If nothing else comes of this strange afternoon, at least Mrs. Hudson will be pleased that I've not shot up the wall, thought Sherlock.

He was still attacking the yellow smiley face on the wall, but this time with the little bouncy ball, courtesy of one Mrs. Mary Watson. She'd left him that and some very strange ideas about Molly Hooper.

Well, Molly Hooper and Jane Austen.

He'd been forced to watch the entire film, which was torture enough, but Mary made things worse. Because he knew she was watching him, and not the film, the entire time.

At times he'd swear she had the bloody thing memorized. And she had the gall to tell him she'd let him off easy-

There was apparently a six-episode miniseries she'd considered forcing upon him instead.

But if Sherlock were to be honest with himself, he could have walked away at any time. He didn't need Mary Watson to point out the significance of Pride and Prejudice.

It was Molly's favorite. He'd seen the well-worn paperback book on her nightstand time and time again over the years he'd known her. And it wasn't just gathering dust- he'd observed the bookmark move position every few days. Sherlock also knew this DVD was from Molly's collection; he recognized the worn corner of the beat-up case.

But his mind was churning over a piece of information that Mary Watson had shared with him. Information that wasn't making any sense.

Honestly, Charlotte Lucas?

Pride and Prejudice was Molly's favorite story so at some point in her life, she had identified with Elizabeth Bennet. A character with a close bond to her doting father, often discussing books with him. A strong female, loyal to her family and friends, and unwilling to settle in love. Unafraid of defying society's expectations for women. These characteristics- he might as well have been describing Molly herself.

But Charlotte Lucas was described as plain, without prospects and getting old enough that she had to accept any offer presented. Someone who had given up on romance. It twisted Sherlock's gut to think that his hurtful actions had brought her to this way of thinking.

And if any man as loathsome as this Mr. Collins dared come near her, the weasel wouldn't be answering to some gentlemanly Darcy. He'd be dealing with a very dangerous Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock jumped off of his chair, and headed into his bedroom. Although Mary had alluded to it, he couldn't be certain that Molly still cared for him. He had indeed been an unmitigated and comprehensive ass, as Bingley had stated, but perhaps it could be remedied.

He changed his clothes, choosing the dark purple shirt he knew Molly had liked. Eyeing himself in the mirror, he ruffled his dark curls, and with a quick nod to his reflection, he headed toward the coat rack and his Belstaff.

Molly Hooper hadn't realized it yet, but she was about to be courted.

Molly was used to Greg Lestrade stopping by the lab or the morgue- after all, she handled a good number of cases for Scotland Yard. And she genuinely liked Greg, but today, she just wished he'd leave her alone.

Because DI Lestrade was there to discuss the annual Scotland Yard ball.

Molly had originally planned on attending as she has most years. But for the past few days a black cloud of sorts had been hanging over her- well, not a cloud, really. More like a black dress.

Since the night Mary stayed over, Molly had not been able to put the dress back in the closet. It was still hanging there on her wall, and she knew she had to do something with it soon. It was almost taunting her with the memory of that awful Christmas party. She couldn't bear the thought of getting dressed up for anything right now- it made her a bit sick to her stomach.

"Sorry, Greg. I'm skipping the ball this year. I'm just- kinda busy lately."

"Come on, Molly. A night out and an open bar?! How can you say no?!"

A deep baritone interrupted the conversation. "Yes, Molly, why would you decline the invitation? I know you've enjoyed yourself at these events before."

She felt her stomach drop at the sound of his voice. She hadn't seen him in more than a week, and Molly had been so thankful for that. It was too much to see him again after telling Mary all about that horrible night.

"Sherlock, hello. What brings you to the lab?" Molly tried to sound cheerful, but it was forced, and she couldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I came to Bart's with the single object of seeing you... I had to see you," he stated. Molly's eyes widened in confusion. There was something familiar about that phrase...

"But you haven't answered my previous question, Molly. Why won't you be attending the Yarder's ball? I confess, I was looking forward to a dance."

No, no, no. This isn't happening, I can't handle this conversation right now. And the purple shirt, why was he wearing that damned shirt?! Did he just quote Pride & Prejudice?! Wait, a dance?!

Both men were staring at her- Sherlock calmly expectant and Greg with sheer confusion on his face.

"I- uh, well. I have- I have to go!" Molly turned and walked out of the lab so quickly she was almost running. Leaving the two men with an awkward silence between them.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Gary, have the Watsons bought their tickets to the ball yet?"

Lestrade gritted his teeth but didn't correct the detective. "No, you git. Not yet."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Sherlock with a smile. "We will need a total of four tickets please, two for the Watsons, one for me, and one for Dr. Hooper." He was on his mobile texting before Greg could say a word. The DI's mouth hung open as he watched Sherlock leave the lab, the Belstaff blown behind him like a cape.

Mary, expect a call from Molly.

I have a plan- need your assistance.

-SH