The drive to Cardiff took two hours. It was the best two hours of Molly's life.
After the initial awkwardness, a comfortable silence settled over them. Sherlock drove surprisingly well for someone who rarely took anything but a cab. Summer was approaching and she saw the sky turn a peachy orange, before the sun made way for the moon. It was a beautiful night, full of stars. They didn't speak much, but Molly would sometimes feel his eyes on her. When she would look up, his eyes would be on the road.
They arrived at the hotel, just when the other guests were arriving. Molly was not a huge fan of parties. At uni, her friends would force her to go along with them to parties. She would just sit in a corner, nurse a beer and look at the people around her. She was pretty sure that was what she would do today.
The hotel was a huge building. It looked like it had been recently renovated, but it still maintained its past. The architecture was beautiful, with huge pillars supporting the structure. Sherlock handed the valet the car keys, who smiled hugely at the opportunity of parking the sleek car.
Once inside the building, Molly was mind blown.
Is this a dream? She thought pinching her arm to make sure it was real. It elicited a weird look from Sherlock.
"How much money did the Duchess inherit?" Molly asked to Sherlock in shock.
"Quite a lot." He said with amusement at the look on her face.
There was a golden glow everywhere one looked, as if the entire place was made of gold. Beautiful statues were strewn around the room. Scarlet drapes hung from the ceiling to the wall. The place looked right out of the medieval era. The decorations would have cost quite a fortune.
"Her father, Sir George held a key position at the Queen's court and took advantage of it" he explained looking around. But unlike her, he was looking around for possible suspects by deducing everyone he looked at.
The ball was yet to begin, but already the guests began filling in. Molly had thought her dress was a bit over the top earlier, but now looking at the other women who wore gowns (seriously? Did people even make them?) she was beginning to think that she was underdressed. Sherlock probably could read her mind as he said "You look beautiful Molly. Stop fretting." Molly's heart soared at that and she immediately relaxed. They were standing near the entrance to the ball room when John's friend Mark came to meet them.
"You must be Mr. Holmes" he said reaching out his hand towards Sherlock for a handshake. As usual Sherlock just stared at him, so Molly jumped in.
"Hello! I'm Molly Hooper" she said taking his outstretched arm. "I am assisting Sherlock in the case."
"Oh! Thank you for joining us. It is a terrible business I must say, this threatening" he said in a nervous tone. "If something bad happens, then the press will be upon us and we will never have customers" he wailed.
"Don't you worry Mark" she said in a soothing tone. "We will catch the culprit before any ill transpires."
Mark seemed to trust her words, for his tense shoulders under his ridiculously fancy jacket relaxed and he exhaled slowly.
"I better go then, have a lot to do" he said and hurried towards the main entrance.
"We have to do something about your social skills Sherlock. Someday you are going to be punched in your face."
"I think John already took care of it" he said with a wry smile.
Molly laughed.
Just then the Duchess entered the room, accompanied by her husband. She was in her late forties and was wearing a dark green evening gown. Her husband was a tall bald man, who wore a dark green suit to match his wife's dress. They both walked hand in hand to the claps from the guests present. Sherlock and Molly joined in the clapping, which was received with smiles from the couple.
"Let's go" Sherlock said.
They were going undercover as a young couple, who were friends with the Duchess. Sherlock would be Benedict and she would be Eleanor. She liked their names, they were graceful. Mostly they would just be looking out for suspicious behavior among the people, but if anybody wanted to chat with them they would have to use their false names. They made their way to the very back of the room so that Sherlock could have a good view at everyone. He was in a deduction spree, muttering details about all the guests. Molly like always was fascinated by this. The workings of his brain would forever remain a mystery to her. She saw what he saw, heard what he heard. Yet she could never deduce any detail about the person. Whereas he could tell everything about the person right down to their bedside habit. And now that he was in his element he was simply too beautiful. All she could do was stare at him. Suddenly Sherlock looked in her direction. Their eyes met for a moment. She flushed at being caught staring at him, and lowered her head to avoid his enquiring gaze.
Now that the hosts were in the room, the party was in full swing. Guests began to congratulate the Duchess and some just chattered among themselves. Waiters began to serve champagne and other starters. Molly took a glass from a passing waiter to calm herself.
Sherlock was doing something with his phone, probably looking for information based on his deduction when an elderly couple made their way towards them.
"Hello dears! Are you from out of town? We certainly haven't seen you folks around here" the husband asked them.
Sherlock's entire demeanor changed immediately. He smiled warmly at them and said "Yes, we are from out of town. Heathrow, actually."
"We've always wanted to go there, isn't that right Henry?" the lady asked her husband.
"Yes,honey. Oh! Sorry we are being rude. I am Henry Carter and this is my wife Margaret Carter" he said with an affectionate smile at his wife.
Molly's entire thought process died down when she felt Sherlock's hand at her waist.
"I am Benedict and this is my Eleanor."
Molly blushed a deep red (the same shade as the draping on the walls) at his words. It's not real, It's not real she chanted to herself. Yet she couldn't stop the effect his behavior was having on her.
The couple chatted a bit more until the orchestra began to play, all the while Sherlock hadn't removed his hand.
The guests began to dance with their partners. Henry and Margaret looked at each other before offering his arm to wife. They headed towards the dance floor but stopped suddenly.
"Aren't you folks dancing?" Margaret asked.
Who me? Dance? She thought. Molly was one of those people who couldn't dance to save their lives. Or dance only when there was enough alcohol in her system. Like the time during John's wedding, where she had drunk herself silly to stop being jealous of the bridesmaid. Also they were yet to find the culprit.
She was about to open her mouth to make an excuse when Sherlock began to lead her to the dance floor. The elderly couple grinned at them, before leaving.
"Sherlock!" she hissed. "I cannot dance at all."
"I know. This is just a simple waltz. Just follow my lead."
He placed one of his hand on her waist and took her hand in another. She had seen enough waltzing to know that she had to place her other hand on his shoulder (which were quite muscular, but no need to think of that right now.) Then they began to sway to the music.
She was sure this was going to be a disaster. First of all, she had difficulties in breathing, with him being so close. Second, her knees were beginning to feel weak at such prolonged exposure to his touch. But she let all the worries take a back seat. Right now he was holding her, which was enough for her. So, she began to relax. She looked around her to see people dancing and laughing. It was hard to think that someone lurked around to spoil all this happiness.
Maybe Sherlock thought that he had had enough of waltzing because he began to actually dance. Molly normally wouldn't have been able to keep up. But Sherlock was a perfect lead. They waltzed gracefully and others stopped too look at them.
Sherlock smiled down at her. He looked so handsome when he smiled genuinely. She wish he did that more often. Suddenly his expression became serious and he pulled her closer to him and he began to lean down towards her. Molly's breathing hitched.
Just when their lips almost met, there was a sudden commotion. They jumped apart, both blushing to their roots.
Molly shook her head to clear it and looked in the direction of commotion and saw the police taking a woman into custody. The lady must have been in her early forties or late thirties. She was screaming in rage at the police and at the Duchess. Molly couldn't hear her from this far.
She looked at Sherlock with a confused look, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.
"Sherlock what's happening?" she asked him.
He looked at the screaming woman and said "Obviously, they are arresting the lady."
She huffed. "Yes I can see that, but why?"
"For threatening the Duchess with murder." He said in a clipped tone.
Okay, she was now officially not following. They were here to find the person who was threatening the Duchess and here the police were arresting a woman who Sherlock said was the culprit.
Sherlock took a deep breath and looked at her.
"That woman is the daughter of Sir George, but born to his second wife who nobody knew about expect him. Rosaline, that's her name, wanted revenge for not being acknowledged as an heir by her father. She thinks that the Duchess had a hand in this, hence the threatening."
"You solved the case?" she asked in amazement.
"Long before." He said with a smirk.
She furrowed her eyebrows. If he had solved the case way before why were they still here? She asked as much to him.
He pulled her towards him once more, before leaning to her ear and whispering "Is it so hard to fathom that I wanted a date with you?"
AN: Thank you for the awesome reviews! :D 3
