30 Days (Kind of) to Fall in Love
The prompt is inspired by ericandy's 30 day OTP challenge on Tumblr.
AN: Reviews make the world go round! Thanks so much to those reading, following, and reviewing! I'm serious when I say that each one brings a smile to my face. I fully intend to keep up with this; however, I go back to school tomorrow and begin student teaching on Monday. I'm going to do my best with daily updates since this is my coping mechanism for stress, but life happens. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: If I owned Sherlock Holmes, the rest of the world would never see him Not mine.
7. Cosplaying
Take off early tonight. I need you for a case. S
A case or a "case"? xxxM
A Case Molly. Get your mind out of the gutter. S
There may be a "case" later. S
Lol! Alright, what time? xxxM
I'll be by at half six. We have to drive somewhere. S
Be sure to tell Stamford you'll be in late tomorrow. This may take all night. S
Anything in particular you want me to wear? xxxM
It's all set out on your bed. Be home at least 2 hours early as there is a hair stylist. S
What type of case is this? xxxM
You'll enjoy it, don't worry. S
Will do. TTYL. 3 xxxM
Molly was a bit nervous as to what this case could entail. Sherlock had enlisted her help on several other cases (those where John was absent or wouldn't wear a dress). Usually he told her to wear a specific outfit made up of what he assumed she would own. Unfortunately, Molly didn't have the biggest wardrobe, not for lack of enjoying shopping and wearing nice clothes, but usually from sheer lack of time to go out to find clothes. When she would inform Sherlock that she didn't own whatever he had requested, it mysteriously made its way to her house by the time he needed her to wear it. Molly had felt overwhelmed by these additions, especially since all the brands were designer and sure to cost more than anything she would have ever picked out. To be fair, they were extremely well made and fit her perfectly. She even had enough to start wearing some of it to the morgue, which pleased him immensely. Dating Sherlock Holmes was a practice in choosing the right battles. This was not one which Molly was willing to fight. Especially if she got another pair of Jimmy Choos.
So as she finished up her paperwork for the day, she was more than a little excited to see what new outfit he would have her in. If she was really lucky, he might have bought her new undergarments as well. Molly knew that if she asked Sherlock for anything directly that he would not hesitate to buy it for her. However, there was something very special in wearing the things that he had picked out for her especially. To be honest, it was a huge turn on, especially when it came to the underwear department. Knowing that he had sifted through all of the options to settle on one thing in particular was sexy. The fact that everything he picked out always fit well was the icing on the delicious cake.
After talking with Mike about leaving early and coming in late, which she felt guilty about and he assured her was completely fine, Molly grabbed a cab to go home. She left at four so that she could shower before the stylist came over. This was a new addition to helping Sherlock. She'd never had him send over someone to do her hair; he usually preferred it down. She fantasied about what sort of case this was and what they were going to do until the cabbie interrupted her thoughts by informing her that they had arrived.
Molly greeted Toby at the door and headed back to her bedroom. On her bed was a pink dress straight out of the fifties. There was a taffeta petticoat and a jean jacket next to it. Beside that were a pair of thigh high fishnet stockings, a black corset, and a rather small pair of black lace undies. On the floor were a pair of matching pink heels, Betsy Johnson by the pink bottoms. She let out a small squeal of delight at the ensemble and quickly stripped to take a shower.
As she scrubbed the smell of death and chemicals, though Sherlock enjoyed the scent the rest of the world did not, out of her hair, she tried to remember where she had seen a similar outfit. This was clearly not a normal case, especially if he was dressing her up in that. Drying off, it dawned on her. The outfit was an exact replica of Rose's from an episode of Doctor Who. "It's a fancy dress party, and I'm going as Rose Tyler," Molly said out loud. "But if I'm going as Rose, then is Sherlock…" Molly ran out to grab her phone and sent off a text.
Are we going to a fancy dress party? xxxM
Yes. Don't get overexcited. Your stylist will be there in a few minutes. I'll see you at half 6. S
:D Are you going as who I think you're going? xxxM
Get dressed. I'll see you soon. S
A few weeks ago, John and Molly had taken it upon themselves to educate Sherlock in the world of Doctor Who. While he had kicked and fussed at the beginning, he eventually relented and allowed himself to become immersed in the subject. He had delved fully into it and begun watching it throughout the night in order to get caught up, but Molly had requested that he watch the second series with her as Rose was her favorite companion. Ever the hopeless romantic, she held to the belief that the Doctor loved Rose above all others and that even into his eleventh regeneration, he still held those feelings for her. Molly also happened to have a little crush on the Tenth Doctor. Nothing like what she felt for Sherlock, but she wouldn't say no to running off in the TARDIS with him.
Sherlock must have picked out her costume based on her loved for the show and for that particular episode, she thought. But if she was dressed as Rose, that would mean Sherlock had dressed up like the Doctor, a sight which Molly was anxious to see. As her mind began to run away with thoughts of Sherlock as the Doctor and the role playing fun which could be had, she heard a knock at her door. She realized that it must be the stylist and went to answer it. The woman took one look at her and sighed. "Where is your bathroom," she asked in a French accent.
"Um, right through here," Molly led the woman in and was quickly set down on her toilet seat. The woman pulled out a myriad of tools and began to arrange her hair in a bouffant. Molly tried to watch in order to try and replicate the style, but was soon lost. Deciding to return to her fantasy land of Sherlock as the Doctor, Molly allowed her mind to run away as the woman pulled and teased and sprayed and pinned until a perfect pouf sat on her head. She then turned Molly around and began to do her eye makeup. By the time she was done, Molly couldn't believe the final product. She looked like she had just stepped out of the fifties. Before she could get anymore caught up, the woman directed her to take off her robe so she could help her with the corset.
Molly had never worn a corset before, but it had always been a fantasy of hers. While the dress necessitated the use of said garment, she couldn't help but wonder if Sherlock had known that she wanted to wear one. This was no simple piece of satin. There were defined panels and they definitely did something to her figure. As the French woman tightened the laces, Molly found herself out of breath. Turning around, she asked the woman to ease up, to which she only pulled tighter and scowled at Molly. She finished tightening and put in a tight bow; Molly could barely breathe and was not happy about it. She attempted to loosen it, but her attempts were in vain.
The French woman left her without a word and left the apartment. As much as she had wanted to be all put together for Sherlock, she knew she needed help with this one.
Can you come a bit early? I need help with something. xxxM
Of course. Is Monique still there? S
No, she left me in a bind. Literally. xxxM
On my way. S
Molly sighed in relief. She put on the stockings and her magnifying glass necklace while she waited for Sherlock to arrive. It was six, so it wasn't as if they were running short on time. Molly laid down on her bed as this was the only position in which she could breathe easily. Before this, she hadn't understood when woman had described them as torture devices; now she knew. Luckily, she heard Sherlock come in and call for her. "Bedroom," she answered, standing up with her back to the door. She heard him enter. "I need you to loosen this corset. I can't breathe and your French woman left even after I told her it was too tight," Molly said, keeping her head looking forward.
Saying nothing, she felt his hands go to the corset and untie the knot which had defied every one of her attempts. He began to loosen the strings, and she felt the air rush back into her body. She let out a grateful sigh as she reveled in the freedom. "Better," he asked, his hands still on her waist.
"Much," she replied.
"Do you still want to wear it or would you prefer something else?" he asked.
"I'm fine with wearing it, I just can't have it that tight," she said. He gently smoothed down the sides and began tightening it, but not nearly as much as the woman had done before. This time it was much more bearable, and while it was still tight, at least she could breathe. As he tied the bow, she heard him mumble something. "What was that," she inquired.
"I should have known better than to entrust this with anyone else. I should be the only one to put one of these on you, and I should be the only one to take it off," he said huskily. Molly couldn't help the shiver that ran up her spine at his words. This made the idea of corset wearing much more sexy, which Molly greatly appreciated. She felt him kiss her shoulder. "Finish getting dress. I'll wait outside," he said and left. Molly smiled and quickly finished putting on her layers.
When she was all done, she allowed herself to look in the mirror. "Well slap my ass and call me Rose," she mumbled to herself. Molly had always loved dressing up and it made it that much better when it was a legit costume which made her feel like the person she was dressing up as. She opened her door and went out to meet Sherlock, who was not wearing his traditional black suit. Instead he had donned a brown pinstripe suit with a brown tie with blue swirls. His hair was gelled to make it stick up all over the place. He had on cream converse to complete the look. The look which was better than Molly could have ever imagined.
A giant smile took over her face as she saw him and what he was wearing. Unable to help herself, she launched herself at him. He caught her in a hug and quickly found her mouth with his. Sherlock wasn't one for dressing up in silly costumes, but when it was for a case and it produced this sort of reaction in Molly, it was definitely worth it. He pulled away from her and took her hand. "Come, we'll be late," he said briskly, leading them out of the building. He hailed a cab and spurted off an address.
Molly was finding it rather difficult to keep her eyes off her handsome boyfriend. She made a mental note to have the cabbie take a picture of them as this was definitely something that she wanted to remember. Remembering their actual purpose in all of the dressing up, she asked Sherlock as to the nature of the case which involved them dressing up. He informed her that there was a fancy dress party for Halloween at the home of a suspected murderer. He needed to get close to check for a few things in the man before he could make a conclusive deduction. In order to do this, he needed to attend the party and would need a date. He also told her that he figured that it was something that she would probably enjoy doing and so he had asked her along. Molly readily agreed with him about enjoying the fancy dress part. So they made their way to the extravaganza.
At the party, Molly received quite a few compliments on her outfit and Sherlock got more than one dirty look from both men and women. It was held at an estate outside of the city. The grounds were manicured to perfection; there was a pool which looked incredibly inviting if it weren't for the rather cool October weather. The food was delicious, and Molly was fully enjoying herself, as she was supposed to.
Luckily getting close to the murderer was rather simple and Sherlock was able to confirm his deductions. Unfortunately, right as Lestrade showed up to make the arrest, the murderer jumped from a third story window in an attempt to kill himself before being sent to jail. Luckily, he jumped into the pool, which meant that Lestrade had to drag a sore and wet murderer back to NSY. The party had fallen apart after that; Lestrade wanted to get the official statement for Sherlock but it was well past midnight at this point. Molly was yawning and Sherlock had no desire to be detained with statement giving, so they snuck out and hailed a waiting cab.
"Well that was rather anticlimactic," Molly commented.
"Yes, but much easier for the force to deal with alive."
"Oh, I didn't mean that I wanted him to die. It just would have had that poetic, 'you'll never catch me alive' feel to it."
"Yes, I suppose it would have," he replied, smiling down at her. Molly returned it and lay her head on his shoulder. He moved his arm so that it was around her shoulders and she was cushioned against him. "Did I mention that you look rather fetching tonight?" he asked.
"No, you didn't in fact say it. Considering you greeted me by snogging me silly, I deduced that that was your opinion."
"Oh, so you're deducing now?" he asked with a smirk.
"I suppose you've rubbed off on me," she retorted. He kissed her forehead as she closed her eyes to pass the time back to her flat. Sherlock was hoping to rub something else off of her, but by the time that they pulled up, Molly was fast asleep. He paid the cabbie and carried the sleeping woman up to her flat. He laid her on the bed and began to undress her. Remarkably, she stayed asleep throughout. By the time he had her down to the knickers and corset, he debated waking her up to change into pajamas. It wasn't that he felt uncomfortable at undressing her, but she may feel uncomfortable with it.
Deciding that she would rather sleep than be woken up, he undid the corset and pulled her pajamas on for her. He tucked her into her bed and went to take a shower. There was a terrible amount of gel in his hair and he had no desire to sleep with it in his hair overnight. After de-gelling, he slipped into bed with her and wrapped his arms around her small frame. She sighed and turned to rest her head on his chest. Sherlock smiled as he found himself quickly falling asleep with her in his arms.