Is this a habit of yours? Or, she only won't discover that it's him till... Chapter Three

Standing from her fall, Molly found herself completely lost. Nothing looked familiar or even sounded like home. Wherever it was that she now found herself, it sure was not home. Strangely dressed people stared at her, while weird lights flashed words and pictures around her and a huge, loud 'thing' came dashing towards her fast. She screamed and ran toward the crowd of people walking together near by. No one stopped to help her at all, they all just stared at her like she was somehow offensive to them or simply shook their heads towards her, as if her appearance and near death disgusted them. Molly spun about looking for someone, anyone, who might help her but they all just rushed on about their ways. It must have been a good little while that she stood still there, waiting for someone to ask for help. When it became obvious that no one was going to assist her, Molll then took matters into her own hands. Hesitantly at first she spoke out, "Excuse me, but can you tell me how to get to Andalasia?" No answer came, although she heard familiar words being spoken, it was as if she were invisible or speaking gibberish to them, trying again "I'm looking for Prince Thomas, do you know where I might find him?" The pounding in her heart could not be ignored. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

She began to walk with the crowd, hoping they would lead her to something familiar and calling out for help as she went. It took a long while for Molly to finally see something that finally did look the least bit familiar- a tree. So this land had trees! Would it also have friendly animals? Running to it, Molly gripped the bark of running her fingers along it. Delighting in the feel of something she knew under her hand. Soon she gave in to her desire to feel comfort and hugged the tree, wrapping herself around it tight, eyes closed she wondered how she'd ended up here. What had that …well that… that old hag done to her? And yes, now she was mad enough to call that woman a hag. She was certain it was her who had sent her here to this... Mean Place, wherever she was.

Behind her an old man called out. "Spare some change princess for a man down on 'is luck?" Molly spun to see a man in dirty clothes sitting in the ground. He smiled up at her rather sadly and hopefully she thought.

"Do you know that you are the first person who has spoken to me since I got here?" She said to him before blushing and releasing her tree to smooth at her skirts as she blushed demurely. "Although, I'm not a princess. At least not yet I'm not."

"' 'Is that right? Well m'dear, Welcome to London!" The man, while dirty was smiling at her. " 'Ere, lovely lady, 'ave a seat by me." He patted a space beside him and Molly gratefully knelt down.

"Thank you, ever so much. I've been walking for ages and ages and I am so lost." She placed her head in her hands and sighed deeply."Do you know how to get back to the palace by any chance, kind sir?"

"Wot business you got at the palace than, Missy? Set on marrying the prince then?" The man laughed.

"We're supposed to be married today." Molly looked sharply at the laughing man, who just laughed all the more at her. Surely he wasn't thinking that she was lying did he? "It's true!"

"Did he tell you that 'imself?" The man heartlessly chuckled between wheezing breaths..

"Of course he did. He would not to lie to me! I'm his true love." Now the man was falling over with tears on his eyes from his mirth. "Prince Thomas wouldn't lie to me."

Heaving his shallow breaths in, the man snorted out. "You must be one dumb bird! England Ain't got no Prince Thomas! 'Ares Willy and 'ares 'arry. Willys already gots a wife, and from what I see you sure aren't 'arry's type." He snorted again. "You've been lied to you great ninny! There'll be no wedding to a prince for you." He predicted.

"Don't say that! It's not true! I... I just have to find my way back and get to the palace and I know he'll be waiting for me."

"Is 'at so? You are dumber than I thought. But then again, maybe you're right" He sat up and leaned closer to her. " Why not go to the palace and ask for him? It's just down that way" He said indicating down the road. Molly turned to look down the way he pointed just as the man reached up, yanking the bejeweled tiara from her hair and waving it in front of her confused face before he jumped up and began running the opposite direction..

"You can't just take that!" She called but it was too man was gone. Molly got to her feet, stumbling as she arose to stand. This London land was horrible, but perhaps the palace could help. She started off towards it way the direction the man had shown. Hoping against hope that it was the right way.

It wasn't.


It was a dark rainy evening that found Sherlock Holmes and his young goddaughter Morgan Watson in a cab heading to Baker Street after the child's weekly karate lessons. There was nothing particularly distinguishable about that night as the two of them rode in an easy, companionable silence together. Sherlock was however, a bit nervous. He had a certain delicate matter to discuss with the child, but how should he go about it? "You can just tell me you know." The blonde girl said, looking up at him.

He sighed and smiled at her. "I want to know what your thoughts would be on the matter."

Morgan turned to look out her window, not wanting him to see her face, "I don't understand why you would you would even want to do it?"

"I think it be a good change having a woman around Baker Street." He explained. "Good for you... well for all of us, I suppose." At least that is what everyone kept saying to him at least. People who had actually raised children. Like his mother, for example. And the teacher at her school. The entirety of the PTA...

"But I'm a woman Sherlock." The child gave him a pointed look. "Well I am! And Mrs. Hudson is a woman too. Isn't two of us enough?" She whined.

"But you like Janine." He asked confused. "Why not have her there all the time?"

"Sherlock," she sang "Of COURSE I love her. She was Mummy's best friend, and she's funny and wonderful to be with. I love Janine, but she still shouldn't move in with us."

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because YOU don't love her." Morgan announced decidedly as if that explained everything, which Sherlock imagined in Morgan's mind it did.

"Morgan..."

"You don't though. Don't even try to deny it, Sherlock. It's the truth. You think she's okay and you tolerate her because of me, but you don't need to try to pretend to be in love or something if you are not."

"It would be good for you to have her near. And I do like her. In fact I like her a lot more than I like most people." He paused. "I might even care for her."

"Fibbing, Sherlock. You know it be a disaster." Morgan corrected him. She was ever as insightful as her mother ever was.

"But you need someone who can help you when I'm not around. Someone who could help you learn to do those things that I have no experience in. Like... Playdates and sleepovers whatever else you adolescents do for fun these days. Someone to teach you about superheroes and princesses and..." Puberty he thought to himself.

"But I like our games! You play pirates with me and we do cool experiments. Remember, you taught me all about scientists like Madam Curie? And how cool she was for having discovered radiation."

"Which did eventually kill her." He reminded. Not the best lesson to teach a child, a lesson he and she had learned the hard way.

"So 'd have died someday anyway. All lives end." The girl got quiet a moment before mumbling. "At least it was because of a cool reason."

"You need more fanciful things in your life though Morgan. More play. That is what all the doctors and books say, and Janine's great with that stuff. "

Morgan crossed her arms. "I don't care what the books say. Neither do you, not really" Grabbing his hand the child squeezed his own reassuringly. "I'm okay Sherlock. I have Mrs Hudson I have Uncle G. I have you, and I have Janine. But I don't need to have you AND Janine together." She'd nearly spat the word out of her mouth as if it contained some sort of bacteria that she would be infected with.

Sherlock smiled at her, rebuttal argument all prepared but then he saw her face freeze and her eyes go wide. "Morgan what is it?"

"Stop the car!" She cried, Sherlock quickly echoed her when the driver didn't listen to the child. Morgan by then had opened her door and was running toward the sidewalk, not even bothering to look across the road as she did. "Don't do it, Princess! Don't jump!"

Sherlock's words of chastisement over her reckless actions died on his lips when he saw what she was looking at. A woman, dressed in a huge ball gown was stuck on an advert for palace tours. She banged on the picture and cried distraughtly. He raced across the street, sweeping Morgan safely to the side. "What are you doing up there?" He called.

The woman turned to look at him, worry etched across her face. "I'm trying to find my way back to the palace but no one will help me!" Her turn caused her foot to slipped on the damp platform. She fell over the side just barely managing to cling to the side of it, twelve feet off the ground and began swaying back and forth like a giant, fluffy pendulum. The woman was small and although she looked strong, there was no way she'd be able pull herself back up safely in that monstrous gown. Seeing the danger she as in, Sherlock rushed under her and managed to catch her just when she fully lost her grip on the ledge. The woman fell, nearly on top of him. By some miracle he managed to catch her in a manner that had them both on the ground rolling off the momentum of the jolt, They finally stopped, finding themselves a mess of wound together limbs and voluminous skirts that left them clinging face to face with her directly on top of his chest.

Sherlock looked up at the woman, and was struck by her features. They were quiet and unassuming. A face you'd pass without much notice, with lips too small and nose upturned. She was no elegant beauty... And yet she was rather lovely.

The woman looked down at him and audibly gasped looking for all the world that she was more shocked by him than from her lofty fall.. Sherlock looked her over, at least the parts of her he could easily see, deducing her in his usual rapid fire manner. Yet the things he was coming up with didn't make any sense. Yet the most worrying thing was the signs that she was clearly in distress. In fact, she looked completely terrified as if going through some extreme emotional trauma. Or perhaps it was the shock from her fall. Either way, her clothes were eccentrically unusual. Handmade, true but they were made of the finest silks the style was like nothing he'd seen since the 1980's royal wedding craze. She had tiny hairs from over a half a dozen animals sprinkled around her and a small feather nestled inside of a curl of her hair. Her hands showed evidence of being used to hard work and manual labor; completely at odds with the material choice of the gown. Her skin showed wear from extensive gardening and exposure to the sun, and from some very intensive cooking and judging by her telltale blisters she also... Wove? Basket weaving; now that was an unusual hobby to find these days.

But most unusual was still the look she had on her face when she looked at him, not like his so called 'adoring' fans but with something borderline shy and intimate almost. "It's… is it really... You?" She seemed confused, perhaps she thought they knew one another, most likely she had seen him before on the news. Just a fan after all then. For some reason Sherlock felt a tug of loss over the fact, before shaking his head clear.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked in a deep gruff voice, if it was thick it was simply due to the lack of oxygen he told himself, not the wave of attraction that he felt towards the woman currently lying on him in an intimate tangle.,

"I think... so." Her confused state however made him doubt that.

"Can we sit up and find out?" He suggested. She then seemed to realize how close they had become laying there on the sidewalk and began the difficult process of standing up as swiftly as she could from the mess.

Following her up, Sherlock stood and looked her over, he knew himself to be sound and went over to her, looking for any injuries. "Does anything hurt?" The woman went still as a statue as he ran his hands down her arms, then up her neck and feeling her cranium for any telltale knots that would explain her confusion. While she made no move to stop him, she did flush a wild shade of pink under his ministrations. Sherlock studied her closer, watching as as the blush deepened and spread down towards the neckline of the gown. A very fetching neckline on her small figure that flattered her rather small but shapely breasts. Realizing the trail his eyes were making he let her go finding nothing of concern to her person. He stepped away. "Nothing appears to be injured." Still,she just looked at him, as if waiting for him to say something more. "Well, since you are alright we'll just be heading home-"

"Are you a princess?" Came Morgan's excited question from behind him as she peered from behind his coat. The question for some reason made the woman begin to tear up and cry.

"No!" She nearly sobbed. "And if I don't make it home then I never will be one."

"And just where is your home?" Sherlock asked, still studying her and feeling rather off put by just how... off this woman left him feeling..

"Andalasia. I used to live in the cottage at the edge of the forest by the glen. Of course, it's not there anymore… no how could it be after that troll wrecked it? But it doesn't matter. No, really it… it's alright! it is because Thomas, well Prince Thomas, you see, he brought me to the palace to marry him and that's where we'll live happily ever after!" She nearly sang and shrieked in nearly the same breath. The woman was clearly under some mental durres. That last argument was enough to verify if for her, no matter how much she still looked to be bordering line on being in shock rather than a mental impairment. Sherlock and Morgan eyed one another over this tale. However, where Sherlock felt concern, Morgan's eyes were wide with wonder. She believed her! Every Word. Morgan his trust, sensible ward who could no more have the wool pulled over her eyes than her mother before her actually believed this woman.

Delusional. Perhaps she had hit her head hard after all. Maybe just a quick trip to A&E was in order. Or a psych ward was all that was needed. Maybe she missed some pivotal medication. But then the dress...

Morgan looked up at Sherlock and gave him a look. A look he had seen on her face many times before.. Morgan was going to do everything in her power to try and help this woman. Even if she was crazy as a loon. "Listen, miss...?"

"Oh, I am sorry how Rude of me! Molly, I'm Molly the Hoop-maker's daughter. Of the glenn by the wood." The ridiculous woman curtsied at them. She honestly curtsied. " How do you do?"

"Right." Sherlock blinked her for a few moments. "Okay then...um... Molly... Hoop... er Hooper it is then? Ah, do you want me to call someone for you? Someone to come and get you?" Sherlock offered.

"Oh, you could call to them, but we're so far away no one will hear you. It's a bit hopeless that." She shrugged. "I tried that hours ago."

Turning his head to consider not only what she had said, but her inflections behind it and well before he could come up with any real conclusions the sky flashed bright as rain began to fall. Heavily. Sherlock wanted to ask more of her but not out in this deluge. He pulled both the woman, towards the waiting cab. Pushing and shoving at the ridiculous skirt of the gown before climbing in himself. The dress filled so much that Sherlock was forced to sit nearly on top of her. A woman he noted, that didn't seems to know what was happening inside the car. She was looking about, nearly marveling at the interior of the cab. Her eyes seemed glued to the front once she noticed the steering wheel. Once the cab went into drive and was instructed to carry on to Baker Street it lurched and Molly gasped in perfect surprise reaching and clinging to whatever she could, which just happened to be the driver's seat with one hand and Sherlock's thigh with the other. The once more unexpected touch made him jolt and reach out to remove her hand, which somehow lead to her gripping his fingers tightly instead. Not his intent, but an improvement he had to agree over its previous location.

"A carriage! It's like a horseless carriage!" She exclaimed in full amazement. Morgan gave her a vague sort of nod to confirm that she was right. "Fascinating!" Sherlock continued to look down at their inadvertently joined hands, trying to will her to release his hand. But the truth was that the small cold hand felt perfect sheltered within his own. Which was a rather unique, novel experience. He looked up to see the bright brown eyes of the woman turning to him. Molly smiled and looked all over his face.

"I... I want to thank you sir, and young miss... but well, I am afraid that I don't know who you are." She finally said pulling her hand away, using it to smooth out as much of her skirt as she could in an attempt to settle her nerves.

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I am Sherlock Holmes, and this scamp here is my young Goddaughter, Morgan Watson."

"Sherlock... Sherlock of Holmes." Her voice tested the name out as she looked deeply into his eyes. They were a stormy grey. That's funny, Molly thought, I could have sworn when he caught me on the street they were green. Although if he had had green eyes he would have been a look alike to him. The man on her dreams. He even wore a type of black cloakish type thing. And he most certainly had the curled hair and was tall enough. Even his lips, Molly noted as she studied his from her spot beside him, those perfect lips also seemed to be those of the man from her dreams. Although, so did Prince Thomas, she allowed. Or rather they both favored the man from her dreams. It was a puzzling thought. One that she decided to push aside to dwell on again later.

She turned instead to the beautiful little girl. "And hello to you too Morgan of Watson. That's a lovely name,, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.."

Morgan smiled happily at the woman. "It means by the sea." She told Molly proudly.

"And in Shakespeare it means a disguised identity." Sherlock followed. "Which made it rather the perfect name for this little one."

"I'm sorry, in where? I've never heard of a place called Shakespeare." Molly asked, as if the name confused her, "is that where we are now?"

Sherlock puzzled over her and shared a look with Morgan as if to say 'moving on'. "So Molly, care to tell us how you got up that ledge to the palace tour advert? Is this a general habit of yours; falling off of things?" He asked.

"Not that you are anyone to talk, Sherlock." Morgan sassed. He gave her the look and she apologized quietly.

"No, of course not. But it has happened a lot lately. Although, it seems there's usually someone who catches me." Molly considered. The woman looked down and blushed. Sherlock's mind noted once again that it was a rather beautiful look on her. "So I would like to say thank you Sherlock of Holmes, for catching me when I fell."

"I didn't so much as catch you as had you landed on me." He groused, before Morgan shook her head to indicate that he had said something not so good." But no harm done. So you were telling us why you scaled a building to play on on advert?"

"Oh that seems so foolish now!" The woman was clearly embarrassed by her behavior. "I just felt so desperate. I need to get to the palace to see if they can help me find my Prince. Then I saw the palace up there and...Well I don't know, really." Molly stopped. "I just… I want to go home."

"Sherlock can help you."

"Morgan..." Her godfather warned, he was still unsure what this woman needed.

"But you CAN help her Sherlock. If anyone could it would be you." Morgan leaned over and spoke straight to Molly. "He's a detective you see. The best detective in the world. And he's on the case."

"I never said I was going to-" Morgan looked up at him. The small child have him a look that was straight from her father. Sherlock held her eyes before realizing he was beat.

"Will you? Will you help me?" Molly whispered. "Please?"

After a heavy moment of deliberation, and the realization that he was well and truly beat he aquesented. "Yes. Alright, alright I'll help you." He sounded annoyed, but was doing it more for bravado than anything else. A mysteriously dressed woman falling nearly out of the sky? It was a 7 at least!

The few remaining blocks passes quickly. Sherlock planned to get Morgan settled with Mrs. Hudson before taking his guest down to the NSY to get some more information on who she may in fact be. Of course they also had to battle to get her enormous dress through the door of his flat. That battle had ended with Molly flipping herself heels over head and out of the dresses enormous hoops leaving her laying flat on the floor looking backwards up at Morgan and himself. And then the silly woman had stilled before she began to laugh at herself in amusement, which gave Morgan a huge fit of giggles. The two sat on the floor, looking up to see Sherlock who held the gigantic undergarment in his hands, as he murmured a soft 'oh' that set them both of laughing all the more for some reason. Sherlock paused and looked back and forth between the two. It had been years since laughter so sweet had filled his home. Soon, his warm chuckle joined the ladies and he stood there savoring the moment going as far as to do a silly roll of the hoop into his living room lounge. Once the giggles subsided and the hoops were lain against the wall Sherlock sent Morgan to get dressed for bed and he went to get his landlady, honorary Gran and frequent babysitter, Ms. Hudson.

Upon his return, however, he found that Molly, who'd moved to lay on the sofa had slipped into sleep. Sherlock stood looking at her, taking in the unusual details of her ornate gown, the details of her sweet face. She presented a huge mystery, but one that would wait till morning, he allowed. Morgan crept down the stairs and Sherlock decided to simply send her back up to her bed. Escorting her back up the stairs with a reminder to brush her teeth before he sat on the side of her bed to tuck her in. Gently, he planted a kiss on her chubby little cheek, and bid her good night before clicking the light off.

"G' night Sherlock." She yawned. "I love you." He paused and looked at her seriously. "And I you, Morgan."

Slowly, he walked back to the lounge and eyed his guest again. She slept deeply and evenly. Taking his favorite chair he sat to watch and consider her, thinking over the interesting problem she presented. It be easy to say that she was perhaps an amnesia patient, or someone completely at a loss of her faculties but she seemed to have no trouble recalling who she was. Instead she appeared to have just appeared.

It was curious how she had almost no idea how the world worked. No concept of cars, nor any inclination that Shakespeare was a person not a place. Her dress and speech was different. Her accent... Well there seemed to be no regional dialect to it. In fact she sounded like any typical modern Londoner, her word choices aside.

All in all, she was a mystery to solve. And Sherlock Holmes never could resist a good mystery.


a/n:

And so, they meet. I have to say that the thought of having Morgan lose her parents was the most gut wrenching choice to have to make. The loss of them, would have almost destroyed Sherlock, and the poor guy has been through a lot. Morgan has saved his life, given him a reason to live and a reason to try and be a good person. But still... man, killing off beloved Characters sucks.

This Chapter was unbeta'd, but I hope that it is alright. If you see any glaring errors let me know, yes? Hope this AU is amusing you as much as it is me. And thank you to all the reviews and follows, comments and thoughts. You guys, I love you.

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