The second of today's updates, I'd say I'm treating you, but it's long over due.
"So, where are you taking me?" Molly said as she cuddled into John's side, she'd dressed up a little, but no more than wearing a summer day dress, that she'd always been comfortable in. John wasn't suited and booted, but he'd ironed his trousers and was wearing a crisp clean white shirt rather than the fluffy jumpers of winter. An quite effort had been made.
They were nearing their destination as John spoke, "Well you don't get to know the sneakiest man in Britain without learning a few shortcuts, and finding a few secret gardens."
"That's so sweet, you and Sherlock used to go on secret garden getaways." She chuckled.
"Hey, are you trying to imply something, Doctor Hooper?"
They were walking simply hand in hand by now, a loose grip as their fingers brushed palms. The pavement was a little uneven, but then again when wasn't it, and of course it was bustling with the busy lunch crowd in fitted suits and a-line skirts, but that was the joy of the mid-week weekend that John and Molly shared once a month, the silence that would fill the streets in a matter of minutes was inevitable and calming. The sunlight played across the shine in Molly's loose hair, but there were fluffy clouds up ahead that were classic of a British summer, and Molly smiled.
"Nothing at all." She giggled, her laugh sweet, melodious and oh, so infectious. They were beginning to reach the date location, only signalled by John's sudden lack of forward motion. He turned to the side, pointing at a large green wooden gate embedded in the wall, all squeaky hinges and flaking paint and invisible to the common passer by, John withdrew a rusty key from his pocket, it had been a gift from the clients of the Keyes case. At Sherlock's funeral, a pair of warm wrinkled hands encasing his own as the key was passed on, a 'final goodbye'.
"Here we are." He said gesturing as he began to lift the latch and squeak open the gate.
"C'mon then," she whispered in his ear, "show me this romantic garden you and Sherlock used to shack up in?"
John let out an indignant sigh, although it held a humour. "Molly, I wish you wouldn't."
"Sorry sweet. That's my lot for the day, promise." She pecked him on the cheek, and although since their first kiss their lips had kept a distance it did not feel uncomfortable, but it felt kind and still held that residual spark.
"Yeah, sure. I believe you. Now back to us. Welcome." His smile was warm as he spoke leading her through the rickety gate and onto the crunch of a gravel path. Molly noticed the sparkle of dull light that reflected from the smattering of beach glass in the path and couldn't help but grin. The sweeping vines that surrounded the pathway, mixed with the subtle purples and blues of the seasonal flowers called back to a little girl's dream garden, and although it was an uncharacteristically bright and sunny day, the canopy gave a cooling shade, and the dim glow of fairy lights added a sparkle to the beautiful flowers.
Their fingers had interlaced as they meandered down the path that lead to a even more secluded garden swing, overflowing with soft plump cushions and a small table set with food just beside it, so that's where he disappeared off to just before we left.
Molly's head found John's robust shoulder. "John," she sighed "this is so beautiful, so special, thank you for sharing this secret with me."
"There's no one in the world I'd rather share it with." He smiled, looping his arm around her shoulder and playing with the ends of her loose hair.
As they sat, the swing seat creaked slightly under the new weight of people and use, and rocked unsteadily as if getting used to an old job, relearning it's craft. It was soft and satisfying even amidst the rusting springs and drifting pollens, and even though there was pasta salad and Molly's favourite red wine sitting next to them on a charming deep oak table, they rested beside each other drawing from their warmth and the pleasant sensation of sharing mingled breath and romantically soft sighs.
Molly shivered at the thought. "We're soppy, aren't we John?" She asked pleadingly, hopeful they weren't; the two people who shared a love of adventure, of the slightly morbid, the world of Sherlock Holmes, and they were cocooned in a cliché.
"I hate to break it to you Doctor Hooper, but we are, excessively so." He said with a smirk.
"Detestable isn't it?" She mocked, that was a Holmes line and she knew it.
"Isn't it just." She could feel his words on her cheek, each exhale tickling her nose and enticing her lips, and then he was kissing her, a soft smile against her own. Their lips melded together and the passion from their first date, from their first kiss was slowed but not lessened.
Her lips tasted sweet, like the chocolate she had sneakily eaten before they had left and the cherry of her overused lip balm. The contrast was blissful as she could taste the bitter coffee that he loathed but drunk, the extra sugar he used to sweeten the blow and the tempting note of rosemary she could never quite find the origin of.
After copious amounts of kissing, and sickeningly sweet nothings, warm wine and limp salad was what awaited them.
"John, we made need to skip the food, put the wine in the fridge when we get home. We got a little distracted." She patted him arm.
"Sorry. Damn, I had this all planned. I even watched some of your awful RomComs," he sneered, "and I go and ruin it because I can't keep my hands to myself."
John looked resigned, as if he had let Molly down. And even if the army doctor would have hit anyone who even suggested he could be such, he looked adorable, like a downtrodden puppy searching for forgiveness, and Molly found it endearing.
She grabbed his face between her hands, gently, turning his face to look straight at her own, looking into the pools of gorgeously murky blue; Molly couldn't help but place another soft lingering kiss on his lips. "Hey, I wasn't complaining." She spoke against his lips, and was rewarded with a smile.
"Now we, unlike the rest of London, have the rest of the day off. Care to take this wine home, and continue our little distraction," Molly had a cheeky glint in her eye; John fell immediately fell for the flirtatiousness in Molly's nature. "Or you know, we could drink warm wine on the sofa, with 'Life On Mars' re-runs."
"An offer, Doctor Hooper, I cannot refuse." He lifted himself from the seat, grabbing the wine and leaving the soggy salad behind, there was time to clear that up later.
Molly's hand was soon grasped in his, and she was pulled to standing. So close, bare skin touching and flowing fabric one of the few barriers, and then they were running, hand in hand screeching laughter of joyous excitement and the empty streets a blessing.
Molly had one final blast of voice, before John lips silenced her once again, barricading her front door with their bodies. "Is this how you used to woo Sherlock, Doctor Watson?"