Molly stood on the street corner in a blue dress that hugged her stomach and hips then flowed downward to her knees. Her smile was washing away along with the bits of dirt and trash that flowed into London's street's gutters on this rainy night. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time once again. It was seven-twenty. The person she was waiting for was late by twenty long minutes. Molly looked to her work building forlornly as she thought about how she had brought her dress and beauty supplies to work because she was closing up that night and didn't want to be late to the date. Yet here she was, standing in the cold rain, waiting for the one she had walked so many extra miles for. She searched the street for something, a car, anything, but alas she only found it empty. Molly had been waiting for this man to ask her out for so long. She had ran over the many possibilities of what could've happened on this lovely day, though getting stood up as she waited in the cold rain was never one that crossed her mind. Molly always had a big heart, unfortunately it also meant that when she felt pain she felt it immensely so the very act of keeping her tears at bay was a very taxing one indeed. The more Molly considered her current situation the more it consumed her every thought until it crowded her mind becoming the soul focus of all her thoughts. She gritted her teeth and grimaced as a solitary tear slid down her face and into the gutter. Turning towards the coffee shop she accepted the notion that she had been stood up and decided it was better to be warm while waiting for a cab. She thought about sitting near the warm fireplace that rested in the center of the coffee shop and started towards the caffe.
"Molly." Came the winded voice of the familiar voice of that tall curly haired detective calling her name.
"You're late." Molly remarked frowning.
"Yes I know," he replied stepping into the light of the caffe revealing many scars, "and I'm so sorry." His face and tone revealed the sincerity in his apology. Molly's face turned cautiously curious as she got on her tippy toes and lifted her hand up to his cheek in order of running her thumb over his wound.
"Sherlock, what happened?"
"Oh nothing I just ran into a bit of a skirmish before I got here." Sherlock shrugged his shoulders and placed his hand over hers smiling. As he examined Molly's attire he became aware of her dress and hair, which in fact were soaking wet, 'it is illogical on her part' thought Sherlock 'there are at least two places she could've waited in' the mere notion that Molly even waited that long for him astounded him. It occurred to Sherlock Molly was not a creature easily taken by the ways of logic, however nor was she one of instinct, so it was found to him that Molly Hoper was in fact something else entirely. The only thing he could find to remark upon was that she was wet.
"You are wet Molly."
"Yes Mr. Detective it seems I am," Molly teased playfully and a warm smile flitted across her face.
"Why?" He asked, his true question being more along the lines of 'why didn't you wait inside'. Molly could've told him of all the ridiculous fears she had of Sherlock not being able to find her and leaving before she noticed the taxi, or the fact that his face was the first thing she wanted to see when he arrived, because she knew it would immediately brighten up her night and comfort her enough to help her nerves not to get the best of her, or that this was one of the best moments of her life and she didn't want to miss even a single second of him, but for fear of bombarding him with all these things Molly shrugged, leaving Sherlock to ponder the curiosity of her preference.
"Are you cold?" Sherlock removed his long dark trench coat and placed it over Molly's shoulders.
"Thank you."
"Shall we?" He motioned towards the car.
"Right after we dress up those scratches." She motioned to his face then dangled the keys to her workplace which lie behind them. He nodded and they walked off hand in hand, Molly listening to Sherlock's account of the scrape.
