A/N: Hi all! Just wanted to say a massive thanks for all the views, reviews and follows! The prompt is 'On a Date'. Please read and review! :)
Where r u? - Molls xx
Double murder. SH
Staring at the blunt reply, Molly felt a surge of anger. She had been sitting in the cafe for over twenty minutes, waiting for Sherlock. It was their second date since they had officially entered into a relationship, or at least, it was supposed to be. Avoiding the pitying gaze of the waitress, Molly got up to leave, firing off a quick message to Mary Watson as she did so.
Sherlock stood me up :( - Molly
A few minutes later, as Molly walked down the street, head down against the wind, her phone began to ring, playing a cherry ring tone that jarred against her current mood. "Hello Mary," she answered. "I take it you got my text?"
"Yeah, Sherlock can be so stupid sometimes for someone so clever," Mary replied, although she didn't sound as cross as Molly felt. "Remember though, John left me half way through our anniversary dinner to go chasing a serial killer, so I'll tell you now, you should probably get used to this kind of thing." Then, she hastily added, "Not that that excuses his behaviour, so feel free to slap him when you see him."
"Don't worry, I will," Molly replied, allowing herself to smile at the thought. "I'll let you go; I can hear Emma starting to cry." A wail from the Watson baby drowned out Mary's goodbyes, and then she hung up.
Meanwhile, on the other side of London, Sherlock was just finishing announcing his deductions to the members of New Scotland Yard. "...And so, the murderer was in fact Browner, who sent the ear in the box to – oh, damn!"
"Sherlock?" Greg queried, confused at the sudden change in Sherlock's thought process.
"I was supposed to be meeting Molly for lunch!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Gethin! Why didn't you remind me?"
"Firstly, my name is Greg, and secondly, I didn't even know you were dating Molly!" Greg replied, stunned at the revelation that Sherlock-bloody-Holmes had a girlfriend.
"Well then, what about you?" Sherlock said, rounding on John.
"Mate, this one's on you," John replied, holding up his hands. "If I were you, I'd go find her and grovel for forgiveness." Before he had finished speaking, Sherlock had already left the terraced house, and was on the street. Hailing a cab, he gave the name of the cafe where he was supposed to be meeting Molly, and prayed that she would still be there.
Twenty minutes of traffic later, and Sherlock found himself at the cafe, asking the waitress if she had seen a woman fitting Molly's description. "Yeah, she left about thirty minutes ago. Didn't look too happy," she said. "Hey, aren't you that detective bloke?"
"Yes, I am Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, and thank you for your help," he replied distractedly, turning on his heel, coat sweeping behind him.
Molly already left. What do I do? – SH
I wouldn't go to her flat mate, she's probably mad as anything! John
Molly was indeed, 'mad as anything.' Fuming, she had returned to her flat, kicking her shoes into a corner, and throwing her coat at the sofa, narrowly avoiding Toby, who was curled in her usual seat. "I am not going to mope about feeling sorry for myself!" Molly thought, determined to show Sherlock Holmes that he was not the be all and end all.
Pushing all thoughts of Sherlock to the back of her mind, she remembered Meena, her assistant, mentioning a girl's night out that evening. Normally not one for parties or loud music, Molly had turned down her invite, but now found herself reconsidering.
After showering, Molly dressed in that dress, then styled her hair, allowing it to fall in gentle waves down her back, before applying a subtle layer of make-up. She was just doing up her strappy heels when the doorbell rang. Not expecting anyone, Molly finished doing up her shoes and made her way carefully to the door.
The surprise that greeted her when she opened the door was a pleasant one. A smartly dressed man stood before her, holding a bunch of red roses. "Miss Hooper?" he asked, presenting her with the beautiful bouquet. "Yes?" she replied, spotting the waiting black limo, and wondering whether Mycroft was becoming politer in his kidnappings. "Please come with me. I'm under strict orders not to tell you anything," the chauffeur said, smiling at her.
Sighing, she complied, and slid into the car, holding the flowers and her clutch. The drive was a short one, and she soon felt the car pull to a stop. Looking out of the window, she saw that the car had stopped at 221B. Reluctantly, she allowed herself to smile, as she realised what was happening.
The chauffeur helped her out of the car and escorted her up the steps, where the door was unlocked, and he left her alone. Slowly, she climbed the stairs, which had been scattered with rose petals, feeling herself forgiving Sherlock with every step.
Reaching the top, she heard violin music gently filling the air, and stepped into the living room of 221B. Sherlock stood before her in his usual attire of black trousers and a purple satin shirt. Turning to face her, his expression turned to one of wonderment and joy. There was a pause before he spoke, as he admired her, then he said hesitantly, "My dear Molly. Please forgive me. I was...inconsiderate today. I most definitely do not deserve to call you my girlfriend, and I will understand if you wish to end our mutual arrangement."
"I most certainly do not wish to end our 'mutual arrangement' Sherlock," Molly replied, smiling mercifully at him. "I am annoyed that you forgot, but you have more than made up for it." He visibly breathed a sigh of relief, then said, "Well then, dinner is ready," gesturing to the table, which was for once clear of body parts, laboratory equipment and chemicals.
As they finished dinner, Molly decided to ask a question. "You didn't by any chance call in a favour from Mycroft for tonight, did you?"
"I borrowed one of his cars, if that's what you mean," Sherlock said, unwilling to admit that he had needed help from his big brother. Knowing how much it had taken for him to ask Mycroft for a favour, Molly beamed, reaching across the table and squeezing Sherlock's hand. "Thank you for tonight. This has been a lovely date."
"It was my pleasure," Sherlock replied. "Now that we are both finished eating, I would like you to accompany me to the roof."
"I will, so long as you promise to remain safely on top of it," Molly smiled, getting up from the table.
Once they had both wrapped themselves in coats and scarves, they climbed up to the roof terrace, where Sherlock had set out a blanket with cushions and pillows. "Oh, wow," Molly breathed, looking at the view over London as she seated herself on the blanket, leaning against Sherlock. "I have organised something to make the view a little more special," Sherlock said, looking at his watch. "It should begin in approximately ten seconds." Curious, Molly snuggled closer to Sherlock, gazing expectantly at the dark, night skyline of London. Suddenly, there was a whistling noise, and a trail of gold blazed upwards, ending with a loud bang as the firework exploded, printing glittering patterns onto the canvas of the sky.
The fireworks continued for a further ten minutes, culminating in a firework that seemed to engulf the sky, illuminating the city. "That was for me?" Molly asked, staring at Sherlock in awe.
"Of course. I am not a particular fan of fireworks, but I deduced that you were, so I reached out to my homeless network," he replied, then kissed Molly, allowing the fireworks to replay in her mind.
