Give His Heart a Break.
Authors Note: So, I wasn't going to write again tonight as I've just woken from a nap and I couldn't be bothered. However, I decided that you readers/reviewers spoil me and so I shall spoil you right back with a new chapter. Usually when I write I listen to 'Give Your Heart a Break' on repeat but tonight I'm going to have my iTunes of shuffle. This chapter is spontaneous and not in my new plan (so it's going to be nineteen chapters long now) and I'm going to see how the music inspires me. I'll let you know. ;)
Here we go!
Disclaimer: I do not own. (Simplicity.)
Chapter Fifteen: Perfect.
Once Sherlock left the flat, he hailed himself a cab to Molly's place.
As the driver drove him to her flat an anxious feeling settled in the pit of him stomach.
He hadn't been here since the day he returned to 221B.
For some reason, he was praying that nothing had changed there.
He wasn't quite sure why he had that feeling.
There was no word for it other than random.
The drive didn't take long, the roads of London quiet due to it being eleven in the evening on a Sunday.
He threw money at the cabbie, not caring for the change, and exited the car.
He stared up at Molly's flat building, the feeling in his stomach growing stronger.
He took in a breath of the ice-like air, it was definitely going to snow in the night, and then took the awfully long steps to the door.
He buzzed up to her flat, and waited.
A full minute later, Molly picked up on the intercom.
"Hello?"
"It's me."
"Sherlock? What are you doing here? It's late. I have work in the morning. Is it important?"
"I won't keep you long. Let me in."
"Ok," she sighed, uneasily, and buzzed him through.
He opened the door and took the stairs until he reached her on the third floor.
The door was already open.
He stepped inside, shut it, and went to the living room.
He didn't take his coat off as he sat down opposite her.
His eyes glued on to her.
"Can I get you a coffee?"
Sherlock shook his head.
"Quick stop."
She nodded her head and waited for him to continue.
"I came to tell you that I have accepted the engagement of John and yourself. I have agreed to be John's best man and I am here to tell you that, if there's anything you need at all, Molly, I'll help."
He put on a smile to which he was awarded with one back.
"That's wonderful news, Sherlock."
Molly stood up and came towards him.
He wasn't sure why.
She looked sleepy.
Before he knew it, the mousy hair coloured girl had her arms around him.
He slowly returned the embrace, taking in everything about how it felt.
She was perfect in his arms.
He wondered if this was how John felt.
He thought not, for some reason.
He doubted John saw her anywhere near being perfect when he held her.
She smelt like Molly.
It wasn't the perfumed Molly.
She smelt natural.
The smell he preferred.
All too soon, she pulled away from him and sat down next to him on the couch.
Her body facing him entirely.
"There is something I need help with, Sherlock. John's too busy to come with me. I need to take a look around a couple venues for the reception this week. Would you come with me? I'd prefer to not go alone." She murmured, almost shyly.
Sherlock turned his body to face hers.
He took her hands in his own and smiled at her.
He gave her hands a gentle squeeze.
"I said anything, Molly."
She grinned at him.
He was suddenly reminded of the time he'd seen her in her kitchen, just in her pyjamas, no makeup, and her hair a mess.
She was truly beautiful.
His stomach twisted in a way he thought wasn't entirely unpleasant.
"That's just perfect, Sherlock. Thank-you; I'll text you later this week with the dates and times."
Their hands were still connected.
They stared at one another for a few moments.
Sherlock's thumbs tracing patterns over the skin of her hands.
It was Molly who pulled back first.
She was blushing.
Sherlock smirked on the inside.
"Did you need anything else?" Her voice barely above a whisper.
"No."
"You should go then."
He nodded and stood.
"Text me." He smiled, before leaving the flat.
He had a feeling this plan would work perfectly.
He was going to make her realise.
He was going to be everything she possibly needed in the next few months.
His smirk slipped on to his lips as he opened the front door to her flat, and made his way back out before hailing a cab home.
True to his word, Sherlock met up with Molly on the first day she had texted him about venue-looking.
They took a taxi to the place John and she had found online.
It was a horrible day.
Sherlock had been right.
It had snowed during Sunday night and now they were left with horrible ice patches, and the fine rain wasn't working fast enough to melt the said patches.
Sherlock paid the cabbie when they arrived.
The pair then got out of the taxi.
Molly's eyes widened as she took the place in.
It was… interesting.
She wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing right now.
The outside wasn't what she had seen in the pictures.
She began walking towards the building, Sherlock walking slowly behind her.
He was watching her reaction.
It was rather… adorable.
He'd never noticed her expression when she was unsure before.
Her eyebrows twitched and her lips formed in to a slight smile.
Molly hadn't been able to find her wellie boots this morning, and she'd been running late.
So, she'd slipped on the first boots she found and they weren't really made for this weather.
They had a small heel and sole with no grip.
She was so caught up in trying to make a decision on what she could see of the reception venue that she didn't take notice of what was in front of her with her next step.
She let out a shriek and braced herself for the impact.
But, it never came.
Instead, she felt arms wrapped around her waist and her body being held in a dipped position.
"You really need to rethink your choice in footwear, Molly."
His head was mere inches from her.
She gulped, staring in to eyes.
He stared back.
He slowly raised her in to a standing position, making sure she was off the ice.
"Thanks."
She quickly moved ahead, watching her every step this time.
Sherlock watched her from behind and smiled to himself.
The next venue they visited that week was even worse than the first.
The weather was dreadful.
It was pelting down, and every now and then there was a sprinkle of hailstones.
Molly and Sherlock had arrived at the place to find no one was there.
They were stood outside, trying to open the front entrance doors.
"Molly, I think we've discovered they are locked."
Molly turned to glare at him.
"They cannot be locked, Sherlock."
"They quite obviously can be, as they are."
Molly rolled her eyes and sunk to the floor.
Sherlock raised one of his eyebrows.
Slightly dramatic.
It made him grin to himself.
"This is ridiculous. We have an appointment with them!"
"Perhaps something happened."
"Or perhaps they are just arses."
Sherlock laughed.
Molly looked up at him in alarm.
"What?" He asked, confused.
"You laughed."
"I am capable of such things."
She tilted her head to the side, studying him in a way he couldn't decipher.
"You look funny, a bit like a drowned rat."
"Says the girl who is sitting on the floor in the rain."
She chuckled and looked away.
"Touché, Holmes."
About two weeks after their disastrous first two attempts at picking a venue, Molly texted him once again.
John cancelled on me. He said he has to work; a doctors of sick. We have a cake tasting appointment today. Would you come with me, if you're not busy? –MH
Sherlock read the text and was already putting on his coat.
Where should I meet you? –SH
Molly had texted him back instantly and he found himself in a taxi in less than five minutes.
When he arrived, Molly was outside the shop.
She wore a simple dress and pumps, her hair hung loosely, and her face bare of makeup.
She looked stunning.
John was certainly missing out, right now.
"Hello." He smiled, hands shoved in to his coat.
"Why are you wearing that? It's lovely out today."
"It's my coat, Molly."
"You don't need it, Sherlock."
He rolled his eyes and nodded his head to the building.
"Doors not locked, is it?"
She laughed and shook her head.
"And it's not raining either. I think it's safe to say, this might go well."
Sherlock grinned at her and waited for her to move to the door.
He followed her inside when she did.
There were two other couples in the shop, each tasting cake samples.
"Are you ready for this, Sherlock?"
"I hope you know, I don't like cake."
She turned to look at him, wide eyed.
"Well, I am going to enjoy this then."
She smirked at him and he mock gasped at her.
"That's a little bit cruel of you, Molly."
Molly stood staring at him.
"What?"
"Did you just mock gasp at me?"
He nodded his head.
"Please don't ever do that again. You look like an idiot."
She laughed then.
"Sherlock Holmes an idiot, who would have thought."
He mock gasped again which forced her to laugh even louder.
A lady with a tray came up – the first taster.
Sherlock took one of the samples and pushed it in to Molly's mouth.
Deliberately, making it hit her nose at the same time.
She swallowed the cake and gasped.
"You did that on purpose!" She exclaimed.
Once again, he mock gasped at her and added a wink.
"I've no idea what you are on about, Molly."
She narrowed her eyes on him, and picked up her own piece of cake.
"You better watch out, Holmes."
He took a step back from her, a smile lacing over his lip.
He was genuinely enjoying himself.
The next time Molly got in touch with Sherlock was about a week and a half later.
He'd picked up his phone with a casual "Molly."
"Are you busy?"
"Where should I meet you?"
She gave him the name of the shop and he once again found himself in a taxi.
When he arrived, he saw Molly already inside the shop.
He pushed his way in and smiled at her.
"Hello."
"Hi, Sherlock. I think you better strip."
He raised an eyebrow.
"For you?"
"What?"
She turned to look at him.
"Oh. Oh no!" She gasped as she realised what she had said.
"I meant in the changing rooms. I need you to try this on."
He looked towards the outfit she held in her hands.
There was a black blazer and trousers with a deep purple shirt hanging inside the jacket.
"It's only to give me an idea of what I want. If I like it, you'll be getting it tailored." She smiled and handed the items to him.
"Changing rooms that way." She nodded her head in the direction.
She walked with him to it and then sat down on the seat outside.
He went in to the room and began to shred himself of his own clothes, and change in to the ones Molly requested.
Outside, Molly had picked up one of the magazines sitting on a little table beside the seat, and was absently flicking through it.
"John tells me you've been saying no to cases; interesting cases. Why is that, Sherlock?"
Sherlock stopped for a few moments before continuing on with dressing himself.
"They haven't been interesting enough." He stated.
"Really? John said Lestrade has been begging you because they are so in depth and twisted. Nothing makes sense."
"Nothing ever makes sense to the police. They are imbeciles."
He stepped out from the changing room, readjusting his blazer as he came to stand in front of Molly.
She looked up from the magazine.
Sherlock heard her breath hitch.
He restrained himself from smirking at her reaction.
Molly stood up.
"I don't think we have to look at any of the other options." She murmured.
He stared down at her.
He wanted to make her squirm.
She needed to start questioning herself.
"Why's that, Molly?"
"You look perfect."
"Perfect how?"
"Handsome, Sherlock; that's how perfect you look."
"Will John look as perfect in the same suit?"
"Hm?" Molly whispered, her eyes flowing up and down his body.
"John." He stepped closer to her.
Her gaze snapped up to his; her tongue darting across her drying lips.
"What about him?"
"Will he look as perfect in this outfit as myself?"
"He'll have to." She whispered.
Sherlock didn't move back.
Molly didn't move back.
They stayed staring at one another.
It felt like forever but in reality could have been no longer than a minute.
They were pulled apart by a sales assistant who wanted to know if everything was OK.
Molly proclaimed it to be, and that she wanted to have two of these suits tailored.
She went off with the assistant to arrange everything while Sherlock went back in to the changing room.
Everything was going according to plan.
Perfectly according to plan.
He'd pull this off.
He'd stop this shame.
He'd have Molly second guessing herself in no matter of time.
He could feel it.
He knew it.
Authors Note: That was so sweet to write! So many Sherolly moments happened here. I hope you don't think Sherlock was out of character during those moments. Please remember, it is all a part of his plan. The random shuffle didn't really do anything, it just entertained me. However, Daniel Powter's 'Bad Day' did inspire me to write the scene in the rain. I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are highly appreciated, as you all know!
Petal.