Chapter 3: Knock and Enter

To all those who reviewed and faved and followed, you are my heroes and inspiration! I had to cut this short due to length and the fact I've been sick and trying to get classes settled for next year. Please read and review and offer advice with ideas in you have any! Thanks y'all!

DM

Molly stood in her room, silent and unmoving as stone, while Mrs. Hudson slid white satin and silk over her skin. Her eyes didn't water and her body never trembled even once, if she didn't blink every so often Mrs. Hudson would have believed her to be standing dead.

"I thought brides were usually happy on their wedding days." Mrs. Hudson said in hopes of lightening the dark mood of the room. Molly didn't even look up, but she shook her head in answer.

"No, not for this wedding." She whispered half-heartedly.

"Well, that's a shame; I always personally thought you looked beautiful with a smile. And who doesn't love a smiling bride?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"Moriarty," Said Molly sardonically, "it won't matter for him whether I smile, cry, or scream. He's still marrying me no matter what."

Mrs. Hudson sighed, but pushed the subject more. Her wrinkled hands smoothed dress fabric once more before stepping away and admiring the girl in front of her.

"Well, I do believe we have a bride!" Mrs. Hudson left the room quietly so as not to disturb Molly. Said bride glanced upwards at last and gazed at the beauty reflected in the mirror. Her dress was white and floor length, traditional in most cases, a swooping V-neck that left everything and nothing to the imagination with a white strip of satin ribbon gliding around her middle. At her mid-section the fabric sprayed out with individual folds in the fabric creating a water fall effect. Molly's shoulders remained bare except for her hair that was let loose and curled in ringlets and waves down to her hips. She looked like her mother.

"No, don't think that. Don't you dare go there." Molly growled to herself. Unwinding her tense shoulders Molly took the hand stitched and embroidered veil and gingerly applied it to her head, wishing for a way to hide forever.

A soft tapping at the door awoke Molly from her reverie and she quickly assembled both her emotions and expression. Answering quickly Molly met two very large brown eyes, she smiled warmly.

"Hello, Lady Donavon," Molly quickly bade the female warrior to come in and shut the door firmly behind her.

"Your Majesty," Donavon answered slightly tersely. Molly's eyebrows quirked upward and she frowned.

"I've told you to call me Molly, Dona. Or at least call me Margaret if all else fails." The soldier merely shook her head of black curls and placed a rough hand on the sword hanging from her hip.

"It won't matter either way seeing as you are being married and this will officially make you a queen, to say otherwise would be inappropriate. And I'd rather not have Captain Lestrade on my case about it." She grimaced. Molly sighed but nodded her consent and quickly marched out the door.

"Well, let's get this over with." She muttered darkly. Both soldier and bride walked outside and down the steps and to the steel, mechanical horse drawn carriage.

"He's certainly one for showing power isn't he?" Molly said, Donavon purely shrugged and remained mute. Releasing an inward groan Molly gripped the frame of the door and stepped into the bearing before sitting down. Donavon shut the door and stepped back as the steel vehicle pulled away down the cobblestone walk way.

"If only you knew how much power he has." Donavon whispered before turning abruptly and walking back into the giant doors, her hair flashing in the dim light.

Most girls would appreciate a handsome husband, as well as one who was so rich in comparison, but not Molly. She hated the rock that rested on her ring finger, she hated the ceremony, but most of all she hated her new husband.

Molly now sat in the dining hall with Jim Moriarty on her right side and a plate of uneaten food in front of her.

"Shouldn't you eat something? You're practically wasting away in front of me." Moriarty mused lightly. "However," His hand slid up her thigh seductively and she stiffened under his touch. "I would hate for you to lose your figure. " His sight-seeing hand entered the inside of her thigh and Molly quickly stood, her chair toppling over behind her and the startled gazes of nobles finding her shaking figure.

"Don't you dare touch me!" She hissed venomously at a bemused Moriarty.

"Trust me, tonight I'll have you on your back screaming for more." Moriarty whispered back, lust bright in his eyes and a hungry grin on his face. She paled considerably and had to lean on the table. She parted her lips to reply but was saved from doing so as the dining halls erupted open and a very angry Captain of the Guard marched in hot on the heels of a stranger in a black coat with a deep blue scarf waving behind him and an ebony staff in his hands.

"Your Majesties, I am so sorry for the disruption but this bastard refuses to listen to us!" Lestrade growled, his fist clenching and unclenching at his sides and made him look ready to punch the new visitor.

"Really, Captain, over a hundred guards and you can't keep out one single man? Shame, shame." Moriarty smoothly snipped at the slightly flustered captain.

"Honestly, you might want to heighten your defenses, it was rather embarrassing." The stranger commented, his deep, baritone voice sending shivers down Molly's spine. Something about the man seemed familiar, from his curly black hair to the frosted green of his eyes.

A slight sound resembling squeaking started spastically and quickly ended once the man flicked his shoulder lightly with a scowl.

"And, what may we ask, is you name?" Moriarty asked impatiently a frown etched into his features.

The stranger looked uninterested when he answered not only Moriarty's question, but also Molly's.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes and I am your new footman."