Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Sherlock and Mulan don't belong to me. I'm just having fun with them.
Diagon Valley was located on the borders of Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. So needless to say, it was a few days journey from Molly's village. She only stopped at one village on the way to gather supplies and sharpen her sword.
Finally, she arrived at the edge of the valley. She could see the army camp in the distance.
Molly's stomach clenched. At the other village, no one had seen through her disguise. But that was because she had kept her distance as a buyer. Now she was going to be surrounded by men, interacting with them, day and night, night and day, hour by the hour.
Molly dismounted Hamish, leaned against a large boulder and breathed slowly. "Okay, you can do this. You've come this far already. You can't give up now."
She walked a few feet, then cleared her throat.
"Hello, how are you?"she said, deepening her voice as best as she could. "Fine day is it not? My that's a fine beast you have there," she patted Hamish, "why don't we get our horses together? They could be neigh -bors."
Hamish snorted. "Yeah, that sounded bad even to me," thought Molly.
"Don't make jokes Molly. It's not your area."
Molly jumped and spun around but saw no one.
"Wh-who said that?"
The large boulder begin to glow. To her shock, a blue transparent man appeared out of the boulder, and floated in front of her.
"Aaa!" Molly couldn't help the shriek that came out of her mouth, as she fell on her back.
The man rolled his eyes. "O how wonderful, let's start screaming like a woman at the sight of a ghost. What an excellent way to ruin your disguise."
Molly stared wide-eyed, her whole body trembling. "H-how do you know m-my name? Wh-what do you want and who are you?"
The ghost smirked. "I know a lot of things. As for what I want, your father asked me to uphold my vow and look after you."
Molly's eyebrows scrunched in confusion. "My father asked you...Wait, are you..." her voice tailed off as she stared at the ghost in wonder.
The ghost smiled. "Yes. The name's Sherlock Holmes." Then he winked.
Molly's stomach started fluttering again as she stood up, but this time, from excitement.
"O my...it's you. From Father's stories. You're here. In the flesh! Well, not really in the flesh. What I meant was in the spirit, of course, because, well you're...you know. Sorry, I'm just going to... stop talking now."
Sherlock's expression changed from pride at being recognized, to annoyance as Molly continued rambling.
"So," said Molly after a moment of awkward silence, "you're here to look after me?"
"Yes, I believe we've already established that."
"Um, it's just that, no offense, but how exactly. I mean, I can't go walking around camp with a ghost following me. It would draw too much attention. And that's the last thing I want. Attention, I mean."
"Stating the obvious, just like your father. Don't get me wrong," he raised a hand, "he was the best and bravest man I know and I was proud to call him my friend. But he was slow when it came to following my train of thought."
Molly humphed, offended for her father. "More like your train of thought was too fast for anyone to follow."
"Do you want my help or not?"asked Sherlock, exasperated.
"No, I mean yes, of course I do. Want your help. Sorry. I'm just very nervous right now. I've never done something like this before."
"Well obviously you haven't. You're a woman. You never trained for battle because you've never been expected to fight. Which is why I'm here. As you mentioned earlier, I can't follow you around, but I can give you some pointers. Show me how you hold your sword."
Molly grabbed her sword and started to pull it out, but it got stuck in the sheath. She tugged harder and got the sword out. Unfortunately, the the extra force caused it to fly out of her hand. It flew through Sherlock's body and struck the boulder.
Molly glanced sheepishly at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes and sighed heavily.
"All right, first, don't grip the sheath so hard that it prevents you from pulling out your sword."
"Don't grip the sheath too hard, got it."
"Now pick it up and let's try again."
Molly picked up the sword and gripped it with one hand.
"Not so tightly. You'll give your hand a cramp and then you'll be vulnerable on the battlefield. Also, hold it more at an angle instead of straight in front of you."
"All right."
"Now as for your stance, bend your knees. Not too much, just a little. There, that's better. You'll be able to defend and attack better with that stance."
(Later...)
"So what do you think?" Molly smiled hopefully at Sherlock. They had been at it for an hour, with Sherlock giving instructions on how to swing, thrust, and parry. Molly was certain she had the hang of it, but wanted Sherlock's opinion.
He nodded. "You're a fast learner, I'll admit that. But swinging a sword around in an open field is one thing. Fighting an actual person on the battlefield, well, that's something you're going to have to learn at the camp."
Molly's stomach clenched again. "I-I don't know if I can do this."
"Don't worry. I'll be there looking out for you. You just won't be able to see me. I promise, I'll visit you every night with more pointers."
Molly nodded. "Thanks Sherlock. That's very reasurring. Knowing you're there will make it more bearable."
Sherlock smiled, then slowly faded from sight.
Molly mounted Hamish and began riding towards the camp. "Thank goodness someone's looking out for me. Even if it is a ghost."
A/N: So what did you think of the meeting between Sherlock and Molly? Okay? Good? Bad? Ugly?
On a side note, I love and ship Sherlolly BIG time. But, this is not a Sherlolly fic. :-) No, I've got something else in mind that'll hopefully be revealed in the next chapter.
Until next time!