Prompt of the Day - 9/23/19 from holidaysat221b:
Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says "How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?" - "so you'd need a bouquet of geraniums (stupidity), foxglove (insincerity), meadowsweet (uselessness), yellow carnations (you have disappointed me), and orange lilies (hatred). it would be quite striking! and full of loathing." - noregretsnotearsnoanxieties
A/N: Rated T for the F word. Have fun with this flower shop/tattoo artist AU. I know I did!
The bell over the door tinkled loudly as a customer slammed into the shop, one Molly had never seen before - but really enjoyed seeing, despite the scowl currently darkening his features. "Can I -" she started to ask, only to fall silent as he slammed £20 down on the counter.
"How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?" he demanded.
Without so much as a pause Molly answered, "So you'd need a bouquet of geraniums for stupidity, foxglove for insincerity, meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations for 'you have disappointed me', and orange lilies for hatred. All of which I happen to have on hand." She smiled up - and up, he really was quite tall - at him. "Iit would be quite striking! and full of loathing."
The customer's gorgeous, blue-green eyes lit up with what she could only call 'evil glee'. "Perfect!" he gloated. "I'll take it."
While she put together the odd request, Molly wondered who exactly was to be the recipient of this particular bouquet - would they even understand what message was being sent via flowers? - and who, exactly, the sender might be. He wasn't anyone she'd ever seen before today, but she rather hoped he might show up again sometime.
I should just ask him, she thought as she carefully wrapped the bouquet and turned to give it to him.
Before she could even open her mouth, however, the tall stranger's eyes flicked over her and his sinfully full lips curved in an equally sinful smile. "My brother," he said, as if in answer to her unasked question. "He's an overbearing pain in the arse, and he'll know exactly what these flowers mean, trust me. He's obnoxiously up on useless trivia like that."
Molly pursed her lips at that last, offhand comment, but who was she to complain about a new customer, even if he did disparage her own knowledge, of which she was quietly proud.
Apparently he read that in her expression, because surprisingly enough, his smirk turned into a sheepish grin. "Sorry, didn't mean to be, you know," he said, waving a vague hand in the air. "John says I should work on my 'people skills'." The very sarcastic air quotes he made emphasized his obvious feelings about the need for said skills.
"No problem," was all Molly replied, trying unsuccessfully to keep her lips from quirking into a grin.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she grabbed one of her business cards and scribbled her private mobile number on the back before handing it to him along with his 'fuck you' bouquet. "In case you need to send more messages to your brother," she said in a rush, feeling her cheeks heat. "Or, or to your, um, to anyone else. Of course."
"Why would I send flowers to anyone…oh!" His expression altered from confusion to understanding to annoyance. "Why does everyone assume John and I are a couple?" he grumbled, ruffling his (perfect) curls with his free hand. "We're just flatmates and I guess friends, if you go for that sort of thing."
"I wasn't!" Molly squeaked out in protest, but the knowing look in his eyes caused her to shrug. "Sorry, I guess I was, but not so much assuming as, erm, trying to…find out? To see if you were, um, seeing anyone? That you might want to give flowers to?"
Oh God, just let me die now, she thought as her cheeks flamed in embarrassment. You know better than to chat up customers, Molly Guinevieve Hooper! Now he'll never come back!
Instead of trying to awkwardly tell her he wasn't interested, however, instead he gave her a thoughtful look. "No, not seeing anyone," he said slowly. "Generally I consider myself married to my work - tattooist, since that's the obvious question, Needles and Sins over on Baker Street - but I think this one time…" He dug around into his back pocket, thrusting the bouquet of flowers back into her hands so he could scribble something down on the back on what looked like one of his own business cards.
"There you go, my mobile number." He handed it to her with a flourish and a very fetching smile. "Come around sometime and I'll give you a discount on new ink to do a better job at covering your ex's name on your shoulder." He nodded at the (yes, all right, very poorly done) row of flowers on her left shoulder, bared by her light summer vest. "How did you know-" she started to ask, but of course he interrupted her.
"It's obvious," he said. "Placement, style, darkness of the flowers, the way they're just all in a row - I see, Molly Hooper, and I also observe. So. Let's say, Sunday next? We'll both be closed and you can meet John and see just how very very heterosexual he is - he'll try to chat you up, you're exactly his type, pretty and female - and watch his face fall when he realizes how very much you're into me." He grinned with relish.
"Um, I, I suppose I could…" Molly said, rather weakly.
"Excellent! See you then!"
He turned to go, then spun back around. "You'll likely be hearing from my brother about me after I give these to his PA," he said, brandishing the bouquet like a banner. "My advice is to take any money he offers for you to spy on me and use it to upgrade your computer system. Ta for now!" Then he vanished, leaving Molly feeling more than a little overwhelmed.
"What the hell just happened?" she said to herself aloud. "Who–" Remembering the business card in her hand, she read it over. Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Tattooist. 221B Baker Street. Come if tattooing is convenient. If inconvenient, come anyway. No mistake too large to be corrected.
She grinned. Well, no matter how things turned out between them - and she rather hoped it would go very, very well - at the very least she could boast about having met the single most interesting man ever to ever enter her shop.