"Finally" I hear a least one of you scream. And yes. this is the date (and a double chapter post because I'm a week late). I love you all :)
Saturday couldn't come sooner for either Doctor, even the days they would see each other they saved their better conversation, though those moments always seemed fleeting.
The day had come after, what felt like, years. It was Molly's first day fully off, not on call, not a chance, in months, so she put it to good use. For Molly the day was filled with shopping, and a great variety of Meena's opinions on every single outfit she deigned suitable. Meena had asked why Molly couldn't just wear her 'date dress', the little black number that would work on any hot-blooded man (or woman for that matter), but she had tried and the fabric that clung to her skin felt like the suffocating bad memories, of a never forgotten Christmas, wrapped around her body. She didn't want the extremes, nothing that showed off anything and everything it could, without her being called into the station under 'public indecency' charges, and nothing that would have John wondering why the woman he asked out seemed to have disappeared under a pile of wool and gaudily patterned cloth.
John on the other hand was at home... Panicking over what to wear. Rifling through what was considered smart attire John Watson had difficulty in avoiding a variety of bulky jumpers or his army uniform. Thankfully he had few clothes, so he spotted the right thing soon enough.
Just to clarify, Molly Anne Hooper, spent 6 hours 43 minutes and 27 seconds falling in and out of the high street shops that lay within her price range, scouring far to many places with far too few things, for the perfect outfit. Dresses soon became out of the question, each new modern style held an abundance of reasons Meena or Molly detested the fit, all within 2 hours of searching, she had looked rakishly thin and flat, lumpy or bumpy, but certainly unappealing, too tall, too short, pale and red, blotchy, ill and with increasing regularity boob-less (every woman may strive for an air of mystery, but that is certainly not the 'air' she wanted called into question). When the pair of woman had decided against dresses, the search became complicated and long, Meena had taken to simultaneously trying on the most grotesque of clothes just to get through the tedium of another uncomfortably plush chair outside a changing room.
When Molly had tried it on, the material flowing softly against her skin, and the texture alone had her sold. Glancing to the mirror the woman facing her was the woman she wanted to be, her... with just a hint of jaw dropping gorgeousness, that John was yet to see.
"This is it Mee! 110% it! And if you don't like it I will have to calmly tell you to bugger off!" Molly opened the tackily velvet curtain to show her friend. The fact that Meena was suddenly struck speechless gave her all the confidence in the world.
The style and elegance sat perfectly between PJ days with her best friend John Watson and something a 20-year-old Meena would have worn to a club in the hope of catching many a man's eye.
For further clarification it had taken John Hamish Watson had taken 6 hours 48 minutes and 28 seconds, and endless cups of tea (he staved off the biscuits, even if he had gotten the taste for gingernuts, as a full stomach to a dinner date was never welcome), making the final decision over his attire for the evening. It had only taken that long, in fact, as after deciding once and for all he would wear his grey tailored suit, with the deep navy lining, marbled blue buttons and navy stitching, he had revoked and returned to the decision and the several, not quite right, white shirts that he had tried on, too many times to count. When did I become such a woman?
The tipping of the scales when it came to John's suit was the memory it evoked, the day he had bought it in an upmarket high street chain, with Molly. How she had persuaded him to go shopping in the first place was beyond him, he had never ventured beyond the call of duty when it came to browsing windows and delving into the treasures of thrift shops or the charming monotony of the high street brands; even if John and his mother had been brick-a-brack specialists before she had passed away, he and his sister had even carried on the boot sale traditions of the family, that had crumbled under the corrosive alcohol the slowly seeped through her veins, so he was more than surprised at his own presence.
Molly had dragged him into yet another shop, but it seemed different, no longer surrounded by the pastels of the season in flowing skirts and unconventional blouses, he was faced with a rather extensive line of male attire.
"C'mon you've shopped enough with me searching through bargain bins for the awful clothes I wear, you need a date suite. Everyman needs a date suite, if you're going to impress the women of this day and age." She coughed slightly, Molly had clearly believed her own words to an extent, but they were recycled. "Or so Meena says."
They had scanned the rails, and John had found it strangely invigorating, although he would not admit that to the grinning woman opposite him. He would never regret the childishness that took over them as they played a twenty minute game of hide and seek, amongst the rails, it was how Molly had stumbled upon the reasonably priced, clean cut, suit she persuaded him to try on and just the look in her eyes as he walked out of the curtained area had him going to buy it. He had taken a moment of self pity, as Molly had taken a flash of jealousy, when the thought that it wouldn't be the two of them that would utilise the 'date suit' together, but that was taken over by flustered embarrassment and stolen smiles when the cashier asked if "the happy couple" where in need of assistance for a complimenting dress in the adjoining shop.
So, that was it, John was now dressed, pacing and far from ready... This called for more tea.
Molly had come home outfit in one shopping bag, along with some other bits and bobs Meena had persuaded would improve her day to day work wardrobe, something she had been trying to persuade Molly to do for years, and now with the promise of a John Watson date was slowly achieving.
She missed John in the rush to her room, and closed her door with a soft thud.
Both John and Molly had gone to great lengths to escape what they suppose was the looming friend zone, neither really believed in such a thing, a relationship was built and it flourished in whatever way the two participants saw fit, but they both felt a need to make an extra effort, they may accept each other at their lowest, but their highest was just now to be seen in full swing.
Neither would tell the other the time they had spent, especially over the contemplation of clothes; but if the lengths they went to lead to fireworks when they kissed, smooth songs floating through their mind at the thought of one another, the others smell clinging more keenly to their clothes, to their skin, they would happily oblige in the ritual hours 'getting ready' had entailed.
John was pacing slightly, this was big, he nearly questioned his decision entirely. Was it worth loosing his closest friend?
Logically, John thought, I'm already living with the girl, if there were any of her habits that would annoy me, any dream of hers I did not share in or support, any moment that I was willing to not have her share again, I wouldn't have asked her out in the first place, if she didn't feel the same, she wouldn't have said yes... and I wouldn't be standing pacing in front of a mirror questioning whether I am worth a moment of her precious time.
For Christ sake man, it's not like you asked her to marry you, it's just a date, bloody pull yourself together. If Sherlock could see me now. Oh he'd probably say something condescendingly stupid about how "her left shoelace or the small dot of ink on her right thumb indicates that everything will be fine, and your feelings for her are mutual, and please don't cock this up, both you and Molly are so irritable and uncooperative when you're 'heartbroken'." He shook his head at the thought letting soft chuckles reverberate his being, happy to think of the man, that was new and not wholly unwelcome.
Butterflies, cliché and horrid butterflies were swirling around Molly's stomach, it felt like bubbles popping, or the monsters that scared her as a child stomping and grumbling in her chest cavity. Quite unpleasant, yet not unwelcome. Molly heard a gentle giggle through the thin walls, John, considering what a feminine laugh he could have when caught of guard, Molly had to stifle her own giggles that fought their way up against the butterflies and bubbles and settled with the monsters. She would ignore how her stomach flipped, trying to control the nerves.
Unbeknownst to the late Sherlock Holmes, Molly was not intimidated easily, she was strong and in her 5 year course and 2 year residency at a university hospital, she was well known as the go to for help and security, she was also the person you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of, too fuelled by her intellect and sense of what was right, she could easily ignore the superiority system and put anyone I their place. She could stand up to anyone, so she would stand up to her nerves today. Sherlock would expect me to be nervous; I wonder what Sherlock would say about this whole situation? Probably something pretentious, he'd claimed to have already known that we both liked each other far in advance of us knowing, he could probably tell from a smudge of something on my right thumb or my left shoelace. Molly giggled, opening the far door of her wardrobe to reveal a full-length mirror, reflecting back at her was the 'full package', she was now wearing the complete outfit, matched with shoes and accessories, and had done her make-up and hair, if it were not for the generally low opinion she held for herself (as we all do) Molly would have thought she looked beautiful, but instead she pulled her eyes slowly from the floor to rest on her own features staring back. "That'll do." She whispered with a cheeky smile.
Molly's make up was simple, a little more than she wore to work, making the effort to glide on her more expensive liquid eyeliner and adding a deeper colour to her lips (not a bright red, but a deep plumb tone), her hair was loose falling in simple waves over one shoulder, by the grace of God she did not have to manufacturer the curls with the deadly tongs that lay on her vanity table. She had decided against lavish jewelry, but wore deep blue pearl(effect) studs and a simple silver chain with a matching blue 'pearl' pendant. Her legs were clad with tight fitted black jeans, with a high waist and gorgeous military style buttons, the jeans rumpled at her ankles slightly, but hugged all the right places, doing the magic thing that the right pair of jeans would do. Molly's shoes were not new, they gave her a little extra height, and a lot extra confidence, black with a neat ribbon just below the ankle, and a wedge over a conventional heel (she had always valued stability). Her blouse was looser than the figure hugging bottoms, a deep blue silk like fabric that flowed over her skin and complimented her pale complexion the sleeves had a neat cuff that was buttoned by silver studs, and the neckline swooped to show her décolletage a simple knot of the same fabric laying over the top button, and the loose but fitting fabric tucked nicely into the tops of her jeans. She wasn't yet wearing her fitted black jacket, it was far too warm in the flat, and even if it wasn't, the impressive amounts of worry she was doing could easily have worked up a sweat.
Ready, and just in time.
It was two minutes to eight when Doctor John Watson braced himself outside his date's door. Doctor Molly Hooper just the other side, close, waiting, and with a mixture of nerves, excitement, hope, love and she'll admit it a dash of lust causing her mind to whir, and a small amount of jumping to ensue. John on the other hand was trying to hastily shake away the same cocktail of emotion and hormones.
He was currently part of the living embodiment of a Rom Com, boy meets girl, boy moves in with girl after his only true friends untimely demise, boy becomes best friends with girl, boy arses around not realising he has stronger feelings for the girl no matter how clear they are, boy asks girl out, girl says yes. Okay, so maybe not your conventional Rom Com.
At eight in the dot, and with the same confidence of a 10 year old boy who's in trouble with the principle has, John knocked on Molly's door. She had already had her hand on the door knob in anticipation, so the door opened before his knock could truly finish, and John was confronted by the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. He would have fainted, lost his jaw two floors down, or even kissed that devilishly delicate mouth of the woman in front of him, if her were not repeating 'don't ruin this, don't you dare ruin this, I mean look at her, if you ruin this, there will never be another her, don't ruin this!' over and over in his head. They accepted the comfortable silence that lay between them for a little longer, it gave them a chance to simply appreciate the person facing them, and thankful that from the look in each other's eyes there was approval there.
Molly was certainly appreciative of a chance to drink in the sight that faced her, she rarely got a chance to indulge, not the type to sneak glances (more for her poor sneaking ability than anything), the only real chance she had had before this moment was in the shop the day he bought the suit that was now wrapped around his body in just the right way. Past the thick jumpers and poorly fitting clothes, John Watson was a sight to behold, and so she did. A clean cut suit, echoing the style of one Sherlock Holmes, but fighting against the dark that covered him, with a simple grey, and she was pretty sure she had never witnessed Sherlock in a tie, so the navy one the sat in an impeccable Windsor knot, snug against his top button, made him her John and not just a faint memory. Soon enough, the pair were just gazing, there was no better word for it gazing described it sickeningly perfectly, into each other's eyes. The chocolate of Molly's balancing with the pale blue of the sandy blonde John.
Molly glanced down, catching the shine of his shoes in the fluid motion. He shined his shoes... For me!