Hiya! Here's Chapter 2 xx

Hope you like it, reviews make me happy and when I'm happy I update faster...

As before, I don't own Sherlock. Sad face.

Love Misty xx

Chapter Two

Molly curled up on the sofa with her favourite movie, blankets, a cup of cocoa and Toby, who promptly yelped and leapt out of her arms the moment she picked him up. "Charmed," she muttered.

Not even a rejection from her cat could dampen her spirits. Her and Sherlock Holmes. Married. (Fake married, but at that moment she really didn't care.) Except she'd now learnt that he was not a Sherlock, he was a Benedict (maybe she'd call him Ben) and she was a Louise (maybe he'd call her Loo) - or at least they were on the night of the Ball they were attending, which Sebastian Moran was to be present at. According to Sherlock, this Moran person was trying to kill a very important political person who she'd forgotten the name of, and Sherlock's job was to capture or possibly kill Moran before he killed the very important political person. It was all very complicated. But a ball! Oh, thought Molly, how amazing would a ball be. And it wasn't just any ball, it was a fairy tale themed ball, which Sherlock seemed repulsed of by the very notion. Would she have a dress, she wondered, and would that be fairy tale themed too? She'd never really owned anything of as much value as a fancy ball dress, but she could scrape together her savings. It would be worth it. Maybe after he'd got rid of Moran they'd be time for a dance and Sherlock would -

The phone rang and Molly hastened to pick it up. "Hello?"

"Molly."

"Oh, Sherlock! What a... surprise." She mentally cursed herself. Now not only did she sound like an idiot, but like she'd forgotten about the whole thing.

"Molly, my brother has messed things up again. On purpose this time."

"What is it?" She was slightly nervous that he was going to call their arrangement off.

"He's organised us an actual wedding. Apparently, they might need absolute proof of our wedding, and he says the only way to get the documents we need is to actually get married."

A wedding! "But - what -" she attempted.

"We can't get out of it. If you don't want to anymore then you can pull out, I don't mind." Molly sensed that he did mind, but didn't want to show it.. What did that mean? Grr, Molly, she thought, stop playing psychologist. Especially when the person in question is Sherlock Holmes.

"No! No, it's absolutely fine!" More than fine. It was perfect.

"The wedding's only in a week. You're going to need a dress. Mycroft's personal assistant will meet you outside your flat at 2pm tomorrow for the fitting."

"And.. where is it?" Another dress. Molly was a bit worried about how excited she was becoming about dresses. Two of them.

"Nowhere of great importance. My brother's booked it at Kew Gardens."

"Thanks, Sherlock. Um, see you?"

"Thank you, Molly. Goodbye." He hung up and Molly metaphorically exploded all over the carpet. A wedding! She thought for a moment and came to the conclusion that Mycroft was not organising their wedding because of the documents. If he'd managed to get fake passports, birth certificates and credit cards, the necessary marriage papers wouldn't be too hard to find either. She suspected he might be matchmaking, but then what did she know about Mycroft Holmes except for that Sherlock hated him?

Something also told her that Sherlock had figured this out already himself. To say that he was cleverer than her would be the understatement of the year. But as yet, he hadn't refused to fake-marry her.

Hmm, Molly thought, this should be interesting. What would happen next?

Sherlock waited impatiently for Molly to arrive.

Why did the bride always take so long in walking down the aisle in weddings? It was stupid, wasted time and the worst bit was the guests are supposed to look amazed and stunned by the bride's beauty and her dress and all that consumerist rubbish. A bride is just a woman with makeup on in a fancy white dress, he thought, and yet everyone else was supposed to ooh and aah at her like she was something of actual interest.

Still, that was in traditional weddings, and this was not a traditional wedding. When Molly finally arrived, she was in a simple but tasteful dress with minimal makeup on and held a bunch of lilies. Apart from the fact that in the marquee there was too much white (it got on his nerves), this wasn't as bad as he was expecting the situation to be. He flashed a quick smile at her and she returned it.

The vows were boring. Sherlock wasn't actually listening to them, but tried to act as if he was - the guests believed that the marriage was real, so he'd been firmly told by his brother to pretend this was the best day of his life, because apparently that was what ordinary people thought about weddings. He knew he must have looked somewhat uncomfortable, but Molly was doing it perfectly. She even looked like she meant it when she said 'I do.' How on earth did people do that, pretend that something that was really just faked was real, and more than real, but a huge landmark in their lives?

And then came the words they had both forgotten about.

"You may kiss the bride."

Molly knew they had to kiss. It was a wedding, for god's sake, and all the people watching were hanging upon their every move. Sherlock let out a breath, and then whispered "Sorry about this" so quietly it was nearly inaudible, and pressed his lips lightly to hers.

She felt her breath hitch in her throat. Kissing Sherlock Holmes was just like she'd imagined it - his lips were soft, warm and somehow, despite never showing an interest in love or any form of romantic relationship, he was a very good kisser. They pulled away after a few seconds. She was sure she must be blushing red, but the crowd didn't seem to have noticed at all. They clapped, enchanted by the beautiful false love they'd just witnessed. People are so simple minded, thought Molly, and then nearly smirked because she realised she was beginning to think like Sherlock.

Sherlock hadn't found the kiss so bad. If he had to kiss a woman or have some terrible consequence bestowed upon him, Molly Hooper would probably be top of the list, but wasn't something he would do normally. Although small, her lips were soft and tasted of her lipstick. He smiled, remembering all those days in the lab where he'd comment on how she changed it so often.

Yes, he concluded, he didn't mind too much about this marriage at all.