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It was already hot, despite the early hour.
Molly sighed as she opened the door of the small house she shared with her father and went into the yard. She had so much to do today and could really have done without the oppressive summer weather.
The heat was bound to make everyone cranky as well, as if they wouldn't be tense enough when the King's new Sheriff arrived in town later on.
She dug into her pocket for an apple and polished it on her apron front. She tossed it from hand to hand then into the air - where an arrow whistled past her face and pinned it to the door jamb.
She glared back along the arrow's trajectory into the trees. "John, son of Wat, that is not funny."
"You have to admit it's impressive though." John emerged from the trees, grinning. "I'm just getting in some target practice before I say hello to our new Sheriff later."
"I might have guessed. At least give the rest of us a chance to see what he's like before you do anything stupid," she pleaded.
John picked a few bits of straw from his sympathetically coloured hair. "He'll be like all the others; out to line his Norman pockets with our taxes. I heard he doesn't even speak English!"
"Neither did Sherlock when you met him. You don't seem to hold that against him any more."
"Sherlock's different."
"Never a truer word was spoken." Molly laughed. "Where is he anyway? At your camp again?"
"No, he stayed at his brother's manor at Baker's Hall last night. I'm just heading over there now."
"When you see him, remind him he has to be at the castle tonight to greet the new Sheriff. He's bound to have forgotten and it won't look good for his brother if he's not there."
"I'll do that. Sir Mycroft may be a bit of a pompous arse at times but he's very influential and he's on our side. I don't particularly want to see him dangling from a noose on the battlements."
"Hopefully nobody is getting hanged any more - not just for the sport of it anyway. This new Sheriff has to be better than the last."
"I'll believe it when I see it - but you're right. I should give him the opportunity to prove me wrong." John slung his bow and quiver over his shoulder. "Care to join me, Molly? Sherlock does like to see you even if he doesn't admit it."
"I'd love to come with you, John, but I have to go fetch some water before the sun gets too high and the spring is the opposite direction from Baker's Hall."
"What happened to that pretty maid of yours? Sarah, wasn't it?"
"She went back to her mother's - something about men making promises they never keep and not fancying having any more arrows shot at her?" Molly looked pointedly at John who had the grace to look a little sheepish. "So, I'm fetching my own water today. I should already be on my way - as should you, before my father sees you."
"You're an angel, Molly. I'll pass on your message to Sherlock." John gave her a quick peck on the cheek before he melted back into the treeline at the edge of the property.
Molly picked up the two large buckets by the door and headed for the spring...
A huge black destrier stood by the bank nibbling at the grass, ears twitching as flies buzzed around them.
Molly stopped in surprise. Barts Hall wasn't really on the way to or from anywhere so they rarely had any passing travellers.
As she stood puzzling who the horse might belong to, a movement from the top of a rocky outcrop about 10 feet above the pool at the spring head caught her eye.
An unmistakably male body leapt from the rocks, tucked its knees up to its chest and plummeted into the water creating a huge splash. Seconds later the body shot upwards again from the water with a great shout. Molly caught a glimpse of quite the nicest backside she'd ever seen before it was re-submerged leaving only the view of a broad, tanned and muscled back.
"Christ, that's cold! Brr." The man shook his head, scattering water droplets and slapped his hands against the surface of the water. His hair was cut short in the Norman style and was very dark.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing - not at him, but with him, his exuberance was infectious.
She must have made some noise though because he suddenly whirled round to face her, crouching defensively and moving back towards where his sword lay on top of his clothes.
He stopped when he spotted her then his face split into a wide boyish grin.
He was older than she had at first thought but handsome with an open, honest face - and Molly was instantly smitten.
"How long have you been there?" he asked.
"I saw you just as you took flight," she admitted.
"More like a plucked chicken than an eagle," he said, laughing. "Would you mind turning around so I may retrieve my clothes?"
Molly secretly thought she'd mind very much but propriety demanded otherwise so she faced the other way and rocked back and forth on her heels until he called, "Thank you."
She turned as he was strapping his belt on and reaching for his sword.
"I apologise if i gave offense," he said. "I didn't think there was anyone around."
"You gave none - and usually there isn't. My house is the only one nearby." Molly was surprised how quickly she trusted this stranger. What if fair face hid foul intentions?
"You shouldn't let slip such things to just anyone," he chided, as if echoing her own thoughts.
"If you give me your name then you are no longer just anyone," she replied boldly.
"Fair point." He put his hand on his heart and bowed as if he were at court. "Sir Gregory Lestrade, at your service."
Molly gasped before she could catch herself. Oh dear God… the new Sheriff!
"Ah - my name is known to you already then?"
Molly nodded and curtsied in return. "Mary Hooper, daughter of Thomas Hooper of Barts Hall, sir."
"The justice?"
"Yes, sir."
"I'm looking forward to meeting him, though perhaps we may skip over the attire in which I greeted his daughter. Do you think he would be able to receive me if I called on him now? I could help you carry those buckets back."
"Thank you. That would be very kind."
He helped her fill them then insisted on letting her mount his horse while he walked beside her carrying them.
Molly prayed every step of the way home that John was already miles away and safe in his camp with Sherlock.
How on earth was she going to tell the county's most famous outlaw she'd just fallen for the new Sheriff of Nottingham?