Alex sat watching him anxiously on the bed. He'd refused to leave when Sherlock had told him he needed to get ready, so the detective had eventually just allowed him to stay and observe as Sherlock straightened up his bow-tie and looked himself over in the mirror.
"How do I look?" he asked, turning towards the boy.
Alex chewed his lip. "Good. Like James Bond or something. You look—smart."
Sherlock glanced down at the suit. It was true, he was a bit dressed up. But he'd promised the dinner would be at a nice place, so he needed to look the part.
"Well, Mrs. Hudson promised to look after you. I'll try to be back before you want to be tucked in," Sherlock said, as he straightened his collar for the fifth time.
"Sherlock, are you seriously going to do this?" Alex said with a sigh.
"Hmm?" He turned to glance at the boy, raising a brow curiously.
"Are you really going to get engaged just so you can keep me?" he asked. He'd gone back to biting his lip again. That old bad habit popping up. At least they'd broken the thumb sucking.
"I'd do anything to keep you," Sherlock admitted.
"Thanks, Sherlock," Alex said. "But I still think this is a terrible idea."
Sherlock shrugged. He offered one last look to his reflection and then turned away. Alex followed in his footsteps. Sherlock decided to just ignore the boy, since the anxiety radiating off of him seemed annoying, not something he wanted to deal with right now.
Mrs. Hudson met them both on the ground floor, ushering Alex into the kitchen for his meal.
"You enjoy your date, Sherlock," she said with a beaming smile.
"I'll try," Sherlock promised, before stalking off to the door.
He arrived at the restaurant with five minutes to spare. He walked in and handed over his coat before allowing a waiter to lead him to his table. Once in place, he accepted a menu, looking over wine orders, even as his mind wandered, fingers moving to tap on the table's surface as he rehearsed his lines in his mind again. This shouldn't be too hard, just saying the right things and it would all be over, right?
He had to set the menu aside though as he saw his date approaching. He rose to his feet to pull back her chair, taking the time to look over the changes in her normally more plain appearance.
"Sorry I'm late," Molly said, twisting her handbag as she sat down.
Sherlock looked over her, admiring the dark blue of her dress that seemed to compliment her pale skin. She'd put her hair up emphasizing the fineness of her features, giving her a sense of delicacy and elegance as well. Her makeup was light, her lips pink instead of the red he remembered so vividly at the Christmas party all those years ago. She'd put some time in, but not so much he felt uncomfortable with the implications.
"Do you have a preference on wine?" Sherlock asked her.
"Oh, no worries, I'm happy with most anything," Molly said.
"Alright," Sherlock said, scanning the list again before settling on a selection. "Well, hopefully you'll like what I pick. In the meantime, I wanted to say you…look lovely."
"Oh thank you," Molly said, reaching up to touch her hair. "This is a very nice place, I'm glad I tried to spruce up a bit. Thought about coming straight from Bart's but thankfully when you mentioned the place I checked and it looked nicer so I thought I'd try—I'm rambling aren't I? Sorry I'll shut up a bit. How are you?"
"I'm doing well," Sherlock said. "I'm, yes… how was…work?"
"Fine," Molly said, setting her handbag to the side and reaching to pick up a menu. "Is Alex doing any better?"
"His burns are healing, and I'm going to take him in for his cast sometime tomorrow." Sherlock glanced around for the waiter, wondering how long this whole small talk thing was going to last. When should he pop the question? Was there a right moment to do it? John had done it before they even ordered. Hmm…
"So, is this just a thank you for babysitting or something?" Molly asked, glancing around and then back at Sherlock. Her smile faltered for a minute.
"Oh, no…it's er…I hoped you'd see this as a er…a date." Sherlock folded his hands and peered at her, doing his best to appear sincere.
Molly stared at him momentarily. "Sorry, I just…it's been a long day. Did you say…date?"
"Yes," Sherlock said. "I thought it was high time we…went on a date together."
Molly sat dumbstruck for a moment, pulled from her daze only by a waiter appearing to take their orders. She offered a quick apology to him, scanned the menu and soon found what she wanted. She apologized yet again as he took their menus and was off. After that she turned back to Sherlock.
"I just…you've never wanted to go on a date before," Molly said. "Are…is this…?" She trailed off, simply continuing to stare at him, blinking a few times as though wondering if it was real.
"Because," Sherlock said, reaching over to put his hand on hers, causing her to jump slightly and then gradually relax, still staring at him. "Because you, Molly, are the most lovely woman I've ever laid eyes on. You are a talented pathologist, a wonderful helper, and above all a loving and kind friend. You've seen me in my darkest times; you've helped me through them. You faked my death with me, have gone to great lengths to be there when I needed you. And I am grateful. Grateful enough that I recognize I cannot simply allow you to slip away. I need you, Molly Hooper. I've always needed you. And I don't want to go on living without you at my side."
Sherlock paused and drew the small box from his pocket, pulling open the lid to reveal a simple yet elegant diamond ring, catching the light and gleaming. Molly's hand came up to her mouth as her eyes widened, staring down at the small, yet extremely significant, piece of jewelry.
The detective moved out of his chair, coming to kneel beside, her.
"Would you, Molly Charity Hooper," he began, grateful for Google that had been so helpful in granting him access to her middle name in an old school record, "make me the happiest man alive and be my…w-wife?" he grimaced at the word, but nonetheless managed to give a small smile.
She sat there simply staring at the ring, no words coming from her parted lips. Sherlock shifted a bit uncomfortably on the one knee, wondering how long it was customary to wait before getting up again. Wasn't she supposed to answer? Why wasn't she answering? Wasn't she delighted?
Her hand descended from her mouth, put she still hadn't spoken. The two waited, even as people around them began to notice and point.
"Get up," Molly said after a minute. "And sit down."
Sherlock rose and took his seat again, mind reeling as he considered the possibilities. Had he done something wrong? He had thought the speech was rather nice—pulled from a blog of course with a few replacements of sections with his own personal details…though it still had a nice sound to it.
"What do you want?" Molly said, looking up at him, frowning, a hint of tears in her eyes.
"I thought I just made that fairly obvious," Sherlock said, raising a brow. "I'm asking for your hand in mar—"
"You hate marriage," Molly said. "You equate it with murder. And we're not even dating. So you're doing this to get something. What is it? I'm happy to help, but I don't want you doing…this…to try to manipulate me. I may like you, but I'm not stupid, Sherlock. So, what is it?"
Sherlock sighed, reaching up to rub his temple, contemplating lying. The probability of her catching on seemed high. So he opted for the truth.
"I need to find a fiancée within the next month," Sherlock said. "They're threatening to take Alex away from me."
Molly gasped and stared at him. "Really? Because of the accident?"
"Combination of things," Sherlock sighed. "But yes, mostly the accident. Also my brother finding some drugs in my flat."
"What?" Molly said. "Sherlock, you know better!"
"They're old, I haven't used since Alex has been in my care. But finding them was enough for Mycroft to become convinced that it would be better if I don't retain legal guardianship. The social worker agrees, but when I mentioned having a fiancée—well she changed her tune. She knows Alex is happiest with me, but I can't do it as a single parent, I need someone else."
"And I'm your choice?" Molly said, she folded her arms.
The detective took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair. The waiter had returned with their food, setting the first course in front of them. Sherlock looked down at his soup before glancing back up to meet her eyes, waiting until the server had left again to begin talking.
"Molly, what I am looking for is a complicated combination," he pointed out. "I need a woman who is aware of the fact that I already have a child, who wants children of her own, one who potentially has already met and likes Alex fairly well."
"Right," she said.
"I also need a woman who cares about me, in spite of all my terrible flaws, in spite of being an arse. A woman who knows I'm arrogant and selfish and frustrating. I need someone who is willing to see my good qualities, who genuinely cares about me and wants to look out for me."
"Yes," she agreed. "Someone who is willing to overlook all those things. Yes, I suppose that would be me, wouldn't it?"
Sherlock nodded. "And, of course, I would prefer said person to be someone I care about too."
Molly stared at him for a moment, and he could again see hints of tears. He hoped she wouldn't start crying, honestly, they'd had enough attention at their table for one night.
"You, Molly Hooper, are the only woman I know who fits all of those qualities and more," he said. "If you say no I have no one. They'll take Alex away…I…"
She reached out a hand to touch his sitting on the table, preventing him from continuing. They sat for a moment like that, her simply touching him, looking into his eyes. Sherlock wondered if he should just apologize and suggest actually eating their food. Perhaps that was the better alternative…but then again, the look in Molly's eyes gave him the idea that she wasn't as opposed as she'd initially sounded.
"I understand," Molly said. "I know how much you care about him. He's been really good for you in some ways. And I'm sure it would be hard to find someone, especially so last minute." She let out a long sigh, looking down at her untouched food. "This is like something out of a dream…I…all these years I wanted this, and now when it happens it's all wrong. It's not because you want me or…well…it's just because you need me… I don't know what to say, Sherlock. I'd given up on you in some ways. Resigned myself to being a spinster cat lady and all that."
She smiled and looked up, even as a single tear trickled down her cheek. Sherlock shifted a bit, wondering if he should say something or let her continue. She spoke before he could think of anything to say.
"I don't know if I can just say yes to something like this. I may not have a lot of self-esteem, but I have enough to not want to settle for a man who merely…wants me to keep his son. I just don't know, Sherlock."
"Molly," Sherlock interrupted. "I want you to know this doesn't have to be a fast thing…we can go on a few dates like normal people would. We can see if this seems to be working… If nothing else we could fake it…move a few things of yours into my place, have you there when the social worker comes by. It wouldn't be ideal, but I don't want to force you to do something you don't want. I'm amenable to not making this real. I want to accommodate you and whatever you need in this. But at the same time I'm not really…opposed…to making it real. Besides…engagements can go on for a long while can't they?"
Molly gave a half smile. "When you say it like that…I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try, would it? And I do want you to keep Alex. He's wonderful. He's brought out the humanness in you, just like John did. I'd love to be a mother to him too, but only if I can be a wife…or girlfriend to you too. I'm not doing this just for him. It would be for both of you."
Sherlock's lips twitched, a smile playing there. "I used to think I would never like the idea of something so domestic as marriage…or children…being a father, being a husband. And while I'm still not sure on the latter, I've found over the last few years that I rather like having a…well a family. I have a suspicion I'd find I rather like having you too."
"Oh Sherlock," Molly said, even as a few more tears escaped, though she was smiling. She reached for the box suddenly, tugging out the ring and sliding it onto her own finger. "Yes. My answer is yes. For trying at least. We can see how it goes…maybe things will turn out alright."
"I'm delighted," Sherlock said. "Really. However, I think if we keep chatting our food is going to go cold. It probably already has, actually. Shall we eat and discuss more later?"
"I think that's a fine idea," Molly said, reaching for her fork, the ring glittering beautifully as she did. Sherlock examined it for a minute, thinking on the implications of what he'd just done. He couldn't deny the sight of it made him a tad nervous, but at the same time, Molly's warm smile eased him some. Perhaps, as with adopting Alex, everything would turn out all right.
Late that evening he returned back to 221 B, having spent an hour after dinner talking with Molly about how they wanted to proceed. She'd asked to have a few more dates first, but did agree if nothing else she'd be there for the social worker and play the part. Feeling somewhat comforted, he'd kissed her cheek to bid her farewell, heading off to keep his promise of tucking Alex in.
Mrs. Hudson was waiting for him on the sofa when he came in. Alex looked up from his chair, smiled and bounded over. Sherlock caught him easily, scooping him up in a well practiced move. The boy peered at him quizzically, but appeared to relax a little on seeing his smile.
"Oh, how was it, dear? Everything go smoothly?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Yes," Sherlock said. "You'll be quite happy to know I'm engaged…at least for the moment."
"Engaged!" Mrs. Hudson stared at him. "Oh Sherlock, how wonderful! I hadn't realized it was that serious. What's his name, dear?"
Alex turned to shoot her a look, brows furrowed.
"It's Molly Hooper, Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said with a sigh.
"Molly Hooper!" the woman said, letting out a high pitched laugh. "Oh you and John both just decided to change things up a bit, didn't you?"
"Why does Mrs. Hudson think you were with a bloke, and why's she saying you and my dad changed things up?" Alex whispered in his ear.
"Well, I'm going to take this one to bed," Sherlock said. "Thank you again, Mrs. Hudson. Delightful of you to watch him for me."
"Of course dear. Oh, Molly Hooper! Too delightful. You won't be moving out, will you?"
"Certainly not, she'll be moving in," Sherlock said. "Goodnight, Mrs. Hudson."
She went out the door still laughing, even as Sherlock carried Alex upstairs to bed.
"Sherlock, why'd she say that?" Alex asked again.
"Mrs. Hudson was always under the false impression that your father and I were dating," Sherlock said, deciding nothing but the truth would do. "She was very surprised when your father married your mother. Couldn't seem to believe it, in fact. Anyhow, I suppose it's the same for me."
Alex cocked his head. "But you and my dad didn't date, did you?"
"No, nothing like that. We were flatmates and partners in solving crimes. That's it," Sherlock said, setting the boy down on his bed after moving the blankets out of the way.
"Did Molly really say yes?" Alex asked.
"Yes, of course," Sherlock said. "What else would she say?"
Alex shrugged. "So she'll move in with us. Will she bring Toby?"
"I'd imagine so," Sherlock said, having forgotten the detail of Molly owning a cat. He supposed that would make sense though.
Alex grinned at that, even as he allowed Sherlock to pull the blankets up over him. The detective paused a moment, looking down at Alex.
"You approve of my choice then?"
"Yes," Alex said. "Molly's great. I'm glad she said yes."
"Me too," Sherlock admitted. "Alright, now get some sleep."
"I'll try," Alex said with a smile. "You get some too."
"Mmm," Sherlock said and then shrugged. He leaned over and kissed Alex's forehead once, a small habit he'd acquired in tucking the boy in, not that he did it every night. Still, it felt right somehow. Not good to starve the child of affection, he supposed.
"Love you, Sherlock," the boy said.
"Goodnight, Alex."
He walked to the door, considering a moment as he did. Sherlock Holmes…a father…a fiancé…readying himself to go on further dates before moving a woman into his home and his life with her cat. He'd never have thought it possible before. But now…in the moment…it just might work. The door to Alex's bedroom door closed, and Sherlock went back downstairs, deciding to enjoy a night of remaining bachelorhood working late on a case.
A/N: First real bit of Sherlolly...whew. I've been looking at fanart and watching videos and stuff for inspiration, but it was still hard. I feel like it's really difficult to keep Sherlock in character for Sherlolly...but hey, he's a bit OOC in this fic in general.
Wow, influx of reviews this last chapter! Thanks to galaxygashes, Akiko88, Denethorian (for 2!), LadydeBalliol, Icecat62, BelieverofManyThings, and Guest for reviews!
Reviews appreciated, though I'll say this—if you don't have anything constructive to add in a criticism…you might as well not post it. If you don't like this story, that's great, but let me know what would help change your mind or just don't read. Otherwise it's really just a waste of your time and mine.
Anyhow, until next time, thanks to all of you out there! -elsarenard