Mr Holmes and Miss Hooper - a Sherlolly Story

Chapter 12

Molly tried to check up on Loo, but one reassuring look from her was all the elder sister needed to know it was okay to leave it alone. They nodded to each other with small loving smiles, and anyone in the room could have felt the sisterly love between them had they been paying attention and not studying the different types of fractures and breaks a bone can endure. Loo blew Molly a kiss as she left the classroom with Amanda, heading off to lunch.

Molly eyed the box of food on her desk. She considered for a moment not going to Sherlock, pondering what it may be like to not have him in her life again in the same capacity as he was now and felt her heart break at the thought. In a not so shocking revelation, her stomach dropped to her feet and her heart leapt into her throat as she fought the tears pricking her eyes. She could not lose Sherlock Holmes. She would not lose him. She stood and ran her hands through her hair. It was down today, something different from her usual ponytail. She had no practical experiments planned that day and her bobble had snapped earlier that morning so she didn't really have much choice. Molly didn't mind though, she enjoyed having her hair loose and free of the tight confines of a ponytail. But more than that, she enjoyed the feeling of Sherlock's hands running through it. He seemed to always want to touch her hair when it was like this, and she'd be a fool to deny that she didn't sometimes purposely twist her bobble out before she saw him. She took a deep breath and composed herself before grabbing her lunch and heading out of her classroom, inhaling deeply and stiffening her resolve before pushing open Sherlock's classroom door.

As soon as he heard the door creak, his attention shot up from his marking. His head whipped around and their eyes met. Wide smiles formed on both faces as they realised what was happening at that moment.

"So, is this you promising not to avoid me, Miss Hooper?"

"As long as you're willing to make the same promise, Mr Holmes."

He smiled even brighter at her.

"As you wish."

He grabbed his lunch from the desk and walked over to her, extending his hand towards her as she took it happily. They walked in blissful silence towards the field, standing closer than they had before. Neither could doubt the unnamed change between them, and neither particularly wanted to.

Every so often, Molly would feel him looking at her. She would meet his gaze with an equal look of admiration only to find a new sparkle in his oceanic eyes that she didn't doubt could be found in hers as well.

When they reached the clearing, they took their usual position beneath the tree and tucked into their lunches, casually discussing classes and upcoming exams. When they had both finished, Sherlock removed her box from her lap before placing it beside his own and standing up. She tilted her head in confusion, scrunching her nose in that way he could never forget, but took his extended hands gladly and he pulled her up from the ground. Before she could say anything, he wrapped one arm around her waist whilst keeping her hand in the other, and began dancing with her in the open field.

She smiled up at him as they swayed to silent music, no doubt some violin symphony he was playing in his head. Molly hadn't been shocked when she'd learnt he played, only disappointed that she hadn't heard him yet. Instead of questioning the moment, she simply let her head rest on his chest and enjoyed what was happening. She realised he was quite the dancer and he found she could follow his lead without really concentrating.

"It seems you've danced like this before." His voice was deep and reverberating.

"A bit. A few ballet classes here and there, and with my Dad. He used to balance my feet on top of his and swing me around the living room, often knocking things over to my mum's distaste." They chuckled together at the memory and Molly could feel it rippling through his chest. Sherlock could picture the scene as if he were viewing it right in front of him. She looked at him. "What about you? You're clearly not an amateur."