Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Sherlock, John or anyone you recognise.

Authors note: Hello...again. Hope the quick updates are okay. Like usual, thanks so much for reading and reviewing, your support means a lot :) Here's the fifth chapter, it's definitely not the best, but I hope you like it anyway...enjoy :D

Every formal item of clothing that Molly owned were spewed and scattered around her confined bedroom. Of course, there wasn't a lot, since Molly wasn't rich and was far from girly. She'd tried on all her dresses, wanting to look perfect for the most gorgeous man in London. At that moment she was stood in her underwear, looking round her room frantically. Starting to panic, she searched her drawers, and came across a box of clothes given to her by her mother. There, folded neatly at the top of pile, was a familiar looking piece of black fabric. It unfolded as Molly picked it up to reveal a sleeveless black dress with a dip hem. The now relieved pathologist instantly recognised it as the dress he mother had worn on the first date with her father. She slipped it on gently, and looked in the tall mirror by her door. The dress was beautiful, and fit her perfectly. She placed her feet into a set of small heels, minimal make-up already applied, and left her hair down, falling past her shoulders in waves. One final glance at the mirror assured Molly that she looked presentable.

Doesn't matter anyway, I'm sure he'll criticise me however I look, Molly thought with a frown.

At exactly 8:00pm, the bell rang. Molly, quite surprised at his punctuality, opened her door. The man stood anxiously behind it took Molly's breath away. Sherlock Holmes stood in his usual coat, but he wore an immaculate tuxedo underneath. His shoes were polished, and his curly hair combed. His eyes widened at Molly's own appearance, which made her inwardly grin. She smiled nervously at him, and spoke softly.

"Good evening, Sherlock."

"Yes, it is," he replied, "Ready to go?"

Molly grabbed her smartest blazer off the coat rack and turned out the lights. After locking the door, she followed Sherlock to a waiting cab. Inside sat John and a friendly looking woman of whom Molly did not recognise. She wore a short violet dress with long sleeves. The taxi was big enough for all four of the adults, so Molly wasn't squashed.

"Richmond University," Sherlock called out to the driver.

Sherlock sat quietly on the journey, completely content. Molly looked stunning. Her hair was wavy and silk-like. The dress, obviously handed down by her mother, complimented her figure. She wore a small amount of make-up, though it wasn't needed. After a lot of thought about John's speech, the detective had realised he did feel something for Molly. Sherlock's current state of nervousness only proved this.

He looked over to John, who was whispering something in Naomi's ear. She giggled, and rested her head on his shoulder. Sherlock felt a twinge of jealousy.

I wonder if Molly and I would ever be like that.

After the realisation that he was on a case hit him, Sherlock placed all his Molly thoughts in a room in his mind palace, and locked the door.

The case is what matters right now. Concentrate Sherlock. Don't let these ridiculous feelings cloud your head of what's important.

The cab was silent for the rest of the journey. Molly stared up at the full moon through the window and John kept his hands locked with Naomi's. Sherlock forced himself to keep his head on the case.

Once they arrived at Richmond University, formally dressed students were entering through a set of immense double doors. Sherlock took Molly's hand, much to her surprise, and lead her to said doors. He needed to fit in, and to achieve this he had to act human. However, he was shocked at how nice it felt to entwine his fingers with the pathologist's.

They followed others to a large hall decorated with cliché paper chains and tinsel. A huge Christmas tree stood in one corner, and a stage holding an amateur band was stood at another.
The four adults stood awkwardly at the door, until John spotted Kathy and they raced towards her. She was dressed in a tight, green dress and flat shoes. Her hair was brushed, though not styled, and no make-up had been applied. She pointed to a young man with short brunette hair. He wore glasses, and his grey suit clashed with a turquoise shirt and red tie.

"Aaron Jones," She stated.

Sherlock nodded.

"We'll have to keep an eye on him the whole night."

"We can take turns," John suggested, "Naomi and I will keep watch on him now, and then we'll text you when it's your turn."

"What do we do until then?" The detective asked.

"You can dance, mingle, have a good time," His friend answered with a smirk.

Sherlock turned to Molly, who looked back at him pityingly. John and Naomi took their positions near the buffet.

"Isn't anyone going to get suspicious? I mean, we don't exactly look like students," Molly asked.

"Their security isn't of the best quality," Sherlock answered, "Obviously, since a student is running round the place with arsenic in his pockets."

The pathologist nodded, and the couple stood awkwardly for a few moments. When a slow song started to play, Sherlock developed some courage and was the first to speak.

"Shall we dance? We'll blend better if we do."

"Okay," Molly replied, butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

The detective took her hand once again and led her to the dance-floor. As planned, they blended beautifully with the other couples. Sherlock locked his arms around Molly's tiny waist, as she locked her own around his neck. They fit like jigsaw pieces, swaying slightly in unison.

Just when I thought he couldn't get any better, he turns out to be a wonderful dancer, Molly thought.

"I attended dance classes up to the age of thirteen," Sherlock stated, as if he's read her mind.

Molly grinned up at him, a grin he instantly returned.

"You decided to wear lipstick after all," he said, trying to make conversation.

"I didn't decide, you told me to."

"Well I'm glad you did."

Another few minutes of comfortable silence passed.

"Why aren't you criticising me?" Molly demanded suddenly.

"Criticising you?"

"Yes, you do it all the time. But you haven't said a single, hurtful word tonight. Why?"

"Molly," Sherlock explained, "I never mean to be hurtful, and I never realised my comments affected you so negatively. I've been told I don't have a heart, I don't feel things like a normal human should; but I've noticed that this isn't true. I do feel emotions; I just don't register them or notice that they're there. When I make blunt comments, they are just deductions, not comments on what I think of you. I am so sorry that I've hurt you so much."

Molly felt like kissing him there and then. But thankfully a part of her was thinking rationally.

"Thank you for giving me the chance to understand," she said; because that was all that was needed to be said. Sherlock Holmes had finally opened the gate to his heart, and let someone in.

After half an hour of dancing and chatting to the students, Sherlock's phone alerted with a text from John.

No action yet. Your turn, want to dance – JW

"It's our turn," The detective informed Molly.

They took their positions by the food table and stood silently. They watched the dancers and listened to the band, all the while keeping their eyes on both the punch bowl and Aaron Jones. Sherlock had the urge to take Molly's hand again. To put his arm around her. To hold her. To kiss her.

Is this normally how people feel when they fall for someone?

He glanced over at her.

She looks so beautiful tonight. She always does, but especially tonight. I wish I could tell her. No Sherlock! The case! Keep your head on the case!

It was around twenty minutes later when Molly finally spoke.

"I need some fresh air. It's so stuffy in here."

Sherlock nodded and his eyes followed her as she exited the hall.

Molly stood far away from the smokers and admired the moon. She had always loved astronomy, but never took her interest further. This didn't stop her from staring up into the dark sky night after night.

"Beautiful isn't it?" A man beside her said.

Molly nodded, and assumed he would leave her alone.

"I never realised you appreciated the sky's beauty so much, Molly. It's a shame I have to ruin such a wonderful moment."

Molly's head snapped sideways to see who was beside her, eyes locking with his. His familiar lips moved into a sly smirk whilst his name clouded her mind.

Moriarty.