The prompt was Greaser!lock. I'm not sure if I succeeded in that, but I do really like this teen!lock.


Sixteen-year-old Molly Hooper had a secret. One that not even her best friend Mary knew about.

It all started when she was placed in all advanced classes because her grades were so much higher than anyone else's. She didn't care that she was known as "Little Miss Perfect." Much. She liked to study and spent the majority of her free time at home reading, or talking with her parents about their days. If she sometimes stared out her bedroom window to watch the other teenagers cruising through town in their fancy cars, it was because she was curious about people her age. Not because she was unhappy with her life.

Yes, Molly was perfectly content with her sheltered existence. At least, until she met him. Sherlock Holmes, the cool and sophisticated boss of the school, had been assigned to be her lab partner for the year. He was only two years older than she was, but sometimes he made her feel like an infant, utterly hopeless. Initially, his snide remarks and devil-may-care attitude irritated her, and, when forced to cooperate for an assignment, they would occasionally send each other glares across the table while completing their work separately.

After several months, however, Molly began to notice other things about Sherlock. Traits he hid from the rest of the school. While he obviously hated class and the work associated with it, he was actually quite brilliant. She could reluctantly admit that she was a bit jealous that he always scored higher marks than she did, even though she never saw him pick up a book. Mary, who worked in the administration office, had gleefully confided to her that he had the highest grade point average in the school.

A tentative friendship was born when she shyly asked him to help her with a particularly challenging problem. His hand brushed against hers as he was explaining, and he merely smirked when she blushed in response, refusing to meet his extraordinarily beautiful eyes.

Molly could not deny that he was the most attractive boy she had ever seen. With his black leather jacket, greased back hair, and indifferent demeanor, all of the girls in school yearned to get him to notice them. He made it completely clear, however, that he was not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship, and so they all stalked him from afar.

Everything changed one day when Molly found herself cornered by a cluster of older girls, jealous of her relationship with Sherlock. Her usually immaculate hair was falling out of its pony-tail, ribbon lying forgotten on the ground. Her blouse was ripped where one of them had grabbed her. She tried explaining that she and Sherlock were simply lab partners, but the mob would not be deterred. "We see the way he stares at you when you aren't looking," their leader, Irene Adler, argued. "And I noticed that you turn bright red when he smiles at you. Stop denying it!"

As she finished her tirade, she brought her hand back, priming to strike the smaller girl, when a large hand grasped her wrist and pulled her arm down. "What are you doing?" a deep baritone voice rang out.

Irene grinned flirtatiously up at Sherlock, batting her eyelashes. She ignored his eye roll. "Just a little girl talk, Sherlock. Nothing to worry your gorgeous head about. I was wondering if you'd like to –"

She trailed off as Sherlock simply snatched Molly's hand and pulled her away from the crowd. Molly was running, trying to keep up with Sherlock's long strides. He stopped and released her hand when they reached a deserted corridor. Molly bent over, trying to catch her breath and will away the tears welling up in her eyes. She noticed his leather jacket wrapped around her shoulders and wondered when he had put it there.

"Molly, are you okay? Did they hurt you?" His concern touched her, and she raised her head slowly, meeting his gaze.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Thank you. For saving me, I mean." He shrugged off her gratitude and cupped her cheek with one hand, the other steadying her.

"It was the least I could do. They were bullying you because of me, after all." He gently pushed some stray hairs behind her ear and stroked her cheek bone with his thumb.

"Can you believe they thought that you liked me?" She giggled nervously, afraid that he would see how fervently she wanted it to be true. "As if you could ever care about me as more than a friend." She turned her head away from him to hide the hurt on her face.

"They were right."

Her head shot up at his confession. "W-what?!" she stuttered out.

"I don't really do the whole girlfriend thing, but I think about you all the time. You're the first girl I've met that cares more about my personality than my reputation."

His face scrunched up, and Molly knew how hard it was for him to utter those words. She beamed up at him to dispel some of his discomfort and was rewarded with a wide grin. "Are you asking me to…? Do you want me to be your… girlfriend?" she hesitantly questioned.

He gave her a curt nod before leaning down and pressing his lips to hers. At the sound of approaching footsteps, the couple pulled apart. "Can we keep this a secret for now, Molly? I don't want to give those girls more reason to torment you."

She squeezed his hand in acknowledgment. "I'd like to see where this is going before letting other people know." Sherlock's best friend, John Watson, barreled around the corner. He stopped when he saw his friend sharing a knowing smile with Molly.

That night, Molly laid on her bed, day dreaming about her new boyfriend. Yes, Molly Hooper had a secret. And she was very happy about that.