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ukthxbye · 10 months ago

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All That Glitters and Gleams

So it has been over a year since I writer Sherlolly. Thought I might be done because of my focus on my two books and trying to get an agent... life is funny.

When this photo showed up in the sherlolly discord,

the wheels started spinning and 24 hours later, you're welcome.

cw: semi-public sex, fingering, light dom/sub, begging

Glittering.

Gold and silver statues and everything shiny draped dramatic fabric in this room normally spare dingy blue white.

And he hated it.

But impressed all the same. The banquet hall of St. Barts transformed to another age. Sherlock scoffed when Molly asked him to this 1920s fundraiser, rattling facts about all the false opulence for what.

"It's fun to pretend," she'd said in the wry, sad resignation he knew like a drug. Nearly as unpredictable. She might tell him to forget it and go with someone else. She might let him rattle off facts as they walk in and still pull him along, suffering the embarrassment.

She blessed him with the latter.

He couldn't refuse anymore what she asked for. His life depended on her happiness… like a new addiction.

But he'd denied her the one thing she craved. She denied herself more.

"They shouldn't have spent so much money, you were right," she said at his side. "You've every right to hate this. It's dancing and talking to higher ups. We can go home."

"Well, at least the champagne is cheap," he said glancing at woman walking by with two green bottles in had. But home, where is the adventure in that? Can't critique and complain until we have the facts," he said, slipping off his long wool coat, handing it to the hired coat clerk… no wait, it was a boy from the cafe.

"Gerald, they roped you into this?" Sherlock frowned at him.

"Ticket sir, you try to have a good time, eh?" the boy said, coats piling up on his right.

"Yes…yes." Sherlock offered him a cocked tightlipped smile.

In instinct he turned to Molly, and without interrupting her conversation with a heart surgeon he disliked, his hands reached around her shoulders, grasping the lapels on her equally long coat.

The lights, low in the room but travelling across a mirror ball, landed at her back as he slid the dark fabric down like a curtain.

Glittering.

But he liked it.

He vibrated, her scapula bones meeting like wings of an angel as she dropped the coat off her arms.

She'd not let him look at the dress until now. Beadwork in a line down the straps, down and across her waist. Shadow and bones and gold. Champagne dripped down her frame, soon like on her tongue.

She matched the room and enhanced it to a mind numbing quality.

"Come on, there's Stamford," she said with a half grin, and grabbed his hand.

Like fire on a golden pyre.

He accepted her lead, lost in the light playing off her skin. He'd mapped it before. He mapped everything. But why does it look different here?

Do her nerves jump when his hand drifted up to her elbow, gripping like a secret, waiting? Lost to the bunching pale satin, but… she responded each time, ending the conversation.

She let him hold her hand absently as she tugged him from one corner to the next. Satin gloves threaded in his fingers, robbing him of hers.

But her back, exposed, and his touch strayed there often to catch her attention, drawing her into him so he could mutter in her ear some amusing observation he'd about someone she chatted with.

Her skin cooled like a glass of cold milk. He craved it the same. But he feared his hand gave him away, warming more with every risked caress.

She flinched the first time, her wings shrugging him away.

But now she let it lay there, even as he chased a shadow up the nape with his finger.

Her shiver is not from the room now.

He smiled to himself, but the oncologist next to him took it as an opportunity to speak. I can do two things at once. Sherlock kept his fingers near her scalp, his fingernail grazing along the hairline until she quivered, and fanned herself with her purse.

They made many more rounds, each one more exhausting. The satin under his hands, the hand on her lower back enticing. Every man who tried to insult her field of study with backhanded compliments boiled his blood.

His mask slipped, and he half insulted the last surgeon they spoke to.

"You're getting rude," she said, dragging him down by his collar to her ear.

Oh, don’t do that…

The tug switched on a part of his brain he'd kept safe from her. They'd both been so good since his sister nearly destroyed everything.

Such respectable friends, open with their emotions except for…

I'm going to ruin that now.

“Sherlock, are you listening to me?” She searched his face for understanding in the dark.

“I thought you said all surgeons are like footballers, egotistical and overpaid,” he sniffed.

She leaned back and frowned. "You said that."

“Hmm…�� he matched her frown, then smiled, running his tongue along his teeth. “Oh, yes… I did. But you might have agreed.”

He gasped. She snatched his collar again, with a curl twisted in it now, setting a delightful tingle across his scalp.

“Why is it so hard for you to behave…”

He turned enough so she could meet his stare. "You like me when I don't… why change that now?" His tongue strayed across his lips, letting his gaze drop to hers.

In the dark and flashing light of the room, it hit perfect timing for the scarlet of her lips to show. Her teeth parted and her tongue licked her own lips as well.

“Come with me,” she said, low, releasing him when someone glanced their way.

They reached the bathroom on the front left corner of the room, with no one around. “You know what? Wait here for a moment and then we'll talk.” She stepped in and his hand caught the door as she pushed close it.

Wide-eyed, she let him push it back and close it behind him, meeting her stare.

"Sherlock, what are you—"

His finger to his lips and she clamped her mouth shut. His lips lifted into a sly smile.

"Is there something wrong?" She moved to him and glanced at the door, his hand going back behind him and clicking the lock.

“No, I wanted to talk… privately.”

She sighed out in relief. “We could have gone outside.”

“Then I couldn’t look at you in that dress.”

The bathroom decorated for the theme, feather arrangement, lights low. The cream walls normally boring matched her antique faded gold satin. He soaked in the room along with her.

One last look before you leap…

"Oh, don't be silly…" she chuckled, crossing her arms, and his eyes dropped to the cleavage.

He remained wordless, a hand in his pocket, waiting for her to catch up.

She squinted, shaking her head as she whispered, "Oh… no."

"Molly."

She ran a hand through her short cropped hair. How soon might I do the same?

“Are you really going to do this here? This dance for… god I thought we'd settled this,” she said, the plead in her tone only urged him on more.

“Oh, my sweet Molly, like ice cream on my tongue, freezing every word… until this dress.” he shifted near to her, and she stepped back near the sink.

"I'm not sweet," she said with folded arms, looking down at the cleavage, realising the effect and moving her arms, bracing on the sink basin. “We should go… before you say something you shouldn't.”

"I'll be the judge of that."

She turned toward the mirror with a scoff. “Your judgement is terrible. I don't trust it. But yes…you always thought me too sweet… is that all compassion is to you?” Her gaze went down as she said it and he counted the vertebrae in her neck, concentrating.

How did I get here? How do I get out of it?

But he was bored with ignoring the chemicals running under his skin when she was near.

He closed the distance behind her, and she stiffened. His eyes travelled from the hollow of her throat, slowly following the pink path each capillary displayed with the pump of her heart. Those lips, red and not yet swollen as he'd make them.

His gaze lifted from there up as he spoke his stare meeting hers in the mirror. "My mistake then… I do confess to the two mistakes you accused. But then I recall less gentleness when your hand stuck hard," he raised his hand, tenderly tracing his thumb along her cheekbone, and licked his lips when she shivered. “Do I deserve it again?”

The beadwork, gold and silver sparkling in the low light, entranced him. He traced down with a finger, following along its path, ending in a v, breast swelling with her heightened breath. Her heartbeat was so strong the pulse beat a rhythm under his fingertips. But he never broke his stare, and she held it, her eyes dark and shining.

Gleaming.

And he loved it.

Would she imagine him closing the gap, a canyon between what they've been… and what they will be? Never letting his lips touch, but he assured his breath and its heat performed the same duty as he spoke into her ear… and then her jaw.

"But tell me… did you know how I fought every urge and when it changed… how many times we've almost. When we considered all the possibilities and said no…was it not because you were so principled?" He said with a smirking grin.

Crack.

She’d spun around to face him and struck his left cheek. She gulped hard, and he sighed, waiting for her words to catch up with her hand.

“If this is a game… It's very cruel. You can read what I want without touching. You know every ache, every want… you…” She drew a deep breath through her nose. “Always did. Question is… will you be too high minded … or will you…” She squinted as she spoke, but the tremble he expected was absent.

But this was the Molly he'd fallen for all along, in her own power and never under his. Quite the opposite. Her lips parted, her eyes on his lips as well.

Her breath matched his, and his lungs ached for them to share the same air.

“Which one of us will break… that delicious thick tension we’d spun for years… but…” he tipped his nose against hers and with his hands on either side of her on the washbasin, holding on to the porcelain for dear life, he said near her lips, “It was always yours to take… stop asking for permission.”

Come on now, my Molly.

He let her kiss him, and answered the swell in his chest deepening until his entire mouth encompassed hers, his tongue licking the champagne sugars off hers.

“You kiss like you want me, Sherlock Holmes.” She sighed into his throat, breathless. She'd pressed her body against him when the kiss deepened. He couldn't dare put his arms around her… I might never let go.

He swallowed hard. "The easiest thing I've ever done. You'd be correct… you always were."

“Oh, yes… too sweet. Then…” she said with a huff, leaning back, robbing him of her nearness, and he missed it.

He met her knowing stare.

“You're correct… you always were.” Honesty at last. But he couldn't see if it would help or harm the mood.

She shook her head slightly. “Don't be like that. I don't know what to do with that. It can't fuck me properly.”

“Then tell me what you want. As in to say… I'm done thinking for now. It bores me.” He spoke into her neck, “Tell me the fantasy… I can only read so much from your breath and skin singing under my touch… instruct me to see how to get you there. New memories.”

"Beg me. On your knees. And make sure you say please.”

He sighed. “Now Molly… I wanted to tease you more before I have use of my knees… have you lost patience—”

Her hand covered his mouth, and she pushed him down until her knee dug into his shoulder hard, on his knees in front of her.

“Beg… it's the least you can do if you want me so much… wanted me so long. We're both ignoring our principles now…” she said, each word strong ringing in his mind. “So beg.”

Her mouth is so pretty when she says…

"So beg."

He quieted his mind, a singular focus now. Every sense dialled in to her rich floral perfume, her touch and heartbeat.

The light played on the satin before him, transfixing. “Please,” he said low, running his hands lightly along the golden sleek cloth, seeking her bones underneath like a lost road. “Teach me, tell me what to do.”

“I don’t want to ruin this beautiful dress… put your jacket next to the basin.”

He lingered his hand fascinated with the precise folds of the skirt, shining and shadowing, like the folds he’d soon… he trailed a finger along one close to her hip.

“Now will you be a good boy…and do what I asked or do I…?”

He looked up into her eyes, so far above him like a goddess’ blessing. He held her stare as he snatched the coat off and handed it to her to arrange.

“Now set me—oh!”

As he stood, taking her with him as he grabbed her hips and arse, fingers digging the slippery dress and sat her on the counter so hard she bounced.

He smiled sly as irritation on her skin coloured the same as her blush. I like both too much.

He held his hands up in false surrender.

She huffed out, “Are you going to take instruction or are you gonna improvise your own here?”

“I’ve matured, I like collaboration.” He shrugged a shoulder, leaning over and snatching an ostrich feather out of the full vase next to her. How perfect for the theme this evening. The sheen on the feathers caught the light golden as her dress. He twirled it between his fingers, waiting.

“Nothing else unless I say so,” she said. He didn't miss the gravel and struggle to breathe. Her stare unblinking on the feather.

“Then…” he held the feather out in front of her and lowered it, leaning in meeting her half lidded gaze. “Tell me what to do.”

“I think you guessed I like a tease.”

He nodded, “Oh do I ever…we've done years… little kisses on the cheek like friends,” he let the end of the feather fall across her face, moving it in time to watch the colour rise deep scarlet. “But since we remedied that… … but what's a little more?” He lowered the feather across her neck and she turned her head, opening up and he imagined her nerves jumping.

That neck was like cream he wanted to lick and bruise with his teeth.

Ah, there is the demon I've always feared.

He teased with the feather down between her breasts, and she shuddered with her sigh. Her eyes closed, and he trailed the feather up again, teasing her clavicle, the bones showing their angles in shadow and he wanted to add his own shadow there as well.

She leaned back, head against the mirror. “More,” she whispered out.

The feather up her throat, and he trembled, the tip of it caressing her lips. Now I'm jealous of a feather. He wanted to kiss her again but now bound by the agreement. She'd broken so many rules for him. I can keep this one.

Her breath shuddered as she leaned back over and looked up into his eyes.

“That's enough. Kiss me… kiss me so hard I might bleed.”

He shook his head, and squinted, “Don't ask me to do that. I'll do anything you ask… it is what you deserve, but… those demons don't need to come out yet.”

She gritted her teeth under her lips, “Then kiss me like you love me.”

I'm gonna ignore those tears. They're not here to stay.

He kissed her so tenderly he thought they both might break.

She stopped for a breath, and spoke into his ear, “I love you too… Now that's out of the way, kiss me however you want… but I want your hands to move this skirt out of the way.”

He lifted her and shoved it out of the way behind her, and she helped gather the top. He hates the skirt now. Should have encouraged her for a short flapper dress, one with a delightful fringe he could have twirled in his fingers near her knee.

No matter. The music kicked up loud outside the bathroom, the low beat thumping under his hand resetting just beside her thigh like a heartbeat.

“Tell me what you want… my touch or my tongue.” He licked his lips, drying from his breath increased as much as hers. Oh, to find out how sweet she really is.

“Touch… I think that's all I can stand for now,” she said with an unsteady voice. “Talk to me. Tell what you want… tell me what you will do… your voice is the only sound I want in my head.”

His thumbs strayed to her thighs, bare and like silk. Circles and caresses, and he leaned into her ear, “Can you please…” he caressed over her knees. "lean back to the wall, my love, I don't want you to hurt that pretty head."

“Yes… more,” she said, exposing that creamy throat again.

“Can I kiss your neck… please?”

“Yes… god yes, but… I need your fingers,” she reached a trembling hand and grasped his, setting it on inner thigh. "I need them inside me." The fire like heat pulsed against his palm. She's so wet for me…

But first, he raised his fingers up to his mouth, letting her observe him wet them, meeting her stare.

He tugged her soaked knickers aside. Two fingers found her folds. So ready for him, his knees nearly buckled. He turned his fingers and met her clit with his thumb, gently as she was so hard. She pulled and tugged on his fingers, whimpering, calling him like a siren's song.

She's always been the rock I'd dash myself on.

His lips on her throat, and she burrowed her nails in his curls and scalp. Those low moans barely reached his ears, but they vibrated under his tongue, the salt of her skin mouthwatering.

Bang bang.

The lock jiggled.

They both glanced at the lock, wide-eyed, but it held.

Oh, that will not do.

Her movement on his fingers wavered, but he pressed further, finding the spot that nearly made her cry out and he grinned into the hollow of her throat and flicked it with his tongue.

Her moan louder, but he clamped his hand tight over her mouth, every knock urging him on, his thumb playing with clit, soaking wet dripping down as his fingers curled. Her panicked peeks at the door replaced as she closed her eyes and smiled into his hand, her sigh hot and panted.

He turned her face and leaned into her ear, nipping as he spoke. “Is that adding to the effect? There'll be no mistake what I did to you when we leave together… they’ll know… shame they can’t hear the crying moan I want to hear… A shame for me. Tell me. Harder or softer… how long do you want them to wait?”

She panted into his hand. "Harder… oh god… I'm so close. Don't stop that or I'll hit you again."

The brat in him wanted to tease her. But this wasn't the time.

But his deep voice, he knew its effect, and he spoke, meeting her lidded stare with his own.

"They love our brilliant brains, don't you think? But they don't see us as humans. Never will, but we can see and feel it now. It's our little secret how human we can both be."

She whimpered and tightened but… no it's not quite there.

“Can you come for me… please?”

“Kiss me one more time… I… oh…” she said with a shudder, her legs tightening on his hand.

And kiss her he did, so hard she might bleed and she cried out into his mouth and shuddered down into her orgasm, pulsing so deliciously around his finger he almost came himself.

She slumped, and he stared, pulling out.

When she met his gaze, she whispered, “You can taste the results… and think about when we get home.”

He sucked his fingers clean, not blinking and her smile, slight, ended with a shivered whimper.

Much too sweet… I can't wait for more.

#ukthxbye is ficcing #sherlolly #molly hooper #sherlock holmes #bbc sherlock #angst and smut #feels #angst is their kink and they've sorted that out

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mel-loves-all · 8 months ago

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I was tagged by @asteraceae-blue

to show my 4 favorite ships and let my mutuals assume what my concept of romance is. Thank you for the tag and sorry it took me so long to do it.

lol, I think I see a pattern. Epic friendships that became epic love. At least in my heart and eyes.

Mulder x Scully (MSR) from the X files:

Wei Wuxian x Lan Wangji (Wangxian) from The Untamed:

Carol x Daryl (Caryl) from The Walking Dead:

Sherlock x Molly (Sherlolly) from BBC Sherlock.

#tag game

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whispers-soundtrack-project · 8 months ago

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Sherlolly

Fanmix Part Four

Part One * Part Two * Part Three

Link to the Spotify Playlist is at the bottom of the post

All of Me (John Legend)

What's goin' on in that beautiful mind? * I'm on your magical mystery ride * And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me * But I'll be alright

Thank You For Loving Me (Bon Jovi)

Thank you for loving me * For being my eyes * When I couldn't see * For parting my lips * When I couldn't breathe * Thank you for loving me

C'est La Mort (The Civil Wars)

Swan dive down eleven stories high * Hold your breath until you see the light * You can sink to the bottom of the sea * Just don't go without me

Always On My Mind (Willie Nelson)

And maybe I didn't treat you * Quite as good as I should have * If I made you feel second best * Girl I'm sorry I was blind * You were always on my mind

That's As Close As I'll Get To Loving You (Aaron Tippin)

I won't be there when you need holding * But I'm sure that he can pull you through * But I can sing this song to everybody * And pretend it's not about you

The Scientist (Coldplay)

I was just guessing * At numbers and figures * Pulling the puzzles apart * Questions of science * Science and progress * Do not speak as loud as my heart

Never Knock (Kevin Garrett)

You are in my head * When my heart's at war * And if I'm ever scared * I'll breathe the air * In front of your door * And I will never knock * But that's as far as I'll go

You Don't Know Me (Alison Krauss)

You give your hand to me * And then you say hello * And I can hardly speak * My heart is beating so * And anyone could tell * You think you know me well * But you don't know me

She's Got a Way (Billy Joel)

She's got a way about her * I don't know what it is * But I know that I can't live without her * She's got a way of pleasing * I don't know what it is * But there doesn't have to be a reason anyway

Sally's Song (Amy Lee)

What will become of my dear friend? * Where will his actions lead us then? * Although I'd like to join the crowd * In their enthusiastic cloud * Try as I may, it doesn't last * And will we ever end up together?

#playlist #fanmix #sherlock #sherlolly #sherlock x molly #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #Spotify

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thenandorlorian · 1 year ago

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My Ships

(in chronological order)

Mulder x Scully (MSR): The OG Ship

Sherlolly: The Little Ship That Could

Caryl: The HOW is this STILL.NOT.CANON Ship

Reylo: Shattered My Heart Ship

Ineffable Husbands: My Wholesome Beyond Words Ship

Nandermo: The Stupider Together Ship

#sometimes i wonder if i know how to watch a show w/o latching onto a ship #mulder x scully #sherlolly #caryl #reylo #ineffable husbands #nandermo #not every ship #but the ones I really obsess over

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its-all-ineffable · 2 years ago

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Any favorite Sherlock and Molly moments?

Hello hello! SO MANY OMG! I love them so much, they have so many fabulous moments.

I immediately think of their entire stint solving cases together in The Empty Hearse, because they were amazing, but I'll pick out a few specific moments from there.

There's a moment where they're interviewing clients and Molly asks if she should take notes, since John does and Sherlock says "You're not being John, you're being yourself." and she smiles, and it is the most pure thing. Like yes, in a way, Sherlock is trying to replace John with Molly in this moment because with John, he got used to having a partner, a friend, someone with him. But he also acknowledges that Molly is her own person and brings her own skills and abilities to the table, and works differently from John. And that's quite big, since we all know that Sherlock has had to work on learning how to treat/interact with people and that John has helped him do that.

Another moment from the same episode is when they have a little sarcastic exchange when they're with the client who loves trains. I mean, Sherlock's smirk alone...

And the last one from this particular episode is the scene in the hallway where Sherlock thanks Molly for her help and says the iconic line "Because the one person he thought didn't matter to me at all, was the one person who mattered the most." And when he says that my heart melts, the soft look in his eyes and on his face. And the cheek kiss! Aaaahhhh!!!!! They make me insane.

Another favourite moment has to be the Christmas scene in A Scandal in Belgravia. Just everything about it - Molly's STUNNING outfit, Sherlock actually apologising when he realises he's a) hurt Molly's feelings and b) made light of her feelings for him which he's played on one too many times, the kiss on the cheek...it's the moment I began to ship them when I first watched the show. It's just an absolutely lovely moment between them, and it also shows how much Sherlock's grown. He apologises unprompted and it's clear it's because he CARES about Molly - he still acts asshole-ish with John's girlfriend, someone he doesn't really know, but is immediately remorseful when he hurts Molly.

Of course, the ICONIC 'I love you scene' between the two of them in The Final Problem had to be on here too, because I love it - my Sherlolly heart burst when it happened! Like, he says it the first time so that Molly will say it and won't die, but he says it a second time, and his voice that second time...it's real. He says it once, playing along to try and save Molly's life but the second time...oh the second time is a realisation. Sherlock does actually love her. Now of course, you can read that as platonic or romantic (I like both since I ship both Sherlolly and Johnlock), but Sherlock does love her. And that scene was just expertly filmed and scripted. (Also, why wasn't Molly having a good day, what had happened?? Someone give her a hug!!)

Now for two smaller moments - I adore them when they are at Rosie's christening! The way Molly is clearly comfortable enough around Sherlock to tell him off for using his phone and is stood beside him so confidently, and also she looks stunning!

The second one is in The Reichenbach Fall when Sherlock asks for Molly's help. She asks what he needs and he says "You." I died.

I could put so many more, but I'll finish with this one - the kiss from The Empty Hearse. Now, I know that it was a scene from one of Anderson's theories, but it's fucking canon in my mind so I don't care! It's very badass and sexy and exactly what my Sherlolly heart wanted and deserved!

Right, I'll stop now! Do you have any favourites? Let me know!

SEND ME AN ASK ABOUT BBC SHERLOCK

SEND ME AN ASK ABOUT AMC IWTV/THE VAMPIRE CHRONICLES

#sherlolly #sherlock x molly #sherlock and molly #sherlock holmes #molly hooper #sherlock #bbc sherlock

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miz-joelys-sherlollilists · 1 year ago

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Zombielock fics

Here are the Sherlolly zombielock fics for anyone interested in some Halloween creepiness (and also braaaaiiiinnnsssss LOL):

When the World Ends by duktiny

The Undead Centre of Town (Victorian Dream Palace series) by @8minutehooper

We're going to freeze to death... by @sunken-standard

No Kiss Farewell by morbidbydefault

Living In A City Of Death by @mousedetective

Furo by @asteraceae-blue & mizjoely

In Dark Times (Walking Dead AU) by thewalkingdetective

Blood Born and My Bloody Valentine... (Walking Dead AU) by mizjoely

Untitled (The Walking Dead AU) by @strawberryaziraphale (3 sentence ficlet)

Warm Heart (Warm Bodies AU) by monimccoy

When Does It End, Where Does It Begin by Purpleyin

#sherlolly #zombie!lock #sherlolly screamfest

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sillygirlsmindpalace · 3 months ago

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In Quiet Moments

Do I really know you?

Is the question I ask every day.

I wish my idea of you were true,

But it is my mind with which you play.

Who would befriend such a man,

Who whips corpses for "experiments"?

He's one of a kind, not part of a clan,

Solving cases without any payments.

She calls him a freak; she has enough proof.

The verdict hasn't changed her at all.

And there he goes, all the time aloof,

But no lipstick makes my mouth too small.

He has his saviours, for whom he died;

His bitterness always leaves them in doubt.

I knew he was safe, but still, I cried,

It was hard to believe I really did count.

You mask your wounds for none to see;

Your pleas are taken as manipulations.

Christmas called for belittling me—

Forgiveness became my consolation.

It wouldn't work out, I knew in the end.

I fooled with the doppelganger.

At times, I did seem like a friend—

I was tired of the cliffhanger.

Why did I ask you to have dinner,

When you were ready for the usual?

The moment you thanked me was a glimmer;

Calling me John was just your ritual.

You offered me some fish and chips.

It was something so out of the blue.

Was it you or my heart playing dirty tricks?

Till date, I have no clue.

"Not everybody is a sociopath,"

You pecked me and left me there.

A genius can't do this simple math;

"Just my type," I whispered on the stair.

They all beamed at the bride and groom;

He played the violin, falling apart.

No one danced with him in the crowded room;

I could have stopped his early depart.

I don't put up with you ; it's my pleasure.

So please, don't seek refuge in the haze.

The day the world lowers your celeb measure,

It's my heart that'll still be amazed.

I send, amidst all the hatred,

From far away, a little love and care.

You know you'll find me, amongst the dead,

Or in my abode, which you call your spare.

_______________________________________________

It's bad I know.

So here's a little poem from Molly's POV, that has been in my notes ever since I've started to re-watch the show 🫠

This poem has events till Season 3 because I still haven't started watching Season 4, so it may seem a little incomplete, but here it is 🙈

Hope all Sherlolly enthusiasts enjoy it! 💕

_______________________________________________

#bbc sherlock #sherlock fandom #sherlock #sherlockfandom #sherlockbbc #sherlock holmes #my post #sherlock bbc #sherlock fanfic #molly hooper #sherlolly

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mathilde-with-an-e · 1 year ago

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The Sherlolly bunch…. 🥹 You guys. I am floored by your enthusiasm and excitement. You made my year. I’m so so happy to be a part of this community. Thank you so so so much. My heart is bursting.

This will take time because life LOL. That ol’ chestnut. But I have a rough sketch in my head of what it’s going to ultimately look and feel like. I picked the music today, which I LOVE and wanted to use for years. I’m not gonna reveal which track but it is taken from A Discovery of Witches. A show which had our Queen in it: Louise Brealey. Things can always change but I’m quite determined to use it.

I can’t give you an estimate publication date but I’m very excited about this. I’m so glad you are, too. You’re just the best. 😘💋

#sherlolly #sherlock x molly #fanvid #mathilde with an e #fanvideo #molly hooper #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock holmes #youtube #bbc

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musicprincess1990 · 2 years ago

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Happy Sherlolly Appreciation Week!

For Day 1, I’ve decided to go with a Cinderella AU. It’s kind of lightly based on it, and without the magical elements (I’m just not good at fantasy), but you get the gist. It was really hard to keep this to a one-shot, I really wanted to expand on it, but I've already got one WIP right now, so… yeah. Anyway, enjoy!

~*~

The Dream That You Wish

Sometimes Molly dreams of leaving this place, of packing her precious few belongings and stealing away in the dead of night. Sometimes, in those dreams, she meets a handsome stranger who promises to love and protect her, as she has never been loved or protected before. Sometimes she can almost make out the features on his face… almost… and even without a clear vision of that face, she knows—she just knows—he is the most beautiful man that ever was seen.

Then she wakes up.

There is no handsome stranger. There is no leaving this place.

She is trapped.

A bell rings incessantly in her ear, rousing her from her dreams, and reminding her of who she is. Molly yawns and stretches as she pulls herself into a seated position, brushing the ash and soot from her skin and clothes as best she can. The nights have grown too cold to make the journey up to the dismal attic, so she has taken to sleeping in front of the fire in the kitchen. Her stepmother and stepsisters mock her dirty and dishevelled appearance, but have never ordered her to go back to sleeping in the attic, not out of any charity or sympathy, rather the simple fact that it means their breakfast arrives more quickly.

Molly dampens a cloth and scrubs at her face and hands, then sets about making tea and toast. The bell rings again and again, soon accompanied by shrill cries from above stairs. Molly works as swiftly as she is able, until finally, she leaves the kitchen with three trays. She has mastered this precarious balancing act, and has not dropped a single teacup in over two years.

With measured steps, she climbs her way up to the first floor, then sets two of the trays down on the table in the hall, placed and decorated intentionally for this purpose. Still holding the third tray, she first knocks on her stepmother’s door.

“Come,” her imperious voice calls.

Molly twists the knob and enters, keeping her head bent in submission. “Good morning, my lady.”

Lady Elizabeth Smallwood does not return the greeting. “On the table, girl,” she orders, gesturing to the bedside table in question. Molly gently places the tray, then pours the tea, holding the cup toward her with the handle facing her stepmother, thus eliminating any chance of physical contact. Lady Smallwood takes a sip of the tea and grimaces. “How many times must I tell you? I want three lumps of sugar.”

“I-I did give you three,” Molly says timidly, and immediately she regrets it.

Her stepmother stills, then turns her furious gaze on Molly. “What did you say?” she seethes.

Molly swallows thickly. “I’ll go fetch the sugar,” she whispers, turning to do just that.

“Never mind,” Lady Smallwood snaps, stopping her in her place. “There isn’t time. You must wake your stepsisters, they have much to do to prepare for this evening.”

The ball, Molly reminds herself. Not that she had forgotten. Since the moment the invitation came to them, it has been the dominant topic of conversation, and she has spent every day over the past two weeks either mending gowns or shopping for jewellery. Molly ignores the bitter resentment festering in her heart, knowing that the money going toward baubles and lace will be coming out of her wages, and they’re a pittance already. But she keeps silent on the subject, for one simple reason.

She is invited, too.

To the surprise of all, and the delight of many, the Crown Prince requested to extend the invitation to all eligible ladies of the kingdom, not just the nobility. Women of all stations will be able to attend, and will have the chance to meet His Royal Highness. The reason for this unforeseen break from tradition is quite clear: the King and Queen are all but desperate to marry off their son and heir. Molly has never seen the Prince her life, but she has heard he is remarkably handsome, and as such, she can guess that the cause for his unmarried state lies beneath the surface. He must be an unbearable snob.

Or, she thinks with a smile, his interests lie elsewhere.

“What are you smirking at?”

Molly quickly schools her features as she answers her stepmother. “Forgive me, my lady. I became lost in thought.”

“Useless chit,” she growls. “Go and wake your stepsisters. Now.”

She wastes no time in doing just that, stepping out into the hall and picking up a tray as she approaches the next door. Irene is already awake and gazing at her beautiful reflection in the mirror, and she barely acknowledges Molly as she pours her tea, for which Molly is most grateful. Irene has always loved to insult her, and has made something of an art of it, finding the most clever and cruel ways to do so. Molly quietly retreats, leaving Irene to her self-admiration, and moved on to Janine’s room.

Janine is far less cruel to Molly, though still not exactly kind. After a lifetime of being second-best to her older, more beautiful sister, it’s no surprise. She is very pretty in her own right, but not the ethereal and enigmatic paragon of beauty that Irene is, and she has the added disadvantage of being less elegant and more brash. Lady Smallwood has often berated her youngest daughter for her “poor decorum,” while praising Irene’s effortless grace.

Molly sets Janine’s tray on her bedside table, then gently taps her shoulder. “Janine,” she murmurs, “I have tea and toast for you.”

“Mmmf,” is her stepsister’s groggy reply.

“The ball is this evening,” she tries again. “Tonight, you will meet the prince.”

“Sod the prince,” she grumbles.

Molly smiles to herself, then employs one final tactic. “You would rather Irene have him all to herself?”

Janine raises her head to glower at Molly. “Over my dead body.”

“Then, up,” Molly urges her.

After a few more seconds of scowling, Janine sighs and relents, taking the toast and munching quietly, while Molly pours tea into her cup. “You are lucky you don’t have to go to this dreadful ball, Molly,” she complains.

Molly says nothing as she hands the now-filled cup to Janine. Neither of them speak again, and Molly slips quietly out of the room. Instead of returning to the kitchen, however, she tiptoes her way up to the attic. She shivers against the chill, but perseveres until she reaches her room.

There, on a mannequin borrowed from the seamstress in town, is her mother’s favourite dress. Made of forget-me-not blue silk, it is the most precious item in her possession. She saw her mother wear it only once, at a Christmas party when she was very small, and Molly had believed her to be a princess. It’s still in fine condition, though the silhouette is perhaps a bit outdated, but near enough to the style of the day that Molly doubts anyone will notice. Besides, there will be other ladies in attendance who will no doubt dress similarly, as few servants can afford the latest fashions.

Molly spends the day carrying out her chores and helping her stepsisters and stepmother prepare for the ball. By nightfall, all three are dressed and coiffed to perfection, and all three leave without so much as a thank you. And the moment their carriage s out of sight, Molly races up to her room and closes the door, locking it for good measure.

Tonight, she is her own fairy godmother. Tonight, she will become someone else.

~*~

Sherlock barely suppresses a groan as yet another young lady rushes forward to meet him. His idea to allow the lower classes to attend seemed an excellent one at the time, but he now realizes he has nearly doubled the amount of time he must spend making their acquaintance. After a full hour of meeting prospective brides, he deeply regrets it, and prays for an end to his misery.

The entire thing is a farce. His parents have told him all his life that he should marry for love, and yet they insist on this ridiculous ball. “You simply haven’t met the right woman,” his mother said to him the day she and his father announced the ball. Sherlock argued the point until his breath ran out, but they did not concede, and he was forced to agree. He included the stipulation that all young ladies be given the chance to attend, hoping they would be too scandalized to continue, but instead they applauded his decision, reasoning that a humble girl might offer sounder advice and greater perspective in the future. (He agrees, but God forbid he actually admit that in front of his parents.)

Marriage is something he does not want… as is the Crown. His brother’s abdication came as a shock to all, and Sherlock resents him still for laying the mantle on him. He is trapped, forced to abandon all his academic pursuits for the sake of ruling the nation and siring heirs.

Damn you, Mycroft, he curses in his head.

Time goes by, more and more young ladies come forward, but eventually the end of the queue is in sight, a light at the end of this tunnel of tedium. He will have to dance with at least a few of them, and has already determined one of them, a young woman who seems even less happy to be here than he is, which he had not thought possible. He has also deduced that her real motive for attending was not to meet him, but to infuriate her sister, a sly and suspicious beauty he distrusted immediately.

Then, just as he reaches the last lady in the queue, the doors open again, and all eyes turn toward the late arrival. Sherlock stops… stares… and for a moment, forgets how to breathe. His mind has gone quite blank, all his attention on this mysterious young woman. She is small and thin, almost too thin, and clad in a blue silk gown that is slightly out of fashion, but fits her like a glove. Her chestnut hair is twisted into an intricate knot and adorned with pearls. She does not have the same fine and elegant features as many of the other ladies present, but her soft, elfin features are, in his eyes, utterly exquisite.

Without having made a conscious decision to do so, he crosses the room, his eyes locked on her. She is surprised when she sees him, and goes completely still, her pink lips parting on a gasp. Sherlock slows as he comes within arm’s reach, never releasing her wide brown eyes. “It’s you,” she whispers.

Curious. “Is it?” he asks.

She seems to snap out of a trance, and dips into a low curtsy. “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

Now, that just won’t do. Sherlock reaches out a hand and tucks it under her chin, gently raising her head first, then urging her to stand again. Those impossibly large eyes land on his again, and he feels warmth spread from his head to his toes. “What is your name?”

She swallows nervously before she answers, “Molly Hooper.”

It’s certainly not the name of any prominence, she is among the lower class, likely a servant. He likes her all the more for it.

“Will you dance with me, Molly Hooper?”

Her mouth falls open. “Me?”

“You,” he confirms.

Molly’s eyes dart over to a spot slightly to the right of his face, and part of him wants to look over his shoulder and see what has caught her attention, but the greater part of him refuses to take his eyes off her. He has the strangest notion that if he does, she will vanish in a puff of smoke, and he’ll never see her again. And that is simply not a risk he is willing to take. Whatever it is, she seems to draw strength from it, and when her eyes return to his, she nods and smiles.

He has never felt more blessed.

~*~

Mere days later, the news of the Prince’s engagement spreads throughout the country. Those who were present at the ball are not surprised at the identity of his chosen bride, having witnessed their first meeting. Some hear the news with delight, some with apathy, and some with anger and bitterness. But no one, not even those angry few, can deny the love between them.

Molly smiles up at her husband, no longer the stranger from her dreams, but warm and real and every bit as wonderful as she knew he would be.

#sherlolly appreciation week 2023 #saw 2023 #sherlolly #cinderella au #sherlollyweek2023

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