happy birthday clueless!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, KAGAMI-KUN!!!! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

In which Kuroko tried to greet Kagami on facebook. Normally.

Dramatic Flair

Happy birthday, Ash! It’s not a ski trip but enjoy some Victorian!lock on me!

Sherlock marched into the pathology laboratory with his usual dramatic flair, pushing the swinging double doors aside with both black-gloved hands, the caped portion of his inverness coat fluttering like wings as he strode over to the countertop at the back of the cramped room. Tucking his deerstalker under one arm, he continued to stalk over to the room’s single occupant, who was very clearly ignoring him, pretending to be absorbed in whatever it was she was examining beneath the lens of her microscope. Which wouldn’t do. Not. At. All.

As soon as he reached her, he slammed his hands down on the counter and uttered a single word: “No.”

Molly Hooper, the only female employee of St. Bart’s pathology department, looked up, straightening her round, gunmetal-grey rimmed spectacles as she peered at him inquiringly. “I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me, Miss Hooper. I said no,” he repeated the word as firmly as he had the first time he’d spoken it. “Tell Lestade for me, that my answer is and shall remain ‘no’.”

She cocked her head to one side, and Sherlock Holmes, famed consulting detective, found himself wistfully remembering the days when he’d first met her, when she was awed by his mere presence and would scurry to do anything he asked of her. Now, however, several years and one falsified death later, she was far less inclined to jump when he barked at her.

Instead of meekly asking what was wrong, a cheeky smile quirked her lips as she calmly said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Mr. Holmes. What request has Detective Inspector Lestrade made which you are so fervently against?”

Sherlock leaned his head closer, until his nose was only inches away from hers, hearing the intake of her breath with a great deal of satisfaction. She might be less intimidated by him these days, but he still affected her as strongly as he ever had. Good; he did wonder, sometimes. “You know very well which ‘request’ I speak of, Miss Hooper,” he said, lowering his voice in both volume and register. “This ridiculous policeman’s ball. Tell him I absolutely refuse to attend.”

Just as Molly’s lower lip began to jut out in a pout, he altered his expression from complete and utter disdain to something closer to the cheeky smile she’d been sporting only moments earlier. He winked and pulled his head back, clasping her hand in his as he declared, “Unless, of course, my fiancée agrees to attend the ridiculous affair with me.”

Molly’s blushes were one of the many, many things he adored about her, and the one that pinkened her cheeks and the tip of her nose was a lovely rosy shade – and he chuckled, knowing it was equal parts pleasure and annoyance that colored her thusly. “Oh, Sherlock Holmes, you are an awful tease!” she exclaimed, pulling her hand free and swatting at his shoulder. “Do go on and let me finish my work. Haven’t you and Dr. Watson any cases to keep you busy until this evening?”

“Nope,” he replied, popping the final “p” in a vulgar manner that he knew she secretly found charming. He settled himself on the seat next to hers, jostling her aside as he peered into her microscope. “What are we examining today?”

“Your pawky sense of humor,” she retorted, but he could tell by both the cheerful tone of her voice and the merry twinkle in her lovely brown eyes that she wasn’t truly irritated with him.

Yes, Molly Hooper was no longer intimidated by him; she no longer stammered (although he could still manage to make her blush) or allowed him to order her about like a servant, but he wouldn’t trade the marvelous, poised woman she’d grown into – and that he’d fallen in love with – for anything in the world.