So, I have decided to turn this into a collection of drabbles, mostly prompts I have filled on my Tumblr (onceinabluemoon13). I doubt I will be posting all of my prompt fills on here, but who knows?
This was a fill for an Anon who wanted a story about Sherlock and Molly running into each other in Italy. I really like this one.
Sherlock stops and looks around frantically. He is chasing the last of Moriarty's lieutenants, Sebastian Moran, when the man dashes into the center of the crowded square surrounding the Fontana di Trevi. Sherlock curses internally when he realizes he has lost sight of the mercenary. He is so close to finishing this.
He continues searching, twisting his head every which way, when a lone figure, standing on the edge of the throng of tourists, catches his attention.
He has not seen her in nearly three years, ever since he disappeared from her flat in the middle of the night. He observes her for a moment, taking in the sight of the woman who had saved his life.
She is wearing a mint green dress patterned with flowers, hair flowing loosely around her shoulders and white sandals adorning her feet. She smiles to herself as she reads a page out of her book, likely about the history of Rome and the fountain between them.
This image of Molly Hooper contrasts sharply with the one in his mind, the one that comes unbidden to him when he thinks of London and everything that awaits him there. The Molly in his mind palace wears frumpy cherry jumpers and sterile white lab coats. She always carries a cup of coffee in her hands as she attempts to entertain him with one of her morbid jokes. She is not sensual or overtly stunning, but she has a quiet grace that Sherlock appreciates and can occasionally admit he finds mildly attractive.
The Molly Hooper he gazes at now can only be described as beautiful. She seems so peaceful and content, and Sherlock feels his mind calm in result to her presence, even if she is unaware of his.
Suddenly, she turns her head slightly to the left, as if she can sense his eyes on her. Meeting his stare, her mouth drops open in surprise before she releases her book and scrambles through the mass of people towards him.
Sherlock's feet begin to move of their own accord, keeping his eyes locked with hers as they clamber towards the fountain. He pushes aside excited sightseers, their exclamations of anger in fifteen languages ignored as he rushes forward.
Finally, they are standing in front of each other wearing matching expressions of astonishment and wonder. Molly reaches out a hand and lightly caresses his cheek. His eyelids flutter closed at the contact, and he lets out a breath, relishing the feel of her fingers on his skin.
He opens his eyes when he hears her choked sob. Her other hand is covering her mouth, and he gently grabs it and squeezes. When she tries to pull away, however, he grips it more securely, afraid to lose even this simple connection.
"Sherlock, I…." He shivers at the sound of his name falling from her lips. It has been far too long since someone called him by his given name. "What are you doing in Italy?" He reads the questions she wants to ask in her deep brown eyes. Are you safe? Is it over yet? When are you coming home?
"I have tracked down the last of Moriarty's network to Rome. Soon, everything will be done."
She laughs in relief. Obviously, the past three years have taken a toll on her as well. He cringes internally at the knowledge that he has caused her pain. Wanting to alleviate some of his remorse, he says, "I did not expect to find you here, Molly."
"I just… needed a bit of a holiday, I guess. You know about John's engagement?" He nods. "Everyone is so happy. Not that that's a bad thing!" she quickly adds. "But a part of me feels guilty about sharing in their joy when I have lied to them for so long. I wanted to escape reality for a little while, I guess." She draws her hand away from his face and looks down at her feet.
He cups her chin and pulls her head up. "Molly, you are the bravest woman I know. Thank you. For everything." He presses a delicate kiss to her forehead before releasing her and turning to the fountain beside them. "There is a legend that states that anyone who tosses a coin into the TreviFountain is destined to return to Rome."
"I've heard the stories, Sherlock," she answers softly, reverently admiring the shimmering water.
"Maybe, once this is over for good, we can come back here. Together." He pulls two coins out of his pocket. Handing one to her, he clasps her shoulder and effectively turns them both around, so their backs are to the fountain. "On the count of three, throw the coin over your left shoulder with your right arm. Do you understand?"
She grins at him and bobs her head. "One…. Two…. Three!" They both laugh as they fling the coins behind them. Sherlock takes her hand one more time, bringing her knuckles to his lips. They exchange bittersweet smiles, recognizing that this is goodbye for now. They cling to the other's hands for a moment longer before backing away in opposite directions.
Sherlock turns away from her and walks back to the alley where he had entered the square. He spares her one final glance, filing away this picture of Molly in his mind palace next to his other memories of her. He reflects on the encounter as he strolls through the streets of Rome, now more determined than ever to capture Moran and return to London.
What did you think? Please review and let me know!
