For SammyKatz. I hope you like it!
My first dive into the realm of Wholock!
Sherlock is running, his long legs carrying him faster than they ever have. He has to find her in time.
Arriving too late would be… unthinkable.
His eyes dart along the crowded street, searching for any sign of her. His gaze has always been drawn to her, like a moth to a flame, as though he has no choice but to be riveted by her magnificence. (He's never had a choice when it comes to her.)
He spots her, jolting to an abrupt stop when he notices how she smiles at the man next to her. It's brilliant, illuminating her entire face, and he briefly registers that he's not the only person staring.
He has seen that smile before, when he does something especially considerate and sincere. He's always considered it his special smile, and witnessing her bestow it upon someone else feels wrong.
His feet begin moving of their own accord, dragging him across the street toward the couple in front of the blue police box, with no thought about oncoming traffic. Later, he will marvel at his luck that no harm befell him in his oblivious state, but, at the moment, all of him is focused on her, and his need to reach her.
Finally, finally, she is within grasping distance, and one hand flies out to wrap around her bicep. She swivels around at the contact, gasping at the sight of him. It's not often one observes Sherlock Holmes, World's Only Consulting Detective, with desperate eyes and a fearful expression.
"Sherlock! What on earth–" she begins, but is cut off as his mouth attaches itself to hers. He swallows her protest as one arm tightens around her waist.
She pulls away, gaping at him in utter astonishment. Her palm connects with his cheekbone, the loud slap ringing in his ears. He rubs the pained area as she turns back to the other man.
He is of average height, with greying hair and enormous eyebrows. His mouth is turned down in a frown, an expression which looks distinctly at home on his small face. It's his eyes, however, that fill Sherlock with dread. They are bursting with adoration for the small woman between them, the only visible indication of his affection for her.
"Molly," he says, "come with me. Think of all the adventures we could have. All of those unexplored mysteries, waiting to be discovered. Just you and me. Together."
"Molly, please," Sherlock begs, and her mouth drops open in surprise. He understands, of course. The pleading tone feels unnatural on his tongue. "Don't go."
Molly shuffles back so she can consider both men at the same time, her neck twisting back and forth in confusion.
Sherlock watches her face as her love for him wars with her loyalty to the stranger. Sherlock has an aching suspicion who he is, but tells himself it's not possible. She told me he was….
Two men each hold out a hand simultaneously, and Molly trembles under the weight of her indecision.
Finally, her head snaps up, rolling her shoulders back. She bites her lip and apologetically meets the gaze of one. He grins sadly, nodding his head once in acknowledgement of her choice. He takes one step back, gesturing to the other man.
Molly glances up at him one final time, placing a chaste kiss upon his cheek, whispering a quick "Thank you" before turning around.
Her fingers shake as she hesitates to take the final leap, to trust that the man she has chosen will not break her heart and leave her again.
She finally reaches out to take his hand, her tiny fingers enveloped in his much larger ones. She beams up at him as they walk down the street, hand in hand, ready to tackle whatever trials are in store for the pair of them.
I actually have an entire backstory in my head for this one-shot, but I think I'm going to leave it there. If you really want to know it (and who I imagine she picked), feel free to message me!
Please leave a review to let me know what you think! I can't improve without input, and I love reading your thoughts and ideas!