Chapter Text
Molly straightened out the light pink freesias in the shop display window, taking the time to walk outside the front door and see it from her customers' point of view. With a satisfied hum, she re-entered 'Oops A Daisy', the shop long time family friend Mrs. Hudson, owned. For the past two years she had the privilege of running the business for the older woman, ever since she had essentially retired to reap the rewards of owning a business and a few modest apartments scattered around London. That didn't stop her appearance at her shop, truly a labour of love since her since deceased (and from the stories, truly terrible) husband bought her many years ago. It was true of that day, a pleasant Spring morning, that the lady fussed around the back of the shop, making them both a cup of tea before any customers came in.
"How's it looking, love?" The voice of the sweet older lady coming from the other room alongside the tinkling sound of milk and sugar being mixed in a mug.
"Very nice. I'm so pleased with the new season. Freesias are my favourite, they smell so delicate."
"Oh yes, and they're so pretty too. Here, your tea. Drink it while it's hot."
Molly accepted the mug graciously, taking a sip, the liquid warming her akin to the sun that was shining through the window. She took a moment to close her eyes and take in the sweet scent of the new flowers and the lingering taste of tea on her tongue when her private moment was interrupted by the other lady.
"Oh darling look, that nice man from the tattoo shop is coming over. Greg, isn't it? He's such a nice man, maybe he's come to talk to you!"
A light pink blush, not too different to the tone of her favourite flowers spread across the apples of her cheek. "No, Mrs. Hudson. He comes to sketch the flowers. I told him today was when we'd get a big new batch." She brushed silly thoughts away. "Plus, he's got a wife and I'm hardly the type of girl to encourage adultery."
"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it. I've had some of the best nights with married men." Mrs. Hudson commented matter of factly as the younger girl choked slightly on her tea. She truly had a knack of dropping certain lines of gold at the most unexpected times.
The silver-haired man crossed the road, taking no regard to an approaching car that skimmed past him just as he reached the pavement. He had an air of effortless coolness, the aviator style sunglasses only adding to it. He waved one arm in a friendly manner, announcing his presence even before he arrived in the building. Molly took a few seconds to run her eyes across his form. He was wearing a simple light blue shirt rolled up to his forearms, exposing the sleeve tattoo he had running up his right arm and the inner forearm tattoo on his left. Both black and white and both accentuating his arms in a very sensual manner. The rest of his attire was nothing special - jeans and a pair of black shoes - but he managed to pull it off so well that she found herself slightly frustrated at how good he looked against her own silly yellow floral dress and red cardigan. She was practically a school girl next to his bad boy who skips class every day.
"Good morning, I didn't expect you to come over so early." Molly said cheerily as Greg Lestrade walked in through the door. He took his sunglasses off and smiled a very handsome smile.
"Yes, neither did I but I didn't sleep very well last night."
"Oh? Bad dreams?"
"No, I've been kipping above the shop for a while now." His face fell slightly, lips pursing together. "Soon to be ex-wife managed to steal the house from me. Even though she was the one who moved out in the first place."
"Oh is that so?" Chimed Mrs. Hudson behind Molly. "Nice looking man like you, single again, I'm sure you'll be fine."
Molly tried not to look too mortified as she turned to introduce the owner of the shop. "Sorry, Greg, this is Mrs. Hudson, she owns the shop. And Mrs. Hudson, Greg is one of the owners of Tiger Lily across the road."
"Yes, I recognise your face, Mrs. Hudson but I don't think we've officially met. It's lovely to meet you." He took her hand and gave the back of it a polite kiss, an old school gesture that only he could pull off without looking either cheap or sleazy.
The older woman let out a titter. "You're a charmer, aren't you? Couldn't get you a cup of tea, could I? The kettle's still hot."
"Since you're offering, that'd be lovely." He flashed her grin and Mrs. Hudson went away to tend to a new guest.
"Sorry, she's a very sweet woman but she does say such funny things." Molly said sheepishly, the poor man probably not expecting such an ambush of quips quite so early. "And I'm sorry to hear what's happened. The last time you were here you still had your wedding ring on." She immediately regretted her words at how potentially creepy she may have come off, being the type of person to note and also retain such a small detail of another person.
"Yes, well, consider me a fool. We weren't happy for quite some time but I guess just out of a force of habit I just wanted things to stay as they were. I don't do well with change, but well...I guess you come to embrace it when you have no other choice. Though my back doesn't quite agree with the ten year old leather sofa above shop." He rubbed the back of his neck, cricking it slightly in a futile attempt to release some tension.
"Poor you. I completely understand, I've fallen asleep on the sofa more times than I should probably. I end up waking up when the sun comes in and going back to bed but the deed is done at that point."
"I guess we're both in need of a better sleeping situation." The man grinned. She couldn't tell whether he was actually being tongue in cheek or it was just a comment that she skewed in her mind. In an effort to stave off another telling blush, she moved the conversation on.
"So, um, the new flowers are here. I'm not sure which ones you're interested in but I'm in the process of putting them out if you don't mind sticking around for a little while."
"That sounds like a very pleasant morning to me. I'm sure Anderson is perfectly capable of sorting out today's walk ins. My first booked-in client isn't until one in the afternoon anyway."
"Great. No rush then." A small smile spreading across the girl's face at the prospect of quite nice morning with the pleasant man.
"Do you take sugar and milk, Greg?" The friendly lilt of Mrs. Hudson came from the other room.
"Just milk please, Mrs. Hudson. That's very kind."
As the owner graced the man with the mug of tea, Molly continued with setting out more flowers, reaching for the next box she opened it and a little gasp came from her. "These are gorgeous!" She cooed at the orange, brilliant Birds of Paradise flowers.
"Those are gorgeous!" The tattoo artist concurred, taking a sip of tea before setting down and walking over to take one of the flowers in his hand. "They almost look fake, they're so vibrant, and the shape's so interesting. Do you mind if I sketched this over there?" He gestured at the small settee and coffee table at the corner next to the front door.
"Yes, of course. I'll fetch you a small vase though. So it doesn't dry out." Molly grabbed a small mason jar from behind the till, filled it with tap water and handed it over to Greg.
"Well darlings, I must be off. The flowers look wonderful, but I have to check on one of my tenants, he's got a thing for making such a mess of things. I'm pretty sure he was firing a gun at the wall a couple weeks ago. Gets quite antsy, the poor boy, especially when he's bored." She spoke, mostly to herself at the end but piquing the interest of the other two who slightly disbelieved one of the last remarks.
"Here next week, Mrs. Hudson?" Asked Molly.
"Oh no, I'm going to the Bahamas with Mr. Chatterjee."
"Gosh, have a lovely time." The younger woman not at all surprised with the older lady's endeavours.
"I hope you have a nice tan the next time I see you, darling?" Greg chimed in, that cheeky smile still on his face.
Mrs. Hudson made a little trilling sound, patting both of them on the arm as she pottered off, handbag in tow though not before turning around as she exited the front door and miming to Molly, pointing at the two of them and crossing her fingers with a wide smile. Molly shook her head slightly, rolling her eyes with a smile as she waved the lady farewell.
"She's quite the character, I can see why you like working here." The man noted, staring at his notebook in contemplation as he tapped absent-mindedly using the back of his ballpoint pen on the pad. "I mean, apart from being surrounded by so many nice flowers too. It's a good thing neither of us have allergies." He sat back on the settee, resting one of his ankles across the other leg's knee, leaning on the armrest casually, a sight that was again, oddly appealing to Molly.
"I do love it. Days like these are my favourite though, all these nice new arrivals. It's like I get to work in a whole different shop." She commented as she finished arranging the Birds of Paradise. The next box contained a selection of differently coloured roses, another pretty sight. Upon noticing a head that had semi-detached itself from the stem in transit, she clipped it off with a small pair of scissors and set it on the till desk. She went around and retrieved a scrapbook from a shelf below.
From the other side of the shop, Greg noticed her movements and was curious. "What's that you have there?"
"It's nothing really." Molly swatted the air, dismissing any interest he should have had in the matter. "I just have this scrapbook I keep under the safe for flowers like this. That are still beautiful but can't be sold so I press them. They're dead essentially but they get a new lease of life in a way."
"May I have a look?"
"Sure." The look of interest on the man's face confusing her somewhat. For something that she thought was just a thing that she did. She took place on the other seat of the settee and opened it up to the first page in the brown book and ran her finger gently across the flower head of a deep purple Geranium. "I think they're quite pretty in a different way to fresh flowers. The colours deepen as the water content leaves the petals and you can see the details a lot more, they're a bit wrinkled so the lines end up looking like veins. Plus they're allowed to be beautiful forever now, instead of shrivelling up and going brown like its fresh counterparts."
The girl didn't notice the older man staring at her while she spoke, admiring the passion she had for this wonderful craft she enjoyed so dearly. It was interesting to see somebody so positive for once, after the negativity that surrounded the past few weeks of his life. It was more than interesting, it was inspiring. He reached out and lightly brushed his finger across a dried flower that was in the book that rested on Molly's lap. "They are wonderful. I think I'm more taken by these than the alive ones." He scooted over slightly to lean in to the book a bit more to take in all the intricate details. He could smell the light scent that came off the cardigan of the woman next to him, not quite as flowery as the shop but sweeter, almost like candy floss. It was very pleasant and he found himself enjoying the company of the florist quite a lot.
At the same time the florist noticed a musky, sandalwood scent that came from the alarmingly close man. She was close enough to see the intricate features of his tattoos. The full sleeve on his arm was covered in iterations of marble statues. The expressions of some beautiful and grand, and the expressions on some sad and remorseful. She had an urge to lift up the rest of his sleeve to see the covered parts. On the other a stylised clock face in the style of Salvador Dali running down half the length of his forearm.
For a moment they both sat in silence, each noticing a lot of the other but not of themselves.
It was Molly who realised neither of them had spoken in almost a full minute. "I like your tattoos." She filled the air, lamely, hearing herself and realising she sounded like an over-zealous band girl. "I mean, they're really well done. So intricate."
Greg gave her a smile, happy to display his body art. He pulled his shirt sleeve up further to show more of the marble statues. "Here. I mean, it goes 'round to my shoulder blades but I'm sure you don't want me shirtless in your flower shop." He exposed one of his marble statues with see-through sheer cloth detailing.
The girl, thinking it wouldn't be so bad a suggestion, moved her hand from her scrapbook to the other man's arm, skin taut in the way he his arm was bent. She touched lightly, admiring the lines and shading that ran across his skin. "They're very impressive. Is it your art? I mean, because I'm sure you wouldn't be able to reach around like this do tattoo yourself."
The gentle fingers running across his skin tickled and was a much more intimate touch than he had felt for quite some time now. He noticed the way her soft skin caught the Spring sun to illuminate her in an almost angelic way and found himself smiling at her quite naturally. "I drew it up myself but I had an old friend tattoo it. In fact, we only really trust each other for tattoos. I mean, I'm not covered. I'm not like these younger artists who have their entire body done and leaves no space for anything else later in life. I want to add to mine, should anything inspire me as much again. The last one I had was on my calf. Do you want to see?"
Molly nodded, glad he was being so enthusiastic about something she sure he'd been asked many times before. He pulled up his jeans with one hand and pushed his socks down with the other, turning his body so the back of his leg would be directed at her. Here he exposed a hyper-realistic interpretation of gears and metal rods that could be in place of bones and muscles, turning that part of his leg into a Terminator style anatomic piece of art. "That's amazing. So intricate. When was this one done?"
He let the jeans fall back down over his leg and shuffled back into his seat, finding his hand drape over the back of the sofa where the other sat. "Finally finished it about a week ago, the swelling's just gone down but it can still tingle at times. Don't let anyone tell you tattoos don't hurt, because they do - but you learn to get over the pain. That's why I like them. You get the reality of what you're doing in the however many hours they take, but then it's a part of you. Just needed one after the separation, me and the ex, my kind of therapy in a way. This is the last bit of pain I'm letting myself go through over that cow, and I mean it." The man poured himself out, completely unintentionally and yet it was so good to have the brunette listen to him so intently, and not just act like she was listening.
"It must feel a lot better. Being able to channel all your feelings into something you feel passionate about. When my last relationship ended I wound up just shutting everyone out for quite some time. We were engaged and everything, but I realised I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with him. It was so difficult." She trailed off, not consciously aware as to why the handsome man before her was just so easy to talk to. The way they were finding out such intimate things about one other so quickly and yet it felt so natural to speak as though they were friends of many years.
"That's not an easy decision to make, but clearly a good one for yourself. You're always so smiley whenever I pop by. I don't think I could ever imagine you not brightening up peoples' days when they come in the shop." He noticed how close they were sitting, her knee brushing his own now a result of the way they shuffled around to show the other their own projects. He had been a fairly cautious man with his emotions since he was hurt repeatedly by the woman he used to love once upon a time but maybe it was now time to actually throw caution to the wind. There was this attraction that he wasn't going to deny and she was right there, close enough to-
His thought was interrupted as the door opened, revealing a young mother with a push buggy. As though they were teenagers caught doing something scandalous, both sat up straight and Molly went to her feet, going into customer mode greeting and conversing with the woman looking to purchase her wares. He let out a small, disappointed exhale and sat back to continue his drawing, knowing full well he let an opportunity slip away, whatever it may have been.