Chapter Text
Molly trudged behind Sherlock struggling to keep up with his long strides especially in her heavy bustle and dress.
“Sherlock, wait!” she called, jogging slightly to catch up with the detective.
“Honestly I don’t know why you don’t just wear trousers. Heavy dresses and fancy coats are not the most practical attire when chasing criminals,” he huffed, eyeing her skirts with distaste.
“One, we are not chasing criminals merely looking for clues, and two, I would wear trousers if society allowed me to,” she reasoned.
“You’ve never cared about societies opinion of you before,” he replied cheekily.
“Well, I have to start,” she mumbled, accepting Sherlock’s hand and shuffling awkwardly into the awaiting carriage.
“Then you really shouldn’t be out with an unmarried bachelor in the evening,” Sherlock retorted before tapping the roof of the carriage.
Molly huffed and turned away from him. She really shouldn’t be out late with him especially since she had become engaged just this very morning. However, after Sherlock returned from his lengthy foreign exile she had found herself cast as his assistant – a role she thoroughly enjoyed. Their friendship had flourished ever since a morbid ten-year old girl had been fascinated by the genius teen. It was an unorthodox partnership but it worked and it meant that she had an outlet for all her scientific curiosity. Of course there was the problem of her feelings towards him. She had given him her heart unknowingly many years ago but since helping him with the Moriarty debacle she had learned to curb these feelings at the root and maintain a professional relationship – at least during waking hours.
Her engagement would change things.
Although she did enjoy aiding him in his work she knew she needed to come clean about her situation and the implications it would have on their friendship but not yet, not today. One more case couldn’t hurt and anyway she was interested to see how this one turned out and wasn’t quite ready to throw herself into married life just yet.
“Where are we off to?” she asked politely. Her change in demeanour was noted by the consulting detective but he chose not to mention it – a happy Molly was beneficial to a conducive working environment.
“Horse and Carriage proprietor, owner of the pocket watch.”
“The one that was left at Baker Street?” Molly asked.
“Precisely!” he grinned. The game was afoot and Sherlock Holmes could not be happier especially when he had his Molly by his side.
Exactly forty-five minutes later the consulting detective and his assistant were standing on a side lane just outside of a country cottage.
“The journey between Grove Street and Piccadilly usually takes twenty-five minutes. That journey took thirty-five minutes so, where did ten minutes get added on? I’m going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps.”
Molly giggled at Sherlock’s eccentric display quietly pushing her fingers back into her gloves.
“You must be hungry. Dinner?” he suggested in what he hoped was a casual manner.
“What?” she blurted out.
“I know a fantastic place just outside Marylebone. Best fish platter for miles and the owner always gives me extra portions.”
“Get him off a murder charge?” she grinned.
“No,” he smiled back, “Helped him stack some boxes.”
They stood for a moment in companionable silence.
“Sherlock?” Molly hummed.
“Hmm?”
“I had fun today,” she stated plainly.
“Me too.”
“I always like helping you.”
Sherlock looked Molly up and down deducing her quickly and easily, “You are hiding something Molly Hooper and I’d rather you just tell me and stop rambling on.”
“I’m engaged,” she said quickly seemingly before she even knew what she was saying.
Sherlock sucked in a breath shaking his head confusedly, “You’re not wearing a ring.”
“I only knew about it this morning. I haven’t actually met him yet,” she confessed.
“That’s why you couldn’t wear trousers.”
“Pardon?”
“You feel like now you have been matched that you have to conform to societies standards and be a proper little lady!”
“Sherlock,” she groaned.
“Which is why you feel you cannot assist me anymore,” he snapped.
You needn’t be a consulting detective to realise that Sherlock was not taking this news well. Molly sighed exasperatedly but really what was she expecting? That he would wish her well and leave her be. She’d long ago given up any dreams that Sherlock would be her knight in shining armour so why couldn’t he let her have her happy ever after?
“Listen Sherlock, I’ve had a lovely day I just can’t – uhm – I just…”
“I suppose congratulations are in order then,” he bit out. Forcing yourself to be happy for the happiness of others was a foreign concept to Sherlock and one he could not quite master.
“Who is he then?”
“He’s not from around here. Grandad had to make the match since dad passed away and you know how he’s been struggling with the family’s finances. I had to accept Sherlock…”
“But you didn’t want to?” he asked. If Molly heard the hint of hope in his deep baritone she didn’t react, only carrying on in her mumbled explanation.
“He’s a nice man. A normal man. He has a country estate with horses and hunting dogs. His family has promised to buy into the Hooper funeral business. I’ve no idea why I’m telling you this,” she giggled nervously, playing with the space where a ring would soon sit.
Silence hung in the air as her laugh tailed off to nothing. Neither spoke for a very long time, one out of awkwardness and the other out of a feeling he couldn’t quite place. It felt very much like someone had ripped open his chest and plundered his heart. He knew logically that it was sentiment but sentiment was a chemical defect found in the losing side and Sherlock Holmes was never on the losing side. So, in true Holmes fashion, he pushed it down and ignored it. Chalked it up to the adrenaline coursing through his system before carefully placing his features into the stoic mask he wore so well.
“I hope you’ll be very happy Molly Hooper. You deserve it. After all, you always wanted a normal life.”
She looked up at his dark glower with hopeful eyes, “Yes?”
“Yes,” he nodded stiffly, “I’ll go and hurry along that coach, shall I.”
Molly watched him leave with a heavy heart and a troubled mind. Her life had taken an unexpected turn but for the worse or the better she was still to find out.
“Maybe I don’t want a normal life anymore,” she whispered solemnly to herself, her arms wrapped tightly around her corseted waist. It seemed like she would be on her own from now on.