A/N: I know, I updated too soon, oh, such a bother, really, right? Haha. Probably not, also the last author notes were just me joking to myself really - I was convinced no one read those really. You do though - you beautiful magnificent people who take the time to review this silly story of mine trying to comfort me that you read, I know you do - thank you!
Thank you to those who also favourite and follow!
Also Lono you became the 300th review, so you can prompt me anything you like! If I hit big numbers, and you're the one who coincidentally ended up as 350th etc - you can prompt me a one-shot (unfortunately I don't count anonymous, can't get hold of you guys, you know). Yes, indeed that's why some one-shots have popped up. Thank you to all who voted for me in the SAMFAS! The fic is nominated in both romance and humor, THANK YOU.
There are several who've asked questions in their reviews, and I can't really answer those, unfortunately enough, but the answers will appear in the fic itself. Some are already in the fic - oh - oh - what do I mean? You'll see. Thank you once again, and if you read all this - you are brilliant and I hope you continue with being so.
Shopping with Sherlock; wasn't exactly the moment she'd visualized when she and Molly would finally get to be overtly girly laughing at the all-too frilly dresses, possibly trying some for laughs, as it turned much more serious with his presence. The questions that streamed from his mouth were endless fired off rapidly at Molly who blinked furiously in return, before managing to give him answers, "Where?" "When?" "What do you want exactly?" Questions they weren't entirely certain of to begin with, but that her friend managed to her own surprise to answer. Mary supposed it was instinct he was relying on really, as he was listening to every answer rather pensively, while they walked towards one of the shops he'd located nearby on his phone that he deemed appropriate.
"You don't need to write it down?" Mary said astonished, but he only shook his head in reply.
He could apparently remember everything Molly said without taking notes, rather beneficial really. Molly seemed to be aware of this fact, as she only smiled at her in return to his aloofness regarding a trait most men would want to have (especially during quarrels).
They soon stood outside a pair of glass doors set upon an old building with two small trees in pots filled with brimstone. It was kept clean on the outside, the pavement with not one spot of used gum, or discarded paper – there was even a pristine looking red carpet that they stood on.
Mary eyed Molly who didn't look particularly heartened by this kind of opulence – but they followed Sherlock in anyway, since he held the door open for them. It wasn't like they could protest then; the least they could do was browse.
They stepped in eyeing the rather decadent interior that exploited the old structure of the building, allowing red bricks to be evident on the walls, mixing it with white minimalism. It couldn't be entirely white in doors – after all they were selling wedding gowns – there were even model-thin women wandering around with nametags looking stylish themselves in un-wrinkled marine suits.
One of the women - a blonde popped up at their side, "Do you need any help, sir?" she said to Sherlock ignoring the pair of them behind him.
It wasn't like they were going to buy anything, but she had hoped they'd not ignore her and Molly – especially considering the fact that Sherlock was a man.
Though, when the woman's grey eyes took in her stained blouse she knew she wouldn't want any help from her.
"No," said Sherlock not even looking at the woman, who almost seemed to be trying to flirt with the way she kept smiling at him.
He was in a bridal-shop – he wasn't supposed to be flirted with in a bridal shop, even Molly seemed briefly annoyed.
The woman however persisted, "Are you certain, sir?" Clearly thinking that they weren't any judges to be had on good taste.
Mary found herself crossing her arms.
"We can find what we need, thank you," said Sherlock dismissing the woman, who's toothy smile dropped, as she walked off.
"We can't shop here, can we?" said Molly who was clinging a great deal to her handbag, as if she'd offend anyone by coming in contact with anything in the shop.
"Yes, we can," said Sherlock without a hint of unease, taking to wander ahead of them, as they followed him nervously.
"More like browsing," said Mary under her breath, as she felt like talking loudly wasn't perhaps the best idea in this particular store.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her, though he was soon distracted by the rows of long dresses that were on racks with every shade of white possible. It was rather remarkable to witness how many shades there in fact were of white – or dresses, for that matter.
The most expensive ones were of course on the mannequins that were on top of podiums, but Sherlock only gave those brief glances, "You can't exactly expect me to believe you'll find a dress just like that, do you?" said Mary while Sherlock silently walked on.
"I will - if the collection is suitable enough," said Sherlock casting his eyes at the help for a brief second, until he continued with his browsing.
Molly was momentarily distracted however, her hands hanging uneasily at her sides, as she stared about her, "That's – it's a lot," she said looking rather diminished.
It was perhaps daunting to be faced with such a reality.
"They are just dresses, Molly," said Sherlock, as Mary had intended to open her mouth to comfort her, "Garments – for – an important day, but not the last day of your existence."
Mary raised her brows.
"I'm fine," said Molly looking a bit more calm, "Ok, maybe a bit – not fine - but it's just dresses – right – anyway – we're probably going to hundreds-," but Molly promptly shut up the minute Sherlock held a dress before her.
Her eyes practically glazed over, as she open mouthed stared at what was absolutely enchanting in her eyes.
Not only hers, as Mary was riveted herself, besides mildly disgusted that Sherlock had found one already.
"Try it – it's your size," said Sherlock his voice emotionless.
Molly bit her lip, her eyes darting from his face, then to the dress in his hands, slowly prying it out of his clasp – tenderly holding it in her hands.
"But it's – it's probably too much-," she said with a shake of her head.
"Try it," he said with such conviction that Molly looked to Mary guiltily.
"Ok," said Molly with a swallow hesitantly asking help from one of the women working there.
Mary noticed that he wasn't entirely aware of her presence; he seemed rather lost there he stood after having just found in mere minutes what would most likely be perfect for Molly.
She was slightly irritated by that fact, besides being thoroughly amused, "You love her," she whispered.
Sherlock's head whirled towards her, his expression reproachful – "It wasn't a question," she said, when he made no comment on the fact.
"John told you," he said clearly annoyed.
"He said some things, yes, but it's a bit difficult not to notice, really."
Sherlock grimaced, "She hasn't."
"I think she is seeing what she wants to be seeing right now, and anyway if it is any comfort – Molly hasn't been – well – herself in a while," she said thoughtfully considering her friend who'd been acting a bit off ever since Sherlock re-appeared from the dead.
"What does that mean exactly?" he said sounding rather tired.
Mary ignored his question, "Go and see if it fits her – I'll try to see if I can find some cheap gowns for us bridesmaids – what's your size?" she said good-naturedly.
"Funny," he said with a bored expression.
"I do hope you'll have time to help me whenever I get married?" she said with a laugh.
Sherlock smirked, "I think I'll be busy that day, Mary," he said stepping off, leaving her puzzled at his comment.
She was struggling. It wasn't exactly something one could zip oneself into, with its probably sewn-by-blind-nuns silk buttons at the back. The woman who assisted her into the dressing room hadn't been particularly helpful, despite her easy smile, as she most likely expected her to try it, before throwing it aside. She couldn't imagine even putting it on without making it filthy at this point. The fact that she wasn't going to buy the dress made the whole point of asking for help completely pointless, so she'd tried back to front – only ending up with her being horribly aware that she might make a tear in the fabric.
That would be rather not good.
The dress didn't even have a price tag, and she could only imagine the sum that she'd pay if she accidentally ruined it, "Sorry about that, err."
She almost started to perspire there she stood under the fluorescent lighting, listening to Norah Jones playing in the background, as she almost tugged the thing off, but luckily there was someone shuffling on the other side of the withdrawn curtains.
It was now or never, really.
"Sorry – could you – could you please help me – I'm having some problems with the back of the dress?" she said turning round to face the mirror, as the curtains slipped open. Instead of a woman's face, her eyes met with Sherlock's steely blue-green ones in the mirror, "Oh - it's you," she said gasping feeling suddenly unsure of herself.
"She was - busy," he said, as she stood there rather quietly with her bare back to his – it wasn't exactly a dress you could wear your undergarments in.
He didn't say anything, neither did she, and they stood there for a minute with her back visible to him. Right.
"Right – ok – so – err -," she started to say wondering if she should send him off to fetch Mary, but he soon stood closer to her back, his breath tickling the back of her neck.
Molly almost jumped in surprise, when his fingertips touched her bare skin, as he slowly started to button her in – his fingers accidentally touching the small of her back.
She wasn't entirely prepared with him being this docile, and her this jumpy. She cast her eyes towards the floor, reluctantly pulling them up again meeting his stare in the mirror. She sighed over her own silliness.
His eyes returned rather quickly to the buttoning however, slowly wrapping her inside the lovely white dress – her hair caught up in one of the latches, but he leisurely swept her hair gently to the front, his hands grazing her neck. His touch was very careful, like she was delicate, and she felt rather like a china doll the way he was handling her.
He exhaled behind her rather deeply causing the tiny hairs on her back to rise, for now she didn't dare look into the mirror to see his face.
She was being stupid – he was just helping her, and there was nothing more to it. Why did she feel so strange, though? Just like – oh – she rather not bring that up again, anyway it wasn't like his feelings would change her being engaged, but she found herself flustered nonetheless.
After all she had fancied him once, and he was buttoning her in – not exactly the passionate daydreams she'd had regularly when she had first met him.
Him dressing her up, rather than down – not the time – "There," he said stepping backwards.
Her eyes met his unreadable ones for a second looking up, as he drew the curtains hurriedly closed at that; in such a state she almost thought he'd ripped them off. She gaped slightly fidgeting, before she breathed out slowly with her heart pounding, as she properly looked at her reflection.
It was achingly perfect, with a hem that was just the right length – a perfect pinch at the waist – there was even a shade of soft pink in it.
She could never imagine herself in something classically white, or particularly cake-like, like her mother's old dress. Often she'd find that wedding dresses went too far, or went too plain, but this dabbled in both realms. This was of course like a dream, too perfect to actually be worn by her, as it was just too good.
She couldn't afford this, at all.
"Does it fit?" said the voice of Mary on the other side.
Molly felt suddenly relieved by her presence.
"It's lovely," said Molly pulling open the curtains to witness her friend turning teary-eyed at the sight of her.
"Oh my god – you look – oh – you just – you're – Molly – you're getting married," said Mary taking to glare when some of the staff stared at her exclamation of joy, "Do – you – how - how much is it?"
"Too much," said Molly shaking her head. It was a good starting point though; at least she knew what she wanted from a dress, as looking after similar cheaper ones would be the best.
"No need whispering what they already know," said Mary rather icily her eyes turning into slits at the woman in the changing room who was pretending not to overhear.
Sherlock who hadn't been on the outside suddenly appeared again, giving Molly a brief look from head to toe, "Good," he said, "Consider it done."
He seemed to suddenly be on his way to leave, which caused both women to stare after him in wonder, "What?" they said in unison.
Sherlock stopped in his stride, turning around at them with a raised brow, "It's your something new," he announced effortlessly.
"New?" said Molly flushed, "What do you mean new?"
Sherlock looked at her like she was being stupid, "Isn't that how the old saying goes? Something old - new - borrowed – blue?" he said in what sounded like a talking-to, than anything else.
She was very aware of that saying, everyone was aware of it, but it didn't mean he was to go about buying her a wedding dress!
"You didn't-," she said horrified stepping out of the changing room passing Mary who started to laugh rather hysterically.
"I have," he said as if it was obvious.
"Sherlock," said Molly half-exasperated, "We could have found one that looked similar there's no need to-,"
"You'll have enough money for the venue," he said backing away from her slowly with a confident expression, as if knowing she'd admit she was defeated.
He was right of course.
"But-," she said not giving in without a fight.
"Frankly, it's already been paid for and I don't see any use of it. Do take it off my hands - Molly, but now – I have a client I need to see. I'll let you sort out of the rest of the bridal gowns, and you don't need to go at such lengths with those, I assume. They will look dreadful besides that anyway," he said striding away without another word, as one of the women in the shop appeared by their side more agreeable than before, "Do you want it wrapped, Miss Hooper?"
He was sat in the taxi feeling – well - he didn't know what he exactly felt on the subject matter, but certainly a great deal that he could not put into words, no matter how much his mind turned it on its head.
He would need an eight – possibly a nine to manage to captivate him at all, as he hoped it would – to distract him properly. Though Sherlock's phone went off – a text – he brought it up in his gloved hands, and stared mutedly.
Thank you x - M
His expression was pained, as he roughly pocketed his phone, while the taxi drove on. She had looked like no woman could ever look bearing such a dress - undeniably beautiful - a fact that hurt, as much as it delighted him.