Hello again! I've had this idea for awhile so I decided to write it! I have no idea how long it'll be but potentially 10 chapters? Of course there will eventually be some naughty bits but finally getting into some feels. Please enjoy!

*I realize my timeline could potentially be off, such as Rosie's age vs. when Mary died. Also, the events of TFP have not (and likely will not) occur. Please enjoy!

Xxxx

"Till this moment I never knew myself." – Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

Xxx

Molly sat on a midday train, heading back to London after a long weekend in Edinburgh. Her baby hairs stuck to the cool glass of the window, obstructing her view of the glorious green landscape surrounding the tracks.

She had always wanted to make this trip. She had even mentioned her desire to take a train to Scotland when she had been engaged to Tom—he figured a bottle of Scotch and a trip to Hyde Park would satisfy her craving for the Scottish countryside.

At the thought of her failed relationship, Molly sighed and shifted in the tight seat. She was lucky enough to have the seat next to her unoccupied, but the empty presence did little more than to remind her of how pathetic and lonely her life was.

Her engagement was over. She was going on her mid-thirties, still single and childless. She was starting to question her life choices. Was choosing school and a career over a family the right choice? Had she stuck to just one degree, would she be happily married with three babies by now?

No, she cautioned herself, I can't think like that.

But she did. And she would continue to question her life choices, especially as her mind drifted back to where it always did. Back to London. Back to work. Back to Sherlock.

Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective extraordinaire. The blasted devil made her life so bloody complicated. But, he added excitement and a joy she lacked before he came into her existence.

Of all her faults, she couldn't punish herself for falling in love with the man, no matter how desperately she wanted to. Falling in love with him once was bad enough. Falling in love with him twice was the nail in the coffin.

The day he told her that he needed her… the day that he left… her entire world changed. Her colorful existence went black, along with the lives of everyone he cared so deeply about. But his departure also represented a new beginning for her.

A life for Molly Hooper without Sherlock Holmes. A life where she could breathe at work, read the newspaper without being taunted by his existence, turn the telly on without hearing his name. And when the initial reaction of his death had cleared up, Molly had gotten just that.

Part of her began to believe that he was dead. The silence, the tears from those around her, the fake service that was held… It all felt so real. Because even if she knew he wasn't dead, not really anyways, his absence felt like death. Like closure.

So, she did what she had to do. She moved on. She even fell in love. Or thought she did.

Silly Molly Hooper, always believing that love existed and that there was someone out there for everyone.

She really had believed that Tom was the one. He was handsome and charming and accepted her faults like no one ever had. She was certain that a great future was in store for them.

Imagine her surprise when Sherlock returned, from his figurative grave, and one look at the consulting detective put her heart in her throat. Those piercing blue eyes, those loose curls, that voice…

She lasted about four months, desperately convincing herself that she could still be attracted to Sherlock but not in love with him. That she loved Tom, and considered Sherlock to be a dear friend. That her days fawning over Sherlock were locked away, like a faraway dream.

It wasn't really a surprise when she realized she was lying to herself. The moment wasn't straight from a romantic film, or unique in any means. It was quite a normal day, a normal occurrence, a normal hour in the boring life of Molly Hooper.

It had been a quiet Saturday afternoon. Molly was sitting on her couch, Toby in her lap, watching Downton Abbey on the telly. Towards the end of the episode, she heard her door opening and footsteps along her entry way. Her stomach did a flip as she looked to hallway to see… Tom.

Her heart sunk.

It was then that she realized wishing her fiancé coming by with lunch was another man was probably an indicator that things weren't going as they should be.

And now here she was, three months later, as single as she had been the almost three years ago that Sherlock had left.

But she was proud of herself. Here she was, sitting on a chilly train, drinking room temperature tea, returning from a holiday she had always wanted to take. Sure, she had more outlandish dreams, wishing to drive across the States, or backpack through the jungles of Vietnam, or lay in the sun off the coast of Sydney. But her short, sweet trip to Scotland forced her to reevaluate her life.

It was time for her to change. To take control. To do things she had always wanted to do. She was strong. She was smart. She was beautiful. No one would stand in the way of Molly Hooper.

Except the telltale feeling of a stopping train, and an overhead announcement indicating a forced stop because of an escaped flock of sheep on the tracks. Molly groaned.

Xxx

Molly opened her eyes as she felt the train jolt forward. A quick glance at her phone told her that she had dozed off for only thirty minutes or so, in which the train hadn't continued its journey.

Just my luck to have a delay. So much for making it home before dark.

Molly shifted in her seat, drawing her knees to her chest. Deciding to forgo another nap to best save her sleep schedule for that evening, she grabbed the novel sitting on the seat beside her and gazed at the familiar cover. Pride and Prejudice.

She had read it once before, sometime during secondary school, when she went through her classic romantic literature phase. She had burned through almost every work by Jane Austen, and even indulged in North and South, Withering Heights, and a reread of Romeo and Juliet for good measure.

But Pride and Prejudice had been her favorite. A wonderful love story filled with ups and downs and heart clenching moments that still warmed her insides and made her want to cry to this day.

And then there was Mr. Darcy. The epitome of a great, literary heartthrob. He was charming, and smart, and handsome, and just an absolute dream. Sure, he had his faults—his pride, his inconsideration for the feelings of others, his lack of social awareness, his cold demeanor, his aloof exterior, his—

Molly froze, her eyes staring at the illustrated image on the book in her hands. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her chest that she was convinced she could hear it.

Mr. Darcy was her favorite literary character, her teen years spent searching for a man who could fill his shoes and confess his undying love for her in the same manner. She lived through the iterations—the Colin Firth Darcy, the Matthew MacFadyen Darcy, the faceless Darcy she imagined in her wildest, deepest dreams.

Her heart began to beat faster as the horrid thought refused to leave her head.

She need not search for a Mr. Darcy anymore.

She had him.

And his name was Sherlock Holmes.

Xxx

As a HUGE P&P fan, it's pretty impossible not to see the similarities between Mr. Darcy and Sherlock. Obviously the two have some major differences, but their characterizations are extremely similar, even down to the jolly go-lucky best friend! I truly hope you enjoyed the first chapter-let me know what you think so I can get to posting the new chapter where we really get into the story!