anonymous asked:

It's lovely that you're doing Sherlolly prompts. Here's one: Molly's Mum and Mummy Holmes have become friends without knowing that their children are acquainted with each other. They try to set up Sherlock and Molly with each other. Shenanigans ensue.

Tee hee. Shenanigans. Also, I am apparently incapable of writing anything reasonably short. Anyway, enjoy, my dear!

Motherly Manipulations

Wandering through the flower shop, Violet Holmes picked out a variety of colorful blooms. There was no pattern to the bouquet she was creating, but Martha wouldn’t mind, she preferred an array of colour. After allthat Mrs Hudson had done for Violet’s son, flowers seemed hardly comparable, but Martha was ever so grateful. So Violet never stopped by Baker Street without a small offering of thanks.

Her phone pinged with a message. Digging through her enormous bag, she finally found the device and quickly read the text from her son.

Can’t make it tonight. Experiment. Sorry. SH

Violet sighed in disappointment.

‘Everything all right?’ A woman next to her asked, her hands laden with blooms.

Violet smiled ruefully and dropped her phone back in her purse. ‘My youngest boy, William. He’s trying to cancel our outing tonight. Again.

The woman frowned. ‘How unfortunate. Nothing wrong, I hope.’

Violet shook her head with a fond exasperation. ‘Oh, heavens, no. He simply hates going out and will come up with the most improbable excuse to skip it when my husband and I are in town.’

‘Sounds quite like my daughter. My Margaret is as sweet as they come, but the minute I mention I want to go to the shopping district, suddenly she has a work emergency. Honestly,’ the woman laughed, ‘what kind of emergency warrants a pathologist?’

Violet’s eyebrows rose and she grinned in camaraderie. ‘It seems our children are of similar mind.’ She extended a hand in greeting. ‘I’m Violet, by the way, mother of two quite obstinate boys masquerading as men.’

‘Anne,’ the other woman laughed and shifted her flowers to shake Violet’s hand. ‘Mother of one brilliant, shy girl.’

‘A pleasure, Anne.’ Violet smiled. ‘Would you care to join me for a cuppa at the café round the corner? I would most enjoy speaking with someone who understands my motherly woes.’

Anne nodded with a bright grin. ‘Oh, that does sound lovely.’

Laden with flowers, the women made their purchases and meandered down the street, easily settling in to a comfortable friendship as they discussed their worrisome children.

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Molly: Hey, Sherlock, remember when you said our daughter would follow in your footsteps and be a great detective? Mollyx
Sherlock: Yes. SH
Molly: …uploading video…

Molly: Paging Doctor Holmes ;) Mollyx

Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart…try to live the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then, gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.
—  Ranier Maria Rilke
(from Shmolly) 

Favorite Mashup Of All Time 

Makes me want to dance and Draw beautiful romantic things 

anonymous asked:

Sherlock + his motorbike = happy Molly

It all started with Marcus. Marcus Smythe-Robinson (back when she went through a posh boy phase and hadn’t realised that class did not make a gentleman). He was tall, slightly tanned from endless holidays with sunned blonde curls. She cringed when they’d split up, cringed to think she could ever have fallen for that sort of person, but his motorbike had admittedly played a large part in the attraction.

Molly huffed and typed out a text.

Outside St. Bart’s – where are you? Mx

Twenty minutes, he had kept her waiting. “Molly, I need you on this case – wait for me outside St. Bart’s,” he’d said on the phone, hanging up before she could tell him she would only wait for half an hour because, contrary to what he seemed to blindly believe, she did have a life outside of him.

Marcus had been a self-absorbed arse, but unfortunately, he wasn’t like Sherlock and aware of the fact. Indeed, any time he opened his mouth it was to brag about simply marvellous he was, didn’t you know?

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