A/N: Thank you to Mychakk for providing Molly's actions in the first paragraph. You know the old saying, "two prompts are better than one," right? Rated K+ Regency!lock.


"I don't have to explain myself," she said, her gown swishing around her legs as she marched past him.

Sherlock's hand shot out, almost of its volition, to grasp her upper arm, in the slim space between the top of her long, ivory evening glove and the silvery fringe of her cap-like sleeve.

She swung around, affronted, then froze, transfixed in place by the burning gaze he bestowed upon her. "To the contrary, Miss Hooper," he growled as he slowly, inexorably, drew her closer. "I would very much like to know for whom you have kitted yourself out grandly this evening. Could it be the dashing young University Professor, Moriarty, I believe his name? Or perhaps you've finally given into Inspector Lestrade's importunities and decided to grace him with your presence at my mother's ball?"

The last few words were spoken in a passionate snarl, and so Miss Molly Hooper did the only thing she could do under the circumstances: she hauled back one hand and slapped him stingingly across the cheek. "Unhand me, sir," she said coldly. "As for my extremely appropriate ball gown, since you seem set on knowing for whom I wear it - the answer is, of course, for myself. So as to disgrace your lady mother at her ball by appearing like some ragged street urchin in need of charity - or is it only as such that you prefer to find me dressed?"

He'd removed his grasp from her arm and stepped back whilst she hissed her stinging rebuke at him, and now stood rigidly before her. He made no attempt to remove himself from her presence, and when she made as if to attempt for a second time to leave this small alcove and enter the main ballroom, he took an abortive step forward - and then, much to her shock, he spoke. "Forgive me," he said lowly. "I am sorry. I always say such terrible things to you, and it is only recently that it has come to my attention as to why that might be."

Almost unwillingly, she turned back to face him, her brown eyes large and hopeful as she met his gaze. "And what reason might that be?"

This time when he reached out to grasp her, his grip was gentle, his fingers encircling her wrist as he once again pulled her into his personal space. "This," he said, then lowered his head to kiss her.

It was thus that Sherlock's good friend and partner in adventure, Doctor John Watson, found them some time later - and it was his loud clearing of the throat that brought the two newfound lovers back to the reality of the world around them. "Holmes," Watson began, only to be interrupted by Miss Hooper.

"It's quite all right, Doctor Watson, Mr. Holmes and I have come to an understanding," she said with a shy smile.

Watson raised an eyebrow, pointedly staring from Molly to Sherlock's bright red cheek. "Yes," his friend said with a rather dazed looking smile, "we've definitely come to an understanding. You will stand as Best Man when we are wed?"

Watson's beaming smile was all the answer they needed.