YAY ANOTHER PROMPT FILL FOR MY DEAR IAMAZONIAN...who I'm also having the coolest ongoing RP with...love you darling! Hope you like this!
Sigh, surprisingly, I STILL don't own the rights to any persons, real or fictitious, that are portrayed in this story. I am just a girl, an average writer, and an avid fan.
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''It's only for a couple of evenings, Sherlock. You'll be fine. In fact, I bet you'll hardly notice I'm gone.'' Molly stood by the door to 221B, her arms prying the rest of her body out of her husband's strong hold. 'He really is quite a child at times.' She mused. Meanwhile, the consulting detective was trying to pull her back into their flat.
''Molly, I hardly see the point in attending a party with people, whom on the whole, you disliked. However, I'm sure there must be some merit in being one of the only successes from the class of proverbial morons.'' Sherlock considered the two sides equally, still deciding he was not for her leaving him.
''Call John. Call Greg. Maybe he has a case for you. Its just two days, and I'll be back sooner than you realize.'' Molly chuckled, leaning up to kiss her petulant husband. Sherlock groaned out in frustration, before kissing her forehead quickly, and releasing her.
''Fine, but if you are not on the first train Sunday morning, I'm coming after you.'' He stated. Molly simply rolled her eyes before stepping through the doorway, and walking down the steps that led to Baker Street. Sherlock watched from the window above as she climbed into the cab that drove off soon after. The consulting detective sat in his chair all of five minutes before whipping out his phone.
'Come to Baker Street at once.'
-S-
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Molly had just stepped off the train, when she spotted a very familiar face. Internally, she groaned and rolled her eyes. Outwardly, however, the pathologist worked up her most congenial smile, before waving at the woman approaching her.
''Oh my God, Molly Hooper! Is that really you?" The shrill voice of the once-petite Sylvia Duncan echoed out. Molly took a good look at the woman in front of her, trying to find the skinny cheerleader underneath the layers of plastic surgery. No luck. Molly nodded her head, and tried to comply with the awkward hug she was receiving.
''Yes, it's me. Though, it's actually Holmes now. I'm married.'' Molly declared, a bit proudly if she were to say so herself. Sylvia pulled away with a look of disbelief, but sneered a smile anyway.
''Well, isn't that just...nice. we've got to get to the hotel, lots of people to see, get caught up on the latest gossip. Come on then.'' She pulled Molly by her wrist, dragging her through the crowd of passengers getting on board.
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Sherlock is fidgeting frantically on the brown sofa of Baker Street, while John stands over him.
''Sherlock, you're fine. She's only been gone five hours, why on earth am I here?" John asked as he held the paper, rolled into his hand. The brooding detective had been sulking ever since his arrival, and John was sure he was there to babysit the petulant man-child that was his best friend. Sherlock, having read his thoughts (apparently), rolled over and glared at the doctor.
''You are merely here to keep me company while my wife is away, John. I do not need a caretaker in her , what cases do we have? I need work.'' Sherlock asked as he sat up. He looked up to the sandy blond man, who was currently rolling his eyes, before he was handed the newspaper.
''There's nothing on the blog. Has Lestrade phoned you at all?" John asked as he sat down in his chair. Sherlock flipped the paper open, shaking his head with spite.
''No, I think he's still upset that I mentioned his wife's recent decision for breast implants. Apparently he didn't notice her affair with the plastic surgeon.'' The detective shrugged as he read the paper. John smirked, having remembered the way Greg all but threw Sherlock out of his office. He was distracted from his thoughts by Sherlock tossing the newspaper away in frustration.
''Ugh! Nothing important is happening! Why did she have to leave? As if going to a reunion will make her a better person. Squaring up to the people who despise her for her success. I'm so bored!" He wailed out before throwing himself back on the sofa. John sighed, before standing and heading to the kitchen.
''You know, she did invite you to go along. You said no. In fact, you were adamant about not going, if I recall.'' He called as he reached the kitchen, pulling down the canister of coffee.
''I was adamant about neither of us going, John. She wasn't supposed to go either. However, now she has, and I'm forced to occupy myself with other, less involved things I find enjoyable.'' The pale man huffed. John cringed at the realization of just what his friend was talking about. As if on cue, te detective followed up his statement.
''Oh, as if I didn't have to endure deducing your any 'conquests' with your female companions.'' John's face screwed into a look of annoyance as he brought out two must of fresh coffee. He shoved one cup into Sherlock's hand, and returned to sitting across the room from his friend. The two stared at each other with glowering eyes, the doctor's one passing thought seeming to cross the genius's as well: 'it's going to be a very, very long weekend.'
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''Why don't we go around and hear from some of our most remembered classmates, to hear about what they've been up to?" The cheery voice of Sylvia rang out over the microphone, as she called everyone's attentions to the front of the banquet hall. Her eyes scanned the surface, quickly pointing to the class's former star rugby player. The man stood, his large belly now hanging where once-taut muscles stood. He talked of his family, his coworkers, and his new promotion as acting manager for a small eatery. People nodded and smiled, pretending to be interested in his now boring life. He soon sat down, ushering a nod back to Sylvia. She tapped her finger to her chin, before getting a devilish grin on her face.
''Ooh, I know. Why don't we hear from little 'mousy' Molly?" She grinned smugly as a few people chuckled at the nickname. Molly stood, and shot the woman a smug grin in return. Her husbands words came flowing back to her mind. 'I'm sure there must be some merit in being one of the only successes from the class of proverbial morons.' She stood, and took the wire-free mic that was passed to her.
''Well...''
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''Well? Anything?" Sherlock was seated across the room from John, who spoke on the phone with Lestrade. Sherlock had even said 'please' when asking the good doctor to ring the detective inspector, and ask for a case. Said doctor was now apologizing for his mate's behavior, something he was entirely too practiced at.
John soon hung up the phone, with a heavy sigh. He shook his head and shrugged at the detective.
''Sorry, he said they've got nothing going right now.'' John smirked just a bit as Sherlock huffed out. He suddenly stood, and gazed off into space for a bit.
''Sherlock?" John looked up in slight worry. He'd seen that face far too many times. He knew there was some plan in that brilliant mind, one that would, no doubt, be hazardous.
''Right, I'm going to Molly's reunion. I was, after all, invited. I see no point in wasting away from boredom here when I could be making a wonderful impression on former tormentors to my wife. No need to stick around, John. I'll be off soon.'' Sherlock answered after a moment. He nodded his head curtly, before stalking into his bedroom. John just chuckled a bit, before firing off a text to Molly.
'You were right. Didn't even last the whole day. He's on his way. Have fun!
-JW-
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Molly felt her phone buzz, just as she was being asked a question by a former classmate.
''So, your husband, the consulting detective...what's he like in person? I hear all about him on the news, and he seems quite the interesting fellow. Is he really the same in private?" The woman sipped from her wine, tilting an interested head toward Molly. As she read John's text, a smile flooded her face. She looked up and answered.
''Well, it seems that my dear husband is going to join me for the rest of the weekend, after all. You'll get to see for yourself what he's like in person.'' Molly smiled brightly, almost proudly, at knowing he couldn't stand being apart from her. She knew what he knew, but was afraid to admit. Sherlock Holmes had become very used to, and quite content with domestic bliss.
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Well, I hope you liked it. Lol, if Sherlock gets as bored as I do, I don't think he'd be able to last the whole weekend. ;) hope you like! Let me know! Love you all dearly!