"Echoes In Time" Part 2

A/N: Some lovely readers asked if I could continue my one-shot "Echoes In Time" I hope you enjoy it. xo

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Sherlock impatiently watched Mrs. Hudson set the tea service, that included little sandwiches of tuna salad with a dash of dill and an assortment of dark chocolate and lemon pastries, on the table.

He had waited two very long months for this opportunity to spend time with Ms. Hooper and every moment he had to share her with someone else, was agonizing.

He drummed his long, dexterous fingers quietly on the armrest of his chair and tried not to stare too intently at her as she laughed and smiled at something Mrs. Hudson said.

Her face was radiant and delicate to begin with, but when she smiled, as she ought to do when she was in deep concentration over her work, she was incredibly, beautiful.

Sherlock had taken an unexpected hour off, when he had stumbled upon her working at the National Portrait Gallery. She had been lost within her own world, of paintbrushes and oils, and Sherlock could understand and admire that. He often got caught up in the worlds he created with his words.

Sherlock was an author, who wrote mystery novels and for privacy, he published them under a pseudonym.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said trying to urge his long time, loyal and ever nosey, housekeeper out of his library.

Mrs. Hudson had tried several times to coax from him an explanation for why an art restorer was hired and asked to reside at the manor completely out of the blue. But after Ms. Hooper had arrived and settled in; Mrs. Hudson no longer pestered Sherlock for a reason. She now simply gave him small smiles and made sure his guest was taken extra care of.

"This is a perfect lunch. Thank you so much, Mr. Holmes,"

"Please, it's Sherlock,"

"Sherlock. Molly, please," a lick of pure pleasure ran along Sherlock's body at the sound of his name across her lips.

"I don't know how Mrs. Hudson could know any of my favorite tastes in food, but this tea, contains many of them,"

Sherlock had taken note of Molly's lunch that fateful day at the Museum and well, he couldn't help but make sure Mrs. Hudson was apprised.

After all, he was a man of details, so many in fact that they inundated him to the point of extreme, and it took "special" things to make an impact on him enough to filter to the top of his observations and to stay there.

Molly Hooper was that special.

It wasn't just one thing about her that intrigued him, but everything. Not just her tools and brushes that were impeccably kept or the lustrous waves of her long mahogany hair, that she had up in a loose bun today, nor the "eclectic" choices of her colorful wardrobe was the clincher. The entire package of "her" did it for him.

"So, you saw me working at the National Portrait Gallery. It's a wonderful Museum isn't it? I had been curious as to how I was hired,"

"I was there for research, but then..I saw, you,"

A light flush spread across Molly's cheeks at his implication. Making her blush was becoming something…quite, pleasurable.

"Um, research? May I ask what kind?"

"I write mystery novels. And I'm in the beginning stages of developing my next story,"

"How wonderful. I'm a voracious reader but I'm sorry to admit I have not seen any of your books,"

"You actually might have. I write under the name, J.W. Conan,"

Sherlock basked in her small gasp of surprise and expression of excitement. He was very proud of the body of work he had written over the last 6 years and especially so, if Molly Hooper was familiar with it.

"Sherlock, you write the Inspector Lestrade series? I love it. Your detective is deliciously clever, albeit very, very rude and impatient with the rest of us mere humans," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "I have read all six books. They are a guilty pleasure,"

"Rude? Well, we shall have to debate that, but I do like the fact that you find him, delicious,"

Molly's laughter filled the library and Sherlock's entire world became infinitely happier and incandescent. His senses were alive like never before. He liked her. He really, really liked her.

He would have to take things slow and gentle though. She was too special to treat otherwise. He would court and woo, her. Yes, he would woo her.