Except you?" Molly asked.
He inclined his head, "When I was underground I believed I knew who Moriarty had set up for his replacement. His assassin by the name of Sebastian Moran. However, I soon realized Moran was simply a soldier. A good one, he followed orders without question and very skilled obviously."
"Not a leader though," Molly stated.
Sherlock smiled impressed again by her intelligence, "exactly. Moriarty would have never left his network without ensuring its survival. I believe he had a… apprentice if you will. Someone he specifically trained to take over."
She nodded, "But why do you think it's Greene?"
"He has been around for quite a while. Mycroft has been suspicions about him for some time but then suddenly he flourished with more money and power. Especially a little over a year and half ago.
"Right after Moriarty…" She trailed off not wanting to remind him of those awful moments on the roof.
"Correct," Sherlock stated brusquely, "And if he is anything like his predecessor he will be too intelligent to make a mistake. I will have to simply outsmart and outmaneuver him. Hence my need to attend this gala tonight."
Molly nodded absorbing everything he told her, "I take it you will not be attending as Sherlock Holmes."
"No," Sherlock said with an eye roll missing the teasing in her voice, "I will attending as investment banker Benjamin Christie and you," He smirked, "My lovely wife will be Emily Christie."
Molly smiled shakily, she prayed she could pull this off.
"Here we are," Sherlock stated as the cab pulled in front of a beautiful old stone house. It was ablaze with light and sounds of merrymaking filled the air, "Ready?"
"Yes," She replied grateful her voice didn't shake. As Sherlock took her hand helping her out of the cab, Molly gave one more glance heavenward, "Here goes nothing," She mumbled before pasting on a fake smile.
