Chapter Text
Molly sighed as she looked at the invitation to the charity gala that her company was requiring all of its higher level corporate employees to go to. She usually loved events like this if she could go alone, but the last few times she had gone sans date she had been subjected to very awkward questions from some of the older gentlemen at the firm as well as their well-meaning wives. Weren’t career women supposed to be single and focused on their jobs, she thought? Why should it be strange if she showed up to these events alone?
But she supposed they were old school. Women of her age should have a well-educated man in the background, being the breadwinner, even if she could damn well take care of herself. And most men who gravitated towards her these days? They weren’t looking to take care of her. They were looking to take care of themselves, get a leg up on their own careers, whatever they might be. She had thought her last serious relationship might have been different, but as soon as Tom had gotten the cushy position with her competitor he’d let her know in no uncertain terms exactly how unneeded she was now.
It had been a low blow but a much-needed lesson: don’t let your heart rule your head. It never bodes well and it never ends well, either.
There was a knock on her office door and she looked up to see one of her best mates standing there, holding a similar invitation in her hand. She smiled over at Sally Donovan and motioned for her to come in. “I see you got one in the office mail as well,” Molly said with a smile, leaning back in her office chair.
Sally nodded. “I think this is one of those events where they want the entire team to put in an appearance,” Sally said, coming in and sitting across from Molly’s at her desk. “Masquerade balls can be fun, though. Especially with a Mardi Gras theme. Probably not quite as fun as if we were actually in New Orleans, but I imagine it might not be quite as gaudy.”
“But isn’t that the point of Mardi Gras?” Molly asked with a soft chuckle.
Sally laughed as well. “That’s the common misinterpretation, but the history is pretty rich. I imagine there will be a bit of gaudiness at this masquerade ball, though, even with the list of costume dos and donts.” Sally tapped her invitation in her hand. “Greg said there’s a bloke in the accounting department--”
Molly groaned and leaned her head back against the back of her seat, shutting her eyes. “I adore your fiancee, Sally, but when it comes to him setting me up on blind dates, his taste is abominable. Remember Brad? That was one of the blokes he set me up with.”
“That was the one with the mummy complex?” Sally asked. Molly lifted up her head and nodded, and Sally winced. “Yeah. I’ll tell him thanks but no thanks.” She thought for a moment. “You could always put out a personal ad. Or hire an escort.”
“Oh, both of those sound so desperate,” Molly said with a soft groan.
“The gala is four and a half weeks away,” Sally interjected. “If you put out a personal ad today, or have your PA do it, you could squeeze in a few dates so at least it isn’t a first date.”
“And just what am I going to say in a personal ad, Sal?” Molly asked, raising an eyebrow. “I need a color photograph and at least three female references before I agree to go on a date?”
Sally considered it. “Why not? It’s a bit much, but I mean, you’ve got high standards. You can also ask for a professional. No baristas or artists who only want to mooch off of you.”
“Yeah, but either of those probably wouldn’t look at the event as a smorgasbord of contacts to ply to further their own careers,” she said dejectedly.
Sally gave her a sympathetic look. “You’re still upset about Tom,” she said.
“Did you see the announcement pages in the Times yesterday?” Molly said quietly. “He’s marrying the cunt he was seeing on the side when he used me to get the position at Magnussen Publishing.”
Sally’s face got even more sympathetic if that was possible, and she got out of her chair to move around the desk to give Molly a hug. “Bloody hell,” she said as Molly hugged her back. “I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks,” Molly said, resting her chin on Sally’s shoulder and shutting her eyes. “He’s a massive arsehole, I know that, and I know I shouldn’t care, but he got the position he'd been scheming for and he makes more money than I do and he’s bloody happy and now he’s getting married, and I’m miserable and alone and it’s just so bloody unfair.”
“He’ll get his, love,” Sally said. “Karma will give him a kick in the arse at some point, I know it will.” Sally pulled away and stayed squatting so she was close to eye level with Molly before reaching over to grasp her hand and give it a friendly squeeze. “You just have to keep your chin up. It will work out in your favour, I swear.”
“I hope so.”
There was another knock on the door and Molly’s PA, Sherlock Scott, knocked. “Ms. Hooper, you have a teleconference with Random House in thirty minutes,” he said, coming in with a pile of papers. “The marketing department sent over their revisions to what they can do with the current campaign and legal sent over revisions as to what our company can agree to with them and what we can’t. And you have another meeting with a group of potential authors in an hour and a half to go over pitch ideas. I’ve allotted twenty minutes per author and there are six authors. And then there’s lunch with Mary Watson at Baltic at one.” He stopped when he saw Sally and Molly in the position they were in. “Sorry for the intrusion.”
“No, it’s all right,” Sally said, straightening up. “I was just leaving.” She glanced back at Molly. “Just remember, it’ll all work out, all right?”
Molly nodded. “All right,” she said. Sally made her way around the desk and then left the office, and Molly moved her chair closer to her desk as Sherlock moved closer to it. “Thank you for all this, Sherlock.”
He shrugged slightly. “I do the best I can to help you,” he said.
“You do more than your best,” she said with a smile. “Ever since you became my PA, everything’s become much...better. I owe you so much.”
He smiled, just slightly. Sherlock rarely smiled. He rarely showed any emotion, really, except on rare occasions when it was just the two of them. She liked to think he had some fondness for her, perhaps buried deep down. “I recognize good talent and try and nurture it. I doubt the company would do well if you left.”
“They could weather on without me,” she said, blushing slightly.
“Bollocks,” he said, in a surprising display of fierceness. “You’re...essential.”
She looked up at him with slightly wide eyes and then felt a smile settle on her face. “Well, thank you for your confidence in me, Sherlock. I’ll make sure to prove it’s not displaced.” She glanced at the invitation. “Could you...do me a favour of a personal nature? I need to place an advert in the personals.”
“Oh?” he asked, rather nonchalantly.
“I need a date for the charity gala that the corporate employees need to attend. If I attend another event on my own I’m sure eyebrows will be raised. I had thought...perhaps asking for a colour photograph and three female references might be a start? And he needs to be a professional of some sort, I suppose."
Sherlock pursed his lips together slightly. “Might I make some other improvements? To make sure no schemers or gold diggers try and take advantage of you again?”
She nodded vigorously. “I’d appreciate it,” she said, giving him a grateful smile.
“I’ll work on it around other tasks,” he said. “If you have no other need of me, perhaps I’ll start now.”
“Thank you, Sherlock,” she said. She watched him turn and leave the room, and then she leaned back in the seat again. It all seemed so silly, putting out a personal advertisement, but perhaps if it saved her the embarrassment of going to the event alone it would be worth it.
Or at least she hoped so.