"Molly, wake up. He'll be here in two hours." Molly's mother opened the curtains of her bedroom, letting the morning light shine in. The light met Molly making her eyes hurt. Molly groaned, stuffing her head under her pillow. "Wake up." Her mother pulled the covers off of Molly, exposing her to the cold air. Molly pulled the covers back up. "Molly, he'll be here in two hours." Her mother said.
Molly rolled over and met her mother's gaze. "Two hours is a lot of time mother." She said.
Her mother shook her head, disappointed in her daughter, and moved over to her wardrobe. She pulled out dress after dress, trying to find the perfect one. "Honestly Molly," She said, "you only own black, gray, and white dresses." She pulled out a dark grey dress that was one of Molly's favorites. "You have no taste."
"I like solid colors." Molly protested, joining her mother in front of her wardrobe. She took the dark grey dress from her mother. "I think I'll wear this." She said.
"You will not!" She seemed offended that Molly would even suggest such a thing. She kept sorting through the dresses until she pulled out the only one with any color to it, a bright pink dress from Molly's sixteenth birthday. "It will have to do." She said.
Molly shook her head. She could not wear that dress. She had grown a good two inches since she was sixteen, and had matured a lot. The dress would not fit her. But her mother did not think about that. While she muttered about having to get Molly a new wardrobe, she laced up the back of the pink dress.
Molly gasped as her mother pulled hard, trying to close the dress. Molly hated the lace backing, she like buttons better. They were more practical. Her mother finished pulling and looked over her.
The dress was to short, stopping just above the ankles. The torso was to tight, as it was made for a flat chested sixteen year old not a nineteen year old who was now a woman. The dress just didn't fit her.
Molly's mother shook her head. "This just won't do." She said. "I wish I had something that you could use." She said but there was no way anything of hers would fit Molly. She was a good head taller than her mother. "It will have to do." She said once more. She shook her head, disappointed, and left the room.
Molly sat down on her bed, taking in short sharp breaths in place of her regular long ones. She glanced over at the clock. Had she had the air for it, she would of sighed. She still had an hour and a half left till Mr. Holmes came.
Sherlock stood in front of the door, looking at the knocker. He believed that you could tell a lot about a household by the state of their knocker. It was a shiny brass knocker. It was polished, which suggested that they had servants who polished it whenever it got dirty. It was strait, not crooked. That annoyed Sherlock, he didn't like things perfectly strait. He grabbed the knocker and banged it three times against the wood. The sound resonated in the quiet street around him.
A maid answered the door. She looked at him with a curious glance then remember her previous instructions that a suitor would be calling on young Miss Hooper. "Come in sir." She said and opened the door so he could come in.
Sherlock entered the house was immediately ushered in to the foyer. It was neatly furnished with very suitable furniture. His mother had been right, they were rich. Sherlock remained standing as the maid took his coat.
A short blonde woman entered the room. She was dressed like a lady and held herself like one. It made Sherlock a little scared of her. She smiled upon seeing Sherlock. "You must be Mr. Holmes." She said. Sherlock nodded, unsure of who the woman was. She was most likely the lady of the household, but one could never tell these days. "I'm Mrs. Hooper." She explained. "Would you like some tea? Molly's my daughter."
"Molly?" The name rolled off his tongue. It was a beautiful name. Sherlock hadn't been told the name of the young Hooper. He hadn't really cared enough to ask. Her name was pretty, though. He sat down and accepted the tea.
Mrs. Hooper turned to the maid. "Wanda, can you go get Molly?" She asked her. Wanda nodded and went upstairs. She returned a second later with a girl stumbling awkwardly behind her. Sherlock stood up as they entered the room, as any gentleman would.
The girl had plain features. Her eyes were light brown, nothing they were not the kind of things that poets would sing about but were pretty enough. Her nose turned up slightly making her look younger than she actually was. On her mouth was a nervous smile, as if she was as unsure as Sherlock about what to do in the moment. She was squeezed in to a dress much to small for her. In Sherlock's opinion it wasn't a very good color on her. Pink didn't look good on her. She kept biting her lip nervously, as if she was about to do something she would later regret.
"I found her in the laboratory miss." Wanda said. Laboratory? Sherlock wondered. She has a laboratory?
Molly's mother shot her a disapproving look that only made Molly roll her eyes. Sherlock was growing to like this girl better by the second. "I'll speak of it with you later." She said angrily to Molly. She turned to Sherlock. "This is my daughter Molly." She said. "Molly this is-"
"Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock offered his name.
"Hello." Molly said. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Hello, Miss Hooper." Sherlock . Mrs. Hooper smiled, apparently satisfied, and left. Wanda the maid sat in the corner, a chaperone.
Molly took a biscuit from the tray and then spat it out. "These are disgusting." She said.
"There the ones you ordered miss." Wanda said.
"Well we were clearly not thinking of the same biscuits." Molly said sounding perfectly spoiled. Sherlock wasn't sure he liked it. "I saw Cook making some earlier. Go and get those." She ordered.
"But miss-"
"Go!" Molly screamed. The sound made Sherlock's ears hurt. The maid ran out of the room. Molly sat down on a nearby chair and sighed. Her demeanor had totally changed. "Before you say anything, I don't want to get married." She told Sherlock.
Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise. He couldn't believe his luck. "I don't want to either." He said.
Molly smiled. "Then our business here is done."
Sherlock nodded. The only thing he had to do was convince his mother that he was still seeing Molly. "I believe it is." He said. He turned to leave, taking his coat from the rack behind him.
"Before you go can I ask something of you?" Molly asked.
"What do you want?" Sherlock asked.
"Can you come around once in a while and pretend to call on me?" She asked. "My parents will never leave me alone if they know I'm not actually interested in marriage."
Sherlock smiled, opening the door. "It's a deal." He said and left, closing the door silently behind him.