The Child of Zeus

No Such Luck

     Molly Hooper recognized the familiar consulting detective stalk past her without notice. What on Earth was he doing out at the coast? She grabbed his shoulder and smiled warmly up at him. He returned a smile, without as much of the warm. "What are you doing up here?" She asked him. 

"Oh, following up on a lead. No such luck." 

     "Well, since we're up here. And the train, you know the train, it doesn't - so well, do you want to walk with me? Oh you know what, no, no never mind. Stupid question. Forget it." He looked in her eyes planning to decline. But it was her cheeks quickly turning a deeper shade of red then he'd ever seen mixed with the little flicker of hope gleam in her eyes and then suddenly drain out of them. He needed to get back, he had work to do, but instead of saying it'd probably be best if he got on his way he found himself saying, "Lets go then."

     “So what are you doing out here?” Sherlock asked in attempt to make small talk, simply to be nice as small talk bore him. The constant chatter of how Mrs. Young-You-Know-The-Lady-Down-The-Street's cat has run away and miraculously found its way back and how we couldn't be more overjoyed at his arrival. Or the usual gossip and mindless idle chit-chat of who's flirting with who. Not to mention how that young lady is having an affair with the butler and the responding chorus of 'How scandalous!"

“Date. It obviously didn’t work out too well…” Molly muttered back.

     "His loss.” Sherlock said stalking off towards the beach before she even had the chance to question it. He jumped down from the concrete to the sand and looked back up at her. She was looking down with apprehension and concern. Her brow slightly furrowed, it was awfully high and Sherlock was quite a bit taller than her. Sherlock watched and mistook the feeling of sympathy for the pathologist fear of heights with impatience. As he still didn't understand the feelings he had for her. But he reached up and grabbed her by her tiny waist and lifted her down to the sand.

     Did that actually just happen to me? She said to herself and glanced over at him. Noticing how hot her cheeks were she was glad he wasn’t looking at her. Instead he was busying himself untying his shoes and removing his suit jacket. He had left behind the signature woollen coat and scarf, odd, she thought, he never seems to leave his flat without it. It was when he started walking without her with no warning did she snap back to reality. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? What had she been thinking would happen when walking with the great Sherlock Holmes? Shaking her head trying to forget her hopes she ran to catch up to him and then walked swiftly to keep up with his fast pace. His hand hesitated for a very long while before finally clasping onto hers. Molly looked up at him in shock but his face was stone. Unreadable, completely unchanged. When was it ever different?

“So Molly, tell me, how has work been?”

“Dead... No, sorry. Bad joke.”

“Really? I thought it quite witty.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But it tells me nothing about work.”

     And with that she began to ramble on about the usual happening and the cases as of late at the mortuary in Bart’s. Sherlock was watching her intently with his usual cold, blue eyes filled with a glimmer of something new. He loved it when she rambled on about work like this. She was just so good at her job, not to mention she was one of the brightest people he knew. Although she wouldn’t have even dared to think so. 

“Sherlock? Are you even listening to me?” 

     “What? Oh sorry no, I’ve wandered off.” But Molly didn’t reply with words instead she walked over to the water and kicked. A great splash of cold salt water drenched Sherlock. He stared at her in complete and utter shock. The audacity of the woman! But then he just laughed and ran after her. Chasing her for a short while before capturing her in his arms and carrying her over his shoulder out into deeper water.  

“Sherlock! Put me down! Now! Sherlock! I swear to God! If you drop me in here I’ll hurt you!” 

     But he ignored her pleas and her slaps on his back. When he reached water over his knees he lifted her up and dropped her. 

     Catching Molly Hooper just before she would’ve plunged into the icy ocean water. “Gotcha.” He purred. She flushed bright red. “Ye-um-yes, yes, yes you do.” Wrapping her hands around his neck she lay in his strong arms back to shore before he found himself tripping on an unseen stone. Both the consulting detective and the pathologist fell into the ocean one on top of the other. Molly retracted only to find his arms still firmly placed on her back. “Sorry, sorry, Oh my God, sorry. Ple-please forgive me. Sorry.” 

“Molly, please. Stop apologizing for something that is first of all not your fault, and secondly something I personally am not sorry for at all.”

     As usual when she was embarrassed she averted her eyes but she felt his gaze on her so she turned her head back towards him. She found herself staring into eyes that were looking intently back into hers. They lay there for a moment, not speaking. He was the one to break the stare only to look at her lips, leaning in slowly. But Molly panicked and jumped up, immediately regretting it. Sherlock sat confused for a moment, the waves still breaking against him, before shrugging it off and joining Molly as she continued to walk down the shore. 

     They walked in near silence before they came to stairs leading back up to the road. "Well, it's been most fun Molly. Perhaps we'll do it again sometime?" He said and tuning around to leave. She stood mourning his going away the instant he left, watching him walk away. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks and spun around dramatically and stalked back to her. "Of course, that was rude. I apologize. But I shouldn't just leave, we're going to the same place. Catch the train with me? Besides, I could use your help. The last package sent was most confusing." 

"Oh, oh, um, yes, of course I'll help." She stammered out ending in a smile. 

     And the pair walked off towards the train, time slowly ticking away towards midnight. The minutes passing them by like strangers on the street, never stopping to talk, let alone warn them of what is to come.