For the fic ask: "You caught me without my gloves I'm practically naked!"
Taken from this historical prompts post- https://writingwife-83.tumblr.com/post/162989401123/historical-story-prompts
Thanks for this one! Love it! And naturally, this is Victorian era, seeing as that was a big time gloves/modesty time period. Hope you like! :D
Molly tugged impatiently at the satin material at her fingertips with jaw tightly clenched. She was absolutely suffocating.
And it wasn’t just the temperature in that dining hall.
She lay the cream colored gloves on the railing of the balcony and took deep breaths of the cool night air, trying to ease her mind and tell herself it would all be ok.
Thomas was fine, perfectly fine. He was a lovely man. And more than likely he’d be proposing any day. Surely this would be an excellent match. Yes, the conversation was a bit tedious and there seemed to be no spark, but Molly was no fool. Fairytales didn’t exist and it was silly to wait for a man who could turn her turn to a puddle with a single touch.
Molly sighed and slid her hands along the railing, enjoying the cool metal on her now bare fingers. Though her relaxation was short lived, seeing as she accidentally knocked her gloves over the edge and to the ground below…just as she heard a low voice behind her.
“Yes, it will always be like this.”
She whirled around to see Sherlock Holmes stepping onto the balcony, wearing a knowing smirk.
Ah yes. He was the other reason it was getting a bit warm inside.
“Always be like what?” Molly questioned as she laid her bare arms on the railing behind her back.
He chuckled while coming closer. “Oh Miss Hooper, you know who I am. Obviously you were standing out here questioning the course your life is currently taking. Wondering if things will always be quite this dull, and wondering whether you can bear to put up with it for the rest of your days. And there are things you question whether you can do without.”
She swallowed hard, her arms now the least of her worries. She felt a bit stripped down in more than one way now.
She’d spent enough time with Sherlock Holmes, the infamous detective, to decide that he was nothing short of intoxicating. Molly couldn’t get enough of him, and that frightened her more than a little. Especially given the fact that he usually seemed so aloof.
“A-and how can you claim to know my thoughts so very intimately, sir?” Molly questioned softly, though she was almost afraid to hear the answer. Was she so very transparent?
Sherlock stepped closer still, keeping eye contact as he slowly reached around her back to slide a hand over her bare arm, causing goose bumps to erupt all along her flesh, which she blushed to know he’d naturally feel beneath his fingertips. She couldn’t possibly look away, no matter how hard her heart was pounding and how difficult it seemed to get enough air.
He took her hand and gently pulled it out from behind her back to slowly bring it up to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to her smooth skin. As he removed his mouth, he spoke softly.
“Perhaps, Miss Hooper, I have simply recognized something in you…which I’d recently seen in myself.”
Molly felt her face heat to the boiling point when her gaze inadvertently fell upon his lips, thinking of how they’d just felt on her hand. And just when she saw his eyes slip to her lips as well…he unexpectedly stepped away and moved toward the door.
A crushing blow of disappointment washed over her and she began questioning whether this was some sort of cruel trick or game or-
“Miss Hooper, are you coming?”
Her gaze shot to his in confusion. “Pardon?”
“It occurs to me that no matter how fine a place Dr. and Mrs. Watson had chosen for their engagement dinner, your gloves should not be left in the grass behind this establishment. It seems only right that we briefly steal away to retrieve them from where they fell.” His lips lifted in a small but telling smile.
Molly’s lips bloomed in a smile to match his as she slowly crossed the balcony to take his arm so that they could quietly slip out the back way and into the moonlight. Granted, fairytales still didn’t exist, but nevertheless she was perfectly content. Because what did exist was true love.
And she’d found it.