Chapter 6: Courtship Vignettes

Dinner had been lovely. Nothing fancy, just Angelo's place. But they'd become so comfortable around each other over the past month, the conversation flowed freely, and Sherlock playfully toyed with Molly's fingers while they waited for their meal. Afterwards, he escorted her back to her flat, and now they were on her sofa, engaged in some world-class snogging. She sighed inwardly, sure that this time, like every other, they'd go no further. Soon he would leave; he was on a burglary case and had a meeting with Lestrade the next morning.

Pulling back from a passionate kiss but still holding her tight in his arms, Sherlock stared deep into Molly's honey-colored eyes.

"I want to say something, something I've said before, but I want you to know this time I'm saying it freely and with every fiber of my being. I, Sherlock Holmes, love you, Molly Hooper. Unreservedly, utterly, hopelessly."

His piercing blue eyes, his pale, handsome face, his rumbly low voice – he took her breath away. "And I want to make love to you tonight."

Molly felt like she was flying. But still, she had a care for his newly discovered heart. "Are you sure?" she asked gently. "I don't want you to feel pressured."

He nodded solemnly. "I've never been more sure."

They kissed again, deeply, a sweet promise of joys to come. Then she led him to her bedroom.

Damn Lestrade! Sherlock and Molly intended to go away for a mini-break but here he was stuck at the lab analyzing dirt samples from an apparent kidnapping. Criminals could be so inconsiderate sometimes!

His phone pinged.

Your kidnapper is Thomas Gower, and the MP's husband is being held at 660 Picdale Terrace. Enjoy your week-end. – Mycroft

Typing a quick 'tx' to his brother, Sherlock then swiftly tapped out a far more important message.

We're back on. Pack your bag. – SH

"You said an evening out! This isn't an evening out, Sherlock!" Molly gasped as she ran alongside him down the street.

"Of course it is," he huffed, grabbing her hand to pull her along faster. "We've eaten, we're out and about."

"We're chasing a waiter! Why are we chasing a waiter?" She scrambled to keep up as he steered them into a dark alley.

"He killed the cook and now he's got to get rid of the syringe. I need to see where."

They slowed as the figure ahead of them slowed, and flattened themselves against the wall when he stopped. The man glanced nervously around and then chucked something into a dumpster at the end of the alley. He turned and began walking briskly back towards the main street.

"He'll see us!" Molly whispered frantically.

But Sherlock was unphased. "Doesn't matter." Without warning, he threw his arms around her and crashed their lips together. Molly clutched at him to keep her balance under the sudden onslaught. After a few minutes of passionate grappling, as abruptly as he'd pounced on her, Sherlock pulled back, acting as though he hadn't just kissed her breathless. The murderer had passed them by and was gone.

He smirked, tremendously pleased his ruse had worked. "Now to go hunting." He started pulling her towards the dumpster.

Molly dug in her heels. "Oh no! I am not climbing around in rubbish."

Sherlock's eyes danced in delight as he tugged at her arm. "Admit it, this beats seeing that boring old film."

"I love Cary Grant," she sulked, knowing she was lost.

"We'll rent the DVD."

"But… but…" Molly cast her mind for some defense against that devilish smile, the one she could never refuse. "This is a new blouse," she said at last in a small, defeated voice.

Knowing he'd won, Sherlock kissed her soon-to-be malodorous hand tenderly. "I'll buy you another one. Hurry, I want to get back to the lab to analyze the poison."

Molly sighed and began walking. Her boyfriend may have found his heart, but the world's only consulting detective would never be tamed.

"Well, would you look at the time!" Molly said brightly. "It's almost 1 o'clock. Sherlock?"

"Hm?" The consulting detective was still studying the body he and John had come to the morgue to view.

Molly nudged him with her shoulder and gave him a meaningful look.

Sherlock looked blankly at her for a moment and then stirred. "Oh, right! John?" he said, turning to his friend, "Would you like to join Molly and me for lunch after she finishes sewing up the late Mr. Harpin?"

John thought This is it! He tried to look casual. "Sure, yes. That would be good."

Molly linked hands with Sherlock and beamed at John. "We're together."

Sherlock looked bored. "Oh, he already knows."

John frowned. "How… how do I know?"

"Well," Sherlock began with his typical rapid-fire delivery, "I could note that lately you perk up when we encounter a body needing Molly's expertise. I could say you give us eager furtive glances when Molly and I are in the same room and you think we're not looking. I could highlight that for weeks now you've been prefacing half your conversations with some variation of, 'So, Sherlock, anything new?' I could give you a long exposition on how you have a terrible poker face. But the short answer is Mycroft told you."

John looked a little annoyed. "That's your idea of a short answer, is it?"

"How do you know Mycroft told him?"

John shook his head in resignation. The Holmes boys were frighteningly similar. "You surveille your brother," he deduced flatly.

Sherlock slid his hands into the pockets of his Belstaff and grinned. "Well, someone has to watch the watcher."

Sherlock checked the time and pulled out his phone.

Has my present been delivered? – SH

Yes. It's a great cat tower but you know you don't have to keep buying Toby toys. – MH

I enjoy spoiling him, since you resist all my efforts to spoil you. – SH

Maybe you should get your own pet and stop trying to steal the affection of mine. – MH

Does that mean I can't come over tonight? – SH

I don't know. Will you let me climb *your* tower? – MH

Oh, honey, I'll make you purr! – SH

8 PM. Wear the hat. – MH