The next morning, Sherlock was startled awake from a light doze in his armchair to the sound of a new text coming in on his mobile.

Hi, Sherlock! This is Mary. Molly and I are shopping for the Gala - what's the dress code? MW

Sherlock grumbled something about common sense and sent a reply.

Formal, black-tie. SH

He sat back and pondered the thought of Molly and Mary shopping for the event. He wondered what color dress Molly would choose, and how she would do her hair. Five minutes later, he shook himself out of this train of thought, thoroughly disgusted with himself for wasting time on such unproductive daydreams. It doesn't matter anyway, thought the detective.

Tell Molly I said hello. SH

The instant he pressed send, Sherlock regretted the text. Where did that even come from? he thought in confusion. He stared at the tiny screen for a bit longer, then promptly set the mobile down on the coffee table before stepping over it to check on his latest bacteria.

ooooo

Mary Watson smiled down at her mobile. "What is it?" Molly asked her, trying to peek at the screen.

"Oh, nothing," replied Mary nonchalantly. "Sherlock said to tell you hello," she added, a smug smile spreading across her face.

A faint blush crept into Molly's cheeks. "So, um, where are we going, exactly?" She made an attempt to change the subject.

"Actually, right here," Mary pointed to the upscale boutique just a few doors down. "We're going shopping for that Gala!"

"Mary, I could have gone on my own," Molly protested as they entered the tiny store. Actually, she was a little inexperienced when it came to dress-shopping, and the entire concept was quite daunting.

"Nonsense," Mary responded emphatically. "And we're not leaving until we find you the perfect dress! Now, it's got to be something worthy of that madman's attention... Oh, Molly dear, you're going to be the belle of the entire ball!"

At this, the pathologist turned a rather peculiar shade of red, one that matched the first gown Mary selected for her to try on. The short frock was covered in a rather garish assortment of feathers, immediately planting the image of a frightful bird in Molly's head. "What do you think of this?" Mary asked.

"It's nice," Molly said quietly. "I think it's a bit... flashy... for me, though."

"I see," muttered Mary. "Well, what about this one?" She held up a floor-length silk gown in bright royal blue with a sprinkling of matching fabric flowers at the waist.

"Does it look a little long to you?" asked the pathologist. In fact, the dress was a good six inches too long, though it was rather lovely.

"Fine, fine," Mary placed the dress back on the rack. "Oh, Molly!" she squealed in excitement. "This one's absolutely to die for! Come on, we are heading straight for the fitting rooms, no ifs, ands, or buts about it!" She dragged poor Molly to the back of the boutique, snatching up a pair of heels as she walked by the display before disappearing behind a navy blue velvet curtain.

ooooo

John Watson made his way up the steps of 221B, not bothering to knock as he made his way into the flat. Sure enough, Sherlock called a quick "Hello, John," from the kitchen as the ex-army doctor sat down in his beloved armchair.

"Hello, Sherlock," the doctor called back in response. He gazed around the flat, rather impressed that the detective had managed to keep the place relatively clean. Either that, or Mrs. Hudson is a godsend, he thought to himself.

Sherlock came out into the living room to sit in his chair across from John, his hair a wild mess and his fingertips blackened with some sort of chemical substance. "Please tell me that's not toxic," John groaned.

"It isn't," replied Sherlock. "Just soot." He leaned back and tucked his dirty fingertips under his chin in his trademark thinking pose. "Have you come to talk about the Gala?" he asked his former flatmate.

"Right, as always," John replied with admiration and a bit of amusement. "Are-"

"I will be attending with Molly Hooper as my guest," interrupted the detective somewhat stiffly. "I assume Mycroft will be taking that personal assistant of his, Andrea or whatever her name is."

"Ah, I see," said the doctor. "Now, to get to-"

"Mycroft will undoubtedly arrange to transport us all to the event," Sherlock cut him off once again.

John grinned. "So what's got you in a mood today, hmm?"

"A mood? Who said I was in a mood, John?" The detective tried unsuccessfully to bluff his way out of John's observations.

"You're cutting me off, you're extremely wordy and formal, and you look as if someone has just confiscated your microscope. What's the matter, Sherlock?" The doctor leaned forward in his chair, his hands clasped.

Sherlock sighed deeply, running a hand through his curls. "I'm going to fuck it up, John. There's just no possible way this night can pass without me being a stupid bastard, as always."

"Sherlock," began John. "I think we all know that no matter how much of a bastard you may be, you always apologize."

"I can't do that to Molly," responded the detective, a haunted look in his eyes. "I can't bear to see her hurt. GOD DAMN IT!" He roared, standing up abruptly and giving his curls a yank. "It's Mycroft, that bloody git! If he hadn't-"

"Sherlock!" John stood directly in front of the anguished detective. "You know how not to fuck things up. I'll make sure Mycroft and Anthea leave the two of you alone, I promise. As long as you can be civil to Molly, which I know you can, nobody will be fucking anything up." Sherlock stared back at the doctor with a defeated look on his pale features. "Look," continued John. "You can be a gentleman when you want to be. All you have to do is tell her she looks pretty and make small talk. You're an accomplished dancer, so there's no need to worry there, and besides, you like her! You enjoy her company, Sherlock, so what else is there to worry about?" He smiled up at the detective, awaiting the taller man's response.

"John, that's just it," whispered Sherlock in a wrecked voice. "I like her."

ooooo

"Mary, I can't do this," came a muffled voice from behind the curtain.

"Sure, you can!" Mary called back. "Nobody's here but me."

Molly poked her head around the heavy, dark blue fabric. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," answered Mary with a reassuring smile. "Now, come on, let's see you!"

Molly took a deep breath and stepped out of the fitting room. She gave a little twirl, and looked up to see Mary's jaw lying on the floor in front of her.

"Oh, I just knew it was awful!" Molly looked as if she were about to cry.

"No, no!" said Mary emphatically. "It's... You look unbelievable, Molls!"

Molly's strapless dress was a pale ballet pink in color, with a massive tulle skirt very unlike the shy pathologist. The sweetheart neckline was studded with large rhinestones, which also sparkled along the very top of the skirt. As the rhinestones continued down the tulle, they decreased in size, until the hem of the dress was lined with crystals that were just barely visible. Molly's heels were just high enough to peek out from under her skirt, and every inch of them was covered in rhinestones. Diamond drop earrings sparkled from underneath her hair while a diamond bracelet graced her wrist, altogether creating a vision that was... almost perfect.

"One last finishing touch," Mary said, spinning Molly around to face the mirror. "Close your eyes," she instructed. "And don't move." Molly did as she was told, and ten minutes later, Mary announced, "There! You look like a proper princess - that silly detective is going to fall head over heels for you!"

Molly opened her eyes and gasped, a hand flying to cover her mouth while tears welled up in her eyes. Mary had fixed her hair into a bun on top of her head, and had finished the look with a diamond tiara.

"Oh, Mary!" Molly bent down a bit to hug her friend. "Now, I'm being ridiculous. All this fuss over me, and we haven't even bothered to find you a dress!"

"No worries," Mary said with a smile. "I plucked a few options for me while you were getting yourself ready. I'll just be a minute," she called as she ducked behind the next curtain. "Take all the time you need!"

The pathologist looked at herself one last time in the mirror, smiling at a version of Molly Hooper she never even knew existed.

ooooo

So, there you have it! I know we've all been waiting very patiently for Molly's dress, and I thank all of my readers for hanging in there! Your lovely praise has really motivated me to put surprises in every chapter - and I hope you'll agree that this one was no exception! Anyway, thank you all so much for reading, and please continue to review!

(To all of you Nosy Nellies out there, you'll see Mary's dress at the Gala, and not a second before!)

~London Belle