This was a little something I did on Tumblr and thought I would place it here! It was inspired by a group of pictures from ancientstudies on Tumblr. Enjoy!

THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR CONTINUED SUPPORT! IT MEANS SO MUCH!

Description: Molly writes poems, and Sherlock paints. (I would say more, but that pretty much sums it up. LOL.)

It was a simple arrangement.

She would write simple poems for his mother, and he would paint her portrait.

He couldn't tell her the truth, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. The truth was more dangerous than anything he ever did in his life. The cases he worked were nothing compared to the adventure with her. Hours spent in the room upstairs as she posed and laughed. Oh, how he loved to hear her laugh. He loved hearing the melodic sound and the way it filled his soul. The warm tingles and weak knees were becoming more frequent. He wanted to tell her.

She wanted to tell him the truth. She wanted to tell him that the poems were only a cover. From the moment she saw him she wanted to get to know him. The times he entered the morgue to work cases were the brightest times in her darkest days. He brightened her in ways she never thought possible, especially after her father's death. She wanted to tell him.

The day she saw the painting, he stood inside the door while she uncovered the canvas. As the sheet floated to the ground, he watched her reaction. Her eyes widened taking in the subtle colors of the painting, the stroke of each brush, but it wasn't the colors or texture of the painting which caused tears to fill her eyes.

Covering her mouth, she gasped as she stared into the brown eyes of herself. The sparkle of joy within color. The sly twitch of a smile on her lips. The windblown hair. The dress flowing outward as she twirled. She was dancing. She was beautiful. She was in love.

He approached her then, dropping his arms from his chest. His eyes focused on her face, taking in every line, memorizing them as he had in the painting.

"For love is not a stand still emotion," he began, quoting the simple poem he requested. "It is a dance within a song. It is expression in the highest form. Not one could ever understand or try to comprehend. For the dance never ends for the heart who sings."

She turned, seeing the words for the first time in the painting he lovingly crafted. "You love me," she stated, tearfully.

He dipped his head forward. "As you love me."

She breathed out, stepping closer, just as his arms wrapped around her. His lips touched her forehead before trailing down to her lips. Their lips met in a tender form before they pulled apart to gaze into each other's eyes. Smiles lit their faces for they had finally spoken the truth.

He wanted to paint the woman he loved and she wanted to write poems to express the love she had for him.

In the end, they received both a song and a dance in the form of a painting and poem.

Hope you enjoyed it! I've been in a funk and unable to write in the fanfic world, but hopefully I'm back.

New stories will be coming soon!

Until Next Time...