"I will not ask you where you came from.

I will not ask and neither should you.

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips,

We should just kiss like real people do."


In mid-January, nearly all of the remnants of Christmas had been removed and stored away for next year. The Christmas market vendors had packed their wares and moved on soon after the New Year, so the streets were bare and icy without the warmth of the tiny shops and tourists.

Molly's activities were strictly limited to those approved by Sebastian, since Jim had given only vague instructions before he strutted off to do his own business. Instead of staying in the city, Sebastian opted to take Molly somewhere, in his words, "where there won't be so many bloody Germans in my face."

Schloss Sanssouci, in nearby Potsdam, was an easily defendable attraction. Sebastian would not have to worry too much about snipers positioned in tall buildings, so it was safe. He spoke rapidly in German to the curator inside, while Molly gazed open-mouthed at the splendor of the palace. Snow crusted grapes and leaves, carved in stone, draped over the windows as if they had grown there. Despite the thick clouds overhead, the yellow walls glowed. Skeletal, leafless tree branches grasped at the grey sky, bunches of mistletoe perched absurdly in their grasp.

"Molly!" Sebastian barked at her from the entrance. "If you want to freeze out there, be my guest, but I'm going in." Molly pulled her parka tighter against her, carefully shifting it over her shoulder.

"You lucky girl," Sebastian drawled sarcastically, ushering her inside. "Your boyfriend has booked the whole damn palace for you."

"He's not my boyfriend," Molly muttered. A flurry of snow followed her inside, sticking to her eyelashes and hair.

"Yeah, whatever."


The Marble Hall was where Molly spent most of her day. She stared up into the great dome until her neck was sore, memorizing the details each carving and complicated ornaments. Apollo and Venus gazed down at her from niches in the wall. The muscles in her neck ached, but she ignored it. She spun in slow circle, letting her eyes float between the gilded leaves and soft marble flesh. Outside, the clouds parted and harsh sunlight reflected off the crystal chandelier, blinding her. She squeezed her eyes shut and stumbled dizzily to the side, and collided with a marble pillar. She gasped sharply and twisted to avoid hitting her injured shoulder against the stone. Her feet twisted clumsily. She teetered for a split second before falling into outstretched arms behind her, gasping with surprise and relief.

"You're a horrible dancer." Molly tried to get to her feet, but her shoes slid against the smooth marble floor, and he took hold of her gently, snaking an arm around her waste, the other along her sling. "I'll pretend I didn't see that."

"I wasn't dancing," Molly growled. She struggled to her feet and stumbled a few steps away from him, straightening her shirt. She locked her eyes on the floor to hide her flaming cheeks. Jim leaned back casually against a pillar and watched her, barely concealing his content smile. She chanced a look at him, his playful expression daring her to lie to him. Impress me, it said. Molly smiled in spite of herself.

"I was just looking at the dome, all the carvings." She pointed up awkwardly, as if Jim wouldn't understand what she'd been doing. "They're nice."

"An understatement," Jim replied softly. He swept across the gap and took her right hand in his. "If the French have done anything right, it was the sculpting of those statues." He pointed at the statue of Venus, his hand entwined with hers. Goosebumps appeared on her arms. He moved behind her, his body encircling her. His left hand rested on her waist, guiding her about the room like a dancer. "There's Venus, goddess of love, sex, beauty…" He breathed down the back of her neck. She shivered and her breath caught in her throat. "And Apollo." He pulled her backwards until she could see both of the figures. His chest pressed against her with each inhalation, sending tremors up Molly's spine. "Music, knowledge, poetry, and plague." He laughed, blowing a tuft of mousy hair onto Molly's face. He pressed his face into her loose bun and his grip on her hand tightened.

"Jim," She said quietly.

"I should have you carved in marble."

"I don't think I'd look as pretty as her." Molly cast her eyes away from the flawless effigy, frowning. He tugged fiercely on her waist. She faced him and was momentarily stunned by the anger in his eyes.

"Why do you do that, Molly?" His brow furrowed. Molly looked down and laughed. She felt stung, but unwilling to admit it. "Why do you undervalue yourself? You think you're worthless. Why?" Her chest felt hollow. She tried to pull away from him but his grip tightened. "Why, Molly?" His voice was strained. Molly bit her lip and looked away. Tears were clouding her vision and threatening to fall.

"I just… I don't…"

"Molly, you are completely wrong about yourself. You let people walk all over you. You let people use you and hurt you, tell you that you are worthless, ordinary." Her tears fell, huge drops cascading down her pink cheeks. She shook her head at him. "You are completely wrong," he said.

"I don't count. There's nothing special about me."

"Molly," He implored, "You are important." Jim flinched painfully, and Molly met his gaze. The genuine pain in his eyes surprised her. "You are beautiful, even if you don't believe me, you are. The way you look when you're happy, when you're angry, I would kill for it." His grip on her hand softened. "I would kill for you. Don't you see how valuable you are?" His hand left her hip and traced her jaw delicately. His thumb brushed away a tear. Molly felt something twinge in her chest and seep into her blood, igniting every vein, to each finger, her lungs. He arched his neck and brushed his lips on her neck. She let out a strangled laugh, and her body shook.

"If you think this is funny, I-" She looked up at him and what caught off guard. His mask of arrogance was gone, replaced by earnest… devotion? It was the most naked and purely human expression she had ever seen on him. He did not need to speak, his eyes spoke for him. They begged her, rather than ordered her, to listen. For the first time, Molly thought that Jim was being honest, and had decided to tell her. "You- you care about me?"

"Haven't you been paying attention?" He smirked slightly, but his eyes remained unchanged.

"What about all the 'sentiment is weakness' stuff?"

"That's Sherlock, not me. The Virgin hasn't got an emotional bone in his body. I thought you would have picked that up by now."

Every muscle in Molly's body relaxed. Her hand slid down into Jim's and their fingers intertwined. His other hand slid down from her jaw to her neck. Molly stood on her toes. This time, she kissed him; softly, slowly. His eyes closed. They moved together, a pair of dancers alone on the stage. She stepped backwards, drawing him with her until he had her pressed against a marble pillar. Their kisses became more urgent and hurried. Molly forgot the pain of her shoulder, the ache of the past few weeks, and let go. He held her tightly, conscious of her injury, afraid of causing her more pain.

Across the hall, Apollo stared unseeing, casting his gaze upon the gardens beyond the windows, unconcerned with the mortals beneath him. Sunlight shone on Venus, casting white light across her body. She glowed above Molly and Jim, ethereal and radiant, the energy of the pair below her setting her alight. Molly thought she could have joined Venus, like Jim had said, carved in marble to be admired for centuries.

"I believe you," She whispered. Jim smiled as he kissed her. Molly reached for his chest and tugged at the buttons. With some difficulty, she managed to undo them one-handed. His chest, pale and well defined, heaved with breath. Molly giggled stupidly.

"Careful," Jim breathed, nodding at Venus, "she might be jealous."

"Let her," Molly put her hand on his skin tentatively. "I'd be more worried about Apollo if I were you."


"I don't want to go."

"You're going, whether you like it or not."

"Why should I?"

"Um," He drew out the sound and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Because I said so."

Molly frowned.

"I don't have anything nice to wear." She tugged at her sling self-consciously and frowned. "I didn't exactly get to prepare for something like this."

"I guess I'll just call the whole thing off then." He brushed past her and opened the door of the wardrobe dramatically. Molly drew in her breath sharply. The only garment in the wardrobe was a cocktail dress, hanging limply on a wire hanger. She saw Jim smile out of the corner of her eye, but she was too entranced by the intricate pictures on the fabric to pay him much attention. The fabric was deep royal blue, cut asymmetrically with a high neckline. A pattern of red, archaic patterns overlaid the background, lines and circles mingling with abstract figures.

"Did you buy this?"

"Westwood," He said, grinning. Molly gaped at him.

"Westwood." She nearly choked. "Westwood." She laughed and put her hand on her forehead. "I can't wear that."

"Why not?" He whined, pushing his lips out in a pout.

"How much was this? How much did you spend on this?" She reached for the fabric but jerked her hand back and tucked it under her sling.

"What does it matter?" His pout slipped into a smirk and his brow lowered. "You know you want to." Molly fumed and sputtered, but Jim dismissed her wordless protests with a wave of the hand. "You want help with your sling, sexy?" He winked and bared his teeth in his classic, blinding grin. Molly pursed her lips, but nodded, turning her back so he could undo the snaps of her sling. It slipped off and fell to the floor, revealing the stark white bandages wrapped around her slim shoulder.

"I don't have to wear it anymore, the doctor only said it was for a few days."

Jim said nothing. His hand glided over her shoulder. Breath whistled between his lips, almost silently.

"It doesn't hurt, really," she said quietly.

"Good," he cleared his throat. "That's good."

He turned away from her before she could catch his eye again and pulled the dress from the wardrobe. He held it out for her, and she took it without comment and slipped into the bathroom to put it on.

"Zip me up?"

He stared at her for several seconds before moving. He slid the zipper up her back and turned her to face him.

"Is my lipstick ok? Is it too dark? I could take it off-"

"Don't," he interrupted. "Its perfect." He stepped away from her and checked the time on his phone, then beamed at her. "Shall we?"